INTERMISSION 1—Judges and Dragons
So it’s like this.
Three months before all this stuff happened, things were going well. Twilight Sparkle was still studying the magic of friendship, for one thing. Rarity was gorgeous as she ever was; Pinkie Pie as energetic as she ever was. Applejack helped her family with their orchard, Rainbow Dash was going to re-perform that Sonic Rainboom even if it killed her, and Fluttershy raised her animals in quiet semi-seclusion. Ponyville was a quaint town that saw weirdness at least once a month, with its residents grown used to it all. The lazy-eyed mailmare still delivered postage, the clock tower was still maintained by its lord, and the mayor was still in calm, collected control.
Like I said, normal.
That is, until three months ago.
What happened?
Everypony went nuts, that’s what happened. Ponies turned up missing. Foals started disappearing. Investigations were made, accusations flew, paranoia had reached a boiling point… Ponyville was in the grip of chaos.
And that was when Spike found Twilight Sparkle. That was when…
Spike rubbed his arm where the bite still stung. The bandage he applied was falling off, and he was worried he would get dirt in the wound and get an infection. He was not normally a hypochondriac, but he WAS in the badlands, and dirt WAS everywhere. It didn’t help that his “bandage” was really stationery normally used for making out a message.
Speaking of messages, Spike was still waiting for a reply from Celestia. He thought that being given news as to the whereabouts of her faithful student would have sent her right over. But for some reason, his previous two messages were never even answered. He was the direct line to Celestia—his dragon breath was able to teleport objects it burned—so it wasn’t likely she’d accidentally miss the letters.
What’s more, Spike worried that if Celestia was not receiving his letters (out of range, perhaps?), that meant he could not call for help. Not that he thought to in the first place. He cursed his haste. But what was he to do? He had seen Twilight Sparkle almost two weeks after her disappearance, and tried to follow her. Looking back on it, it was a stupid thing to do—he should have alerted Celestia right away instead of…
The purple dragon shook his head, putting his thoughts back in order. Something seriously wrong was at work throughout all this.
Spike’s clawed feet scraped against the dirt and the brush. He coughed as he inhaled some of the dirt in the air, and once again adjusted his makeshift bandage. The sun had risen an hour ago, spilling much-needed light onto this barren landscape between the thick greasy clouds.
And as the sun rose, so did the temperature. The warmer air was welcoming to Spike—dragons are giant lizards, after all. Their cold blood was sensitive to temperature. He felt stronger, more alert in the heat, less disoriented. For now, he forgot how hungry he was and that he didn’t pack anything to eat for his trip.
As he regained his strength, Spike noticed in the distance a small, dilapidated building. He couldn’t make out what it was from this distance, but he sniffed the air and smelled Twilight Sparkle all over this trail. (Dragons also had a good sense of smell.) She had definitely gone toward the building.
Spike sprinted.
Growing closer to the building, Spike noticed it was actually more of a church. He wasn’t as well-read as Twilight Sparkle, so the symbols painted on the outer walls weren’t familiar to him. (Judging from the repetition of certain unprintable four-letter words, not all the symbols drawn on the church were there originally.) The windows were all either smashed or boarded up. It was evident this church had been abandoned and abused for a long time.
Spike sniffed the air again. Twilight’s scent was stronger here. Carefully, he went over what he could do.
He could try going into the church where she likely was. But then again, the last time he had tried to confront her, Twilight had bitten his arm and thrown him about with her telekinesis. Spike had tried reasoning with her, but it was like she was under somepony else’s control—which made Spike worry. In fact, that was what had prompted him to follow her.
Of course, he could have tried to find help first, but then Twilight’s scent would have been long gone.
Speaking of scents, Spike smelled something else here. Something ominous. It gave Spike that feeling you get when something heavy is about to happen. It was a bit different for Spike though—he had no hairs of which to stand on end, but his stomach was doing backflips nonetheless.
Instead of barging right in, Spike hovered around the church, looking at it from different angles, looking for some more discreet way of getting in. All of the windows were boarded. There was another door in the back, but the stench of wickedness lingered strongest there. Spike didn’t trust it one bit.
But Twilight was in there, so he had to…
…wait.
Spike sniffed the air. Twilight’s scent was in the air again. Had she left?
As he moved about, his head held up sniffing the air, he felt a crunch beneath his feet. He looked down and immediately jumped backward. There was colored glass all over the ground. He looked upward and spotted a broken window—likely the original owner of the glass pieces.
