The bow string twanged once for the first time in my new life before my target some one hundred meters out had an arrow with a field point tip sunk halfway through its torso. The projectile carried enough force with it to tear it off its pole, where it flopped almost pathetically onto the grass. I whistled as I beheld my work. It was initially meant as a ranging shot, but I guessed that I wasn’t as rusty as I gave myself credit for. I reached into the quiver upheld in a metal stand by my thigh as I nocked for another shot at the dummy next to the one sleeping on the grass of the stadium. After that bombshell of a revelation last night, my own sleep had been restless at best (not that I was required to sleep the full seven to eight hours as a Trifect, but old habits die hard), so I reckoned that a little stress relief was in order. The stadium itself was free of hundreds upon hundreds of people shouting and cheering for their favorite teams to triumph and win their cities of grandeur or hodunk towns some glory, which was a relief. I hated the roaring noise that a group of people screaming their lungs out could achieve.
‘Not too shabby. Beats the black walnut, cherry riser, and maple limbed bow I used to have by miles’ I hummed in thought as I appraised the quality of the featherweight Spritewood constructed recurve bow that I held in my grasp.
I only vaguely recall glancing over the mentioning of the light green colored Spritewood in one of Twilight’s library texts (it dulls in attracting interest when compared to the miraculous, illustrious Floatwood, where the trees it is harvested from are connected to the Earth through flexible, fire resistant roots that are three times the length of the bole they supply water and nutrients with), and when I refreshed my knowledge of it I found that its properties of favorable elasticity, formidable tensile strength, and force retention made it a highly desirable material, especially for bows. The one that was currently in my hands had a pleasant smell, almost like Sandalwood with a hint of Pine. They were high end weapons, prized by hunters and guardsmen alike. The fact that one of these babies would lessen the weight of your munny pouch by three Princess stamped coins proved that, and that was without accessories like stabilizers and string suppressors.
I readied my shooting stance after nocking another arrow. I stood facing sideways to the targets and spread my feet apart till they were aligned with my shoulders. When aiming with a bow, it was counterproductive to hold the string back and aim, as the tension would cause tremors, and even the slightest shake could greatly affect where your arrow flew. You wanted it to be one smooth motion; the drawing of the string, making your spine do the work, putting the smallest amount of weight forward on the foot closest to the target, letting go of the bow handle while pushing the handle forward with the minor area of flesh in between the curve of the index finger and the thumb… and releasing the string. I was unsure what wood material these arrow shafts were made out of, but they flew straighter than I expected for how lightweight they were.
With my height, deceptively brawny Trifect muscle, and the reinforced elasticity of the Spritewood bow I was using, the draw weight I was commanding here had to be well over a hundred pounds if I pushed the bow to its limits as I was doing now. Frang! Went the bow, and the arrow rocketed out of its perch at speeds that defied belief. The passably human looking target dummies were made out of a force mitigating, magically enchanted foamy material meant to prevent the over-penetration of the mark, so the verifiable truth that I could wedge an arrow even halfway through that at a relatively short distance was impressive in and of itself. Of course, most archers weren’t Trifects that had enhanced attributes in practically everything. So maybe I shouldn’t have been so pleased with myself.
I had gotten out of bed that morning before the Sun was supposed to rise, moving like a darkly dressed specter (I had finally washed the Hydra stench out of my robes. Such a difference it was, smelling clean!) through the halls as I used the special bridge connecting the Citadel and the Stadium. From there I had paid a visit to the armory where the magically blunted weapons and equipment were kept, had a few words with the armorer in charge of keeping them under lock and key, mentioned that I was Celestia’s Agent that she had announced to the Press, and was all set to enjoy a morning of archery practice. I loved archery, and the fact that I wasn’t half bad at the sport helped immensely. Lining up a series of consistent groupings of shots came easily for me when loosing at stationary targets. But when the man from the armory told me that they had a special mechanized track that allowed for the shooting of mobile targets, I was as giddy as a kid in a candy shop with a pocket full of Jacksons.
Until he could finish the setup work behind me, I was content to let fly at sitting targets. Though the busy armorer scurrying about with railed tracks and large painted sheets of scenery that I assumed were meant as cover would sneak glances at me every time I loosed a shot when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. Either he was impressed by my bowmanship, or in his head he was focusing on the Ice cloud incident that was attached to me, and was studying me for himself. It grated on me for the first five minutes before the apathy settled in and I was able to pierce the head of the dummies three times out of every five. I would try my hand at speed firing the bow (arrows were nocked from the right, where the wood was skillfully carved to accompany an arrow rest), but the kinetic energy each fletched round carried to the target would more often than not tear the dummies from their post and force me to correct them with a sigh and an application of magic. There are downsides of convenience when it comes to being a Trifect with a world shaking purpose to a life removed from his old one.
The armorer whistled to me once he had hammered the nails posting the painted scenery cover that the mobile dummies on rollers would pass every ten seconds. Crystals that I presumed were charged with the magical energy that powered the device were intermittently encrusted into the metal. There was no overtly obvious mechanism for controlling the speeds at which the dummies sailed along the track, but the armorer explained that it would vary based on how well I was doing as a sort of difficulty adjustment system. I nodded to him and thanked him for his work with a ten bit coin to sweeten my words and make his spent time worthwhile. The armorer must have taken my previous session with the standing dummies into account, because the mobile ones were armored from head to stilt in old, rusted armor that must have been the hand me downs from the Krystal Kingdom’s guard barracks. The gems encrusted in them were radiant though.
The armorer gave a shout from his position behind me as he started the contraption with a handheld remote, the rails slowly grinding their gears as the mechanism fired up. The track itself was shaped in a serpentine S curve with circular bends that overlapped over each other to simulate a juking opponent. Along the track were various obstacles that the armorer informed me the dummies could not only use for cover, but to ‘shoot back’ via a tiny light bulb that turned purple on the top of their heads as they returned fire. The point of that contrivance was to train the archer to hit the target before they could have the chance to shoot back. The armorer advised me to wait a minute for the track to reach optimal status before beginning the combat archery exercise. I gave him five, practicing with the static targets until I was comfortable with firing on the move.
My ears discerned a swooshing of wind as Rainbow Dash touched down beside me. Quick as she was, this girl could only outrace the speed of sound on special occasions. The woman was dressed in a light blue t shirt and gym shorts that left the vast majority of her thighs exposed to the elements, “The heck is all this for?” She queried me in a nigh accusatory tone, giving the noisy contraption a scrutinizing look that disguised an undertone of dismissal. I could only surmise that she was bothering me for rationale that went beyond the classification of idle curiosity.
“Guten Morgen, Fräulein Dash” I greeted her, ignoring her lack of early morning courtesy.
“Speak the common tongue pal, I’m not a poly-… something. The Egghead would know” She finished lamely, her vocabulary failing her at the moment.
“The word is Polyglot” I clarified for her, “So what’s up?”
She crossed her arms together and scowled at me, “I asked you first… Egghead”
“My skull is actually quite rounded, just so you know” I corrected her, taking slight offense, “And I am practicing archery, as you can plainly see” I wiggled the Spritewood bow in my possession for emphasis.
She couldn’t care less about the bow, “That’s cool, I suppose”
The awkward lull in conversation lasted ten seconds before I remembered an important topic I wanted to talk to her about.
“I’ve been wanting to thank you” I began to say, meeting her gaze with those stunning, Magenta hued irises of hers, “I sort of owe you a lot”
“Huh?” She ineloquently vocalized, “For what?”
“Teaching me how to manipulate the existing weather conditions” I replied, “Were it not for your hands on instruction, I likely would have become breakfast for an incredibly angry Ursa Major” Or a red pile of mush on the ground. I couldn’t dodge its attacks all day, and it would have taken me the better half of that day inflicting damage on it with normal strokes of Dichotomy to fell the enormous starbeast.
She expelled air through her lips in a mixture of disbelief and wonder, “I’m still trying to imagine that, you standing toe to toe with an Ursa Major. Those things can kill most adult Dragons! How big was the one you encountered?”
“Scary big” I understated casually, “So what brings you here to the ground floor of the stadium?”
Her eyes flicked to the side, “I’m here to get some laps done on the track” Despite the excusing way she told me this, she refused to budge from her position, her body twitching with indecision every time she tried to do so.
I levitated the quiver holder over to me, “And is that all you’re doing here?”
She groaned, annoyed that her anxiousness was so obvious, “Applejack also extorted me into apologizing to you for last night… so sorry, I guess” She scraped her foot side to side on the grass in an endearing manner.
I frowned, “It’s not a true apology if you were coerced into it. And what are you sorry for? Other than being less than talkative and avoiding eye contact at all times at the dinner table. I realize that I was being a bit of a pig last night. But when a guy is voracious, he has to indulge his stomach” I patted my belly jocosely. I probably could have wiped the grease off my lips with those dainty handkerchiefs Cadence had the gall to designate as the napkins in order to regain some lost propriety points. Ehh… my laziness abounds.
She poked me in the chest, “Please, you couldn’t be a more messy eater than me or Pinkie if you tried. I was steamed at you for other reasons, Zenith”
My mind naturally jumped to the most rational conclusion, “About my brief disappearance, you mean? That unfortunately wasn’t something that could be avoided, Rainbow”
She shook her head, “Not that! Sending Spike to bring me the autograph signed by the Star Seekers! You were supposed to give it to me in person!” She vented, as if I had spurned her.
She was mad over that? Leave it to Rainbow Dash to get mad at the smallest affronts to her person.
I wasn’t going to permit her irritation to rub off on me, “Well Spike volunteered to do it for me as recompense for his hesitation to do what needed to be done with the ice cloud. I figured it would have been rude to turn down such a heartfelt proffer” I collected arrows from the quiver to insert between my fingers on my gripping hand and some to fist in the my draw hand, “Besides, you never stated that you wanted me to give it to you personally”
She brushed a rogue strand of messy, chromatic hair out of her face, “Where did you even disappear to? The way everyone was acting, you’d think you’d gone somewhere important”
“That depends on how you look at it. I could sum it up for you as going through a looking glass and down a rabbit hole of drugs, sex, and rock and roll… but just the rock and roll in actuality” I amended, expertly resisting the urge to smile at her stunned countenance. My stone face was too accomplished however, as Dash recovered from her shock with a sour squint.
Rainbow groaned exasperatedly, palming at her face, “Why are you always like that?”
“Like what?” I chirped innocently, inserting an arrow between the cleft of the index and middle finger on my bow hand.
“Like this!” Her facial expressions went flat and she slumped her shoulders like all of her motivation for life was sapped from her, which was something I didn’t do, so it was a terrible impersonation, “Mister I don’t have emotions and always look like I wish I’d stayed in bed”
“I do have emotions, for your information,” I gainsaid her, “though I concede that I like sleeping in sometimes. I just keep those emotions suspended in a semi aqueous solution of pure apathy chilled to within a few degrees of absolute zero” What I left out was that I was constantly monitoring to ensure that it never did reach absolute zero. I was skirting a dangerous line whenever I acted entirely devoid of emotion.
Her brow scrunched in miscomprehension, “Let’s pretend I understood a sliver of that jargon. What’s your point?”
“My point” I leveled an arrow tip at her face, before nocking it to the bow, “Is that I have a firm handle over my emotions. They cannot rule me unless I give them permission to. And I rarely, if ever, do that” I turned away from her to face the archery contraption.
Before she could reply, I drew back and let fly, the arrow screaming downrange to pierce the furthest foam target in the rear of the track as it crested a miniature hill. I had five shots clutched between my fingers on both hands, so I had to make them count. Sprinting forward and to the right of the course, I reloaded using a shaft pinched in my fist and loosed at an armored dummy as it poked out from behind a ‘tree’, growling to myself as the arrow ricocheted off the side of the helmet and implanted itself in the stadium wall beside the armorer; who jumped and howled a curse at how close that arrow was to shaving him. The lucky dummy stopped in its pace and pulsed, a lazer-like beam shooting from its forehead and narrowly grazing my ribs. I rolled behind a poorly painted boulder and snuck a peek at my target before breaking from cover and loosing a shot, feeling a surge of triumph as my arrow nailed it between its eyes. With how speedily my arrows flew, I didn’t have to compensate much for distance or trajectory. Still, having to pause for two seconds to nock my bow cost me too much time in a firefight, as evidenced by the stream of purple light heading my way and forcing me back behind the false rock.
I had three targets remaining before this exercise could be completed, and the track had adjusted so the dummies would also duck into cover after taking pot shots at me. I hadn’t a clue what made the target course so intuitive, but I decided that I liked it. It saved me the trouble of casting a shadow opponent spell, and those shades wouldn’t stop stray arrows from accidentally pin cushioning some poor bloke in the wrong place at the wrong time. There was painted cover in the shape of a bridge a few meters from my current position that offered a better field of fire against my opponents, but the gap between the two spots was open and left my crossing vulnerable to enemy fire. The tracks were moving again, and another peek notified me that the dummies were rolling to box me in, but in doing so they had also abandoned their own cover. I took the chance as I detached from the boulder and broke into a mad sprint for the bridge, evading lazer fire that was realistically made inaccurate, as the dummies were mobile. I dove underneath the curve of the bridge and nocked for a shot. Popping out over the cartoonish bridge, I let fly at the closest target, a dummy that was moving back in forth almost as if it were indecisive about what it should do.
The arrow struck it where a kidney would have been on a man, and the dummy’s vacillation was cut short as the gem on its head dimmed. I ducked down as a ray of light from one of the others nearly clipped my hair. I very much doubted that they did any actual damage, but I was determined not to find out. If this were a real contest of projectiles, I wouldn’t have much room for error. I nocked before I emerged and took my time to aim this one, letting it sail into the neck of a dummy that was rounding the corner where the rock was. Because I was feeling confident, I attempted to nock two arrows at once in an effort to replicate something that Legolas, Green Arrow, or Hawkeye could pull off. The bow twanged as one of the two arrows stiffly soared downrange and planted itself in the grass. The second somehow miraculously pinned the remaining dummy where a man’s groin would have been (the sharpened tip of the arrow drilling through the codpiece as if it was only the thickness of an aged cheese), though the dummy lacked the parts and sensitivity to make that wound seem excruciating.
With all the targets dispatched, the track sensed that the exercise was concluded and powered down, and I gesticulated to the armorer to let him know that I was done here. I looked back to see that Rainbow was impressed by my performance, though she was loathe to admit it from the way her brow furrowed and how fast she refused to meet my gaze as I ambled over to her. There was a yen in her glancing at the training course that was all too easy to read. An eagerness that was both foreign and eerily familiar to me, prompting a spontaneous change in my morning plans.
I collected all of the arrows that I had expended on the field and returned them to the metallic stand retaining the quiver, deliberately making a slow show of it while surveilling her in my peripherals to confirm that Rainbow wanted to emulate me with a bow. It couldn’t hurt to have to have some of the Elements take up some arts to defend themselves with such a foreboding future in the cards. I had even recalled spying Fluttershy practicing basic opening and closing techniques with the butterfly knife that I had given her. She had adorably taped over the blade so it wouldn’t punish her so badly for closing with her hand around the bite handle.
“That was some fancy shooting out there” Rainbow remarked as I slotted the last of the arrows into the quiver, “Since when were you an archer?”
“Since I was just a college student in another world, in what feels like another lifetime” I answered neutrally, thinking no more of it.
Rainbow’s expression softened as she realized what she had broached, “Oh… sorry. I didn’t mean to bring that up. Geez, how do you deal with that? If I was stuck somewhere else and unable to see my dad or my friends again, I’d go nuts!”
I sighed, “I cope with it the same way I do for everything” I rationalize it or mentally shut it away so it would cause no bother, “Here” I thrust the bow into her arms, “You seem like you wanted to try your hand at this”
She was confused, “I might give it a whirl. Where are you going, Egghead?”
I waved a hand in an arbitrary direction, “This roundhead is going to the library, there’s a certain curiosity that needs to be satisfied there” I vanished into the darkness of the tunnel before she could call out to me.
I took my exit at the stadium’s main entrance, where the magic suppressing arches shaped like metal detectors dotted the venues. Enough time had expired during archery practice that sunrise had come and gone. People, locals and tourists alike, were enjoying the stadium’s many facilities such as swimming pools, spa rooms, gymnasiums, and the like. A grand event like the Athletic Games only occurred once every four years, and even so this city was not likely to see a repeat of their hosting it for a long while. Regardless of this, the stadium itself (which undoubtedly took a large bite out of the Krystal Kingdom’s treasury) was a first rate center for recreation, and would serve the citizenry living here quite well. I pushed my way out the doors and onto the city streets, ignoring the looks of recognition brightening people’s faces as I strode past them. I no longer had cause to worry about them swarming me, a Royal Agent of the Crown wasn’t somebody to be trifled with, and the citizens stepped aside as I conducted my business.
The library of the Krystal Kingdom hadn’t changed at all since last I had seen of it, though it hadn’t changed in a period lasting over a thousand years, so that was obvious. The resting forms of the crystalline Griffins sat vigilant as they soundlessly guarded the flashy repository of information. I wondered to myself if the head librarian would remember my face, she didn’t seen senile for her years, but Annabelle and she were of an age and the matriarch of the Apple family could be pretty kooky at times (Her cooking was top notch though). I jogged up the steps and entered the library, the bejeweled doors groaning as there weight shifted on squeaky hinges. The interior of the building had significant levels of activity that made the place seem dead compared to the busiest I had ever seen it. Dozens and dozens of people (mainly academic types who were delighted to be exposed to a wealth of information that had been gone for a millennium) were browsing the shelves as native library assistants slid on ladders to collect tomes and texts requested by those people.
I found the library’s keeper ol’ Agatha sifting through a monstrous stack of papers and stamping them as she approved new library cards and accepted outgoing and incoming rentals at her desk by the entryway. One of the few old women among the Krystal denizens, Agatha was hale and healthy for her advanced age. In mind at least, if not in body. Her greying hair was tied back in a neat bun and held in place with a golden ring. She still had on those ridiculously large spectacles anchored to the bridge of her nose with string lined with teal beads. I didn’t understand why it was so refreshing to see her again, even if our relationship could hardly be classed as even platonic.
Perhaps it was the raw nostalgia that stimulated my senses. The whole of the Krystal Kingdom reeked of it, what with all the memories I made here, along with the death defying hijinks I got into with Daring Do. It was in this very library that I discovered the book that taught me to use the wings on my back that hypnotized me with their elegant beauty, even if the memory brought up the sordid taste of grass and soil from several trial and error crashes. It all paid off though, so now the only time my bladder lodged itself in my throat was when someone besides me teleported me somewhere.
I approached the woman where she toiled; watching her wrinkled, rheumatic fingers flip between pages as she expertly juggled a stamp in one hand and a pen in the other (it is so nice to see people modernizing thanks to me, even if its represented in baby steps) as she dealt with her workload. I waited patiently for three minutes before clearing my throat and alerting her to my presence.
“If you’re here to withdraw a tome of your choosing, just take Form B and fill it out. Once its processed, you should be able to rent to your heart’s content by tomorrow morn. Form A will take two extra days to process, but with a library card you can skip the need to wait and take home multiple books instead of one” She instructed, her eyes never leaving the neatly organized surface of her workstation.
“It’s good to see you again as well, Madam Agatha” I wryly retorted, not unkindly.
My odd response got her attention as she looked up at me, “Forgive me, have we spoken before? My memory isn’t what it used to be, and I’ve seen so many faces. Especially as of late, with all the attention that the Games have been attracting here, it’s a wonder we haven’t been swamped!”
I h’rmm’d, not surprised that she had forgotten me, “That’s quite alright, ma’am. I’ve changed a tad since last you saw me, so failure to assign a name to my face is forgivable”
She adjusted her glasses, the lenses making her light purple irises appear bigger than they really were, “Now that I’ve gotten a long look at you, you do seem faintly familiar. Didn’t you rent some books for a dear friend of mine, while also checking out the ‘How to Soar for Skyborn’ instructional slash historical background piece? The one with a winged clasp on the cover?”
My face brightened pleasantly, “That was me!” I chirped to her.
Agatha blinked twice, “You’re taller than I remember. You weren’t so sumptuously dressed back then either” She murmured. She must have skipped out on attending the games, since my fiery spectacle in the stadium was not cowing her at the moment.
I chuckled, “And still growing, as far as I know. But reunions aside, I’d like to know if this library has any stores of informational documents from bygone eras. You know, from before the vanishing of the city?”
She bristled with that communal pride some elderly people get, “This establishment is blessed with the distinction of holding some of the oldest historical texts outside of the Concordian Historical Institute, whose scrolls date all the way to the times when the three clans stood divided and squabbling amongst themselves”
I clapped my hands together, “Fantastic! Could you point me in their direction, perchance? I have some research that needs be accomplished before I leave this fair, fleetly developing city of yours”
She shook her head sadly, “I’m afraid the documents you might be referencing are off limits to regular library goers. The books and scrolls from before the Krystal Kingdom’s disappearance are rather fragile and must be handled delicately. If anyone could access them, they would have turned to unreadable shreds of paper and motes of dust by now” She said apologetically.
“It’s alright Agatha, he has the right permissions” A voice I’ve come to cherish called out from my left, “As you know, it is improper to refuse an Agent of the Arcanian Crown leave to inspect whatever he pleases within their Majesties’ Realm” The woman responsible for hosting me during my ingress to the Krystal Kingdom walked up to us, holding a clipboard in the gap between her left arm and her bodice. She set it atop the librarian’s desk after jotting some notes that I was not privy to. Her presence was like a ray of sunshine that didn’t agitate me moments after awaking.
I smiled genuinely, “Crystal!” I embraced her, noting that our extremely lopsided difference in height put her head level with my solar plexus now, “I didn’t expect to see you here” I told her as we detached from each other.
She mirrored the smile, surprised by the uncharacteristically warm affection but glad for it none the less, “You act as if you did not just see me two days ago”
I wobbled my head slightly in contemplation, “Eh… it’s a lengthy story,” ‘One that I would not feel comfortable with retelling in public’ I telegraphed to her with my eyes, “but from my perspective I haven’t seen you in nearly a month” And meeting Pony Crystal Clear did not count. Agatha was perplexed by my statement, but did not let that distract her from her stamp work.
She sensed my reluctance (that was an aspect of her special talent after all) and held up a hand forbearingly, “You don’t have to share it this instant if you don’t want to” She crossed her arms against the other by the wrists at her waistline and stood there professionally, as befit her recently gained position as an authority figure.
