//------------------------------// // Chapter Three: Betrayals // Story: City of Brass // by Beegirl Scribbler //------------------------------// On the third floor of what had once been the Second District's local library, Bilious Brass's eyes were shut tight in fervent concentration. Colorful sparks shot from his horn as if he sought to power up a broken machine. Before Bilious lay a gray, blue-maned earth pony. Behind Bilious, two tall unicorns watched the proceedings and fidgeted with their hats. Bilious started to mutter things. At first, Flim couldn't quite make them out, but he realized after a moment that they were numbers—measurements, actually. Bilious started speaking quicker, and louder, and the mathematics began to blend together as the speed increased. It was soon as if a thousand words were being said over each syllable. There was a brilliant green flash as the spell completed. An iron-barred cell blinked into existence, sealing the paralyzed earth pony in. Bilious Brass grinned. “Yes, that should do.” He rapped a hoof against the iron bars, nodding. “Yeah, that's good. Can't get out of there, can't you?” “This is utterly unnecessary, you realize.” Meddling Mingli was badly bruised, a bit cut up, and his left hind leg had been put in a cast. Adding insult to injury, his hat and jacket had both been confiscated. However, his expression was just one of annoyance. A merchant of his nature wouldn't have made it far without some skill in hiding his true thoughts. Flim was a similar sort of merchant, though, and he could tell Mingli was panicking. Bilious Brass giggled. “Oh, sure, sure. I'll just let you out!” He gave his mane a toss. “Not!” The library Bilious had chosen as a base of operations had once stood as a veritable fortress, but time had withered the brick walls away to the point that they only really remained as a formality. Any windows that had once been were long since forgotten, shattered by stones thrown by the less agreeable neighbors. The building was mostly deserted, and not just because Brass now occupied it. Second District residents had never had much enthusiasm for dusty old books. All of this room's furnishings had been cleared to make room for Mingli's prison. In the corner opposite the cell was a ladder leading downstairs. “What can I do to trouble your ponies?” Mingli asked, scowling. “Just let me go.” Bilious Brass's hoof glowed pink, and a hat identical to Mingli's old one materialized. He turned it inside-out and placed it upon his head. “I don't feel like it.” “That's not much of a reason.” Mingli gave one of his cuts a lick, wincing. He eyed the cast. “Don't chew it, or I'll glue your lips together.” Mingli sat down, still scowling. “Good pony.” Bilious coughed onto his hoof and reached back, stroking his mane. “Anyway, it's a Bilious reason. That's good enough for most ponies.” “That's not much of a term.” Bilious stopped stroking his mane and glared. “It's a good enough term for most.” Flim looked between the two ponies, then at the broken windows. “Ahem. Sir?” He tapped the floor. “Ah, sir. Sir.” Bilious turned. The rumpled hat fell off, but he didn't seem to notice. “What?” he snapped. Flim coughed. “We eagerly await our explanation, sir.” Flam gave a curt nod, moving to stand at his brother's side. Flam had been silent since Bilious's introduction. It was odd. Flam was usually just as talkative as Flim. Flim half-wanted to make sure his brother was alright, but now was not the time. Bilious was staring at Flim, looking completely blank. Did he even hear me? “We, ah...” Flim cleared his throat. “We were hoping you could explain now.” Bilious started. “Hm? Oh! Yes, of course.” He sighed. “Yes, yes, yes. “ He flicked his head toward the ladder. “Let's...just...ugh.” Scowling, Bilious stomped his hoof. The trapdoor glowed orange, and it vanished, replaced by solid wooden floorboards. It reappeared right in front of him. Bilious grinned. “Great! That's great! Come on, let's go have a talk. Let's just—okay, I'll...heh.” He gave his head a twitch. The floor seemed to rip out of reality, twisting and bending to meet the blurry ceiling. Flim closed his eyes and struggled to remain upright. In his mind's eye, he saw stars. He saw dying gods and shattered planets, and dead flowers, and stairs that led back to the start. His eyes suddenly jerked open. He hadn't meant to open them, but he never seemed to get a say in the matter. They were now in a much smaller room. Judging by the brick walls, it was a different section of the library—perhaps one Brass had just created. Brass hopped over as a desk and recliner appeared out of thin air. He settled into the chair. It scooted independently up to the desk, and he leaned over. “What's the question, again?” Flim looked at Flam. The mustachioed stallion shrugged and frowned, mouthing the