Spike put the scene together in his mind: Twilight went to this church. Met some guy, definitely bad. Had a fight? Possible, very possible. Knocked out a window. The scent in the air indicated Twilight had moved from the church straight to…
Spike looked behind him and his eyes widened in surprise. Before him lay a sprawling city: bronze buildings of many sizes and curious shapes reached for the sky above, smoke poured from pipe-chimneys, and as he spied more closely, Spike could see people bustling about. It was like looking at a city made of giant grandfather clocks, rollercoasters, and jukeboxes.
For a moment, Spike wondered how in Equestria he had ever missed this.
He began the long trek from the Cliffside where the church was perched to the city. As he went down the steep side, Spike noticed many abandoned buildings below him, in similar states of neglect as the church. They segued neatly into the sprawling clockwork metropolis ahead.
He slowed down cautiously. Spike doubted an entire part of a city could really be abandoned. It was as if as soon as the people of this city discovered better technology, this settlement was forsaken in favor of the flashy and new. When that happened, Spike remembered Twilight telling him once, it wasn’t uncommon for gangs of thieves to occupy where decent society had left long ago.
Spike sniffed at the air. Outside the dusty stench of the badlands and the very heavy neglect of this part of the town, he smelled… oil? Grease, definitely. The kind of things one would have to use to make machines. Something was living here, definitely, but Spike didn’t care to stick around to know what.
The little dragon sat down. He took out his stationery and pen and wrote down a quick note.
Princss Celestia,
if you get this messe message, pleese respond. I have a good lead on twilight’s whereabouts. she is in a city of mache machines I have never seenbefore, some where in the badlands beyond everfree forest. however, I think she might be hurt. there’s enough evidan evadent proof that she got in a fite with a strongr pony. PLEASE SEND HELP ASSOON AS POSSIBLE.
Spike
Despite his moderate expertise of writing, Spike was weary, hungry, and trying to pay attention to his surroundings while he wrote his note. If Twilight had proofread his work, she would have given him a scolding.
He rolled up his note and inhaled deeply. He felt the oxygen connect with his fire-producing gland and ignite. In a green flash of fire, the note was gone and was carried into the sky. Spike turned his attention back to his careful sneaking through this abandoned part of the city.
*****
He smirked, seeing the dragon from afar. He knew she had attracted unwanted attention while she was on her little mission. Through a Long Sight spell, he watched the dragon circling the church, then his descent off the steep hill, and then observed his writing. Although he couldn’t make out what exactly the dragon was writing, he could tell his spelling and grammar were atrocious—even at this distance.
The Judge shifted his weight. He was lying down, and his joints were beginning to ache. There used to be a time when he didn’t feel so old, but that time had ended long ago. If he was lucky, his Master would grant him another extension of his youth. The Judge hadn’t actually gathered up his courage to ask his Master yet, but he’d have to remember to eventually. Getting old stinks.
The heat of the day had forced him to remove his black leather armor, which now lay in his wagon. His attendants were cleaning it in fine detail, as the Judge had always demanded. They knew better than to fail him, even in this simple task.
(Wait, that came out wrong, let me try again.) They knew better than to fail his orders.
He would have to dock their pay this month if he found even a little dirt on it. And he hated having to do that, but penalties exist for a reason.
The Judge’s attention turned back to the dragon. While he had cast a Disguise Scent spell on himself, his wagon, and his attendants, he knew that the dragon would catch the scent he had left in the church earlier that day. He cursed his forgetfulness—of all the precautions he took, he had forgotten to cast the Disguise Scent spell on himself earlier that morning. Now he knew he was getting too old.
However, upon seeing the dragon write his letter and burn it, he watched as the green embers danced through the air. Like all the other times the dragon had sent any messages, the Judge cast Magic Magnetism—an enchantment spell that drew all magical spells in range to its caster. (In this case, it could also draw the travelling message, since the dragon-fire was an enchantment likely cast on the dragon long ago.) Not always a useful spell, obviously, but if one were crafty and careful enough, it was very effective.
As the green fire turned back into its original paper form, the Judge looked over the note. The writing and spelling were even worse up-close. But the message was all the same: asking Princess Celestia for assistance. However, his eyes fell on the fourth and fifth sentences, and he groaned.
Now that the dragon knew (or rather, had gained hints) of his existence, he would have to do something about it. The Judge loved dragons, and hated having to harm them—especially baby dragons. He felt they were majestic creatures wrongfully treated as brutes or greedy savages, which wasn’t true, most of the time; they needed to eat the gold and jewels they stole just to survive. They only hoarded because that was what they did, it was their nature and they weren’t any less majestic for it.
And now he might be faced with having to kill one.
He turned to one of his attendants, a pretty young Earth pony mare. Shiny bright purple eyes, fur of a soft red hue, long black mane tied into a braid (Even her tail was braided), a cutie mark of a radiant diamond. Her facial features were quite exotic, and were what convinced the Judge decide to have her become his most trusted servant. “Shine Brightest,” he called. She immediately looked up from her work on his armor.