Crystal Clear was garbed in attire that must have reflected her high standing in society. Her smooth, sky blue dress had a luxurious ermine trim and embroidered golden filigrees stitched over her midsection. On her feet were sparkly crystal short heeled shoes that would have made Cinderella green with envy. Her brownish-blonde coiffure was done up in complex braids that accompanied a bun that looked like a squashed beehive. Gemstones were bestrewn between the weaves and lent her an air of sophistication and grace (Not that she didn’t have those two qualities in abundance to begin with). On her fingers were signet rings that I surmised that she used to seal important documents and impart them with all the authority that she was vested with by her neighbors. I wanted to think of her as stunningly beautiful despite her status as a widow whose precious child was taken from her by the monster that once ruled this place, but there were some Freudian undertones in that train of thought that unsettled me greatly. She was the closest thing I’d ever have to a mother figure in this world.
“I dare say that you could take the stage with the Princesses themselves and not be outshone style wise” I complimented her, taking extra care not to insinuate anything untoward.
Her eyes glinted (‘Is it some trick of the light that makes it shaped that way?’) at the praise, “You flatter me, Zenith. May I return it by stating that your previously decreed station as an Agent of her Royal Highness is quite apt? You definitely have the steadfast gravitas for it”
She then looked abashed, “But these topics of conversation can persist until later. You wished to read up on ancient history? Come, I’ll usher you to where that is kept” She beckoned me to follow with her hand.
I trailed beside her as she led me down the stairs of the building and to the back betwixt a couple of bookshelves, where a door made of homogenous quartz was barred off to those not cleared to enter. The seams were practically invisible, and the average person could walk on by without noticing it, but I was more perceptive than most. Crystal placed her hand on the door and a phenomenon occurred that reminded me that this city still held some wonders in reserve. The woman’s hand sent out pulses of light that coursed through the crystalline structure and interacted with something, possibly a spell matrix coding for the locking of the door. The light flickered and changed color from a fuchsia to a green as the door swung open.
“How’d you do that?” I inquired, mildly curious.
She sent me an amused sidelong glance, “We citizens of the Krystal Kingdom must retain some of our secrets, though suffice it to tell you that my elected job comes with some useful perks that put my library card to shame”
“Evidently” I allowed, appreciating her courtly wit, “Ladies first” I said, gesturing with a sweeping motion of my hand and a bow.
She giggled and curtsied, “You’re a gentleman as always, Zenith. The annex is through here” She stepped through the doorway and into a room I didn’t know existed until now.
The annex, as she named it, wasn’t terribly large, being only a thirty by twenty square foot room loaded with book cabinets, crystalline bins brimming with individual parchments and sheets of vellum, and pedestals with scrolls floating over them suspended in a bluish light. There was a second floor accessible by a small stairwell made in an ovular U shape that contained additional storage space and bookshelves. The chamber was closed off from the outside and therefore windowless, so bulbs in the ceiling that gave off a low glow provided the illumination. I whistled to myself, long and low. You really do learn something new and unanticipated everyday.
“All of the chronicles, scrolls, and records that the library deems invaluable or otherwise irreplaceable are archived here” Crystal explained, “Documents on the verge of disintegrating are given the stasis treatment to preserve their legibility. Our previous… ruler” She tactfully put it, “was wise enough to keep written material detailing the daily operations of his Kingdom, which he aspired to transform into an Empire that bowed only to him” She scoffed, “It pleases me to no end that he is no longer among the living”
“Empire?” I questioned, “When I first laid eyes on it, I thought that it a stretch to call this place a town, let alone a tried and true city when the second tallest structure was only three stories” That was before they erected the stadium, anyway.
“It was not always so, Zenith” She replied, a sadness creeping into her eyes, “Once… our city was the pride of the North. It was resplendent in the day and mesmerizing to behold in the night. Caravaneers, merchants, and traveling traders alike sought to unload their valuable silks and spices in exchange for the flawless gemstones and crystals that we crafted everything out of. Ours was a Kingdom of great renown. And with luck and a little bit of diligence, I believe we can attain that distinction again”
I furrowed my brow in contemplation, “You speak as though the Krystal Kingdom was more expansive in the past than it currently is”
She inhaled deeply and let it out in one long draft, “When Sombra cursed us to be lost to time until he could convalesce from his fateful battle and subsequent defeat delivered by the Princesses, the population of the Kingdom numbered at over ten thousand. He did not have enough magic to afflict all of his chattels, so only the capital district vanished”
She let me do the math for myself. I made an estimation a long while ago that this city couldn’t have been home to more than a thousand native born residents, and the Citadel contained the Crystal Heart and its positive and protecting influence. That left nine thousand people alone in a frozen winter land and isolated from their kin when the Citadel and its surrounding sprawl went up in a figurative puff of smoke.
I was aghast, “Only ten percent were affected by that curse? But what happened to the rest of your people then?”
“The Princesses guarantee me that the remainder of our people hauled whatever possessions they had with them and migrated south into Arcania to become full fledged citizens” Crystal responded, “Each of us has distant relatives and descendants living somewhere in the cities of Vanclover, Troddingham, Seawatch, and the town of Tall Tale” After listing them, she communicated nothing more on the matter.
‘Does that include her?’ I wondered. If so, then why hasn’t she mentioned any of her own kin? Or is it a wound that she wishes to stay scabbed over?
She focused on an empty pedestal that must not have been meant to suspend items for preservation, “What subject interests you? I can scour for it using this”
“Anything on a Valkyrian Wing Leader named Maelstrom who was the daughter of Over-Commander Typhoon, from before the unification of the clans, please” I humbly requested, not wanting to agitate the already somber mood that she was exuding.
“That would be a bygone research topic indeed” She placed a hand on the pedestal and it lit up before dots of light surged into the ground and spread among the containment units, like a LED version of a host of web crawlers digging for my desired information.
“So when did you learn about my… advancement?” I made idle chit chat with her as she searched the directory for any material relating to Maelstrom.
“I was present when Princess Celestia made the announcement, coupled with the proclamation of the Kingdom’s absorption into Arcania’s fold. There were many reporters and journalists in the audience who raised some interesting concerns regarding you” She paused in her action and peered at me, “Between you and I, is it true that you’re the fourth Trifect?” She spoke softly, even though there was no one else around to hear it.
“That was never much of a mystery between us, Crystal. You saw me materialize in a flashy display of magic, which you assumed to be a teleportation spell gone awry (‘When in truth it was indisputably intentional’), hence why I was unconscious on arrival. Now tell me,” I posed to her, “how could I be Skyborn… and yet cast magic at the same time?”
She didn’t need to connect all the dots to see the obviousness to that, “I see then… so it was not random chance that we met”
My eyes flicked between pulses of light as they raced along the walls and ceiling, “There is no such thing as random circumstance where I’m involved. Me being here and being what I am is quite deliberate, I assure you”
I hesitated before deciding to open up, since she deserved at least that from me, “However… I’m glad that you’re the one who took me in, made your home available for me when you could have reported my emergence to the guards and washed your hands of it. You enabled me to discover more about myself while ensuring a smooth adjustment to the unknown. And you treated me with a tender care that I honestly was not expecting at first” I divulged how much she meant to me, “No matter what happens Crystal, come rain, shine, or overcast sky… I will always be there for you” Provided I wasn’t busy elsewhere, but she knew what I meant.
She clutched my hand in her free one and gave it a firm squeeze, “Given another chance, I wouldn’t have chosen any other way” The pedestal blipped as the light based crawlers happened upon the keyword and brought the results back to Crystal, “Oh, it found a match! Here, I’ll highlight for you” She tapped the glossy surface of the pedestal and one of the suspended scrolls hovering to the right side became effulgent.
I sidled over to the stand and magically browsed through a mega-scroll with the thickness of a ham hock after a short period spent learning the interface (the crystal ‘computer’ interacted with my Agrarian aspect, which was neat), “So what does your new job on the Intramural Council entail, responsibility wise?” I inquired as I multitasked with reading, not wanting Crystal to feel like she was just the means to an end.
“Oh… lots of things” She ran a duo of fingers through the side of her hair as she stood by me, “Agreeing on a fair tax rate and limited market regulations, appropriating allocation of property as it becomes available and habitable, assessing the potential costs of various follow up constructions plans, approving ideas and concepts for attracting additional economically favorable tourism as well as…” She trailed off as she struggled to remember what other exciting chores her people democratically foisted on her.
“Tedious paperwork?” I deduced the rest.
Her lips curled in amusement, “That’s an accurate, albeit fairly unrefined way of putting it. It may not sound like it from the list of duties, but this is a huge privilege for my co-council members and myself. The Krystal people haven’t been able to partially govern themselves since before the Kingdom’s temporal displacement, so this is a unique opportunity for all of us”
I hummed in intrigue as I came across an interesting passage, “You’re not upset that the Krystal Kingdom is to be absorbed into Arcania’s territory? I figured it would become odd to continue referring to this land as if it were its own separate political entity” I pointed out. The Krystal Enclave just didn’t have the same ring to it.
“Quite the opposite, in fact” Crystal refuted my doubts, “As a recently adopted semi protectorate of Arcania with Princess Cadence resuming her able tenure as Vicereine of the Citadel, we have been granted a generous helping of government funding to do with as we see fit. With that injected into our fledgling economy, we can use that to kick start our material acquisition projects. The mountains surrounding the Kingdom are still abundantly rich in raw ores like iron, aluminum, nickel, silver, and a whole host of others. We need only reopen the shafts that were abandoned when the Kingdom fell”
‘That could come in handy, principally for the projects that I have in mind’ I mused, soaking in the scroll’s enlightening text like a sponge. According to the passage I was currently on, Maelstrom really took my parting advice to her to heart.
“And your people wouldn’t mind working in the same mine shafts as they did when they were enslaved?” I broached a potentially poignant issue. Crystal might think it a marvelous idea, but her fellow Krystal-lander might not agree with her conclusion.
She considered it with her eyes shut, “Not all of us might support the motion wholeheartedly, but I’m sure they’ll see logic once I elaborate on how beneficial this will be for the community as a whole. Men and women who were adept in mining will finally have an outlet for their talents again. Sombra was the reason we despised our thankless manual labor, but we are not shackled to his whims now” She hammered a fist into her palm, “This will be the first step in throwing off the figurative yoke that the mad king burdened us with that has lingered even after his well deserved demise”
“If you believe you can convince them, then you should go through with it” I deferred to her.
She tittered delightfully as she imagined the possibilities, “We can offer the people of Arcania just as much as they have to offer us, so I for one welcome our southern brethren with open arms. Our loss of aggregate independence is a small price to pay when we can achieve so much more being nursed at the dugs of the mother country, so to speak” She blushed at using such a provocative analogy.
“I suppose you can thank me for my unwitting role in that newfound relationship” I said wryly, “By besting Silver Sword and Shining Armor in the ring, I had won a personal bet between Cadence and Celestia regarding the future of your little city and all its inhabitants. Yay, us…”
“Oh” She expressed in surprise, “Thank you, Zenith”
I chortled at how my sarcasm sailed effortlessly over her head, “That wasn’t meant literally, but you are most definitely welcome”
We fell into a lull of silence from then, which we used for fruitful purposes. Crystal indulged her own curiosities with history with the totally believable excuse that she was learning from her spiritual predecessor’s vast multitude of mistakes, misanthropy, and mishaps. Meanwhile I devoted myself entirely to the scroll that was part chronicle, part historical manuscript, and part commentary on the author’s part concerning the founding of Arcania and Maelstrom’s marginal role in it and significant role beyond. It was a first and second hand report written down by someone named Weather Feather, who was also a secret member of the mysterious Triumvirate who worked behind the scenes to keep the three clans from open war while promoting a steady unity between them. It was not an easy task, for the Agrarian clan had several grievances against the Valkyrians and Stellar Magi for their years of mistreatment and borderline enslavement. The intense rivalry between Valkyrian and Stellar Mage was no laughing matter either, and when push came to shove, people on both sides died by the droves.
Maelstrom returned from her mission and was deemed a disgrace by the majority of the Senate as well as her father, despite bringing back evidence that their quarry was neutralized as a threat to the Provinces. As to be expected, Maelstrom was outraged by her subsequent dismissal from their military and became a staunch outspoken member of society, much like Starswirl had. Apparently she had better fortune than the wizard did with his speeches and gained a few allies in the Senate (giving a literal meaning to the term ‘friends in high places’) who sympathized with the plight of the Agrarians and were disgusted by what their once honorable society was devolving into.
Maelstrom and her affluent allies initiated their own countermovement and labeled themselves as the Wings of Liberty, whereas their critics demeaned them as the Delicate Doves for their commiserating, peace seeking attitude with the land lovers, which was seen as un-Skyborn like. Time passed and the Valkyrians repeatedly found themselves foiled in their attempts to add new subjects to their Provinces to exploit, likely because Maelstrom had thrown her lot in with the Triumvirate and had helpfully informed them to the timetables the Skyborn kept for subjugating raids on small or poorly defended Agrarian settlements. Her father also spoke of his plans with his son, who led many of those raids, so Maelstrom was always close by to overhear the important specifics. Whenever a foray force set out to reave the towns groundside, they would often find them completely abandoned, with their crops pre-harvested, and the denizens nowhere in sight, so it was therefore useless for them to launch these campaigns when their failure only made them lose face in the eyes of their Senate.
The increasing upsets to their plans left the Senate and the Over-Commander in a bit of a predicament, resource wise. Before then, the Skyborn had been successful enough in their raids to sustain themselves off of the gains alone. But eventually they were forced to swallow their pride and begin an equal exchange with the ground pounders of the larger Combine government controlled towns. The Valkyrians would ensure optimal weather conditions for growth, while the Agrarians would set aside a portion of their harvests as payment for their efforts. This was mutually beneficial to both parties, in spite of the enmity between them. The more diligent the Skyborn were with the weather, the more crops that the Agrarians could harvest with which to share with them. Not all was peachy however; as the Over-Commander began to suspect that someone was leaking Intel on their movements and set a trap by falsely declaring a new series of raids to prove that the Skyborn had not lost their nerve as formidable warriors.
Unfortunately, Maelstrom fell for the cleverly disguised trap, having no reason to retain doubts regarding her father’s overly aggressive policies. She slipped the information to her go betweens, who were then shadowed by the Over-Commander’s men until they were caught red handed disclosing the false information to their enemies. The author skimmed over it, but it was implied that the men Maelstrom sent were tortured for days before they gave up the identity of their benefactor. The document didn’t mention their ultimate fates, but knowing the draconian strictness of the ancient Skyborn for myself, they were likely publicly executed as examples to any sympathizers what awaited them.
Because it would no do to execute his only daughter for the shame it would bring upon himself, and as she would not reveal her other allies, the Over-Commander exercised his jurisdiction and sentenced Maelstrom to exile. Those lofty friends of hers came in handy once more, as they permitted her with the means of living a comfy life secluded away from the affairs of the world in her own floating Manse overlooking the ocean. More time passed as her father succumbed to his age and her brother took his place. He lifted her status as an exile, which her sibling saw as a waste of talent.
With the Windigo menace ravaging the land with constant snowstorms and blizzards that permanently froze the soil and rendered it unable to be farmed by even the hardy Agrarians, the newly styled Commander Hurricane placed the reinstated Captain Maelstrom in charge of the expeditionary force with which to find an uninhabited and fertile home for the Skyborn to make their own. Interesting to note is that Commander Hurricane charged Pansy, his aide-de-camp, to be her second in command (with the ulterior duty of keeping him apprised of her actions, I’d bet). What the Commander could not anticipate was that the two would become romantically involved after a series of adventures on the continent (spanning sixteen pages worth of content that I had to thumb through) to the east and that Pansy’s loyalties would gradually shift to her (I know, it was a shocking development, given her earlier opinions towards him. Love has a manner of changing us in ways that we do not foresee). I was happy that she found someone to share her life with. But then… whose ancestor did that make her?
His reports to the Commander soon ceased to contain anything that didn’t extol his sister in the highest for her bravery and cunning, which she took advantage of by convincing him to break ties with the Skyborn and renew the Wings of Liberty movement with him as her second in command. As to be expected, this upset Commander Hurricane’s plans for colonizing the continent and making it exclusively available for the Valkyrians. Political turmoil, coupled with the drop in food supplies occupied the Commander and prevented him from dealing with his sister’s perfidious rebellion to the East. The author then writes that the Wings of Liberty would have their own contest with encroaching Gryphondrians, who had set up cloud outposts of their personalized construction there. The fast paced skirmishes and clashes betwixt the opposing flyers is how the two races developed a healthy respect for each other’s skill in the air, as well as forced the Gryphondrians to back down from establishing their own colonization of the land. In my eyes, this meant that they were unsung heroes for the history books, which never credited them for this.
With the other two clans squabbling amongst themselves and his own people in upheaval, the Skyborn Commander had sparse choice but to sue for peace along with the leaders of the other parties. Chancellor Puddinghead of the Combine, Princess Platinum of the Stellarian Royal family (her proud parents resting in eternal peace after an interim of illness), and the Commander agreed upon a relatively neutral zone to meet and discuss what they were to do with the unending rimy conditions and the impending threat of starvation that imperiled all of their respective peoples. Sadly, with a few heated words that did nothing to warm the air, old rivalries prevailed over the sobering imminent shroud of frosty death growing over them by the day. Negotiations at an end before they had began, the three leaders quarreled and stomped out of the assembly fuming with anger and a resolve to make do without the other’s assistance. Oathbound to their leaders, their entourage likewise followed suit, a mix of regret and stubborn conceitedness in their hearts.
Behind the scenes though, Pansy (via Maelstrom’s guided instructions under the ever watchful eye of the Triumvirate) had been keeping correspondence with the adviser and secretary (also connected to the Triumvirate either through familial relations or ones fashioned from mentorship) of the Stellarian Princess and Agrarian Chancellor, notifying them of the permafrost free land lying to their East. The assistants to the leaders of the clans whispered into their ears that it would be beneficial if they packed up and started their nations anew elsewhere, notably the ostensibly unoccupied land to the East. The underlying goal being the safe relocation of the three clans somewhere they wouldn’t starve, before they could finish the job at each other’s neck anyway. Both leaders found the concept of being the first to colonize a land for their people while one upping the other two a tempting proposition, though neither of them realized that they were being played.
His reputation as a champion of his clan hanging by a thread, Commander Hurricane realized that his only chance of holding onto his position as supreme military leader was to capitalize on his sister’s foothold in The Reach as they had taken to calling it (Due to the land bridge reaching out like an arm grasping for a lifeline on the map). Stockpiling the last of their resources, the Skyborn huddled together into the middling yet mobile city of Stratopolis (‘That explains a lot, actually’) and departed the lands that had been home to their ancestors for the better part of two millennia. The Agrarians and Stellar Magi followed suit by ferrying themselves eastward across the rapidly freezing waters in a massive haphazard fleet of vessels ranging from mighty oared warships, trading galleys, decommissioned barges, pleasure yachts (these belonging almost solely to the Stellarians), to even diminutive trawlers. The progress of all three clans’ was slowed by the need to resupply along the way while additionally picking up willing citizens or dragging along stragglers who had stubbornly refused to abandon the domain of their forefathers. Auspiciously the seas were plentiful with fish, which tided them over until they could grow their own foods when their feet were planted on solid ground once more.
The separate fleets made landfall along the coast while the Skyborn moved in from the North on their hovering city. The dispersion of the clans’ peoples was more or less what I expected. The Agrarians spread out equally among the extremely fertile valleys, meadows, and fields to plant and sow seeds (with a small detachment of them heading North in the direction of the Krystal Kingdom to make their own living), the Valkyrians remained semi stationary where they could observe the happenings and act at will from their flying fortress, while the Stellar Mages repeated their old habits of settling in the mountains and considering themselves Highborn and rulers of the firmament (disregarding an embarrassing incident where both the Sun and Moon took place in the sky at the same time and could not be reconciled no matter what spells the Stellar Council attempted to rein them in). Not surprisingly, the three leaders of the clans were dismayed at what they saw as the other two clans shadowing them to sanctuary and proceeded to butt heads against each other. The icy Windigo spirits were invariably drawn to the buildup of hatred and antipathy like flies to dead flesh, and for a moment it seemed as if all were for naught.
Pansy saw all of this occurring (or reoccurring really) and returned to the Commander to appeal to his sense of grounded judgment and rigid honor. He pleaded tearfully using their past friendship to add weight to his words and convince the Commander to try one last time to forge a lasting peace with the leaders of the opposing clans. Smart Cookie and Clover the Clever did the same with their charges, perhaps under the coordinating hand of the Triumvirate (and mayhaps by extension the wizard Starswirl, who had been preparing the newly ascended Celestia and Luna for their destiny as the unifying Princesses). With gritted teeth and clenched fists, the three leaders chose an unoccupied mountaintop smack dab in the center of the continent offering a splendid three hundred and sixty degree view of the country to conduct their diplomatic colloquy. Much rested on the outcome of this meeting. The three peoples could not afford to desert this land as well, since they had nowhere else to flee and their food stocks had been all but depleted in their prior haste.
Noting to a cynical degree how history was doomed to repeat itself around these three disputing figures, the author writes how the ensuing argument magnetized the host of the Windigo spirits towards the summit as the three heads of the clans quarreled (again) and demonized each other as being the reason their peoples were in the mess they in. Swirling overhead, the cold fury in their hearts called to the Windigoes and began to seep to the surface, slowly freezing the bickering three (who were too occupied shouting obscenities at each other to notice the chill creeping up their spines) in place. Their attendants shrank back in horror as the Windigoes turned hungrily towards them. What happened next is only a second hand account that was cited to Pansy himself, but two lights: one bright, one dark, materialized almost as if they had been birthed from the firmament itself and spectacularly vanquished the Windigoes with incredible magic unlike anything Clover the Clever had seen before. Their saviors alighted near them on ethereal wings like those of Angels to verify their health, their hair streaming like some otherworldly phenomena.
In awe, the three lesser known leaders of the clans dropped to one knee and pledged their fealty to these powerful figures. Laughing in a voice like heavenly music, the taller of the two assured them that their rescue had little to do with guaranteeing their loyalty. Regardless, Pansy, Smart Cookie, and Clover swore that they would serve them anyway. The shorter of the seemingly divine women wisely questioned them if they would serve them piecemeal or united in a common cause, engendering the three kneelers to speak to one another candidly (As their superiors were currently incapacitated and unable to reprimand them for it). All of them were aware of how futile it was for their peoples to oppose each other when they could live together in Harmony. So they struck an accord then and there, promising to stand as one people comprised of three clans, and that they would serve these two miraculous women who exhibited traits from all three races both as a symbolic gesture and as an example to those who would dissent.
The Hearth’s Warming Plays overdramatize the next part, but their mutual agreement unleashed a wave of magic that liberated the frozen Commander, Princess, and Chancellor from their icy, bodily prisons and persuaded them to come to their senses. They too were wonderstruck by the heroines and similarly pledged to aid the two women in unifying the clans and living in collaboration. Platinum was so humbled by her brush with frozen damnation because of her hubris that she removed her royal headgear and famously stated ‘These two are more worthy of the title of Princess than I am, let them wear the Crown, for they will surely lead us to a Golden Age of prosperity’. Chancellor Puddinghead cracked a self deprecating offhand joke that actually brought a smile to the group’s faces, affirming that his people could learn to forgive and put their grievances to rest. Commander Hurricane unbuckled the sheath to his weapon and solemnly laid his sword at their feet, vowing that his aerial forces would be the shield that protected the realm, and that he would step down from his position to atone for his arrogance.