words: 'speak quickly'. Flim rolled his eyes. He cleared his throat, grinning back at his new 'master'. “Well, you see, there are some, ah, concerns.” He reached up, taking his hat and holding it to his chest. He hoped the grin didn't look too nervous. “You mentioned in your...in your song that we're 'at the center of your plan'.” Bilious frowned, glancing at the lizard-like creature on his back. Flim wasn't looking at the entity directly, but it seemed to nod. Bilious looked back at Flim, nodding eagerly. “Correct! Yes, yes, you're a pivotal point. Pair of points. Without you, there's no operation, and the buzzer sounds, and everybody has to go home.” He nodded again, frowning. “And nobody wants that.” Flim blinked. He looked at Flam again, but his brother's face was impassive. Bilious was muttering to himself now, not appearing to pay the slightest bit of attention to them. His eyes were closed. Colors were flashing beneath the lids. Not for the first time, Flim wondered if his new 'employer' could be killed. It was at that moment that the lizard seemed to rap Bilious on the head. The hat reappeared, properly oriented. Looking startled, Bilious looked at the lizard, then at Flim and Flam, then closed his eyes, nodding. “Anyway, yes. And you want it explained exactly what role you're going to play, how dangerous it's going to be, and whether that knife concealed in the top of your little hat would be able to kill me.” He beamed, leaning over closer as Flim froze. “Oh, no; no nonsense. Don't worry. It wouldn't have. All the same, don't try it.” He leaned back. “It might have hurt.” Flim stared. How had Brass known about the knife? He hadn't... “Anyway, in answer to your questions...” Bilious let out a groan as he stretched far to one side. There were several loud cracks. “It will be very dangerous, and your job is to create...oops.” He looked at the little lizard, which shook its head. Bilious nodded. He looked back and pounded the table, and a pile of papers materialized in front of Flim and Flam. “...to create that.” Flim examined the papers. They were, predictably, building schematics, and they weren't showing anything particularly new. They reminded him of the old Remarkable Gem-Makable Marketable Machine 2000—a coal-pressing device Flim and Flam had designed to create diamonds. There were a few strange features, though. A pair of needles—no, syringes—were at the front. And there was no actual press—just a space for the 'coal' to be inserted. Flim was wondering what the syringes were for when several loud cracks interrupted his train of thought. He looked up to see Bilious stretching backwards in an oddly catlike manner. Flam, however, remained focused on the plans. He levitated the papers about, going over each sheet. “What is this?” “That...” Bilious removed his hat and turned it inside-out, “...is none of your business. Just follow the instructions. All will be made clear to all.” He cocked his head, smirking. “And your internal organs will be, as well, if you don't make this. You've got a lot to gain and absolutely everything to lose. Pull it off and those coins the riffraff are getting will look like street pavement.” Flim levitated the schematics, rolled them up, and placed them in a shirt pocket. It wasn't that Flim didn't care about the fate of Canterlot. He did care. The city had been very kind to him and Flam. They'd spent a large portion of their foalhoods there, in fact, and he didn't want to bring it down into eternal chaos. All the same, did he even have a choice? To say his mind was in a conflict would be a rather hilarious understatement. A lot to gain, the confidence pony in him hissed. Bilious started tapping his hoof against the desk. Everything to lose, the coward in him whispered back. Flam was eying him, waiting for an answer. Flim would have to provide it. He means to start a war. He's a madpony. A very powerful madpony. Flim took a deep breath. He glanced at the wooden floor, then looked up. “Once we've made this machine, we receive our payment and get gone.” Flim and Flam rarely spoke slowly. They liked to speak quick, to overwhelm their marks with pretty words before the listener could realize what was going on—to drown out the voice of reason. But not this time. For once, Flim felt like he was the one getting conned. It was an unwelcome feeling. “We want no part in what follows. Is that clear?” Flim wasn't going to abandon his pride now. Through thick and thin, there was something he and Flam had always clung to: the ability to make whoever they addressed feel unsure. Perhaps that wasn't going to work here, but he still kept his pride. And as nervous as he could tell Flam was, he knew his brother would do the same. That was their way, after all. Though his mind was racing with thoughts of fear and pride, Flim's eyes remained firmly