He smiled—this time, a warm and genuine smile—at her innocent face. “Yes, my Judge?”
“No need for that.”
“U-Um, yes, Mr. Star Fall?”
He chuckled heartily. While he insisted his most trusted servants to refer to him by his name than by his title, Shine Brightest—as meek, innocent, and humble as she was—insisted to put “Mr.” or “my lord” before his name.
“My Brightest, it wounds me to know I may have to kill our little dragon spy. What do you suggest we do?”
He rested his face on his hoof and smiled warmly as Shine Brightest thought over the options. Her face lit up as she came to a conclusion she thought was satisfactory. “What if we offered him the chance to join us? A dragon could certainly have his uses.”
The Judge hmmmed a bit while looking into Shine Brightest’s purple (so bright they were nearly pink) eyes. “A good suggestion,” he agreed, “but it seems he has an interest in our enemy, Miss Sparkle. In all likelihood, she probably raised him.”
“If I may interject a thought, my Judge,” came a voice from behind the suit of armor in the open wagon, “we DO know where Miss Sparkle is. Perhaps we could trade that information for his loyalty?”
The Judge smirked as Shine Brightest’s red coat grew redder in embarrassment at her older brother’s interruption. And if it were anypony else, the Judge may have verbally reprimanded him for speaking out of line, but Sunset was an intelligent Pegasus—and the Judge usually took his advice to heart.
Sunset appeared out from behind the suit of armor, his cleaning tools still in his hooves. He made eye contact with the Judge while still cleaning the armor. Sunset’s mane and tail were short, scraggly, but a dark purple like his eyes, and his fur coat was… well, the color of a sunset. His cutie mark was a purple sun, and he shared the same exotic facial features as his younger sister.
“Trading information for his servitude?” the Judge echoed. “Not a bad idea. But he would likely also demand we keep her safe.”
Sunset seemed to think about this for a second. Then he replied, “Well, I say this with all respect, my Judge. I do know that you detest Miss Sparkle’s very existence, but what you are doing to her is allowing the world outside her home destroy her. If we can convince the dragon that we won’t harm her...”
“...which we never planned to do,” the Judge finished, “then we can claim she is safe… from me.” He beamed at the suggestion of his subjects, his sharp black teeth glistening in the late-morning sun. “That’s so sneaky!” He drummed his front hooves on the ground before him and laughed in delight. He was relieved at the idea of not having to harm such a magnificent creature.
The Judge got up. Shine Brightest straightened her posture and Sunset finished cleaning the armor. “Armor,” he commanded.
At once, the two sibling servants began to suit up their Judge. Shine Brightest no longer blushed as she equipped his armor, which was something the Judge missed, but it did indicate that she was getting significantly more experienced. Her facial expression seemed to waver as she prepared to strap on the coat for his flank.
The Judge remembered her saying that she thought his cutie mark was very pretty—and it was: five purple stars, with a sixth larger star, falling down in a shower. She seemed dismayed that his cutie mark was to be covered by a black mask that had such a fearsome image on it.
But she said nothing. She knew better than to question her Judge, and the Judge loved her more for it. Out of all the personal attendants the Judge had gone through, it was always these two who served him unconditionally. He couldn’t ask for better minions.
After commanding them to drive the wagon back to base and telling them he would catch up with them later (and to not use the freeway; it gets crowded around this hour), the Judge leapt from his perch on the cliff and cast a Feather Fall spell on himself mid-jump. He seemed to run across the sky, gliding toward the little dragon in the abandoned part of the city below.
If it were any other unicorn, it would have made an amazing sight. To Spike, he immediately thought Death himself had come to take him. He put up his fists and prepared for a fight.
The Judge landed before the dragon. Seeing the baby dragon ready to go down swinging was an amusing sight to say the least. He smiled, taking care not to show his hideous teeth (An effective scare tactic, but horribly embarrassing when trying to be affable), and trotted toward Spike as if he had just seen an old friend.
“Greetings,” he said. He held out a hoof to the dragon. “I am Judge Star Fall, how do you do?”
Spike looked at the Judge as though he were just approached by an alien from outer space. He retained his fighting stance: the Judge was not emitting any kind of smell at all. Which either meant he really WAS a ghost like his appearance suggested, or he had used a Disguise Scent spell—which also meant he was spying on Spike for Celestia knows how long. Either way, Spike was creeped out.
Lowering his hoof, the Judge noticed the bite on Spike’s arm. “Oh my,” he said in genuine concern, “Here, let me take care of that for you.” Before Spike could protest, the Judge’s horn began to glow, and so did Spike’s arm. After a few seconds, Spike’s arm was like new. Even the aches in his arm muscles were gone.