The Trifects, as they introduced themselves, accepted his resignation and complemented it with their own surprise. Touching down with grace, his veteran sister, whom he had not seen in months, appeared before him and greeted him the Skyborn way with a salutation of the wings. She and Starswirl had been in touch with each other, so she readily accepted when he tendered a request that she direct the two women under his tutelage to where they were needed and when they were needed on the freshly occupied continent. In the weeks preceding the events of the meeting at the summit, Celestia and Luna had been busy learning the lay of the land, blending in with the aid of magic to study and interact with the people that they were preordained to someday protect as their subjects. Starswirl had advised them beforehand from personal experience that the optimal method of understanding a people was to spend a few days in their shoes and evaluate their experience of life.
Swallowing his pride, the Commander adjured his sibling to forgive his brashness and failure for removing the stain that his predecessors left on the repute of the Skyborn. Taking the golden hilted lightning forged sword he set at the Trifects’ feet, he offered their father’s symbol of authority to his sister, declaring that she was more than worthy of passing the torch on to and would bring honor back to the station. Demonstrating how far she had come since that night on the ramparts in the Acolytes’ fortress, Maelstrom modestly accepted this formal apology and changing of the guard, declaring to uphold the sacred vows that he had once taken as military commander. However, Maelstrom refused the promotional change to her rank (but was none the less the de jure coordinator of their Majesties’ Bodyguard and Air Force for the foreseeable future, a footnote listed), claiming that she was better suited in the field alongside her soldiers, thus establishing the precedent of a Wonderbolt’s Squadron Leader continuing to wear the designation of Captain even if their rank was technically higher than that responsibility wise.
Beaming happily, pleased with how the previously obstinate leaders of the clans were now altering their tune for the collective benefit of others, the taller Trifect proclaimed that they should build a city on that site to commemorate this historic occasion. Platinum agreed wholeheartedly that her clan would raise up a magnificent city there. She inquired as to what they would name this future abode. Smiling mysteriously, the regal woman replied ‘Name it Concordia, for this was where a concordance uniting the clans was realized’.
I paused in my readings and mentally analyzed this tidbit of information. Could Starswirl have let slip a few details to the women he would groom to actualize the remnants of their fate decreed prophecy? He had supposedly honored his assurance to me that he would horde all scraps of knowledge about the future that I disclosed as fervently as I tried to hold it from him, but people can often commit faux pas, particularly under the tongue loosening influence of alcohol, which he was fond of partaking in. I did my best to remain tight lipped during my time with the astute man, but the wizard had this aggravating habit for worming answers out of people with his cogent demeanor, one of them was the name of the city where the sisters would reside once they had established a solid rulership.
The end of the scroll summarized a few things since the author wasn’t present to witness these events either. The Trifects, who the six influential clan members would come to know as Celestia and Luna, made their base of operations in the Neverfree Woods (Which had not become overgrown enough to warrant the forest title). From there, they would coordinate with the three leaders of the clans to get their peoples to recognize their authority and reconcile with each other in the process. Unification was achieved with greater speed than I expected. Within a fortnight the whole of the clans were on speaking terms. Within three months, the Stellar Council ceded control of the heavenly bodies after a breathtaking demonstration of their inherent ease with daybreak and moonrise within moments of the other by themselves (A feat which took the concentrated efforts of the majority of the council members). And by the conclusion of the year every voice referred to them as their Princesses. It was just in time too, for that was when an infamous self styled Avatar of Chaos randomly decided to make known his presence…
The gentle knocking from a trio of knuckles against the solid crystalline wall alerted us to someone else’s entrance, which disrupted me before I could read about the havoc that pre-reformed Discord wreaked upon the nascent nation. I twisted my neck about in minute agitation to see the redeemed sell sword Jomar standing patiently at the door of the annex, looking like he had been there for some time now. His outfit was less formal than before, consisting of a plain long sleeved shirt with a cravat, grey slacks, and a pair of brass buckled leather shoes. His reading glasses were conspicuously absent from his face, causing his bright blue eyes to seem smaller than usual.
“Pardon my intrusion, Councilor Clear, Agent Zenith” Jomar respectfully bent his head to each of us in order, “I have tidings for both of you”
“I’ve just about finished up here anyway” I said, turning away from the floating scroll as it furled itself together again, “What news do you bring?” I asked of him.
He complied, “Their Royal Majesties Cadence and Celestia humbly request the honor of your presence at the Blackgate Bistro, to break your mutual fasts in pleasant company” He switched attention to Crystal, “Councilor Ebony and Councilor Zircon wish to consult with you on a creature comforts matter. They told me that you would be the deciding factor in whether or not including a complimentary pool table in the additional housing projects was necessary to improve the image of the Kingdom in the eyes of potential investors and tourists”
“Just when I was getting to the good part” Crystal bemoaned, murmuring what I was thinking, “Well I would detest leaving them to argue on the finer points of adequate furnishing. I’ll meet them in the Council adjourning room” She turned to me, “Will I see you again later today?”
“Possibly” I responded with a faint shrug, “I don’t leave the Kingdom until the next morning” And then it’s off to the south to retrieve the daughter of a Native Arcanian Chieftain and return her to her tribe and do what I can to lessen the mounting aggression between the settlers and the Buffalo Braves before it gets out of hand.
‘I am brimming with excitement for that’ I opined insincerely.
“Oh…” She vocalized sadly, before hugging me, “In that case I will see you on your next visit”
I mirrored the gesture, “You’ll be preoccupied for the remainder of the day?”
She nodded, “Undoubtedly, yes. Councilors Ebony and Zircon have this annoying tendency of inviting their fellow council members under the pretense of solving a single issue when in truth they have a dozen to two dozen in mind. And even if they refrained from doing so, I still have to hold session with my constituents and keep them apprised of our progress. It’s how our Council stays honest with the people who put us in office”
“Honesty in minor politics, I like it!” I grinningly quipped, before sobering my expression, “Farewell, Crystal Clear. I’ll miss you”
She leaned towards me on the tips of her toes and planted a kiss on the spot between my nose and my gem-less forehead, “As I will miss you” She echoed, pulling away from our embrace, “Go, Zenith. It’s bad form to keep a Princess waiting, let alone two of them”
She took her leave, exiting the annex to make for wherever the Intramural Council held their meetings. Jomar, who had seen the exchange, piped up, “It’s not my business, and forgive me for prying, but you and Councilor Clear are… close?” He sounded legitimately curious. I figured it was harmless enough to indulge him that which was overt information anyway.
“Yes” I answered tersely, “She found me when I first came to the Kingdom, hosted me in her own home and treated me like family” Perhaps I was an outlet for her motherly instincts. It would provide a great deal of insight as to why she lent me her deceased son’s room for me to accommodate myself in.
“Remarkable kindness from a remarkable woman. I’ve been assigned to assist her on several occasions now. She is well suited to her role from what I have observed” He notified me, “She factors the best interests of her people into each of her decisions, and empathizes with most everyone she meets”
“Crystal is a special woman” I concurred, “But I should pay heed to her advice and not stall their Highnesses a second further. Show me to this Blackgate Bistro if you would, please” I cordially issued him a command, which he obliged without hesitation. We exited the library (the annex door resealing itself behind us) and walked down the lane east of the southern facing Citadel.
The Blackgate Bistro was a diminutive yet popular dignified restaurant and café carved from naval blue corundum crystal so dark that it was almost black like the name etched on the sign on the doorway. Delicious aromas wafted out of those open doors as smartly dressed waiters and waitresses ferried platters to and fro loaded with local cuisines and some mildly exotic dishes like a Smoked Rack of Ewe with Lobster Mashed Potatoes drizzled with a light sauce that made my stomach rumble from the smell alone. Fencing made out of black iron topped off by an eponymous black gate cordoned off the front yard. There was a truncated line of people speaking with the Maître d’ as he handled their morning reservations and directed them to their tables with a flourish of his hands and a gentlemanly bow. The interior of the Bistro was not where the Princesses were sitting, as I would have assumed, having instead set themselves up under an exterior round table partly secluded from the others with an umbrella to shield them from the sun’s glare as it climbed to its zenith (‘Heh, the figurative symbolism in that is amusing’). And had it not been for my meticulous observational skills, I would not have recognized them.
Both of them had donned undercover disguises that changed most everything recognizable about them save for their facial features, which forwent some of the makeup and eyeliner and were au naturel in complexion (They were no less beautiful, needless to say). Cadence was wearing clothes mirroring the local flavor of Greco-Romanesque dresses with extra jewels embroidered into the flamboyant design, because reasons… while Celestia (whose hair was the same sheening pink it was on the day she first met me. Perhaps my hair color has magical dye options?) was garbed in a rather corporate looking gray suit and skirt, sporting a light purple shade to her luscious lips. Adding to her aura of professionalism were a pair of square, rimless spectacles perched on her nose and actually made her look quite attractive in my book. Oddly, Celestia’s hugely potent aura was notably dimmed in this form, leading me to speculate that her rippling hair was connected to the cause. Both of the women had fancy feathered hats on with wide brims, and were acting careful enough to keep their Focal Gems concealed from wandering eyes. I wasn’t sure why that would be the case though. With the influx of outside visitors for the games and the new inhabitants, Stellar Mages weren’t an uncommon thing to see anymore. Mayhaps it was to complete the fashionable set.
I passingly wondered why they went through the trouble of disguising themselves, but realized quickly that nobody wanted to have to put up with the formalities between loyal subjects and benevolent monarchs while the latter simply wanted to enjoy a friendly morning meal amongst close company. Jomar instinctively knew the fine art of practicing discretion and just kept walking past the Bistro, avoiding drawing any attention by announcing my arrival verbally. I was receptive to the hint and took my place in the queue to wait till I could speak with the Maître d’ and sit beside the subtle sovereigns hiding in plain sight. Celestia noticed me waiting idly with a tiny grin and waved over a waiter who had finished delivering a customer’s order and was on his way to the kitchen to pick up another. She whispered a few words to him and he bowed in dutiful consent, appearing next to the Maître d’ and repeating whatever the Princess told him to the fancily dressed man. The listening man’s eyes widened and he whispered back in surprise, possibly making sure what he heard was correct.
The Maître d’ snapped his fingers twice and pointed at me, “You sir, the tall one in the magnificent robes! There’s no reason for you to be waiting in the line, your party is seated right over there” He gesticulated to his side, urging me to get a move on. I did so cautiously, receiving more than a couple stink eyes from the people who had been here longer than I had.
“Good morning, you two” I greeted them surreptitiously as I plopped down on the open seat, nodding gratefully to the waiter who had pulled it out for me, “What’s with the summons?”
Cadence stared at me blankly, “You weren’t summoned, Zenith. We requested you casually. I hope you don’t mind, but we also took the liberty of ordering ahead of time, your food included”
I wagged a hand, “That’s fine, I am not terribly picky. Besides, if that appeasing aroma drifting out of the doors is any indication, I’m in for a palatable breakfast”
She tittered, the feather in her hat undulating with her shaking, “I’m certain the staff would be pleased that they can make a solid first impression before the food is even tasted”
“Indubitably” I agreed in my best British accent, “And you are beautiful as always” I said with a roguish grin to Celestia, who actually flushed slightly at a compliment she must have heard countless times, “So what am I supposed to call you two when you go into public incognito?”
“It varies, depending on the outing and what we’re wearing” Celestia replied after expertly draining the blood from her cheeks, “Today I feel like being Sunshine. My opposite number here is favoring Neapolitan Swirl. Albeit, if anyone recognizes you from that distinctive apparel of yours, it may be all for naught” She didn’t seem all that disappointed, probably because I looked damned classy in these robes.
‘Two out of three ice cream flavors is close enough’ I opined humorously, suddenly hankering for some frozen cow juice myself.
I chuckled, “You know, I once had a woman threaten to remove my tongue with hot pincers for referring to her by that name. Yours, that is” That, and foiling her at and outside the long forgotten town of Mirrimare.
Cadence was shocked, turning a shade of green at the thought, “Zenith! That’s not appropriate conversation before our meals have even reached the table”
I bent my head repentantly to… Neapolitan, “Apologies… I was just reading up on what happened to Maelstrom after that fateful night at the Acolytes’ Fortress in those deplorably boggy woods”
“Maelstrom?” Neapolitan repeated the keyword as she crooked her head sideways.
“An unspoken and unrecorded historical incident on the continent the three tribes inhabited shortly before they fled across the Sea of Salvation. Maelstrom and her soldiers were there to neutralize a grave threat to the Dreamy Vale’s inhabitants. She was later recommended to guide my sister and myself through the land by a dearly missed mutual friend of ours, and would go on to become the first Commander of the aerial division of the Arcanian military” Sunshine clarified for her, mouthing a ‘thank you’ to a waitress who had brought us a platter with three steaming hot cups of coffee. I was only big on iced coffee, but I wasn’t going to complain.
“She was a fierce woman throughout all the time that I knew her, though she toned down on her hot bloodedness for the sake of her children” She continued, “I grieved intensely, as did her husband, when she never returned from an expedition across the Sea of Tranquility to survey the lands there”
‘Maelstrom…’ I thought sadly. I didn’t know her protractedly myself, but I considered her an ally… and an excellent person to have at your back when the swords and spears were out and flashing about.
Sunshine smiled hopefully, “Her legacy lives on though. Our dearest Fluttershy is distantly related to her, strangely enough” She revealed, only partially stumping me. Perhaps she was more like her ultra-great grandfather personality wise?
“Wait, was this the same continent that sunk beneath the waves a decade and a half after the three clans had wholly abandoned it?” Missus Swirl questioned, ignoring most everything else.
‘What, like The Silmarillion’s Beleriand? Whatever for?’ This unexpected info intrigued me.
“The very same” Sunshine confirmed, “The Windigo spirits had their way unimpeded for too long a time, so the Earth itself was forced to submerge the continent to keep the gelid infection they left behind from spreading, and to cleanse it until such a time when the land has rejuvenated itself and rises again. They lost a sizable portion of their strength when they shadowed the Pre-Arcanians across the sea, which allowed us to facilely neutralize them when we arrived” She stirred some creamer into her cuppa joe.
“Like a baptism, in a way” I whispered, “Anyhow, is this a friendly chat, or is there business we need to review before I set out tomorrow?”
Sunshine blew at the top before had her first taste of coffee, “Both, though do try to refrain from ignoring poor Neapolitan. I’ve seen for myself how dogged you can be once you’ve committed yourself to a task”
I nodded, “I’ll mind my manners. Let us talk business then. I need to be fully briefed and informed before you send me to iron out the wrinkles of the developing situation down south”
We were interrupted as two dining attendants delivered their platters of nutritious aliments to our table. Neapolitan had ordered herself a salad with chopped up bits of crystal berries and crushed nuts sprinkled over the top with a vinaigrette sauce (Which was kinda boring if you ask me). Sunshine had herself a grilled fillet of halibut (imported from a coastal town, no doubt) with lemon juice pre-squeezed over the meat. The Princesses must have figured me for a meat and potatoes kind of guy, because I received a plate of beef stroganoff with scalloped potatoes and a side of green beans and diced tomatoes. It wouldn’t be the snobbiest dish to titillate my taste buds by any means, but it looked delicious, and my roaring stomach was in no position to contradict that. I held my head in a silent prayer of grace before I grabbed my recently placed utensils and laid into the contents of the plate with vigor.
Between bites of food, I spoke, “What should I know about these Buffalo Braves to better understand how they conduct their lives?”
“I know your appetite for both knowledge and nourishment can get ravenous, but please conserve your manners and save the table talk for after our expertly prepared meals” Neapolitan politely chided me, taking a dainty bite of her glorified rabbit food.
I grumbled bitterly, dabbing my lips with a linen napkin, but acquiesced to her reasonable point. I finished a full five minutes before anyone else, too engrossed by the undisclosed details of my imminent mission to eat at a leisurely pace like I normally did. The fare at this Bistro was top notch. The beef must have been from a freshly slaughtered bovine, because the meat was of unmatched tenderness and its juices exploded with flavor as they seeped between my molars. The scalloped potatoes had a thin blanket of cheddar cheese melted over them that made them even more scrumptious. The veggies were average, since there was nothing done to spruce them up. Once we were done with our meals, an extraneous dessert of what had to be fruity Buccellato was divided between the three of us. Fortunately we were able to converse during the consumption of that dessert.
“The Buffalo Braves are not an easy people to find” The Princess stated as she sipped at her coffee to wash our shared dessert down with, “Their main source of sustenance travels across the plains in multiple herds consisting of thousands of buffalo in search of regions to graze and streams of water to drink, so their people have little choice but to follow each of them in order to sustain themselves”
Neapolitan winced at something with her coffee and spooned in a few helpings of sugar before she was pleased, “The altercation between the Appleloosans and their Chief Village was over the proliferation of the settlers’ apple groves on land traditionally used by their sacred food source. The Elements were drawn into it after Miss Applejack invited them along to see her transplant one of her apple trees. A vibrant, fruitful specimen she named Bloomberg, I think?” She stared at the underside of the umbrella as she made sure that was the tree’s name. I couldn’t confirm that for her without revealing my pseudo knowledge of past events, so I kept quiet.
“These Buffalo Braves live a nomadic lifestyle then?” I mused aloud, “But if that’s so, then how can so many of their people be taken by these outlaws? Their villages are mobile”
“It stands to reason that they are being tracked as they traverse the plains” Sunshine reasoned, joining her voice in afresh, “Or more worryingly… they have an insider in their ranks that keeps the brigands aware to their movements. The attacks seem random and focused on the smallest villages though, and they cannot have infiltrators in each of their villages without rousing suspicion, so the latter scenario seems less likely”
“It cannot be a coincidence that the nearby settlers are receiving the blame for the string of kidnappings and killings. No one is coming forth to take credit for their actions, and you’ve told me that crime in this country is infrequent and only rarely takes place near the outer fringes. Whoever is behind all of this does not care if others take the heat for their crimes, or is even intentionally making certain that it is so” I theorized.
“But what could they gain from the kidnappings?” Neapolitan blurted out, “Unthinkable as it is for me to say it, if framing the settlers is this shadowy syndicate’s goal, then they could kill indiscriminately regardless of whether they were women and children”
I lifted an eyebrow as I reappraised my opinion of Cadence. The fact that she was willing to look at an issue from all possible angles no matter how morbid they might be showcased to me that she wasn’t just eye candy on her throne. Of course, how could I forget that? She was the one who told me that by confronting the darker sides of ourselves, we prove our true character and grow as individuals.
“The logical conclusion is that they’re needed for something. Whether as valuable hostages or as assets for far worse burdens is unknown to us” I made explicit.
“While your highest priority is ensuring that conflict does not reignite between the settlers and the Buffalo Braves, your secondary objective is to determine what these outlaws have done with their women and children…” Sunshine hesitated, her expression darkening, “…Should the worse come to pass, you have the Crown’s permission to exact justice however you see fit”
“Don’t you mean enact justice?” Neapolitan balked at her implied meaning.
“The men responsible for this have clearly demonstrated that they are not opposed to the use of lethal force to achieve their purpose. To attempt to flat out restrain them the normal way is bound to get good men killed. I will not have any innocent blood spilled on this Kingdom’s soil and prevaricate with the surefire solution to stop it” She gave a black look at the other Princess, and the way she shrank back from her stare told me who that she was not to be gainsaid on this decision; not that I would complain, “Our hard won period of undisturbed calm is rapidly approaching its end. Malevolent forces are at work here that have not been active since the dawn of days. We will stand firm and respond to it as the circumstances dictate. Our people’s safety is of the utmost priority, always remember that” She sent a pointed message to Neapolitan, who was faintly trembling from the iron in Sunshine’s voice.
Neapolitan sheepishly accepted this, “Y-yes, y-your Highness… I understand c-completely”
Sunshine’s glare lessened in intensity and she gently grasped Neapolitan’s hand in hers, “You have lived through centuries of idyllic peace, my precious niece. You’ve known little else. The Changelings who blatantly crashed your wedding are nothing but a taste of what real war is like, and war is not so effortlessly deterred by magic alone”
‘My Princess is Ice one moment and Sugar the next’ I reflected, Sunshine’s aura was all but tangible to my acutely tuned magical perception. So basking in its wake was an experience for the senses.
“I understand how Sunshine and her sister came into their station, but how did you ascend Missus Swirl?” I asked out of mixed curiosity and as a tactic to divert Neapolitan’s frazzled mind elsewhere.
She glanced at me blankly before composing herself, “Oh… umm. It’s not much of a story to tell really. It is so far fetched that is could be derived from the realm of common fantasy”
“This is supposed to be a friendly chat too, right?” I countered, “Relate it to me. I’m legitimately interested in what you have to recount”
“As you wish” She complied, “I haven’t divulged this to anyone in what feels like ages… but have you noticed how well I fit in as ruler of the Krystal Kingdom?”
“Yes” I answered with a curt bob of my head, “Your subjects openly adore you in public and behind closed doors (‘Yet when she dons the simplest disguise, suddenly she disappears from their radar’). They seem to be naturally accustomed to your sympathetic nature, which I personally find odd, since their last ruler left such a terrible impression”
Her eyes had a tickled gleam to them, “There are deeper reasons for that than you realize, Zenith. I share distant relations to the inhabitants of the Krystal Kingdom” Her gaze gravitated to the marks on her hands, “It’s been diluted over time, but many of my traits can be derived from these people”
“Neapolitan is too modest with the description of her descent” Sunshine grinned, “She has a direct linkage to a former ruler of the Krystal Kingdom… a Princess Amore, if memory serves”
“Yes, that’s the one” The woman admitted shyly, “You could say that my innate charm as a Princess is in my blood”
“Fascinating” I vocalized sincerely, “But there’s more to it than that, yes?”
“If you mean for me to elucidate on the significance of that, it’s steeped in a tragedy that has only recently been rectified” She crossed her hands over the other, “My ancestor, Princess Amore, was deposed by Sombra, whose dark magicks were too powerful for her to overcome” Her lips twitched, “He kept her as entertainment for a time, chaining her to a post by his throne as a reminder of his conquest and habitually treating her like she was a toy to be abused. Seeing their Princess in humiliating captivity cowed her former subjects, who were too afraid of him to mount an effective resistance” Her stormy expression worsened, “He eventually grew bored of his plaything and plotted to execute her publicly to permanently crush any hopes that the people fostered in their hearts” She let a silence hang in the air, adding to the false suspense that she was weaving.
“Well it’s exceedingly obvious that he didn’t succeed in that” I unabashedly ruined the moment, “What happened? Did he change his mind?”