fixed on his new employer. The golden unicorn was grinning. “Alrighty. We've got a deal!” Bilious extended a hoof, and Flim shook it. Finding Bilious's hoof was slick with sweat, Flim resisted the urge to immediately wipe his own hoof on his shirt. Bilious directed his hoof towards Flam. Flam looked very unenthusiastic, but he accepted the hoofshake. Flim knew Flam wouldn't show up his partner. Never in front of a potential 'customer', and never when doing so would result in certain death. “Good!” Bilious clapped his hooves together, and the desk and table vanished. He executed a flip, landing on all fours. “I'll see you to your laboratory, and get you whatever you need.” He let out a booming laugh. Flim was starting to feel sick again. “Work quickly, my little ponies! I've been waiting a thousand years, but I'm not nearly as patient as I seem. Pacing's all wrong to slow down now.” —— Twilight's hooves clacked on cold cobblestone as she made her way through the darkening city. Her journey possessed no real direction, but forward would do. For now. It had been twelve hours since her rant against Celestia. After delivering it, she'd cast a teleport to the first place to occur to her. The place had been unfortunately linked to a very old and outdated memory. She'd spent most of those hours getting out of a pig sty, explaining how she got into said pig sty, and finding a place to clean up at afterward. Her anger towards the Princess had somewhat abated by the time all this was accomplished. Dodging overly-affectionate pigs and overly-territorial truffle merchants had a way of putting one's priorities in order, and anger was a waste of time and emotion. Not that she regretted what she'd said. She didn't need to be angry to understand that she was better off this way. Celestia had shown Twilight amazing and terrifying things, from the dangers of corruption magic to the strangeness of the changelings to the powers of friendship. Without Celestia, Twilight would still be nothing but a magical time bomb—if not a pile of ash. Twilight understood that. She understood that Celestia had been a good mentor. But she now also understood that Celestia had been a dreadful, thoughtless employer. Twilight had learned all she could. Clearly, her final lesson was when to move on. Perhaps some part of her felt troubled. Troubled at how hurt Celestia had been by Twilight's words, and at how scared a god had been of her. Gods weren't supposed to be scared of anypony. Not anypony mortal. Certainly, mortals could bring down gods—all a 'god' was, in truth, was a being that never died naturally. But for an alicorn as powerful as Princess Celestia to fear something as short-lived as Twilight? Twilight stopped walking. But was she mortal? She tilted her head. She was the wielder of the Element of Magic—the first wielder since Celestia herself. Celestia had told Twilight that the Elements of Harmony were enigmas, even to alicorns. Maybe using them could have consequences Twilight hadn't foreseen. Maybe Celestia was now thinking the same thing. Maybe Twilight was immortal. Her mind raced, running over the possibilities. She could be becoming an alicorn. All her friends could be. Slowly evolving to a greater state of being. They could...they could be... Her trail of thought halted. Because as she'd gone over every pattern that could have indicated immortality, she'd slowly noticed one pattern with a rather disturbing abnormality. An abnormality that essentially derailed the entire theory. It had been nearly four days since she'd last slept. Twilight rubbed her eyes, giggling. There I go again. The Elements of Harmony were powerful, but to assume that their usage made her a god was...well, it was something close to blasphemy. Not that ponies really had use for terms like 'blasphemy'—they didn't actually worship their gods, after all. All the same, it was very presumptuous. She stopped giggling and continued walking. It didn't matter why Celestia would be scared. Twilight was better off now, and that was all that mattered. She was better off as her own master. As she gave a decisive nod, though, she realized she had no idea where she was going. After teleporting out of the castle, she'd half-expected to find herself surrounded by hostile guards. Shouting down the Princess and tossing armed soldiers through windows? Defiance was rarely attempted in the idyllic land of Equestria, but when it came, it was generally Discord's or Chrysalis's style—and it was never tolerated. Surely Twilight would be treated identically to those unfortunate souls. And Twilight was ready. She was the most powerful unicorn in Canterlot, with the possible exception of her brother off in the Crystal Empire. If the guards wanted a fight, she knew she was ready to give them one. However, while there was clearly some effort toward