The Judge stood erect, looking down at Spike like a regal deity. In many ways, Spike was reminded of Celestia. “Where have you come from,” asked the Judge, “that you haven’t been able to stop or rest?”
Spike still didn’t trust him. Before Spike could say anything, his stomach grumbled.
“How rude of me!” the Judge said. “I should have offered some kind of refreshment first!” His horn glowed again, this time making gems appear in front of Spike. The baby dragon, never one to temper his appetite, went straight to work gobbling up the jewels. (He did this mostly because it’s impossible to poison a jewel—and even then, most poisons don’t work on dragons anyway!)
As he ate, the Judge merely watched with a facial expression of fatherly joy. Spike didn’t know what to think of this guy now. He seemed nice enough, but his scary appearance, the fact that he had no scent, and that he appeared so suddenly out of nowhere…
Spike slowed down his eating. He locked eyes with the Judge.
“Judge Star Fall, right?”
“In the flesh.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
The Judge began to walk toward and around Spike, his eyes not on the little dragon at all. Spike assumed he had this quirk in which he had to move about while telling a story.
“Because, my boy, dragons are a disrespected race. For years their majesty has been ignored simply because they were seen as thieves and hoarders. I thought that for once, you might like to be shown kindness from a total stranger.”
On some level, Spike had to agree. It wasn’t easy being a dragon, sure. But the fact remained!
Spike swallowed a sapphire. “Mr. Judge, it’s not that I disagree or anything, but, I’m not sure I can trust you.”
The Judge smiled warmly. Such honesty!
“It is understandable. I descended from nowhere, only to heal your wounds and shower you with food. I must seem such a creep to you. But you should know,” and here he sat down in front of Spike, “I am aware you are searching for somepony important to you. I want to help you—at least, as much as I am able.”
Spike looked him over again. He still did not look trustworthy—the scary armor, black teeth, and creepy purple-and-red eyes was what did it for Spike—but his deep and soothing voice,and his patient and fatherly attitude suggested he may be more three-dimensional than just being creepy.
This did not change the fact that he apparently knew where Twilight Sparkle was, which made him seem even more suspicious.
“Do you know where she is?”
The Judge took one of the uneaten jewels—a beautiful diamond, at that—and cast a Seek Vision spell upon it. Inside the jewel, Spike saw Twilight Sparkle. She looked disheveled and filthy, exasperated. She looked up to the sky, as if seeking a sign. She was…
Alone.
The Judge slowly hoofed the jewel to Spike. “Just speak her name to this diamond, and you shall see her,” he instructed.
Spike looked at the diamond a little more, thoughtfully. A feeling of loneliness and despair began to creep over him, and before he knew it, it was difficult to keep himself from crying. He hadn’t before realized how badly he had missed Twilight—and there she was, suffering. No one there to tell her she was going to be fine, that things would turn out OK. No little assistant to take her messages or give her advice. No friends to offer their support.
Spike placed his hand over Twilight’s face (so hurt, so lost, so afraid) and fought back his tears.
He looked up at the Judge to see his spooky eyes looking down at him. Part of him knew that this guy was responsible. But on the other hoof (HAND. You have HANDS, Spike!), this Judge… he was so powerful, Spike could feel it—it radiated off him like it were his own body heat. There was no way Spike could beat him or force him to let Twilight Sparkle go. The only reason the Judge hadn’t already killed him, Spike thought, was because he was kind to dragons.
“C-Can,” Spike squeaked. He regained his composure, and tried again. “Can you make sure she’ll be safe?”
The Judge smiled. “No harm will come to her by my own hooves. However, I must ask an obligation of you.”
“What is it?”
“That you may live in my house, and eat from my table, and serve in my company.”
Of course. Servitude for safety. Spike looked down at the diamond and weighed his options. He had the distinct feeling that the Judge was not about to let him live if he refused this offer. Secondly, there was no chance of Spike helping Twilight—especially not now. He would have to wait for that opportunity.
That is, if it ever came.
Spike hated this. He came into this whole journey totally unprepared: no back-up, no supplies, and no connection to home. He had screwed up big time, and he knew it. And he was going to pay for it.
He closed his eyes in defeat. “… Deal.”
The Judge, still sitting in front of Spike, motioned for him to mount his back. As Spike got on, he held onto the diamond, looking at Twilight. He felt he should be saying good-bye to his dearest friend… but some stubborn part of him still held onto hope.
The hope that one day, and one day soon, he could seize the opportunity to escape. To rescue Twilight, and find all the other missing ponies.
They lifted off. Spike, with tears in his eyes, hoped that his opportunity would present itself soon enough.