Sunshine piped up before she could, “The day of the execution was the same day that my sister and I came to the aid of the Krystal Kingdom. You might be wondering how we made our arrival so timely? Well, one of Sombra’s mining slaves had been beaten near to death by one of his shadowy thralls and left in the snow to die a slow death of starvation or hypothermia. By sheer force of willpower and a fortuitous break in the pounding snowy weather, she crawled south a distance of some thirty miles before someone spotted her unconscious in the drifts and nursed her back to health over the period of a month” She was in awe of this person’s survival drive even to this day from that hushed tone, “When she came to, she tearfully pleaded to the man who found her and told him about the dilemma facing her people, urging him to send help”
“She was lucky that her rescuer was a flyer, and just so happened to be in the guard patrol that monitored the Arcanian border” Neapolitan remarked, “He set off with all possible haste to report what he had heard to their Highnesses in their latterly constructed Castle in the Neverfree Forest. Despite how the Krystal people had established their own independent dominion outside of the cartographically Arcanian borders, the wise Princesses felt it was their duty to dispose of oppression wherever they found it, and learning that Sombra was using deeply forbidden magic to enslave his subjects was the last, damning nail in the coffin”
“I see then. How tough was the deranged usurper as an opponent? What sort of tactics did he employ when faced with someone, or two people I should be saying, who could challenge him?” I quizzed her.
“Nothing my sister and I could not overcome. He fought savagely, but the magic he had been employing had begun to rot his mind, so there was no discernable pattern in his attacks. He would tear buildings out of their foundations to hurl at us one second, and the next he would be slithering behind the masses to use them as a shield from our magical bolts” Sunshine grit her teeth, “I was not able to save as many people from being caught in the crossfire as I would have liked, but he was brought down before the casualties could climb to unacceptable levels. Princess Amore had used the distraction to break free of her enthralled escort and make a break to the edges of the city along with everybody else who fled. With what my sister and I hoped was his dying breath, the dissipating Sombra cast one final, devastating spell that interfered with the flow of time itself around the Citadel district, tearing open a rift that pulled the district and everyone unfortunate enough to be within its radius inside”
“My ancestor and nine thousand of her former subjects were homeless after that” Neapolitan picked up the slack, “With the warming energies that were radiated from the Crystal Heart absent, the battle scarred Kingdom in ruins, and Amore in no fit mental state to lead her people. The denizens banded together under the Princesses that had vanquished their dread master and promised them a new place to call home to the south, in Arcania”
She swigged the remnants of her coffee to wet her throat, “My ancestor made a normal life in a village where the people were tight knit and cared for each other like family, which she desperately needed in order to heal. Years passed, Princess Luna was banished to the Moon, and there was only one Princess to oversee an entire country that made the Krystal Kingdom look like a backwater hamlet in comparison. Amore Loveshine, as she had christened herself, became something of a matchmaker in her local village, before a handsome stranger whom even she was not prepared for swept her herself off of her feet. She started a family with this man, but never forgot her origins, spreading them to her children over bedtime tales that they themselves passed onto their offspring with time. Amore was from a noble line of Stellar Mages who were fairly elected to rule over the citizens of the Krystal Kingdom, but her spouse was not, so I was originally Valkyrian a decade or so over six hundred years after the events of the Kingdom’s disappearance from the stream of time”
This revelation was not particularly surprising to me, but I did see it as strange that I’d never had the chance to see her fly, ground lover that she was. Perhaps it was because there were more people to be had on the ground than in the sky. You can’t proliferate those sugary lovey dovey feelings with clouds, after all. Or can you? I imagine it wouldn’t be too difficult to infuse a rain cloud with the same love potion that Rarity once fed to me and sprinkle it on whoever you desire to play Cupid with. Best not keep that brain blast to myself though.
“And your ascendance?” I followed up, pushing away other ideas of what one could achieve by ‘making it rain’ so to speak.
“I grew up in the same village that Amore chose to settle down in” Neapolitan responded with her personal narrative, “I was raised listening to the same bedtime stories of a Princess who was forced to leave behind everything she knew and make her own way in a land that had been foreign to her in both customs and architecture”
She giggled as a reminiscent smile graced her features, “I suppose I should count myself lucky that she chose a community where every person was considered an extended member of a macrocosmic family. I was relied upon as one of the few groundside Skyborn residing in that village to tend to the weather and ensure that the crops grew strong and vibrant” She glanced slyly at me, “When I wasn’t too busy tasting clouds fancying that something that looked like cotton candy ought to taste like it, I was the sweetheart of the village, doing what I could to nudge young men and women into a relationships that would be beneficial to all parties. Love flourished in our village, and life for me was all but perfect” The happiness on her face faded, “That was before… she came”
‘Ah… the villainess shows herself’ I thought. The plot was thickening.
“She was alluring, and exotically beautiful for a Stellar Mage. She was statuesque, she had a fine figure, and her breasts were full. Men in the village were so drawn to her that they began to ignore their loves to dote on her, breaking many a heart and inflaming their jealousy. I was wary of her, to say the least. No woman could hold that kind of sway over men without there being a catch… and it was a nefarious one indeed. Turns out that she was using a love stealing spell that her drooling entourage was fueling her powers with” Neapolitan paled, “But what could I do to stop her? I was not a Stellar Mage like my ancestor, and even she could not stop Sombra no matter how skilled with magic she had been. And the sorceress, who called herself Prismia, was immensely powerful with that amplifying necklace she wore. Any woman who contested her was swept aside with a wave of her hand, often brutally. The men who guarded our village were hypnotized by her and would not lift a finger against her. If I had confronted her then as I had desperately wanted to, I doubt we’d be having this conversation today”
“No need to be ashamed, Missus Swirl. Discretion is the better part of Valor” I let loose an axiom that I felt fitting her bygone situation.
“History agrees with you, Zenith” Sunshine added her two bits, “The courage to stand up against evil must be tempered with the wisdom in knowing how to undo it. There are old heroes, and there are bold heroes… but old and bold heroes are a rarity indeed”
“I know…” She demurred, “But it still stings. I could finally fathom how helpless Amore must have felt when her people were shackled. I wanted to flee the village and obtain help, but she had set up spells that would alert her of anyone leaving and she would force them back inside. It got so bad that at one point I wished upon a shooting star for the strength to end her chokehold over our village”
A mysterious gleam was in her eye, “I had a dream that night… one which I’m not so sure was actually a dream. I was following a trail of light through the woods and over a bridge with many fractures and cracks on it that led me to the summit of a massive rocky spire unlike anything I had ever seen. A series of harmonious voices bid me to step within an Arch of masterfully carved stone. The rest of the dream is a private matter… but I learned that I had a destiny beyond that village that I would be needed for someday. Suffice it to say that when I woke up, I was no longer just a Valkyrian, but a mix of all three clans”
“Like everyone present at this table” I stated, rather than asked.
She held up a hand, “Not so loudly please. Yes, like you and Miss Sunshine over here” She grinned viciously at the millennia old Princess, who was slurping at her second helping of coffee, “So when can I begin planning your wedding?”
Sunshine’s reaction was more than I was expecting from the usually composed woman, spraying a twin stream of caffeine from her nose and frenetically cleaning it up with her napkin. All the while she avoided making eye contact with me, her face red as a beet. I didn’t know whether to be honored or disturbed that I was one of the few chinks in her impassive armor.
I was not amused, tapping two fingers on the table, “Let’s stay on topic here, shall we?”
Neapolitan’s simper soured, “Aww… you’re no fun. Anyways, with my newfound capabilities that I had to hone in secret, I was able to stand face to face with Prismia and demand that she cease her cruel and oppressive exploitation of my village. She was arrogant though; all of the power that she had accumulated fogged her mind and ability to reason, engendering her to believe that she was invincible. I’m not really a forceful person, but trading blows with Prismia somehow instinctively came to me. Luckily I had the foresight to call her out in an uninhabited meadow, or our village would have been a smoking crater by the time we were done. Even as a Trifect, the fight took everything I had before I bested her in combat. The last vestiges of her magic expended, the defeated Prismia lamented her sorrow to the world, honestly thinking that I would… kill her, then and there” She was disgusted by the idea, “I asked her why she was the way she was. Why she would have to drain the love from others in order to feel validated about herself”
“And how did this villainess attempt to justify herself?” If she was another of those ‘power for the sake of power’ types, I was going to switch subjects.
“She revealed to me that she suffered from a crippling low self esteem, and a requirement to have affection heaped onto her to help her forget that. Compounding this problem was an arranged marriage that her old fashioned aristocratic family made for her to improve their standing. It was a loveless one at that, her husband ignoring her or treating her like she was just another maid in the manor” Neapolitan sounded sympathetic, which was to be expected, “She did not possess her magnetizing looks back then. But one day while she was cleaning house, she happened upon her husband’s dusty collection of magical artifacts; one of which was the amplifying necklace that she was wearing”
Neapolitan wrung her hands, uncomfortable with what she had been told, “She experimented with it at first, seizing tiny amounts of affection in the air that her lord husband sometimes showed to his other, more attractive wives. Thinking to herself that she could receive the attention that he lavished on them if she were prettier, she used the built up magic to painstakingly alter her appearance to become desirable. She made a display of showing off her cosmetic improvements, but all her husband saw was that she had his property around her neck. He struck her,” Neapolitan winced, “and angrily demanded that she return what was his. Something inside of Prismia shattered, and she almost killed him in her rage, storming off into the world to capture the love that had been denied to her. Our village was the perfect target for her. It was relatively isolated, and without many male magic users who could inwardly detect that they were being manipulated by her false charm”
“Tragic background story” I acknowledged, “So what did you do with your vanquished opponent?” Was this Princess a killer, or was she a redeemer? It was likely the latter. Cadence just does not have it in her to be a slayer.
“I talked to her, treated her as a fellow human being rather than my enemy, and… commiserated with her” She didn’t know of a better way to phrase it, “You see… while I saw myself as one of the local matchmakers, I hadn’t much luck with boys myself. I had an incapacitating awkwardness in my early years that many men simply didn’t have the patience to put up with, so I was alone. I mean… the people in the village were like second family to me, but I didn’t have a special someone to love me and only me. Selfish of me, I know, and it decreased my already abysmally low chances considerably. I still had an intuitive comprehension of love though, and I told poor, mistreated Prismia that love… real love… was given, not taken. She had been my enemy not ten minutes ago, and yet I only saw a forlorn soul that needed to be loved. To prove to her that she didn’t need emotion draining magic to feel loved, I pulled her up onto her feet and declared that I forgave her. And that I as her friend would help her find someone who could love her for her unadulterated self”
“And she was okay with this arrangement?” I was skeptical as ever. The forgiving or naïve heroes were especially vulnerable to getting backstabbed by unrepentant or lying enemies.
Neapolitan smirked, “I can be most persuasive when I get in one of my grooves, and she was hardly in any position to argue. The strangest thing occurred then. Prismia’s necklace detached itself from her and shone so brightly that it was like a second sun in the sky. I heard eerily familiar voices proclaim that I had taken the first step in becoming the Princess of Love and these appeared” She gestured to her Mana Marks, which looked suspiciously like the Crystal Heart with a gilded frame underneath, “I was very excited, since those had eluded me for quite some time, and dates tend to go awry when you’re still a bland hand in early adulthood. But my enthusiasm knew no bounds when the obliged Prismia accepted my friendship and announced that she would not seek to take love, but to garner it the natural way. She was a changed woman, and knew that she had to atone for some of her crimes, as well as file for a messy divorce… but Prismia and I remained on favorable terms for the rest of her life”
“I’m glad. And what about your recognition as a Princess of Arcania?” I inquired, finding solace in the fact that not all evildoers stayed the course when given a chance to change.
“Well Aunty…” Neapolitan began.
“I was instantly made aware to the abnormally powerful burst of magic that necklace emitted” Sunshine interrupted, having sufficiently recovered from her embarrassment, “I investigated personally and discovered that this marvelous young woman had become a Trifect just like myself. Obviously, it stood to reason that she was meant for a life vastly greater in scope than she anticipated, so I visited her often to tutor her on what it meant to be a Princess of a country like ours. I confess that my sister’s absence still weighed heavily upon my heart, so when her attachments to her village had expired, I asked if she wanted to come to the Capital with me as my adopted Niece and she agreed”
“I couldn’t well refuse an invitation from the reigning Princess, now could I?” Neapolitan jocosely retorted, “Besides… I wanted to see the world outside my miniscule village; the colorful flower fields, the forests, the mountains, everything! I had made many good friends in that village… but to stay around their laughing and bouncing children and descendants hurt too much. Immortality is both a blessing and a curse, Zenith. People you forge friendships with will come and go with increasing speed the longer you’ve been alive. They can be healthy and energetic presently, but in what seems like the blink of an eye… they’re gone” She was somber as she finished that sentence.
“I’m perfectly conscious of this, Missus Swirl, and I’ve made my peace with it” I said, not afraid of facing the inevitable.
She eyed me critically, “You say that with ease now, Zenith… but give it time and you’ll see my meaning”
‘Geez, she doesn’t have to make it sound so ominous’ I wordlessly griped, mentally rolling my eyes.
“This is why we cherish every moment we are permitted with those whom we care about, and continue to honor the memories that they leave behind” Sunshine interjected, defusing any negative static between us, “As Trifects, we are members of our own special family. We lean on each other for support and shoulder each other’s woes, and we also celebrate the positive aspects of our lives as well”
I golf clapped, “I am inspired by your wisdom, Sunshine. I can only pray that I might one day rise to your level of acumen. But if that is the case, then why isn’t your sister here right now to share that sentiment?”
“There are only so many days that the rulers of this country can spend away from their court” Sunshine answered without skipping a beat, “My sister decided that it was past time she returned to hers”
My face contorted in confusion, “Why? She rarely gets more than a dozen people requesting an audience, and none of those are appellants for legislation that you have decreed” And yes, it is possible to contest a law if the Princess you appeal to finds it averse, in which case they have to collectively vote on it. It hasn’t happened once since Luna’s ‘timeout’ on the Moon, for even the testiest of nobles respect the decisions that their Highnesses make.
“To keep a close eye trained on Discord, of course” Sunshine replied, “His internal reformation aside, he forgets to mind himself should we be absent for a period lasting longer than five days. I’d like to return to a Capital that is more or less the same state I had left it”
“Good point” I conceded, before turning to Neapolitan, “And you were being too modest about your origins, I think it made for an evocative story” I had gleaned quite a bit from it too.
She inclined her head towards me, “I’m pleased that you are of that opinion, Zenith. It’s not a story that many get to hear”
Sunshine waved over a waiter to collect the platters that each of us polished off, “This has been an interesting brunch. We ought to make a habit of this more frequently” She proposed.
Neapolitan laughed, “I agree wholeheartedly… though next time it should be somebody else who relays the rudimentary tale of their intimate origins. Sunshine here has refused to divulge even the tiniest juicy details about your mysterious past” She made it her aim to stare at me as she spoke, “Would you volunteer for that, Zenith?”
“Perhaps” I uttered neutrally. ‘Perhaps not’
She hummed, “Hmm… I look forward to learning more about you. But until that lunch date occurs,” She rose from her seat, “I’m afraid duty calls for me back at the Citadel. There is a petition to build a second railway alongside the current one to facilitate traffic to and fro that I’ll have to dig into our allotted stipend from the Crown in order to fund it with, and you know how tiresome that mountain of paperwork can get. Farewell” The woman dug into her purse and left a generous tip for the hardworking staff of the Blackgate Bistro, leaving Sunshine and I alone.
“Waiter” Sunshine addressed the man who came to collect the top, “Do be so kind as to bring us two cups of Spring Forest Tea, would you?”
His pupils dilated upon receiving another order, “Of course, ma’am… I’ll steep two cups right away!” He hurried off to the kitchen.
“Is it you and me time?” I vocalized, wondering what else we’d have to discuss.
“This is resuming where we had left off before you had Neapolitan spill her life’s story. I need to brief you on your first mission as my Agent, as well as outline a comprehensive list of your enabled powers and jurisdiction” She drummed her fingers on the table as she waited for our tea, “Do you know what it means to be an Agent of the Crown?” She quizzed me.
“Accomplishing errands assigned by the Crown?” I guessed, not putting much thought into it.
“A lackluster description” Sunshine eye rolled, “But accurate enough to pass with a D plus. To be an Agent of the Crown is to be an extension of the Crown’s authority itself, which is why I was displeased with how poorly Daring Do handled her assignment in Marabia, potentially weakening our ties with that country when alliances are what Arcania will need to survive whatever wretched scheme the latest evil lurking in the shadows will attempt to subvert world Harmony with”
“So being an Agent is essentially equal to being a diplomat with various other skills in their repertoire?” I surmised.
“There are stratified ranks of authority that Agents of the Crown are vested with” Sunshine explained, “Depending on the class, an Agent can be a mere member of the Bureaucracy tasked with the tedium of maintaining law and order at the lowest level, to a person whose decisions can alter the world itself”
“So… when do I start sweeping the streets?” I jested, to which she clicked her tongue.
She shook her head, “There’s a time and place for such flippancy, Zenith. You are to be vested with a ranking that will break the mold. Do you have the hilt for your Mage-blade?”
I reached for my belt and unhooked it before slapping it onto the table, drawing some stares from startled diners nearby. Sunshine huffed disapprovingly through her nostrils and delicately took the hilt in her possession. With a free hand, she made a curling gesture like she was an illusionist about to fan out a deck of cards before an emblem materialized into her palm (Or maybe she was being an illusionist). She inserted it into the ovular gap in the center of the hilt and incanted a spell under her breath that was difficult to make out even with my keen hearing. The emblem flashed before sealing itself securely onto my Mage-blade’s hilt. On the emblem was a black field and a symbol of the Sun and Moon partially overlapped across the other, with an image of Dichotomy interspaced in the gap between them. In the background were ethereal crimson wings (an overt reference to their ruggedly handsome owner) that curved upwards in a way that reminded me of the symbol of the Jedi Order. Overall, it was a kickass badge that helped me ignore the missing hole.
‘Guess I’ll have to exchange the hook for a different attachment’ I groused, debating over whether to use a clip or sword frog to keep the hilt securely fastened to my belt for uncomplicated access.
She handed it back to me, “Recall how Luna told you that your Mage-blade hilt would serve as your badge of office? She was not jesting”
I hefted the hilt in my palm appraisingly, testing the weight that the insignia added, and was relieved that it was negligible, “I never had much cause to rely on it for the political influence that it carried” Just to kill lots and lots of baddies.
“There will be situations where your sword must remain sheathed, Zenith” Sunshine pointed out, “Lethal force isn’t the solution to every problem, and some matters can only be made worse with its inclusion”
“A fair point” I concurred, “But my skills with careful diplomacy as of yet are untested, whereas my skill with a blade is not”
“Try to shy away from picking too many fights” Sunshine grimaced, “Your purpose is better served by making allies rather than enemies. As for your concerns regarding a lack of negotiating experience, you can always call on me for advice” She reached into a pocket in her suit and withdrew a vial with a live pink flame in its contents, bequeathing that to me as well.
“Pink” I monotoned as I shuffled it into my inventory, “It will be difficult to forget whose hotline that belongs to”
“That is… one way to phrase it” She stifled a chuckle, “That vial of dragon fire is enchanted to be able to send a truncated message no matter where in the world you find yourself, regardless of availability to the ley line network. It is from the lungs of a Dragon Matriarch who passed away some five hundred years ago, and has been able to send half a page worth of text from the middle of the Sea of Tranquility, where the ley lines are notoriously fickle. There are none like that vial in the entire world except for its twin, so keep it close”
‘There’s a joke about a crappy cellular connection in the back of my brain somewhere’ I mused dryly as I fitted the vial into the recess behind my belt’s metallic infinite triangle.
“Speaking of that treacherous Sea” Sunshine continued, “You will have a second task after the beginning of the New Year”
I hitched a brow, “Anything I should be warned about?”
She declined to fill me in, “It can wait until you have completed this one and been debriefed on what I suspect these ‘Thunder-Horrors’ to be. I wouldn’t want to saddle you with any more stress than is necessary. There is another spell woven into the emblem that will allow me to personally listen in on whatever situations you get yourself into and render aid in whatever way I can” She hesitated, debating how to express herself, “Plus… I care for you, and want you to know that even when I’m half a world away, I’m still there for you”
“That’s sweet” I said, leaning over to give her a passionate kiss on the lips, “Try to tune out the din of people screaming though. You would not believe how often trouble finds me”
She mirrored it with fervor, “I’m not the same woman from an obscure village in the Dreamy Vale that I was” She asserted between kisses, “Try me”
We enjoyed each other’s warmth with gusto until the waiter arrived with our tea, and Sunshine’s expression lit up with that same enthusiasm that was a sign that everything was going her way. I meanwhile was wiping off the purple lipstick that our necking session imparted me with. Didn’t want the stiff necks forming the wrong ideas about my improper romantic habits.
“May I talk to you about something?” I put forward to the Princess who was masquerading as a common, if not classily dressed, plebeian.
“Of course, Zenith. Anything” She tilted her head in curiosity.
“Up on that summit after we had dealt with Cross, when the wizard and I were cradling you and your sister in our arms, he referred to me by name” Or at least the name I had given myself, “When we first met, from my perspective that is, you looked at me in that knowing way of yours that’s nigh impossible to extrapolate anything specific from. Did you know who I really was?”
In response Sunshine’s lips curled upwards, “Not entirely. I was barely coherent enough to make out anything other than that wonderful song that encouraged me to wake” I picked up on her leg rubbing affectionately against mine beneath the table, “But a part of me always knew that you were extraordinary, my crimson eyed Prince, and now so does the rest” She doted on me with fond tones.
“You sure know how to make a guy feel special” I replied, doing all I could to fend off the warm fuzzies. Right now they were knocking at the gate with a battering ram. I’d have to stem the tide with emotion retardant oil via the murder holes.
I let my cup sit idle until the liquid had cooled to drinkable levels, “So I’m your official Agent now. Do you really believe that will deter the Press from investigating me for my true nature? People saw me using my wings and my magic in the stadium. Seems like a pretty flimsy dismissal by my standards”
“Did they?” Celestia smiled as she sipped at her tea (‘Leather tongue much?’), “What were you wielding when you cast that column of flame skyward?”
My hand drifted to the weapon strapped to my backside, “My magic boosting Tantō?”
“M’hmm…” Sunshine murmured, swallowing some of her drink, “And I was certain to mention that to the reporters. My Agents are sometimes known to utilize equipment that extends their abilities when permitted. Misdirecting the journalists is easy when you have plausible deniability on your side. There is no evidence to the contrary to prove what you are, so to the Press you are just a special Skyborn recently inducted into the Crown’s service”
“And to the people of Magiville? They know me as a Stellar Mage” I retorted, “How can you be sure that they’ll keep quiet about that discrepancy?”