her arrest, nopony had yet come even close to catching her. The search seemed a bit muted. Twilight had conjured a black cloak, and that had kept her unnoticed so far. It was almost disappointing. It wouldn't last, though. The guards knew Twilight. They'd know what to expect, and she wasn't at anywhere near her best. She badly needed sleep. And she badly needed to get indoors, because the sun was setting early. Canterlot didn't have a curfew, but she would still stick out like a bent tine come nightfall. Twilight nodded to herself. There's a simple solution, of course. I'll just have to find... She looked around. ...an inn. Her heart sank. ...even though I don't recognize this neighborhood at all. Back when she'd lived in Canterlot, visits beyond her home had been kept exceedingly rare. Anypony outside her family was not worth her precious time. They wouldn't understand her, and they would distract her from her studies. And her move to the castle had just led her to convert her new home to a much-larger sanctuary. With a library. She'd gone under the sun even less. As she'd grown up, trips outside had been more frequent. She'd gotten a view of each district, and become fairly familiar with the ponies near the castle. But the neighborhood she'd wandered into was still utterly unfamiliar. She was still in the First District, at least. She'd have gone through a checkpoint otherwise. That was a bit of comfort. She sighed. It still wasn't good. This area looked ominous. Shadowy. Oh, don't be silly. She gave a nervous laugh, looking behind her. Everywhere's shadowy. “It's night, Twilight!” She giggled again. “Good luck finding a place that isn't a little umbral!” She didn't realize she'd just spoken out loud until a familiar voice jolted her out of her not-so-internal monologue. “That's right. Really ain't the best time for wanderin', 'specially not this near the Second.” Twilight swung her head back ahead, letting out a small “Eep!”. Her uncertain path had been blocked. The surprise barricade was an earth pony mare about Twilight's age. The earth pony had an orange coat, and her blond mane was done up in a simple ponytail. Upon her head was a beaten brown stetson hat. “Twi.” The mare's voice was flat, and a little hoarse. Her emerald eyes were red-rimmed. Twilight's heart sank. She looked the mare straight in the eye, and very carefully balanced fury and concern was sent back at her. Twilight swallowed. “...hi, A.J.” —— Flam sat alone on the cold stone floor of a dank, smelly basement. Two candles slowly drifted in the air around his head, providing the basement's sole source of illumination. The basement was completely barren of distractions, as even ordinary furnishings had been cleared away—probably in response to the original owner's death. Or perhaps Bilious had done the clearing. Upstairs, he heard bangs and shouts. Flim was working hard on their assignment. He'd asked Flam to lend a hoof, but Flam was busy. Flam had not told his brother what he was busy doing. Bilious had agreed to give the brothers whatever they needed to create the machine. Something Flam had quickly realized was that Bilious Brass didn't actually know anything about machinery. Whatever Flam asked for was granted, without question. The three items Flam had asked Bilious to obtain were all books. A Treatise on Rebellions of Early Equestria, Abnormal Magicks and Their Sources, and The World They Built: Starswirl the Bearded, and the Kingdom That Forgot Him. Bilious had seemingly seen nothing strange about these books being required. Either the unicorn was stupid, reckless or, obviously, both. Determining the books he would need hadn't been easy. Flam didn't spend much time in libraries, after all. Fortunately, he'd remembered Abnormal Magicks and Their Sources from a particular con he and Flim had once pulled off. That book had given references to the other two. So he had read them, learning a great deal Bilious had doubtless wanted to keep hidden. Really, Flam wasn't sure he had wanted to know all this. But now that he knew, the next step to take was clear. He closed the last book, letting out a sigh. “Flim!” he called. Flam heard his brother shouting indistinctly. From the sounds of things, Flim had accomplished a great milestone and was celebrating. Flam guessed he hadn't been heard. “Flim!” he repeated, louder. “Get down here!” He stomped his hoof on the floor. “And be quick about it! I've found something quite fascinating about this wonderful employer of ours!” —— In the common room of a quaint inn called The Salted Macaw, two little ponies sat alone in the corner. It was a nice establishment, though a bit basic—the lighting was muted by pink-tinted glass lamps, and the ceilings were low enough to bump one's head on. Perhaps it was intended as a romantic venue. That theory was supported