“Magiville is an insular town, which has been its weakness thus far, but will be your reassurance in this case” Sunshine gyrated the liquid in her cup, “They might ask you about it when you deign to socialize with them, but otherwise they won’t cost you your preference for privacy. It’s a misdemeanor to unduly harass an Agent of the Crown for whatever reason”
“I suppose that will have to be my consolation” I sighed, “What powers will I specifically have as an Agent?”
She held up two fingers, “You will be second only to the Princesses in your capacity for forging treaties and alliances with foreign powers at the table. Your word alone won’t be legally binding, but signed accords will be equal to any we would make. I intend to publicize an official statement about your investiture the following week, and while I expect there to be some uproar from the Concordian nobility, mainly those who aspire similar positions for their second borns and lesser sons, it shouldn’t cause much of a disturbance now that Blueblood has been made to appreciate logic over his misplaced sense of pride” She was elated that I managed to set him straight, “To guarantee optimal chances of success, you have the freedom to use whatever means are available to you to achieve your objectives, including lethal force. Foreign powers pretend to be indifferent to the Agents that we appoint within our own borders, but they will be mindful of you when you pay them a visit. It’s not everyday that I announce the instatement of a Royal Agent with some significant clout after all. Many places in the world outside Arcania can house serpents, Zenith. So be wary”
“Noted. Will the Buffalo Braves respect this imposing authority of mine?” I finally had a sip of the tea, which was incredibly tasty, like the joy of being alive condensed into a flavor if that was even possible, “They live within the Arcanian borders, but they seem to consider themselves their own political entity”
Sunshine scoffed and reclined in her chair, “They claim to have been the original inhabitants of Arcania, but they have only been dwelling here for eight centuries after they migrated from the south beyond the Macintosh Mountains. They reside here because I allow them to, and while it would grieve me terribly to do it, I would forcibly relocate them if they threatened my citizens. Feel free to remind them of that if they behave obstinately”
I shifted in my seat myself, “Hopefully it won’t come to that, as long as I retrieve this Miss Strongheart and return her to her tribe, right?”
She nodded, “Miss Jubilee is watching over her while also discouraging her from eloping somewhere else where her movements cannot be tracked. From her reports, she is having a tough time of it. Strongheart is very headstrong and fears potential pursuers, from what she wrote”
“What about Braeburn?” I posed, “What’s his role in this?”
“He is the model of well behaved young man, according to the Ranch owner” Sunshine said, “His only concern is his lover’s safety. Though he shows signs of worrying about the precarious position he left his town in”
“So he fathoms how his actions have endangered his townsfolk? Excellent, that should make convincing him to escort his girlfriend back to her home a snap… it’s Strongheart that will doubtlessly put up the most resistance” I can respect independent women myself, but their lack of compliance in favor of selfish desires is definitely a shortcoming.
“As I’ve told you, you have permission to bring her back, by any means necessary” Sunshine smirked at me, “Though do what you can to also coax her home. Dragging back the Chieftain’s daughter kicking and screaming is bound to reflect poorly on us”
“It won’t come to that, I think” Mostly because I’ll have pacified her with a stun spell.
“Miss Applejack will be accompanying you, by the way” Sunshine informed me like it was just minutia.
I shrugged noncommittally, “If you insist. Does AJ know of this?” There was no point in arguing with her admittedly prudent choice. I just prayed that she wouldn’t get in the way.
“For the most part” She replied, quirking a brow, “You have no objections to this?”
I shook my head, “Other than the plain risk to her health? No. Applejack is without doubt the most sensible and practical of the Element Bearers, and she’s kin with Braeburn. If anyone can speak sense to him, it’s his own blood. In addition, Applejack knows the lay of the land better than I do and won’t need any babysitting on my part” Plus I don’t have an accent (nor will I ever cultivate one), and when in the midst of those who have a colloquial method of speech, the foreigner is immediately mistrusted. At least, that’s in line with some of the movies I’ve seen, maybe it doesn’t matter so much here.
“I expected more resistance from you,” Sunshine remarked, “but I’m gladdened that you have such faith in her. You have bonded well during your time in Magiville?” She had sent me there to be friendly with the Elements in the first place.
“If by bonded you mean worked me to the bone plucking apples on her orchard, then yes. We bonded rigorously” I stated with obscure sarcasm, “But the veritable truth is that AJ and I get along well, our occasional spats regarding when to be Honest and when to be shrewd notwithstanding”
“You will need to be honest with her about why you both will be traveling to Dodge Junction instead of staying cozy at home with a mug of warm cocoa in hand. Miss Applejack is entitled to know why her cousin is being sought by a Royal Agent” She pressured sternly.
I dipped my head in consent, “I hear you loud and clear. Is there anything else we should discuss before we part?”
“Minor details involving our projects, yes” She admitted, “One of the engineers that you referred to us, a Mister Gizmo, is requesting leave to spend the Holidays with his inamorata. His ideas have been pivotal in getting many of the projects off the ground and into the second stage. He has suggested workarounds for issues stumping some of my staff that have not only solved the problem, but have increased efficiency of the prototypes by a sizable margin”
“Grant it” I agreed immediately, “A man cannot utilize his mind effectively if yearning thoughts about his beloved constantly plague him. Happy workers are motivated workers~” I quoted in a sing song voice.
Sunshine drained the last of her tea, “Out of curiosity, what did that man owe you a favor for exactly?”
I wasn’t expecting that question to be put forth, “Erm… I set him up with the woman he’s asked leave to spend Hearth’s Warming with” For which she was only slightly grateful for… the cranky broad.
Sunshine snorted before she burst out into a delighted peal of laughter, “Neapolitan would love to hear about that! Why Zenith, I never knew you shared her penchant for playing matchmaker” She ribbed me sportively.
My left eyelid twitched, “I’ve found myself doing a lot of things I never thought I’d do since being spirited away to this wacky section of reality” I grumbled testily.
Sunshine saw my agitation and relented, “Drink your tea. It’ll help you relax that tenseness of yours, Zenith”
I obeyed, emptying the cup in one long draft, “My apologies, Sunshine. I may have acknowledged this land as my home now. But it will be many, many years before I truly feel like I’ve settled into it”
She slid the chair back and stood to her feet, “If there’s one thing we Trifects have an overabundance of, it’s years” She passed by me, brushing a soothing hand along my shoulders, “Have you given thought to what you’ll use as transportation in the South? The scarcity of civilization means wide open expanses of dust and sand that you would be remiss in traversing on foot”
I exhaled as she gently stroked the sensitive region where my ethereal wings were housed, “They have horses there, right? I’ll just purchase a few for AJ and I to avail ourselves of”
“A wise plan” Sunshine complimented me before leaning down and whispering in my ear, “But thankfully an unnecessary one. I’ve already arranged for your coursers to be delivered to Dodge Junction into the care of Miss Jubilee… one of whom is a direct descendant of an old companion of yours”
That nabbed my attention, “Night Wind!?”
She giggled, finding my rare display of excitement amusing, “There have been seven by that name, but this generation’s best goes by North Wind, though I understand that his younger brother Dusk Breeze is a close second”
“You kept Night Wind?” I was still shocked. Starswirl and I had left him behind at the Inn, so only he knew…
Sunshine saw the realization dawn on my face, “Our mutual friend recommended him as a Royal Steed for the palace stables for when we established the United Kingdom of Arcania, claiming that no other horse proved his mettle the way he had. He was not wrong in making this recommendation. Night Wind served my sister and I faithfully as a warhorse and casual rider for many years, passing his traits down over centuries of swift Stallions and Mares that we house at the base of Concordia’s mountain in a custom built stable. The fact that his masters were once Acolytes was just ironic icing on the metaphorical cake”
‘Leave it to Celestia to derive a cake analogy out of a discussion on the wonders of horseflesh’ I mentally eye rolled. I admire this woman so much, but her fixation on cake perplexes me to no end, even after viewing her deeply entrenched memories.
“I…” This revelation blew me away. I didn’t think I’d ever see his like again, “…look forward to meeting his progeny. Night Wind was a superb companion, without him I doubt we’d have been able to find you and aid you in actualizing your destiny”
I could all but hear the beatific smile in her tone, “I thought you might like this development” She kissed my neck, sending an electric tingle up and down my spine and causing Goosebumps to prickle my skin, “Consider him my early Hearth’s Warming present to you”
Sunshine was dangerously close to getting me to blush, “D’aww… and I haven’t even given a moment’s cogitation as to what I should get you” What could a man like me get for the woman who owned an entire kingdom and commanded the Sun to rise that would be special?
“I have you, Zenith” She kissed me again, “To me that’s as good as a thousand Hearth’s Warming gifts combined” With that heart melting comment uttered, she made her exit and left me to deal with another onset of the warm fuzzies. This time they brought up the siege engines.
⁂
I turned in betimes that night after having given Rainbow Dash some pointers on archery (the girl really took to the sport, and learned quickly on top of it) in the stadium. I saw nothing of Applejack that day, who her friends told me was off somewhere purchasing food items like crystal berry jam from the markets that she wouldn’t have the chance to do for a while after we’d departed. Rarity dragged me along with Fluttershy on a shopping trip under the excuse that she needed scintillating fabrics from the Krystal Kingdom that could not be found anywhere else in the world, and the Fluttershy suggested that we stop by the crystal mud baths for the rejuvenating experience of a lifetime (The mineral soak didn’t do much for me, since my skin was just shy of flawless by the tittering attendant’s definition). Twilight consulted me for my opinion on some arcane tomes that she was browsing in the library. Pinkie Pie mercifully let me be that day, occupying herself by buying up the Kingdom’s supply of discounted Flugelhorns after the conclusion of the games. By the time everything was said and done, I was mentally exhausted. Socializing to that degree takes actual effort from me that I usually have difficulty putting in.
The last thing my groggy eyes wanted to see as I opened the door to my room was Discord lounging backwards on my bed with that damnable, snaggletooth grin on his face. His mismatched outfit consisted of a plastic biker’s jacket, unaltered penny loafers, a fez, and corduroy pants that had been torn and hastily repaired in multiple places with sewn on patches. It made me ponder on whether Discord conjured it up that way, or if he did his own needlework.
“Hello, my dear lad. I sense that you’ve wanted to speak to me? Perhaps regarding a certain favor that you’ve held in reserve until now?” He chirped in that knowing tone that had every irritating inflection in it, “Best make it fast! Little Lulu won’t be fooled for long by the button eyed dummy of yours truly that I left in my office. As astounding a job he does of replicating my handsome features, nothing quite matches up to the real thing”
‘At least he isn’t Femcord this time’ I thought with palpable relief.
I mashed a hand on my forehead and rubbed it, “You picked a terrible time of day to bring it up”
“Funny you should refer to Luna’s night that way” Discord remarked, brushing his gnarly fingernails against his chest and huffing on them before inspecting each like a woman would, “If I wasn’t the chaotic clairvoyant that I know I am, I’d hazard a guess to say that you and the Sunny lady were together now?”
If he was trying to get under my skin, he had already beaten himself to the punch, “It is possible” I neutrally voiced, neither confirming nor denying it, “What is it to you? It’s nothing you haven’t been hinting at since you messed with her tea and removed her licentious inhibitions” The memory of those sensual tones of hers still made me shiver, though whether in anxiety or anticipation was hard for me to discern.
“Boy, you are really racking an impressive number of women who adore you” He seemed nearly jealous or genuinely confounded, “And there are no signs of that trend ceasing either!”
“Sure, I’m a regular Casanova. An authentic ladies’ man” I yawned, “Can I call in that favor now? Or are you just here to be bothersome?”
“Tsk tsk” Discord articulated instead of sounding it, “All that time in Magiville has taught you so little about patience, it’s such a crying shame”
“Patience loses its appeal when I’m a hair’s breadth away from passing out” I quipped unrepentantly, swaying on my toes before pitching forward onto the bed. Discord let loose an indignant yelp and ‘poofed’ out of the way, his cotton candy smelling cloud coalescing into his full body next to me.
Discord huffed, dusting himself off, “The Elements worked you over, did they? How rude of them. Ruining my verbally based fun before it can be had!” I twisted over to see him cross his arms together, “What wish shall the genie of bureaucracy grant you?” His genie accent was impeccable.
I pulled up my hood so that it didn’t bunch up against the nape of my neck, “Bandits are running amok in the southwest, as you probably know, wielding weapons that the locals have reported as ‘Thunder-Horrors’. It doesn’t take a genius to piece together that’s a superstitious codename for guns”
Discord failed to make out my implicit meaning, “Your point?”
I made it simple for him, “I need a firearm of my own to counter this advantage of theirs” Archaic as their flintlock and lead ball guns might be in this world, I was still at a disadvantage range wise. Magical bolts of destructive energy weren’t a speedy enough substitute either.
He scowled, “I’m not that kind of Bureaucrat. And why waste an open favor from me on one of those? You could just cross the Sea of Tranquility and purchase one of those distasteful objects for yourself… assuming that you’re in friendly with Baron Van der Griff’s people, and they guard those closer than they would their own newborn children” He added offhandedly, a bonnet appearing on his head along with a babified version of himself cradled in his arms and sucking at a bottle of milky formula.
I shuffled that info to the side for now and fake chuckled, “I need something a tad more modern than what they’d have to offer… something with some serious stopping power” And a six round chamber, and double action… basically the whole shebang.
He flung the baby Discord out the window, the noise of shattering glass and a cat screeching followed shortly after, “Do you even know how to handle what you are asking me for?” He eyed me critically, his voice as serious as I’ve ever heard it, putting me on alert.
“I have been on a range before, so I am not an absolute neophyte with guns” I retorted, “Will you let me cash in this favor or not? I’m leaving first thing in the morning to attend to the situation stewing in the southwest before it comes to a boil. Having a big iron like that at my side would be very reassuring, especially if these outlaws mean business” Which was almost always the case, so I would not let this drop until he obliged me.
He stroked his beard, putting legitimate thought into it, “It’s not the favor I was hoping you’d specify, but it has the potential to be even more entertaining than painting every tree with polka dots or switching everyone’s gender for a day. Eh… why not” He tendered his hand innocently to me, “Shake on it?”
Exhausted as I was, I foolishly clasped hands with him… and that excruciatingly familiar sensation of magic being torn from my body promptly put me under.
I ‘awoke’ in what had to be an altered version of the conception canvas with a yowl. The colors were like something out of a bad trip, swirling and coagulating in the background like some kindergartner’s idea of finger painting. In a frenzied panic, I scanned around until I saw the semi transparent figure of Discord hovering not three feet from my astral projection. He wasn’t in the middle of attacking me, sporting a look of mild concentration, which allowed me to calm down and collect my thoughts.
“What the hell was that!?” I demanded from him, clenching my fists.
“I’m in the middle of granting you your favor” Discord had a distracted look in his eye, “I can form solid objects out of pure magic, but sadly, not permanent ones when they’re infused with chaotic energies… so I am manufacturing it from a stable mixture or yours and mine, along with a holster to accompany that already bulky belt of yours. I had to knock you out for it, otherwise you would be keeping half of the Krystal Kingdom awake with only your unamplified lungs, but you were planning on snoozing anyway… so everyone is satisfied” He smugly elaborated.
“At minimum, you should have given me fair warning” I scolded him in a low growl.
“And you should be mindful of entering into handshakes with self appointed Avatars of Chaos” He riposted calmly, “What if I had used the oldest trick in the book on you? It’d be a travesty for you to fall for the hand buzzer gag”
I threw my hands into the air, “I was tired! Which you took advantage of!”
“Do you want me to help you or not?” He shut me up with a single question.
I nodded begrudgingly, accepting my defeat with some semblance of grace.
“Then dispense with the whining. You are beginning to remind me of the ungrateful castle staff who’ve been assigned to me” He shut his eyes and resumed his intense state of concentration.
My head was on a swivel as I pored over what I presumed was a dreamscape, “What is this place anyway? Do you induce a dreamlike condition in me? Or a dream state?”
“You could call it either of those. In order…” He made a ‘bleuh’ noise with his throat, “…to ensure that you get the most out of this favor. I’ve created a lucid pocket in your inner subconscious that will accommodate us nicely. I have partial control of the facets that you won’t do anything with, and you get the rest to do with as you please”
To test his words, I erected a copy of Stonehenge but with rocks made out of pink marble instead of bluestones to check for versatility in my creative muscle. Grass sprouted from the ‘ground’ along with fragrant flowers to test which of my senses I retained here beside vision and touch. I couldn’t get the colorful sky to keep a single hue for long, despite my efforts. If the wacky Bureaucrat had any snide observations to make about my landscaping ideas, he wisely kept them to himself.
Discord hummed as he processed my body’s internal supply of mana, “You’ve gained a formidable upgrade to your magic recently. Coming into your true power are you? That was unusually generous of the Congress” His eyes widened before a growing smile appeared that threatened to swallow his face, “They must’ve deemed you their golden boy if they entrusted you with that. I’m jealous to say the least”
I innately understood what he was referring to, “I can only delve into that if events are at their most dire. And why would you be?” I inquired, “Your chaos magic makes you capable of almost anything” Including but not limited to rankling the crap out of me.
“Keyword there being almost, Zenith” Discord replied, “Even my unique, utterly magnificent (he bunched his fingers together before kissing them and fanning them out dramatically) brand of magic comes with its limits, and that was before I had the Princesses breathing down my neck for even the smallest outburst of Chaos! You’d think they didn’t trust me”
“You were their enemy once” I said softly, “It is surprising in any way that they would keep you under their strict supervision… this unsanctioned visit of yours being an apt example?” I tapped a foot on the featureless floor.
“Bah! You’ll vouch for me if they raise a commotion” He grunted, “And do they still hold me accountable for the actions of those pesky Acolytes? I’ve told them on countless occasions that what they did had nothing to do with me! I for one can cherish chaos in its multiple forms, but chaotic death is not one of them”
“I believe you on that much” I whispered, which couldn’t be hidden from him.
That got him to crack one eyelid open, “You speak as if you have first hand experience with their ilk”
I chortled anxiously, “Sure… let’s go with that”
Discord raised a brow, but did not seek to press the matter any further, “Here” He tossed a weapon to me, which I caught by the barrel before examining it, “I’ve taken your latent specifications and introduced a few modifications of my own so that people in the know will know that it’s some of my finest work. That is what you’re going to wake up with in the morning…” He pinched his right thumb and index fingers, “…along with a teensy, tiny headache. Be glad. It would have been a massive migraine if the Congress didn’t favor you as their champion. On a tangential note, you might experience a noticeable increase in… interesting dreams” He did not expand on what he meant by that or what the cause for that was.
I took his advice with several grains of salt and gave the dream gun in my hand my full, undivided awareness. The Magnum was similar in design to the Ambassador revolver from a favored video game of mine, fitting its description nearly to a tee. In spite of the amount of metal this gun was constructed with, it was acutely lacking in heft; weighing in at a feathery two and a half pounds (still suitably for conking somebody on the head if need be). The shining argent gun had a built in muzzle break along the barrel for recoil reduction and muzzle rise reduction from escaping gases. The barrel itself was seven inches in length and displayed an engraving of a winged dragon on the left side with a red outline and its jaws extended as if it were about to breathe fire at its soon to be dead enemies. On the right side was another engraving of the likeness of a scantily clad Celestia laying on her back in a suggestively recumbent pose, her flowing hair (I could ascertain it was her from the matching colors of the grooves for her hair) making up the rest of the outlines on the barrel.
I pushed on the latch release and flipped the round cylinder out for inspection, discovering that all six rounds (which were a standard .44 caliber Magnum if I wasn’t mistaken. For some reason the cases fit seamlessly into the tubes) were chambered. I sighed and resisted the urge to shoot Discord in the face for teasing me for who I chose to love, knowing that it would do me little good here, and probably little good in the waking world too. With the desire to vent my frustration by venting the nuisance of a Bureaucrat full of holes unable to be fulfilled, I consoled myself by appreciating the newest instrument in my deadly arsenal of problem solving tools. The sights were a flat U shaped green line made out of optical fiber that provided excellent contrast against the red strand of fiber optics nestled at the end of the barrel. The grip was made out of a lovely rosewood composition (the grip medallion was the same emblem as the one on the hilt of my Mage-blade) with a strip of rubber gripping lining the middle meant to cushion the doubtlessly monstrous recoil that high caliber revolvers were notorious for. The trigger and cocking hammer of this magnificent weapon were golden, which must have been a clever reference to Discord seeing me as the Constellar Congress’s golden boy.
Beneath the latch release and the semi wooded grip were a trio of ladybug sized buttons on the metal casing that I did not know the purpose of. It was difficult to tell, but the topmost button was the depiction of a projectile passing through a flat object, penetrating, and continuing through. The second was that of an expanding bullet unfurled like a morbid flower petal, which was a no brainer for a dumdum round. The third button was a symmetrical symbol for chaos, with sixteen arrows of varying sizes and an open eye with a starburst in its center in the middle. I didn’t take me long to realize that the three buttons were settings for the ammunition being fired, top for armor piercing, middle for hollowed point, and the third was a mystery that Discord would have to explain, but I had my inklings as to what it was. But how could that be? I flipped open the cylinder again and frowned when I noted that there was no push rod to eject spent cartridges. I used my pinkie finger to dislodge one of the bullets and my forehead creased as I scrutinized the indistinct rounded tip of the round. I pieced it together in my mind that there must have been some kind of magical basis in the functionality of my revolver.
“Liking it so far?” Discord lazily floated around me in a circle, “Of course you do! It’s everything you’d want in a firearm. It’s stylish, it appeals to your penchant for history, and it’s ridiculously powerful. I’m not joking for once. You can hunt and kill adult Manticores with that in a single shot if you’re unerring with your aim” He boasted, excessively proud of his craftsmanship, “There are additional features I’ve included that I’ll let you discover for yourself, provided you can think like me” His grimy whites filled my vision. Discord’s teeth were more animalistic than human, reminding me for the umpteenth time that this was not the most stable of beings to associate myself with.
“Yes, yes” I swatted at him to get him out of my face, “Thank you very much for the hand cannon, now leave me in peace so I can wake up already”
“Don’t be hasty, my lad!” He wiggled a finger at me as he absently dodged each swipe, “Normally I would be altogether acquiescent with unleashing you on the world without rating your competency with that thing, but as a reformed man and as a humble, paperwork filing cog in the collection of gears that is their Highnesses’ Bureaucracy, I must assess your competency with it first”
“Do we have the time for that?” I fussed, “I can just learn how to use it in an actual combat scenario the hard way. It’s what I did with my throwing knives” And I did decently well with those.
“That would be wasting this rare opportunity to hone your skills the medium-hard way, Zenith” Discord reproached me, “All of this…” He motioned about with his hands, “…is located deep in the airy confines of your subconscious. Your perception of time here is but a fraction of what it is outside of your slumber. I’m not one for the exact math, but the rounded answer is that for each hour of sleep you’ll get, twenty hours will be perceived here… and you hit the sack pretty early. I can project myself here and function out there simultaneously because I’m capable like that. You sir, have the power to train here with that weapon while I ensure that the realistic parameters will roughly match those of the outside world. Why throw it away so carelessly?”
“Passing up relative temporality like that to be productive would be a shame” I murmured before peeking up at Discord, “Would you do me the honor of being the Gamemaster?” I tentatively offered as my roundabout way of expressing gratitude.
He grinned sinisterly at me, “Are you certain you’ll want to trust me with that kind of influence? I’ll make rules, trash them, and make completely different and usually contradictory rules. Sometimes in the same sitting”
“Perhaps not” I conceded, “But it would make for a hell of a training program, wouldn’t it? Tell you what, if I can hit a target in the distance while still looking at your ugly mug… you agree to play”
I conjured a circular target thirty five yards away and brazenly took aim with one arm before pulling the trigger and activating the mechanism inside the casing. The double action revolver jerked back marginally due to my braced stance (another victory for Trifect strength!) from the recoil and issued a manly bark and report. The bullet smacked the edges of the metal target with a pinging echo with practically no flight time at all.
His grin stretched wider and he held out his fingers, “Not bad for your starting shot. I’ll be sure to go easy on you… for the first day anyhow” He snapped them once and I expeditiously doubted my keen sense of rationale.
And so began a protracted trial of endless drills of learning how to properly operate my weapon out in the field and under extreme duress. The scenarios were as diverse as they were realistically dangerous, from unexpected ambushes, duels at high noon, to all out gunfights. Discord pulled all the stops as my appointed Gamemaster (more like my drill sergeant) and put me through the grinder, taking away my ability to telekinetically reload my weapon after depleting the cylinder and forcing me to do it manually while under heavy fire from realistic looking faceless gunmen utilizing flintlock style pistols that weren’t terribly accurate, but stung like a mother when they struck true.
Discord, in a fit of madness or a sense of thoroughness in my school of hard knocks, told me that I would have to dig the bullet out my flesh with my knife before cauterizing the wound shut using the gunpowder from the horns of my fallen foes. Now that taught me something new about pain. It was an option for the worst case scenario, but when choosing between an ongoing life and an ignoble death, the former is one worth fighting for. Ol’ Discy never risked me dying in the dream though, since I would end up in limbo if I did, and even he dared not tread there to retrieve me, too many forbidden epiphanies that had to remain buried in the void, he had claimed from experience. There was a ghastly, haunted mood to his normally facetious demeanor afterwards for the rest of a dream day after that, and it made me ponder what this man had seen to dampen his spirit so.
The combat scenarios were as diverse as they were difficult and with backdrops that would definitely not be typical of the landscape near the town of Appleloosa. There were urban environments, some of which I recognized from movies and computer games, outdoor environments, zero gravity environments (that one was loads of fun), and underwater settings (The notion that my weapon had underwater functionality was… intriguing). I put up with the myriad of exotic locales, too occupied adjusting and getting the hang of things to care. That I was having loads of fun in such rip-roaringly chaotic situations helped offset the dizziness from the Bureaucrat’s arbitrary shenanigans a bunch, and Discord ostensibly claimed that I had a few things in common with him as well as the Princesses in this regard. Discord’s atypical choice of landscapes was queerly apposite and levelheaded for my training. Though just because I was being sent to the southwest didn’t mean that it was the only place I would have need of my latest weapon I reasoned. However, it could have done without the bizarre sound effects that Discord disjointedly tossed in from time to time, along with the weirdest musical tracks to shoot at the targets that eagerly shot back at me.
This magically constructed Magnum of mine was twice as hard hitting as its semi magical cartridge caliber suggested, punching through concrete blocks, solid steel plates of over an inch thickness (though only with the armor piercing mode selected which made the tip of the bullet conical and equal to the density of depleted uranium, but sans the toxicity), and an entire row of watermelons. When asked about this, Discord explained to me that some of the improvements in firepower had to do with his modifications, such as an absolute seal between the bullet in the chamber and the barrel, nigh indestructible alloys that could sustain the incredible pressures that the one of a kind propellant in those shells released upon deflagration, and the minor fact that the entire cartridge was expended upon firing. I couldn’t help my chuckle when he copied Cave Johnson’s commercial motto for the robotic turrets: ‘Plus, it fires the whole bullet. That’s sixty five percent more bullet, per bullet!’. Even if the mad Bureaucrat had stolen it from my brain, it was forgivable because it was funny. He did not hesitate to boast time and time again about the difficulty of transforming magical energy into solid magic while still instilling it with useful attributes.
The rounds fired from the magic Magnum traveled at brain jolting speeds, roughly above seven hundred meters per second, according to the blasé estimations of my Gamemaster. By my own calculations with velocity and mass (on the flipside to my aversion to it, the formula was simple math by itself) to determine kinetic energy, I figured that these bullets rammed into their targets with a force somewhere in the range of several thousand joules, compounded with the relevant mass of the bullet casing being ejected as well meant that I would wake up with a weapon of terrible individual destructive power. Yeah, it was probably best that I only use this weapon if fired upon first, and only as a last resort. To further support this decision, the gun was reasonably loud (not a weapon for being stealthy) and only allowed me to take out six targets at a time before a reload of roughly two seconds with magic (six to eight seconds without my telekinetically deft handiness. Discord apologized and stated that Speedloaders weren’t included in the package) became necessary. Because I was already technically asleep, I could not become exhausted from the strenuous physical and mental activity that same way that I could while awake, so there were no breaks for me lasting for a duration over fifteen minutes.
The third button setting for the ammunition type that was spat from my revolver was a wild card that was to be used timely and used wisely. Discord had defined its function as ‘Bending the rules of bullet dynamics, which includes its trajectory and effect upon impact’. As a situation around me got more disorderly, the more interesting the effect the setting would have on the bullets. We tested that exhaustively, and if I had written a list of the unique properties that button had on the ammunition, it would have made for an impressive treatise. I was able to curve the flight path of the bullet like in that Wanted movie to strike at targets behind cover, the bullets would become explosive or incendiary tipped if fired at an unstable fuel source, they would even split in two if pursuing divergent targets down a fork, and many, many other admittedly awesome effects.
On the fourth day into my gunnery training (this Magnum had the oomph behind it to be classified as heavy weaponry in my book), Discord decided to relate little stories and anecdotes about himself as a starting out as an avatar of disorder. At first I mostly ignored him and his outrageous tales of hijinks gone perfectly awry, as more often than not they devolved into the nonsensical ramblings of an incoherent mind. But on the fifth day I joined in by launching my own inquiry about the man’s origins, the most pressing detail was what he was before he modeled himself an Avatar of Chaos.
“You want to know about that in spite of my warnings?” He stuck his tongue out in distaste, “But it’s so boring!”
I finished reloading the cylinder and snapped it shut with the flick of my wrist, “Fascinate me with it anyway. You’ve yammered on about the time you replaced the all the Nobles’ toilet wipes with bleached sandpaper five times now!” I complained as I gunned down an opponent attempting to sneak up on me in a forested simulation. I had to dodge and roll as a stream of gunfire tore through the underbrush and into the spot I had been not three seconds past.
“Oh you are persistent on that, aren’t you? Very well” He complied, the bullets passing through his intangible astral projection, “But don’t blame me if it bores you to sleep and you end up in limbo!”
A storybook poofed into his possession and he cleared his throat as he read from it, “Once… on an island in the middle of a water mass that no one cared to properly name, there lived…” He paused for max suspense, “…an ordinary run of the mill islander”
“LE GASP!” I held a hand against my mouth, “Actually that’s not surprising at all” I defaulted to my habitual deadpan expression as I wheeled around a tree to plant the barrel of my revolver opposite to an opponent’s head and pulled the trigger. For some reason Discord had included gore in the parameters, so I was showered with fragments of skull and brain matter.
‘How beneficial it is that I’m desensitized’ I mused as I wiped the bloodstains off my face with a sleeve.
“I know, I know” He pushed his hand at me twice, “But bear with me for a moment. So this young man was the textbook definition of normal, woke up at the crack of dawn to go fishing for five hours with his father, brought home food to his mother if either of them were lucky enough to catch it, and spent the rest of the day napping beneath the shade of the palm trees to the sound of the ocean and chirruping seagulls until it was time to return home to his hut. This was considered a daily routine for the man, until one day the cycle was broken. One day the man had slept in a bit too late and the tides had washed up the most peculiar rock as his eyes blinked wide” Discord’s eyes got a funny look to them, “It was like no other rock the simple man had ever seen in his life. It was jet black and glassy, and faceted… so unbelievably faceted. And when he crawled closer to take a gander of it, it felt like it was thrumming with energy. The strange sensation increased tenfold in intensity when the ignorant foolish man dismissed that nagging voice in the back of his head telling him that this rock was trouble”
“And what happened?” I asked him expectantly, keeping an eye fixed on the tree line for enemies as I reloaded my weapon one shell case at a time.
The man’s lips split into an odd, eerie grin, “I changed” Was all he said, and its effect was haunting enough that I gave him my full attention. There were no enemies close to us by my reckoning, so it wasn’t a rookie mistake.
The snaggletoothed man resumed his story, “The man whose mind went into that crystal didn’t come out… Instead, I emerged. The man’s unspeakable trials and tribulations within the prison that was the crystal at an end, and his spirit renewed in the cleansing fires of chaos, he set off into the world to spread his newfound joy for randomly entropic change!” His grin soured and a scowl was momentarily present, “But first he weighted the cursed crystal down with a legitimate stone and some coils of hemp rope before he dropped it into the deepest portion of the sea that his people had knowledge of”
‘The crystal he talked about… it couldn’t be… could it?’ I reflected with haste, “Where did you say you were from again?”
“Save all questions until the end of the story” He chided me, before thrusting a finger skywards, “But first, a message from our sponsors! This message is brought to you by Chaolium, the Chaos pill to make your life more spontaneous! Do you wish that your drab life was one hundred percent interesting instead of two hundred percent boring? Try Chaolium today! Warning, do not ingest more than the recommended amount listed on the bottle. Side effects include nausea, vomiting, ejection of bodily contents, blood loss, explosive diarrhea, spontaneous combustion, and becoming one with the miserable universe” He spoke at snowballing speed as he scrolled down the list of unfortunate side effects.
“Stop advertising. Lord above, you’re worse than old cable television” I mumbled bitterly.
He disregarded me, “Where were we? Ah yes! The wondrous outset of the world’s first Avatar of Chaos! I had so much fun in those years, traveling to foreign and exotic places, taking hilarious photos with the locals to save in the scrapbook, and maybe replacing some of their soap bars with sea urchins; trimmed of their spines of course!” He added as I winced at the concept of using a sea urchin as a loofah.
He sighed nostalgically, “I made many impressions on people as I traveled the world, though some of them were clingy enough to commemorate my passing by establishing cult followings that didn’t even have any me themed merchandize!” He sounded outraged, his priorities coming off to me as exceedingly self centered. But then, when you’re the only one of your mindset that you know of, how can you not focus on yourself?
“This was my modus operandi for a few centuries, by then I was an established figure in several countries’ lore… as a trickster!” He snorted, “My diverse array of talents goes far beyond simple skullduggery, don’t you think? But alas, my life of self amusement only got really interesting after detecting multiple surges of chaos that did not belong to moi, so naturally I had to investigate this anomaly for myself” He rubbed his hands together gleefully, “What I found there was positively delightful! Two ascended beings with magic that was essentially the opposite of mine! They looked like they would be fun to mess around with, but baby Trifects would make for poor sport, and I am nothing if not a sporting fellow. So I waited, and surreptitiously watched from the shadows as little Lulu and Celestia matured with their magic while under the mentorship of that fogey Starswirl”
I took umbrage to that description, “Hey, don’t diss the wizard like that!”
The bastard ignored me, “So between spying on the adolescent Trifects and juking nettlesome Windgoes, I was having a blast. The weather was a tad on the chilly side,” He made a mock of shivering, “but it all paid off once they had crossed the Sea to this land that they had named Arcania once they had established themselves as the official Diarchs and unifiers of the clans. They acted modestly about it, but I knew they were puffed up as peacocks about their achievement, so I thought to do one better” His eyes glinted, “That was when I made my grand introduction”
He was rather pleased with himself, “You know… for the illustrious, fated rulers of the three clans, those two were awfully quick to fly the coop when the skies turned pink, the Valkyrians couldn’t get the cotton candy clouds under control, the Agrarian’s crops grew fruit and offshoots that were combinations of seeds that weren’t even planted, and the spells the Stellar Mages cast to fix everything would give them a faint shock, courtesy of me. Perhaps they comprehended the magnitude of my magnificence and withdrew? Either way, they left their castle attendants clueless and their thrones nice and warm for my posterior to enjoy”
‘Maybe they had forewarning about him from Starswirl’ I mused. I didn’t skimp on hints, and they did have the indirect guidance of the Constellar Congress.
He exhaled wistfully, “Ruling a country is challenging work when half of your subjects want insipid order and the other half want you dead. The only issue they had with achieving either objective was that they disagreed over methods, otherwise they might have been able to band together and combine their collective Harmony into a super charged spell that would turn me into a glorified paperweight”
He dug at his fingernails for dirt, which was just a pointless gesture here, “Regardless, it was a gratifying rulership, for me anyways” He flashed me six fingers (on the same hand), “Six months… your infallible Princesses let me have free reign for six months. I could have done any variety of things in that time to the populace, but I stayed consistently inconsistent. The people whined about their lifestyles taking a hit, but what do they know about appreciating spontaneity?”
He sneered, “If I had the time to micromanage the chaos, I might have been able to get them to see that the order they desired in their lives was overrated, but the Princesses had help from above and the second they showed up again as I was about to make a glorious announcement to the public, I tasted the petrifying rainbow. They kept me squared away as a sculpture in their garden. Say whatever you will about me, but at least I don’t turn people into stone”
‘His story is painting himself sympathetically. I hate it’ I mentally grumbled, nailing the last of the gunmen in the forest as he crept in between the bushes to my rear.
He read my expression easily, “I told you it would be boring. Even the story about how dangerous it is to introduce the latest source of income you appropriated would have been more exciting! Stifling inflation has always been a pet peeve of mine” He ground his teeth together, and I knew it to be true. I also knew that he was subtly reprimanding me for being behind the additional paperwork on his desk, not that I cared about his meager troubles.
“Better to have and not need, than need and not have” I riposted. The acquired wealth from the now safe mines made the Crown’s clandestine projects easier to fund without borrowing from the treasury. I wasn’t surprised that incorporating this money fell under Discord’s jurisdiction.
He shrugged frivolously, “Now let me regale you with one I haven’t recounted yet…”
My mood sank like the Titanic, the remainder of my dreamtime about to be monopolized by the devious villain that I rechristened as Chattercord.
⁂
I woke up with a large yawn and a headache that was a quarter of the potency it was when I had suffered my first hangover thanks to Berry Punch’s black goo of alcoholic regret. Discord had vanished without so much as a farewell (though we still weren’t exactly friends by any means) or a note wishing me luck out there in the arid southwest. Not that I had need of any luck. That week of dreamtime spent training with my Magnum had me decently prepared for a firefight, so I had no cause to worry about not being ready for when the going down south got rough. I was not a gunslinger yet by any means, but I had a hunch that I would be lethal with my nameless Magnum (nothing that materialized on the drawing room board had the right ring to it. I would decide on one when it was most convenient) soon enough.
I sensed a weight on my chest and brushed at it with a hand, feeling leather (fake leather if it was conjured) and a dual lineup of bullets enclosed by leather loops. This led me to believe that it was the holster that the Bureaucrat threw in for me on the house and saving me the trouble of dictating to a leatherworker that I needed them to craft something for me to carry my hand cannon with. The belt was an ever fashionable black, undetailed coloration and had a lower strap to keep it affixed to my thigh to attenuate the stresses of stop and go motion. I tried it on and adjusted it so that the holster was angled towards my hand and hung partially on the low end. It felt intriguingly real for conjured leather as I unstrapped it, content with my significant adaptation for ranged combat. Tallying the number of bullets on the belt along with the rounds that were chambered in the cylinder, I accounted for forty two rounds of ammunition. Discord instructed me early during my ‘dream week’ that if I required a refill, I would have to pull the trigger to the emptied weapon before I went to bed for a repeat of what happened last night… which I was not looking forward to, so I had to make what ammo I did have on me count.
I sat up from the bed and stretched to mitigate the crick in my back from sleeping on it funny. The metaphorical magical fuel in the tank was a bit drained, but the levels I had were serviceable. It would replenish faster if I got a hearty breakfast in me, and some additional rest on the train ride back to Magiville where we would have a thirty minute layover to take advantage of until the next stage in our journey to Dodge Junction.
There was a knock on my door that interrupted my meditation, “Zenith? Are ya in there? It’s thirty minutes past seven!” Came Applejack’s distinctive country girl accent.
I hastily grabbed my pack and stuffed the revolver and accompanying holster into it before leaping to my feet. Calming myself before I reached for the handle, I unlocked the door and greeted the blonde woman. The apple grower was dressed in dark blue jeans, leather boots with apple theme embroidery, and an orange-brown long sleeved, checkered shirt that wasn’t folded back like it usually was, on account of the cold I would assume. She was also donning her trademark hat, but that went without saying.
“Mornin’ Zenith” She chirped cordially, a small smile on her face, “Ya sleep well?”
I chuckled, “I did. Too well, in fact. I had one of those prolonged dreams that felt like a week had passed. It would have made for a nice dream too, if Discord wasn’t present to be a nuisance” A helpful nuisance, but a nuisance never the less.
She twisted her neck in bemusement, “Can’t say I know whatcha mean by that. I’m real sorry ya had to deal with Discord prancing about in yer head though, heaven knows mah sleep would be fitful” She gesticulated with her thumb behind herself, “You ready to get goin? The favor from the Princess that I agreed to stipulated that you’d be the one to spill the beans on what we’re doin taking the next train to Dodge Junction after we stop in by home” She looked to one side, “Not that ah’m complainin’, but I got some bad memories of runnin’ to that place in a moment of weakness that I ain’t proud of”
“You might not be alone in harboring that sentiment. We’re to visit an old acquaintance of yours who is renting out a room to some other persons who decided that running was a better option than facing the music” I hinted at the particulars of my mission, “I’ll tell you more once we’re underway and in a secure spot. Are you packed?”
She nodded, “I don’ carry ‘round much, and mah things are at the station right now bein’ loaded by the attendants. Let’s not keep ‘em waitin’, huh?”
I inserted my arms between the loops of the adventure pack as I slung it onto my back, “Ladies first” I motioned for her to lead.
The train (a regular non crystalline one this go around) was at the station, steam venting from its boiler as it sat idly on the tracks. Because the Krystal Kingdom’s railway line was rarely used (save for shipments of explosives and food to the sparsely populated mining settlements near the icy mountains) before its reappearance (its handy location a foresight on the Princess’s part mayhaps?), it had to take the long route around the bend from Steelhatten so that it would be oriented south. Cadence had mentioned a proposal the day before involving the construction of a parallel line to complement the existing one and facilitate two way traffic, but it would likely be months before a project of that undertaking could reach finalization even if they initiated it today.
We stood in line behind the ticket counter to purchase our passes with the wherewithal in our pockets, dozens of people around us who were preparing for the journey home or were chatting amiably about whatever they considered to be the unforgettable highpoint of their stay. Someone official from the Citadel spotted AJ and I and notified us that we were cleared to board the first class passenger car by the front of the train (the Engine reminded me heavily of an R Class steam locomotive, crowned with Red metal trimming) without further ado. The cowgirl’s forehead scrunched up in confusion at the fancy treatment, but if she had any misgivings about it, she kept quiet on them as we climbed the grated steps and entered the car where we’d be spending the next few hours in transit.
Speaking of which, the distance between Magiville and the Krystal Kingdom was about two hundred and eighty five kilometers as the Skyborn flies (its proximity to the capital was all but adjacent in comparison to the distances of the major cities in Arcania running lengthwise West to East), so it would be a couple hours after noon when we pulled into the Magiville train station after being redirected via a one of a kind locomotive complex situated at the base of Concordia mountain with the biggest clockwork style turntable you ever did see, integrated with brass and bronze gears the size of monster truck tires, jets of scalding steam, and a jerky lifting platform like that of a carjack. The first class accommodations that the Princess treated us to were luxurious, with silken curtains over the windows, electric ceiling lamps that gave off pleasant lighting, chairs with plush upholstery, and artwork on the ceiling that was reminiscent of renaissance paintings.
Applejack whistled what she thought of the passenger car, “It’s slightly glitzy for mah tastes, but who am I to argue with the Princess’s commands?”
“She didn’t send you and I out on a simple shopping errand, Applejack. This extravagance is a subtle reminder that we’re to be professional, and therefore we must behave professionally” I saw fit to inform her as I plopped down rather unprofessionally onto a seat, keeping my bag of implements nearby, “Take a seat” I compelled her, to which she complied, “You want the full details to our mission yes?”
She shuffled in her seat as she resisted getting suctioned into its depths, “The truth about what we’re goin’ to be doin’ together would be mightily appreciated, yes”
I double and triple checked our surroundings to ensure that no one was listening in on us, “Your cousin has gone off the grid. We’re going to pay him a visit in Dodge Junction, along with somebody else of importance that he… associates with” I termed it tactfully.
“Uhh… alrighty then” She scratched her head, “Which cousin would that be? Ah’ve got quite a few of ‘em, Zenith”
I leaned forward, “Maybe this will narrow it down for you. He resided in a town whose name he’s quite fond of drawing out the pronunciation of” It was presumptuous of me to think it was the same here, but she did nothing to refute it.
His identity clicked in her head by that trivial feature alone, “Braeburn? But why are we goin’ after him? What’s he done wrong?”
“He’s followed his heart” I answered her, “Which isn’t necessarily a crime, but who he’s chosen to do it with is more of a gray zone” And a political hot button that’s dangerously close to being punched.
“Who is she?” Applejack demanded to know, slamming her fist onto the laminated wooden table separating us, “Who’s seduced mah cousin into a life of crime?”
“You’re going to have to take a step back here and breathe before I divulge that one to you” I warned her, “We haven’t even set out yet and you’re losing your temper over a girl your cousin happens to care for?”
“Right… A’hm sorry for gettin’ steamed” She didn’t sound completely apologetic, “But the apple isn’t suppose to fall from the tree only to roll into some ditch to rot. My family keeps in touch over everythin’. Don’t matter none if it’s somethin’ private like who’s captured the affection of our hearts. If a man or woman is unworthy of being considered one of the Apple Family, then they don’t enter the family. It’s as plain as that”
“Seems a bit… over controlling to me” I remarked, reevaluating my appraisal of the Apple family.