by the fact that each table had at its center a vase containing a red rose. If it was true, it made the situation all the more awkward for Twilight. Even without the roses—Twilight had discreetly levitated their vase into the trash can upon entering—the situation was extremely awkward. Unsure how to respond to being lectured, she was just remaining quiet and letting Applejack rant. Throughout the speech, Applejack had been running between anger and worry—and back again—faster than she'd ever run at any rodeo. She'd nearly throttled Twilight when recounting the interrogations she and Rainbow Dash had been forced to submit to. She'd nearly started crying when recounting breaking the news to Rarity and Fluttershy. And she'd nearly throttled Twilight again when the rant had turned toward an argument she'd had with the guard captain. All in all, it had been an exhausting ordeal for both of them, and Twilight could only breathe a sigh of relief that they'd finally caught up with the present. Applejack's eyes were wide, as her rant had spiraled down to a quiet plea. “C'mon, Twi.” She reached forward and took Twilight's hoof. “Just come back. Explain what y'meant.” Twilight closed her eyes. Don't get angry. Don't get angry. But she heard herself failing to heed her own warning as she responded. “Are you serious?” Her raised voice was noted by the bartender, who looked over and glared. “Keep your voice down, Twi,” Applejack muttered. “An' o' course I'm serious! Just head back an' explain why you said all that.” “No. No!” Twilight scowled. “I already explained enough!” She leaned against the table, crossing her forelegs. “You were there.” “I think the Princess just didn't understand that y'all didn't have time for trips.” Applejack gestured to the side, in the direction of the castle. “If you'd just go back, an' explain what's goin' on...” She paused, looking at Twilight. Twilight looked up, meeting her friend's gaze. The bartender trotted past them and over to the door. “You two see yerselves to your rooms soon, got it? Don't stay up late.” Twilight heard him leave, but she didn't glance away. She was still looking at Applejack, because she'd just noticed how tired her friend looked. About as tired as Twilight felt. She looked down at her front hooves. “If this was the first time, yes. I could do that.” She reached back for her glass and took a heavy drought of saltwater. “But it's not, A.J. She's been pushing me around ever since I started working for her.” “I think y'all may be pushin' the blame the wrong way.” Twilight rubbed her eyes. “I'm tired of this, alright?” “Twi, don't go shuttin' me down when I'm tryin' to—“ “Applejack, I'm tired of...of...” Twilight rested her head on the table. “...I'm tired.” She closed her eyes. “I...just don't...it's...” The next thing she knew, her eyes were wide open and she had cider in her mane. “I'm awake! I wasn't...wasn't...” She trailed off. Applejack looked down at her, and Twilight realized her head was still lying on the table. She had a feeling she should get up. For now, though, it was easier just to lie there. Her head swam whenever she raised it too quickly, anyway. Applejack took a sip of her cider—half of which had just been expended on Twilight's awakening. She jabbed the mug toward her unicorn friend. “Twi, you really need t'get some sleep.” Twilight looked toward the window. The shades were drawn. She looked back at Applejack, raising an eyebrow. “I...I guess I'll get plenty of that in the prison cell.” “Y'ain't goin' to jail, Twi.” “I shouted down the Princess and launched her guards through a window.” “We'll work it out.” “Yeah?” Twilight rolled her eyes. “You and the twenty guards outside are going to help me work it out?” She tried to keep her tone neutral. Amused, even. But she knew her tone was betraying her anger. Maybe it was better to be honest, anyway. Twilight realized her eyes were closing. She rubbed them again and looked back up at Applejack, who looked confused. Applejack glanced at the window, then at Twilight. She laughed. “Huh? Y'are tired, Twi.” Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Am I?” “Well, y'just—“ Applejack frowned. Twilight saw her eyes scrolling back and forth, from the window to the unicorn, as if reading text. “—you ain't makin'—y'just ain't...makin'...” The earth pony trailed off. She slowly looked to the window, then back at Twilight. The mug fell to the table, bounced off, and cracked against the wooden floor. Cider spilled all over the boards. In her exhausted state, Twilight felt momentarily bothered by the mess. But Applejack was speaking. It was important to be alert right now. Twilight knew she'd probably have to make a run for it soon. “I been hornswoggled.” “Oh, please.” Twilight straightened. “As if you didn't call them.” “I didn't!” Applejack looked hurt. And not