“Nonsense!” She exclaimed, “We’re jus’ lookin’ out for the best interests of the family. That’s the way it’s been since mah ancestor Tough Cookie popped out eight squallin’ babes and settled down with her hubby to begin growin’ only the most delectable apples in the world!”
‘I knew she and AJ were directly blood related!’ I thought with an invisible fist pump. Though the plumpness in Tough Cookie was not evident in the buxom blonde, who was mostly tanned flesh and muscle from years of fieldwork.
“A historical ancestor? Tell me about her” She was unfortunately unconscious for most of the time that I had with her, so Applejack likely knew more about her than I did. The story I told the Elements at the dining table that one night was sufficient, but bare bones when it came to specific identities of the people I interacted with.
We felt a jerking sensation of the car as the train engine whistled and signaled its departure from the station. I was puzzled that we were given the first class train car entirely to ourselves, but it was an early train and more were scheduled to ferry the passengers back home after the Athletic Game’s conclusion.
“Gladly” Applejack acquiesced with zest, “Mah ultra great grandmother Tough Cookie Apple was the first matriarch of the Apple Family after they had started anew in Arcania under the Princesses. Before that, the Apple Family was subject to the whims of their Stellar Mage overlords, and the Combine government that they worked for before which was even worse, with both of ‘em taking most of the profits they made from sellin’ their produce and leavin’ ‘em on the rack to hang while they were mistreated by people who should have been livin’ alongside ‘em in Harmony. But that’s jus’ the way things were then”
She exhaled tiredly, “Times were tough for mah family over a thousand years ago, and I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for a mystery savior that had saved her from succumbin’ to a dastardly poison that she was afflicted with fighting in the name of truth n’ justice”
“Is that so?” I murmured thoughtfully. Did Tough Cookie forget about my name? The Hartsbane poison that was burning in her veins could have had any sort of unfortunate side effects, including short term memory loss.
Applejack heard me, “Eeyup! The feller even left a missive for her that she saved for posterity. Mah Granny has it preserved and laminated somewhere in the farmhouse attic away from the sunlight. A lot of the words were beginnin’ to fade even before its legibility was protected by pricey enchantments, but I’ve read it enough times to have committed it to memory”
She cleared her throat and spoke in her ‘refined’ voice, “Dear Tough Cookie. I hope this letter finds you well rested and well recovered. We hadn’t known each other for very long, but I shan’t be forgetting you anytime soon. I just wanted to tell you that you have one heck of a future ahead of you, filled with life, love, and happiness. The road getting there will be bumpy and full of potholes, and times may get desperate… but there’s a light at the end of this tunnel that will take away all of your woes, your regrets, your hardships, and make them seem immaterial in comparison to what you have gained. Your sister will have a hand in bringing this about, and you need to be supporting her the way you have been alongside that wizard friend of yours. Speaking of whom, he and I have gone out to seek two very special somebodies that will be pivotal to the events to come. Don’t question how I know this… it’s a simple answer with complex implications. I’ll be keeping you in my thoughts though, and I pray that your life is as fulfilling as possible… signed, The Hooded Man… AKA that handsome feller who had never ridden a horse in his life”
She scoffed with amusement, “This man saved mah ancestor’s life, according to the healer who had filled in the blanks for her after she awoke. The ancient Valkyrians had made a foray into town and the folks there had somehow beaten them off, but they knew that they would feel the retribution for their actions before long, so most people packed their belongings into carts and moved to other towns. Mah ancestor followed their example and returned home after recovering from the slight amnesia she had been afflicted with. She and thousands of others migrated over the sea to this land that they would christen Arcania after settling their differences with the other clans and burying the hatchet”
‘Interesting how that’s an expression here’ It likely had differing origins though.
“Sounds like her savior was quite the man” I said impassively, knowing full well the truth behind that.
Applejack examined me closely from her seat across the table, “You can’t pull the wool over mah eyes, Zenith. After that story you spun after dinner the other night, I have an inkling as to who this hooded fella really was” Her eyes narrowed at me, but I gave her nothing.
I was unfazed, “Perhaps you do, perhaps you don’t… but you’ll never hear an admission from my lips” I told her contrarily.
She huffed and crossed her arms together, “Why do you constantly hafta be a wise guy? It’s really irritatin’ sometimes”
I shrugged flippantly, “A man must have some enigmatic aspects to him, if only for abstruseness’ sake” That and I derived amusement from frustrating others who attempted to glean too much from me.
“Fine!” She hissed, “Keep up that pointless charade of yers. But explain to me mah role in all this hullabaloo”
“It’s quite simple my dear Applejack” I started, to which she snorted, “You and Braeburn are of the same bloodline, so he’s more liable to listen to suggestions coming from you than some recently appointed Royal Agent that he’s never heard about till now. In turn, he will make returning the woman he ran with to her home, and hopefully prevent a conflict from igniting between the settlers and Buffalo Braves”
“Buffalo Braves? Then who i-…” She paused before piecing together who the lady in question was, “…Strongheart” She seethed as she stamped her fist into the table, rattling the silverware that wasn’t wrapped in those nice napkins, “I knew they had eyes for each other! The way he kept going on about her and her people at the last family reunion, you’d think that there was somethin’ goin’ on between ‘em, but I passed it off as admiration!” She sighed, “Brae always had an open mind about things… but to pledge his heart to a woman who’s not even Arcanian? Unthinkable!”
Oh no, there was that semi racist side of AJ that I had no desire to see, “What does her nationality have to do with it? The Buffalo Braves have been living here long enough that they’re Arcanian citizens in all but name, based on what Celestia implied to me over brunch”
Applejack diverged from the topic at hand, “You and the Princess, Zenith… is there more goin’ on between you than I originally guessed?”
“Yes, our relationship has evolved” Though in what manner was not yet definitive, “But it’s not my relationship to the Princess that is relevant at the moment. It’s your cousin’s to this Buffalo Chieftain’s daughter”
She looked at me crossly, “What are ya lookin’ at me for? No one told me about this before you, least of all Braeburn” She mumbled bitterly. This was a huge deal to her, wasn’t it?
“If I hope to get these two factions from tearing each other’s throats out, I need them to parley first. Retrieving Strongheart, reminding her not unkindly of what’s what, and returning her to her people will be crucial to this effort” The people of Appleloosa were settlers, apple farmers, frontiersmen with few lawmen or guards to keep them safe from a sizable threat. They were not hunter-warriors and gatherers like I’d assume the natives (more native than the Arcanian natives anyway) were. If the Buffalo Braves decided to take up arms against the settlers for the perceived attacks and kidnappings of their people, it could get real bloody real fast. I had to prevent this from occurring at all costs.
“How do ya know for certain she’ll be a big help when it comes to keepin’ the peace?” AJ reasonably voiced her doubts.
I shook my head, “I don’t know anything of this for certain, but it stands to reason that the Chieftain’s daughter who was against the Buffalo Braves clashing with the Appleloosans over an apple grove on their doorstep would prove a useful ally when a similar scenario has developed like the one embroiling them now”
“I guess…” She accepted tentatively, “Why’d she run away with mah cousin anyway?”
“Celestia didn’t get too specific with the details, but Strongheart was pressured into marrying an influential member of her tribe who is championing the idea of attacking the Arcanians in the region in retribution for their losses. Strongheart does not think highly of him, enough that she’d book it with your cousin to avoid that fate” I informed the cowgirl.
And if the war hawk still retained that unwise idea of violence in his head when Strongheart was restored to the Braves and united by holy matrimony to him, then I would have to get my hands dirty again… and incidentally Strongheart would be free to marry whomever she pleases. I should be bothered that I’m contemplating murder so apathetically, but I’ve accepted that I must do what I have to if I am to safeguard the realm and those I care for. I could only hope that Strongheart could get this man to see reason. She’d be miserable, but there was little and less I could do for her that didn’t tread into a political no-no zone.
“What losses?” Applejack was out of the loop, “Why are the Buffalomen and the settlers down south coming to blows again?”
“No blows have been exchanged as far as I know, which is why we must work quickly. Tensions will be nearly impossible to relieve if they explode before our intervention” I did not have the heart to tell her that Celestia would send an armed response to ‘deal’ with a disturbance within her borders… and that the Buffalo Braves would likely either be forced to find a new home or would be killed. I couldn’t afford to fail here, for their sake and the sake of peace.
“There is more” I continued, “There’s a good reason for the Buffalo Braves to foster anger towards the settlers. They believe that their people, specifically women and children, are being stolen by men wielding terrible weapons that crack like thunder” Though none so terrible as the weapon now sitting patiently in my pack.
“Are they?” Applejack could not believe the words coming out of her mouth, “A’course they aren’t! The Appleloosans ain’t kidnappers! Jus’ honest, hardworkin’ folk!”
“These men, outlaws really, appear to be Arcanian. Which means that they might be using frontier towns such as Appleloosa to supply themselves before they stage raids on the Bufflo Brave villages” Though how and why they are doing this remains unclear.
Applejack got a determined, steely glint in her eye, “We need to stop ‘em. I won’t abide by these men tarnishin’ the good name of those settler folk, I won’t”
“Glad to see that you’re on board with me” I quipped, before watching the white, snowy scenery pass us by and the tip of the Crystal Citadel sink beneath the horizon, “Dealing with these outlaws will be a serious proposition, AJ. They have already shown that they are willing to kill in order to achieve whatever objective it is that they have. Can I trust you to look after yourself?”
“Don’t talk to me as if I were some helpless newborn calf, Zenith” She rebuked me, insulted that I would even bring it up, “Mah brother and I have dealt with plenty of danger in the past. Wild critters come crawlin’ out of the Neverfree from time to time. Some wander onto our farm and Mac and I teach ‘em the error of their ways” She pounded her fist against her palm in emphasis, “When we stop in at Magiville, I can run home and grab mah Claymore”
“What, like the kind that I used during the games?” And done a poor job with in spite of my training, I neglected to add. I was the most deadly with my Mage-blade, but that was because it was an extension of myself.
She mentally compared them in her head, “Mine’s not as long as yers was, but mine has a thicker blade and cleaves into flesh like warm tallow”
I eyed her critically, measuring what her reply would be, “You ever used it on a man before?”
At that Applejack faltered and recovered sloppily, “I-I could! Ah’m not half bad in a scuffle, and can keep mah head on mah shoulders in all situations. Me and the girls have been in heap of ‘em over the years!”
“Really?” I countered, watching her flinch from that word alone, “You could look a man in the eyes and kill him without hesitation if you had to? You and the girls have done that?” I would be shocked if they had. The Elements weren’t killers as far as I knew.
“W-well I wouldn’t want to have to k-kill anybody!” She protested, “But if I were forced into a choice between protectin’ those I cared about an- and some no good brigand, I would choose the former, every time” She vowed, ridding herself of the vocal tremors.
“Honest answer” I acknowledged without irony, “And a sentiment we share. Sadly, bringing a sword, even a really big sword like a Claymore, into a gunfight would likely end badly for you”
Applejack crooked her head, “Huh? Whatcha talkin’ about?”
“Guns. Firearms. Slug throwers. Lead tossers. Projectile weapons. Boomsticks” I listed casually before recalling the last and most apposite title relevant to this conversation, “And as the Buffalo Braves are calling them: Thunder-Horrors”
“These outlaws are using ranged weapons that outclass melee weapons in most cases” I simplified for her, “The basic premise of a firearm is that a metal projectile is loaded into a tube along with a propellant charge that when ignited will cause that projectile to exit the tube at incredible speeds. All the kinetic energy behind the projectile can result in catastrophic damage to living creatures. To put it bluntly, you point a gun at whatever you want to die, and pull the trigger” I don’t think that the Magnum in my pack is capable of doing much else besides that. I would also have to find out where these men acquired these guns, though I had a nagging suspicion that it involved the only people in the world who could craft them across the Eastern Sea.
Applejack grimaced, “Sounds awful. Why would people make such a thing?”
I gave my answer some thought, “The same reason they made swords like your Claymore… to protect those they care about, or to kill those who stand in their way” ‘Guess which category the outlaws fall under?’ My eyes were imparting to her, and she got the message.
“How are we supposed to stop ‘em?” She questioned, “If the settlers are innocent, as I know they are, then how are we gonna root out these good for nothin’ lowlifes?”
I got up from my seat, “We’ll worry about these issues one step at a time, Applejack. When do the rest of the girls head back home?”
She scratched her head, “Later today on the next train, I reckon. Supposin’ that Rarity found all the fabric she needed to start her new ‘Krystal Fashion’ line”
I bobbed my head once, “Right. I’m going to find a bunk and take a nap. Feel free to wake me when we get to Magiville” I had crossed the distance between where we had sat and where the side doors leading to the beds were before she could utter another word.
I was fully aware that whatever noise she was in the middle of making was about how I had just slept in, but I was suffering from a different kind of weariness. One that affected neither body nor mind. The bunks themselves were spartan in their furnishing, being only a thin mattress that wasn’t quite lengthy enough for a man of my growing stature, a feather pillow, and a blanket… but the basic amenities were sufficient for me to lie back, close my eyes, and drift off to a state of quiescence; with thoughts of my first mission as an Agent of the Crown weighing heavily on me.
⁂
My vision was incoherent and a blur of shapes and hues as I skipped the Conception Canvas and delved straight into what I believed was a regular, pre rendered dream. The scene I was a part of once the fog had lifted was an underground parking structure of some sort. I examined myself to see what kind of attire my dream self was clothed in and frowned when it wasn’t quite what I was expecting, though not disappointing. On my thick, calloused hands were traction grip gloves that I couldn’t help but find distantly familiar, and my body was covered from neck to toe in some kind of sleek black jumpsuit that had crimson trimming (always a nice touch in my book). There was a streamlined pack on my back that instantly felt vital to my presence here as its weight registered in my head. Underneath the jumpsuit was a specialized heavy duty, bullet stopping vest filled with special ballistics gel that mitigated and absorbed the impact of bullets ranging up to five point five six caliber rounds and below. It also cost a good chunk of change that a poor, starving runner (this body had no stores of fat on it whatsoever) like myself could never afford the legal way, not in this kind of repressive society with my ‘socially undesirable’ skills.
What threw me off most though were the shoes on my feet, if I could even call them that. It was closer to some kind of rubberized covering for my feet; so all ten of my toes were individually visible as I flexed them. I personally never cared much for that style of foot padding, but it did give me a better feel for the ground I was treading on as I paced five steps in practice. The ground I was standing on currently was asphalt pavement inside that underground parking structure, if the warm, condensed air and lack of outside ambience was any indication. Behind me was an eighteen wheeler’s uncovered trailer door, the gate pulled all the way up to reveal a jumbled, haphazard assortment of boxes and metal crates, one of which I had apparently smuggled myself inside with. To my front was a locked door with a keypad adjacent to the handle. Next to that were the offloaded crates that were doubtlessly filled with gear and supplies for the men manning the building. I blinked as ‘memories’ blinked in front of my mind’s eye. I was here for a reason, to accomplish an objective of sorts. Anyone who got in my way had to be bypassed or brought down.
I checked my immediate surroundings for any signs of life, but nobody was present. The driver’s cabin of the truck still had the keys in the ignition and the radio would sporadically pick up on incoherent chatter and buzzing, so I was not strictly alone in this building. I probed my ‘memories’ and learned that I had waited until the time was right to surface. The men with the truck were on break for fifteen minutes and their replacements would arrive within five. With this information in mind, I climbed back onto the platform and debated my next course of action.
Just then, the light on the keypad blinked and the door swung open as a short, squat man dressed in a uniform that would not look out of place on a S.W.A.T or Marine member emerged. He looked up and his eyes widened in surprise as my body’s instincts took over. I crossed the small distance between us in the blink of an eye, his hand on the handle of his pistol as he rushed to rip it out of its holster and gun me down. I knocked the weapon from his hand before his finger was on the trigger and a lightning fast jab to his throat had him stumbling back as he swung a blind, feral haymaker at me that was easy to duck underneath and seize his neck in a chokehold. His wild flailing managed to bruise me on the noggin the few times he landed a hit, but I held firm until the lack of air had him unconscious and slumping in my arms.
“Foxbat Four, come in Foxbat Four. Do you read me? Report in” A voice that was altered by the radio static checked in.
Hastily picking up his radio, I answered it in an ambiguously gruff voice that was a mixture of professionalism and repetitive boredom, “Mobile One, this is Foxbat Four” My contact had kept me apprised of their primary call signs in case I ran into a situation like this.
“Code in Foxbat Four” Came the other person’s response, a cautious edge underlying its tone.
‘Crap… what do I say, what do I say!?’ I thought with slight worry, before a slip of white paper jutting out of the unconscious man’s left breast pocket caught my eye.
I grasped at it and pulled it out, my eyes rapidly scanning its contents. I had to resist the urge to heel click right there. The man had a code in cheat sheet right on him! Guy must have been a newbie or just plain incompetent at memorizing his parlance like he should have. It would certainly explain why none of his coworkers were around to hear the racket from his subduing.
“Foxbat Four codes in Everest Zulu Niner” I relayed professionally, not believing my luck. A tiny part of me griped that I wouldn’t be able to test out my blockade running skills, but I shushed it.
“Code in confirmed” The voice on the other end droned, “State the nature of your radio absence Foxbat Four” She, I determined from the subtle inflections, requested impatiently.
I scratched at my head out of habit, “Sorry for the delay Mobile One, I thought I heard a disturbance…” I paused as if rechecking my findings, “Turns out it was just a rodent”
The woman on the other end sighed, “And we just had this place sprayed. Furry little bastards must be more resilient than the pest controller gave them credit for. All right Foxbat Four, finish the remainder of your perimeter patrol and clock out. And Gary…” The woman broke operational professionalism for a moment, “…stop leaving the toilet seat up at my place. You’re not some caveman out pissing in the woods. Keep my bathroom floor tiles dry” She was overtly incensed by this man’s atrocious bathroom habits.
“Sorry luv, force of habit” I automatically replied with a choked snicker, “Anything I could do to make it up to you?”
“I’m dating a man-child, I swear” The woman groaned near inaudibly, “Just remember to take me to that sashimi place off Fifth and Decker street like you promised this weekend. Can you do that?”
‘I’m frakking mad for the taste of sashimi. She is my kind of woman! Too bad she’s working for the Feds… and is dating this pudgy lump of fat’ I mused, nudging his plump body with a foot. I shook my head. Such a cryin’ shame.
“I will be an absolute gentleman, just for you. Foxbat Four out” I promised for the stirring man who I had to kick to put him back under, turning off the radio and slipping it back into his vest before dragging and restraining him with his own handcuffs in a poorly lit corner where his colleagues could not happen upon him without actively searching.
Swiping a pen off his person (‘Knocking him out was pretty easy, but at least he comes well equipped’), I wrote down on the back of his cheat sheet in bold lettering strongly reminding him of the Japanese dining date he had planned with his woman. Part of me was confused that I was playing Cupid’s advocate when I had a mission that permitted few distractions, but the other half was too busy laughing its ass off to argue with my seemingly odd actions.
Using his keycard, I swiped it on the pad’s card scanning crevice and was elated when the light flashed green and the door unlocked for me. Closing the aperture behind me, a lengthy maintenance hallway of sorts greeted me, with recycled air that was crisp and cool in contrast to the warm stuffy air in the parking structure. And yet it had a stale vibe to it because of how sterile it was, like inside of a hospital almost (‘Not that I’ve been there often, what with the Feds monitoring every patient like they were automatically guilty of mischief and all’). The bricks were white and the metal water pipes were an assortment of yellows, blues, and the occasional red pipe that was just screaming at me to climb it for some perplexing, almost primal reason. There was a practical incentive for this attraction though. The red pipes led up to some rigging that was mostly wires and scaffolds, with a vent grill that was also red. Therefore I was compelled to climb up those pipes and use the scaffold to gain entrance to the ventilation system that would lead to where I needed to go. I rubbed a hand on my chin as I devoted a minute to contemplation.
There was stubble on my chin brushing against the gloves, like the body in this dream was in the process of cultivating a beard, which I thought was dumb. A pinch in my chest answered that thought, and I scowled and shook my head. It might just be a dream, but I might as well enjoy myself while I was here. Nothing was happening at the nonce, so I had time to do an inventory once over. There was the messenger bag on my back that was weighed down with a feather light cargo. I swung it off my shoulders and unzipped it to peer into its contents. Inside the bag was an organized set of items including a mechanical mouse, some multipurpose tools, a few magazines of heavy duty pistol ammunition that I proceeded to insert into straps on my thighs, a chunky block of plastic explosives, and a large, rectangular carbon fiber casing that had metallic strips on the surface that crisscrossed each other on the pristine body and a port to plug a cord into. There was confusion for a moment before it clicked that this unassuming item was essential to the dream’s overall objective. With that remembrance came a rush of memories that finally specified what my main objective was and what I had to do.
Apparently I was here to infiltrate the edifice where the Fed’s kept the mother of all servers clusters, with which they stored the data that they collected from years of invasive surveillance of the populace, as well as continued to monitor them in their workplaces, houses of worship, and even their own homes! With this information, the government could blackmail or indict anyone they wanted, though politicians under their sway never were, while reformists were either assassinated or thrown in the slammer on some bullshit charge or another. The clear breaches of trust and privacy involved here were enough to make me grind my teeth just thinking about it. I was sent on a nigh suicidal mission to download what I could from the servers as additional evidence to put the final nails in the coffin of the Feds, ensuring that a successful regime change would ensue in the chaos. Being the dashing ladykiller I am, I accepted without any reluctance, though for additional reasons that I quietly kept to myself.
If there was a revolt in this country, it would likely become bloody havoc. People would take to the streets in haphazard groups that were loosely united thanks to the Federal stranglehold on most communication lines. Hopefully, the new regime installed would resemble the free democracy that this country once held dear many decades ago, even if they abused its liberties and took them for granted. It’s amazing how sobering it is when simple things like the right to privacy are taken away from you. It’s even more sobering when the authorities show up at your door to cuff you simply because they deemed your activities to be ‘a clear and present danger to the public’ or so they excused themselves. The infiltration scenario hazily reminded me of a dream that I shared with Luna not so long ago where we had to infiltrate a casino owned by well armed thugs who sucked at the poker table. The memory of how much fun Princess Luna and I had during the car chase on the highway brought a reminiscent grin to my face.
The time for reminiscing passed, and something in my gut urged me to get a move on before I was discovered. The Feds had relocated their main server cluster to an unassuming, ostensibly emptied high rise in the commercially vibrant Golden Condor District. It was by the waters of a river that was so clean (one of the few upsides to the strict Federal laws) that you could take a cup and drink from it directly without fear of spending the next week worshiping at the temple of the porcelain god. Regardless of its innocent outside impression, their big and bad (not to mention slow and clumsy as hell when it came to the chase) security personnel were not a rare sight on the premises. I was only able to sneak past their security scanners by hiding in a crate lined with material that obfuscated their systems. Still, the personnel that were here were armed to the teeth, and they did not mess around when it came to intruders. If I got caught out in the open and was spotted, chances were that I would make a stunning impression of a piece of bloody Swiss cheese within seconds. I planned on living for some time yet, so that wasn’t going to happen.