just hurt—scared. Like Celestia had been. “Y'...y'gotta believe me, Twi. They—they musta been followin' me.” Applejack's eyes widened. She looked toward the window, then back at Twilight. Then back and forth again. “I swear to...to Luna, an' by our friendship, I didn't have any idea! I was here t'help you!” Twilight stared at her oldest friend. She knew Applejack wasn't a good liar. Applejack was a terrible liar, especially to Twilight, who had a particular knack for catching the farmer's few falsehoods. Lying made Applejack uncomfortable, so she'd had very little practice with it. But more important than that knowledge, Twilight knew Applejack wasn't a traitor. She knew it by all the years they'd known each other. She knew it by her heart. Applejack was a friend. Whatever they disagreed on, if Applejack had sided against her, Twilight would have known by now. Twilight rubbed her eyes again. “I don't know what I'm saying. Of course I believe you." She sighed. "I'm sorry, Applejack. I'm...I'm really sorry. I'm just tired.” Applejack nodded, looking intensely relieved. Twilight's horn glowed, and she focused herself on the task of picking up the broken mug and disposing of it. This simple diversion wasn't nearly enough to distract her from the question she was trying hard not to think about, though. Had Applejack really thought Twilight would turn against her? Have I been that hostile? Twilight wondered. Applejack's been my friend for years. What must she think of me, that she'd be so scared I'd accuse her of... She dropped the mug pieces into the trash can as the realization hit her. She had accused Applejack. She'd meant to be more diplomatic, more subtle. She'd meant to use implications. But she'd outright accused her dearest confidante (save perhaps Spike) of treachery. I really need sleep. Twilight turned back to Applejack. She opened her mouth to speak, and realized the farmer was already talking. “Okay. Okay. Good.” Applejack was nodding to herself, looking around the deserted inn. “So, how're we gonna getchya outta this pickle?” “Beg pardon?” Applejack reached behind her chair, and picked up her hat. She lowered it onto her head. “We gotta get y'outta here. Now, I think there might be a way in the cellar to reach the—what?” Twilight had held up a hoof. She reached over, giving a sad smile. “Applejack.” She rested her hoof on Applejack's shoulder. “If I'd thought I would have trouble getting out, I never would've come in.” Her horn glowed. “I can teleport, remember?” Applejack's eyes widened. “But—wait! You can't—” There was a brilliant flash. —— As her vision slowly returned, and the ringing in her ears faded, it occurred to Twilight she might not be having a good day. Somepony was speaking to her. With difficulty, she picked herself up off the floor. “...'course they'd have anti-teleports, Twi.” Applejack stood over Twilight, rolling her eyes. “Shoulda asked me, I coulda guessed that much. Now, listen.” Her expression turned serious. “The cellar's right by the sewers. You can dig us a passage.” “I...wha'...” Twilight shook her head, trying to clear it. She felt Applejack take her hoof. She looked up—her friend was wearing a strange half-smirk. “We ready to git movin' yet?” Twilight looked at the shaded windows. She looked at the trapdoor beside the bar. And she nodded. “Right. Great. The...sewers.” Applejack released her hoof and the two hurried to their escape route. The trapdoor didn't have any sort of lock, which was good, as Twilight wasn't sure she could handle any complex telekinesis right now. She levitated the trapdoor open, letting Applejack jump down first. Applejack landed in the celler beneath—more of a dirt root cellar than anything—and rushed out of sight. After a moment, she leaned back into view. “Y'comin'?” And Twilight hesitated. She knew she could try to teleport again. Her power might be able to defeat the wards if she went about it the right way. She was clever. She knew that. Her mind raced as she looked at the shuttered windows. An enhanced catalytic destabilizer...coupled with an artificial redundancy circuit...I didn't receive any feedback prior, so it must be some sort of incarnum-distinguishing grid...deploying the glass, transmuting to sand, alchemizing a disorientation unit... “I can punch through,” she whispered. “What's that?” Twilight glanced back down at Applejack. The workhorse was tapping her hoof, looking impatient. “Y'comin' or not, sugarcube?” If I leave, she'll be trapped in here. She'll get in trouble for helping me. They'll know. She's a terrible liar. They'll know. It'll be all my fault. Twilight gave a nervous grin. “Sure I am! Just...catching my breath!” Applejack gave her another funny look. Ignoring it, Twilight's horn glowed. She slowly drifted down to land beside the other mare. “So! Where do I start digging?”