I kept my handy dandy Five seveN close in its holster on my hip, the weapon’s practicable weight was an unfaltering reassurance in a cold, cruel world of gun toting government lackeys that would unleash hot lead into a gaggle of elementary school students if they were merely ordered to. They were just machines with human skin in my eyes, blindly relinquishing their free will to a government that wanted to suppress the most basic of human rights in the name of communal safety (As if that justified their hidden atrocities of breaking up ‘marked’ families. Their hypocrisy made my blood boil). I did not hesitate to kill those bastards when they got in my way, nor was I prevented from feeling a grim satisfaction from the act afterwards. My fellow runners (the ones that were still loyal to the cause anyhow after that schism some time ago) worried about my vindictiveness being my undoing someday. I’ve managed to consistently prove them wrong by keeping a tight lid on those emotions when circumstances got too hot. I always fled from a fight when I knew that it was unwinnable. There was no point in martyring myself when I could still make a difference. I may be a violent bastard when push comes to shove, but I am smart enough to know when it was time to run and time to fight.
A faint beeping noise emanated from the large screen of the multiuse watch on my wrist (more of a wrist mounted GPS from its size really), and when I gave it a glance I saw a trio of dots that pulsed with every heartbeat. In fact, that’s what they were… heartbeats. I vocalized a “Huh, neat” in that same voice didn’t sound truly like my ordinary self and made me question why my dream self deviated from the norm. The gut feeling became a pinch and my legs began to stride forward of their own accord, propelling me towards the red piping leading upward. I gripped at it and clambered up like a monkey until I reached the scaffolding, grunting as I shoved aside some wires bundles to make room for myself. The scaffolding was sturdy enough to handle my weight, but small to the point where I had to belly crawl my way to the vent cover.
For such a site of high importance to the Feds, they were awfully lazy with their vent coverings. This one was affixed to the wall with regular screw bolts for cripe’s sake! I dug into my bag and produced a multi-tool with a screwdriver attachment on it and cycled through the settings before it flicked out like the beer opener on a Swiss Army knife. I unscrewed the bolts and silently removed the grated lit to set aside as a patrol of guards with the falsely peace loving emblem of an olive tree with wings and some pretentious Latin inscription on their breast passed below, their radios echoing in the hall with their crackling chatter. I slipped into the vent like a modern day ninja before any of them could randomly look upwards.
While gaining entry to the ventilation system in this building was without laborious effort on my part, maneuvering the maze it entailed once infiltrated was a wholly different matter. On top of that, the schematics for this place (which were surprisingly difficult to obtain) stated that there was a motion detecting system installed every few meters that scanned for crawlers with counterproductive intentions like myself. Thankfully, I had another nifty tool in my bag of tricks to deal with that obstacle. That mechanical mouse wasn’t just for playing hunter and prey with your pet cat, but a means for fooling system’s like these before it got close enough to unleash a burst of scrambling data that pinged the sensor’s information processers and ran a loop of the last five minutes before the mouse came scurrying up to work its magic. It was amusing to note that it squeaked like an actual mouse every time it unleashed its ping, which made me admire the designers’ apt sense of humor. This building would have a rodent issue indeed.
I expended thirty damn minutes in those vents, stopping every few meters and cueing up the controls for the M. O. U. S. E (Micronized obfuscating universal stultifying emitter) device for it to squeak and permit me undetected passage. Every next few meters, the horizontal air ducts went vertical, and I had to press my back to one side of the vent while using my feet and hands to slowly shift my weight skyward. As much as I abhorred them, the Feds weren’t entirely stupid. Sooner or later, one overly observant crony eyeing the video screen would notice something was off and alert his superiors, who would put security on the alert and flush the ducts with something undesired or seal them completely. The fact that they hadn’t sounded the alarms by now meant that they must not have installed computer monitored meta-inspecting data subroutines in the servers that were my end goal here. This could either be a fortuitous thing, or a very unfortuitous thing depending on what I extracted from those databanks. The ventilation shafts could only take me so far though, as they cut off about midway up the building. There were separate sets of shafts for ventilation in the building so that efficiency was retained and so infiltrators like me could groan in exasperation.
The only other method for reaching the top of the building where the servers were held was to use the elevators, and that required an officer’s clearance that could not be easily obtained, and the scanners in those elevators were biometric. I would need an identical retinal set keyed to a member of the personnel with appropriate access level, the code for the keypad, fingerprints… basically the whole nine yards if I wanted access to the server room. Isolating an officer and taking what I needed the hard way was out of the question. They always had a heavily armed escort and reported in even more frequently than their underlings. I had no time to waste on dilly dally and as soon as gunfire was heard (as it frequently was when I was on the job), the building would be on full lockdown, which would be problematic to my plans. As luck would have it, I came prepared for the picky elevators as well. I’d been waiting too long for this night to come here unrehearsed.
But first I’d have to get to the lifts. The vent shaft I was in terminated above a mostly empty cafeteria, with only a couple off duty Feds cruising the aisle to satisfy their pastry fix. The kitchen staff was absent, perhaps being given the night off or went home early. This was relieving, as I hated getting civvies caught between men like me and the government’s minions. I waited until they left the room bandying words about some trivial topic they disagreed on before I kicked the grill out of its moorings and caught the rim with my toes to prevent it from hitting the floor with a clatter that would undoubtedly attract attention. The vent was thirty feet from the ground, so I had to dance about the wide tops of the hanging ceiling lights before using the last one as a handhold to swing safely on top of a flat cart lined with serving trays, sliding to a halt in front of the chicken strips. Swiping a couple oily pieces and popping them into my hungry maw, I found a spot in the kitchen where I could refer to my wrist map while watching the cafeteria doors and staying out of sight.
I pulled up the map function and studied the page it displayed. There were only two cafeterias in the building the first one was at ground level. Which meant that I climbed about twenty floors to get to where I was now. The closest elevators that could take me all the way to the summit of the edifice were located five floors above me… and there was a barracks interposing itself between me and the elevator call buttons. There was a microscopic chance of me slipping past security unnoticed, so I had to get creative. An idea popped into my mind that was crazy, but just might work. The barracks that was presently an obstacle to me could also prove to be my salvation, as the Feds usually had spare uniforms stowed away in the locker rooms thanks to some kind of dress code mandating an emergency set in case the men on the security staff had to be called in from off the grid for an emergency.
It wasn’t the most refined of plans I’d admit, and I still had to reach the barracks without being spotted, but it was the only option I could think of. The heartbeat sensor would aid me immensely in this endeavor, and I used it as a crutch as I snuck through the hallways and rounded the corners. I had the M.O.U.S.E scurry through the hallways beforehand to loop the security feeds on the individual cameras, so there were no worries on that end. As this had been an office building before the government had appropriated it for their own uses, there were plenty of places like janitorial closets and dusty office cubicles for me to duck inside and wait out a passing patrol as they listlessly scanned for threats. Somewhere in the portion of their brain that wasn’t absolutely chained to unswerving obedience they probably didn’t think a threat could materialize in their midst. Their supposed hubris would leave them with egg on their face before the night was out. After ten minutes of tediously evading or hiding from the patrols, I made it to the barracks. There were a couple heartbeats inside the large room, but their slow rhythm led me to believe that it was just men snoozing or lazing in their bunks.
With a tight grip on my gun and the other on the first guard’s keycard that I had kept, I unlocked the door and carefully made my ingress. Intuition paid off again, as those lone heartbeats were punctuated by the light snores of sleeping guards. Across the spacious room was the door leading to the lockers and showers. I tiptoed past the dozing men while keeping any eye on my heartbeat sensor for any returning patrols. Flashing the keycard a third time, I closed the door to the lockers behind me. I chose a random locker to break into using a rapid code guessing app on my wristwatch and factoring in the greasy fingerprints on four digits of the number pad. The app took less than a minute to do its magic.
Meanwhile my eyes were watching the door in case of stray guards in need of turning in for a wash. If they were, then I’d give them a hosing down of bullets. Gunfire would inevitably set off the alarms, but non-conducive as that was, there was always that part of me that was itching for a fight. I was fortunate that no such event occurred, as the fatigues inside the locker were only a marginally bigger fit on me rather than smaller, which would have cost more time that I did not have the luxury of wasting. I checked the name on a miniscule black and white patch on the blue urban camouflage chest fabric and it read ‘Branton’. As an afterthought, it was an unusual name, but it was disyllabic like mine and of no consequence to me. I donned it, some combat boots, and a fully enclosed helmet from a rack on the locker door to shadow my face from unfriendly eyes.
Even in this disguise, anyone who knew me by this name would strike up a chat or address me the dutiful way, and if I responded wrong, they’d suspect something. The Feds also followed established routines, so men wandering the corridors on their own would be instantly inconspicuous. I exited the locker and proceeding barracks and made for the stairs. Using the radio on my vest, I could also keep an ear fixed on their communications. The thumping in my chest rose in frequency as I heard one patrol reporting a discrepancy with one of the crates in the garage, likely the one I smuggled myself in from the sound of it. Mobile One dismissed their concerns and passed the empty crate off as incompetence on the shipping company’s part. I chortled at that. The shipping company they were using for their hardware shipments was one of the few that supported our resistance movement, though they did so seldomly for fear of being uncovered by the Feds. My employer had a few friends in their ranks however, so I got a free ticket inside the compound.
Jogging up the stairs of the fire escape until I was at the level where the nearest full scale elevators were, I opened the door to the shock of a man on duty there, who soon composed himself and spoke to me.
“What are you going by yourself, officer?” He asked formally.
“I have business on this floor” I said in a sandpapery voice.
“You sound like shit, man” He observed bluntly.
“Yeah. I’ve got a bit of a sore throat” I rasped in pretend.
“If so, then you should be res-…” He read my name patch and smiled, “Branton! You’re supposed to be on the detail shadowing Agent Neilson to City Hall for the annual Convention. What happened?”
I rubbed at the back of my head as I cooked up a believable excuse, “He found somebody else for his security detail that he deemed ‘adequately sufficient’ and made me look like chopped liver in front of the guys is what”
He fought down a chuckle as he dipped his head, “That sounds like the self superior jaghole alright. My condolences. Hey, have you heard from Gary in the last twenty minutes? He isn’t answering any of my texts, ” He took out his phone and checked the message screen in emphasis, “Nope, still nothing”
“Think he’s clocked out already (‘In more ways than one’). He better treat his lady right, or I might move in on his turf and show him up” I boasted semi truthfully. Too bad dating those working for the Feds was against the rules.
He crooked his head in confusion, “Aren’t you with a dame already? Leslie, I think was her name? Brunette, nice hips, chesty as hell too. I’m jealous of you man”
I shrugged without a care, “Don’t be. She stepped out on me. Think she has a grudge against the people I work for” Though I guarantee that any grudge of hers could be trumped by mine any day of the week.
“You reckon she’s one of the sympathizers?” He asked conspiratorially in a whisper, as if his bosses might hear him and take offense to him even broaching the touchy topic.
Up and down went the shoulders again, “I never bothered her about it and she never told me”
“She might be red flagged, dude. You don’t want them examining you in depth due to association. It’s unpleasant, trust me. It’s probably for the best that you two split” Then his lips curled pruriently, “But I get the sloppy seconds if she’s nonpartisan”
I scoffed, “That’s disgusting. Anyways, can you let me get back to what I was doing? I’d like to use the elevator and then leave this glorified hovel we waste away in”
“Why take the stairs up if you wanted to leave?” He poked holes in my logic.
I was above his rational retorts, “I have special business upstairs that I’m in no position to elaborate on without putting my job in jeopardy, what with it being classified material. Please… Nelson” I fake begged, skimming his name patch, “I’ll owe you a huge solid for this”
“Have the big wigs turned you into their errand boy?” Then he grinned wolfishly, “You cover my expenses the next time we have a trip to the bar together, and you’ve got yourself a deal” He held out his hand, which I cautiously accepted and shook, “Great. Now hurry off before my supervisor sees me shooting the breeze with you”
No need to be told twice, “Will do. See ya, Nelson” I waved back to him as I stalked down the hall.
“Don’t forget to set aside half your check for this weekend!” He called to me in humored tones, “I’m a heavy drinker, remember?”
I waggled my hand absently in the air as I ignored him, perturbing thoughts cycling in my mind. These people were no friends of mine and never would be. Though I was having greater difficulty with demonizing them the more I interacted with them and the more words were exchanged instead of bullets. These people wouldn’t be so friendly if they truly knew my purpose here, yet seeing their humanity reminded me that we were all just people in the end. People caught on opposite ends of an argument that went deeper than just who was in charge, but who was in charge of determining our destinies. The Feds considered individuality and resistance to being told how to live one’s life to be dangerous characteristics that had no place in their false ideas of utopia. Kids went to government funded schools to be ‘educated’, or indoctrinated really, as to what their role in life was and how they could best serve their country by offering all they were to Big Brother. The resistance, by whatever names it went by, is soundly opposed to this. We stress the ideals of self determinism for all denizens of the nation. The government was meant to serve the people and provide an environment for them to flourish, not the other way around.
But I was just a runner, an up-jumped courier and unspoken hero in the fight against the oppressive government. People like me simply didn’t have the time for an active social life outside of their job, even less so in my case. I couldn’t have one, not after they ruined my chances at a normal life, one that was unshackled to the conflict being waged in the shadows and on the city rooftops. My lot in life was consigned to delivering important packages, maintaining the verbal communications network between resistance cells, and the occasional snuffing out of a particularly brutal government official pushing for a violent crackdown on society; a tactic they were all too willing to adhere to in the opposite situation. As I reflected on that ultimate tidbit, I was consumed with vengeful urges that made me clench my fists until my nails dug into my flesh, though the part of me that still saw this as nothing more than a dream was puzzled that it couldn’t recall why that roused me to anger. I shook my head fervently as the elevators came into sight. It mattered naught. I had a duty to fulfill, and a means of vengeance to exact from those who so dearly deserved it.
With the elevators out of range from the surveillance cameras, I loosened my outfit and unstrapped my pack of versatile goodies. From its contents within the second zipper, I produced a dual capsule piece containing specially forged contact lenses that would fool the retinal scan into confirming it as some significant official on the Feds payroll, tape strips stamped with the fingerprints of that man, a recorder with the verbal code that was cunningly lifted from the official via a bug attached to his safe, and a sheet of paper with numbers on it… because even I couldn’t memorize every passcode out there. The panel for summoning the lift was a complex thing, with a speaker grill, a number pad, and the retinal scanner.
I had to do a little dance and jig for my ticket to the peak floor of the edifice to be punched, but soon the express elevator was on its way. I finished stripping and disposing of my disguise apparel in the lift. I reserved no doubts that my usage of the lift was noted in some kind of log, so as I entered my means of conveyance to the top floor, I stuck the block of plastic explosives I carried with me to the ceiling light fixture (no cameras in the elevator meant that I could keep it a surprise) and primed the detonator. I couldn’t risk a remote detonation failing, so I also set it on a dead man’s switch of six minutes. The initial estimates of how much time was required to carry out my objective left with me a couple minutes of leeway to disable it if I felt it necessary, which was unlikely. Once the bomb went off, it would destroy the elevator I was presently in while also disabling its twin in the adjacent shaft, thus preventing any reinforcements from ruining my evening. As an additional measure, I pressed every floor button on the console to keep the elevator as unavailable to security as possible.
The expeditious elevator stopped at the top floor of the building with a ding and the doors gaped wide. The spacy main server room was bathed in white light, giving off the impression of immaculate purity, though a man like me knew better than to entertain that idea for more than an attosecond. The windows had an extreme tint to them that severely restricted what would have been a stunning panorama of the city’s edge next to the river. There were elevated grated catwalks that crisscrossed the room and permitted access between multiple rows of server core modules, which were stacked atop the other like the building blocks holding up an oppressive government. That wasn’t the cleverest analogy I could devise, but it seemed the simplest. The aisles between servers were narrow and terminated abruptly, which gave the place the impression of a being a maze. The room was also bristling with cameras, the closest of which were rotating to center on me and my handsome mug. There were too many cameras for me to obfuscate with the M.O.U.S.E, so I beamed brightly as I walked forward, held out both arms to form a T shape, extended my middle fingers, and did a trio of spins as I waltzed into one of the government’s most closely guarded dirty secrets in the most defiant manner I was capable of.
In the middle of the room was a raised platform of slick white material bringing to mind the sheeny case of a music player, which I had to climb onto the catwalks to reach. Standing erect in the center of that platform was an access terminal that would suit me nicely. The feminine, artificial voice of the P.A loudly announced that there was an unauthorized intruder in the Black Zone and that security forces were being dispatched to deal with me. There were only two elevators (for the moment) that could bring the Feds up here, and they were only roomy enough to transport eight to ten armed soldiers at a time, which were odds that I could cope with if I used the labyrinth like passages of the server banks as firing lanes. They would essentially have to bottleneck themselves in this room filled with expensive hardware. Unless they brought in reinforcements from the roof by way of helicopter, which wouldn’t very inconspicuous to the public, who would demand to know what the people in power were hiding here. I was putting the Feds between a rock and a hard place before I had even bloodied their noses, which augmented my morale and increased my resolution to see this night to its climax.
I approached the terminal and tapped a random button to light the screen up. The message displayed notified me that all access was revoked until the proper codes could be input. I did not possess these codes, and they updated them every other day, so my contacts could not help me with that. Auspiciously for me, they didn’t need to lift a finger to aid me in extracting what my employers wanted from this place. Pulling out the carbon fiber casing in my pack, I plugged it in and powered it up, the device thrummed once before tiny clicks emanated from its internal mechanisms. The screen distorted before reverting to a basic black background with green lettering, which soon proliferated as a stream of code was analyzed before my eyes.
As I began to work, I heard only the barest traces of shoe padding treading the catwalk to my right. The Five seveN was out and ready for trouble, instincts honed from years of experience automatically guiding my movements with a smooth hand, whipping it in the direction of the disturbance. The interloper paused some ten paces away from me and held their hands up in a placating gesture, retaining the rare sense of a rational thinker and not some goon hired by the Feds to babysit their stuff. My vision shifted the barest amount until I was able to recognize the form and shape of this person in my side view, though I did not implicitly trust them yet.
“Ah-ah-ah! Not one step closer… Faith” I commanded, my eyes not leaving the terminal screen in front of me, “After that nasty run in with the splinter faction last year, I’m not taking any chances” I kept her in my peripherals with my finger on the trigger, in case she might have joined them.
It was rather unlikely though, the girl was an idealistic Free Runner who shared my distaste for the domineering regime, through and through. She wasn’t too shabby to look at either, albeit that could have been my partially Asian ancestry speaking to me. Being a walking melting pot, I found beauty in many an ethnic group. Now was not the time to muse on my preferences when it came to females though. Speaking of, the woman was clothed in a black jumpsuit similar to mine with a courier’s bag with pouches strapped diagonally to her chest. The difference between our outfits was that hers had these garish yellow streaks running up and down the shoulders, and her crimson gloves were fingerless for improved tactile sensation instead of grip. On one of her arms were tattoos that reminded me of circuitry, though the most mysterious of those marks was the one under her right eye, reminiscent of two inky spikes and adding to her exotic factor.
She kept her hands held in a nonthreatening gesture of compliance, “Easy… Runner, I’m on your side” She said, using the standard, if not unoriginal, impersonal greeting that runners gave each other when meeting on neutral terms, “How’d you know it was me?”
“We have worked together enough times that your gait has become recognizable. No matter how stealthily you try sneak up on me, I’ll know it’s you” I answered idly as I holstered my pistol and returned to what I was doing, judging her as friendly. My fingers tapped up a storm on the console in a non peck typing style, another weird detail with this dream that didn’t match myself. Part of me was speaking the words to the woman, another part that wasn’t me thought of what to say. To have such dissonance with dominance over my body was disconcerting, but I passed it off as unimportant.
‘This dream gets more confusing with every passing moment’ Lucidity was supposed to rationalize things, wasn’t it?
She stifled a chuckle, “I don’t know whether to feel flattered or worried by that”
“Neither” I curtly clarified for her, “I have a meticulous mind for these details. How did you infiltrate this building?”
She pointed her index finger skywards, “The roof. I called in a favor from somebody who snuck me in on one of those Skycrates they use to ship replacements parts for the two dozen or so air conditioning units they have here. The rest was just exploiting the camera’s blind spots and waiting for you to show up. You’ve got a pair on you if you’re thinking you can take down the Feds in their den all alone. They’ve hired PK as the guard dog for this place. They’re well funded private security with intimate ties to the government, and should not be taken lightly or be engaged alone. I had a few run-ins with them before, and they nearly killed me each time. I’m here to back you up so the same doesn’t happen to you”
I involuntarily spared her a cursory sidelong glance, “I’m not strictly alone on this solo operation. A.I.M, what’s our status?”
Two electronic voices, one male and the other female, which were overlapped over the other responded from the grill speakers on my wrist mounted computed, “Initiating data slicing subroutines… spooling… spooling. Slicing sequence initiated. Time to completion… five minutes, twenty eight seconds. I have also commandeered other systems linked to this building and beyond. Recommend doing a perimeter sweep to check for and neutralize hostile patrols. The Runner designated Faith might prove an invaluable asset in achieving successful data extraction and egress”
The device pulsed with every word it spoke, and Faith peered at the device with barely concealed shock, “I forgot that you have a thing for serious tech. Where did you get that?”
“I ambushed a military convoy disguised as common eighteen wheeler freight. Took months for me to track the damn route down and assemble a crack team with a death wish to stage the ambush” I grumbled, and her eyes seemed to shine with amusement.
“And that… hard drive was the prize?” She guessed, bemused. This was probably the longest conversation we’ve had in over a year, so I couldn’t blame her for fumbling with her words.
“Not specifically, no. My… employer, shall we say, believed that the convoy was delivering a new shipment of crowd dispersing firearms to deal with the recent string of civil protests in the streets that the CPF couldn’t disperse on its own without resorting to lethal force. Instead I secured myself a prototype Artificial Intelligence Matrix and some other cool toys worth quite a pretty penny. My employer let me keep some of them as a token of our cooperation and friendship, which was kind of her” That invaluable package I carried for her almost two years ago opened up a brand new door chocked full of lucrative opportunities. My employer and the people she associated with doubtlessly benefited more from the info in that package than me, but I wasn’t in this for the money.
‘Many Bothans died to bring us this information’ I mentally japed, which that other part of me that somehow wasn’t me found inordinately funny.
“I ran interference for you on the job that garnered you the extra attention, didn’t I?” She retorted, “I don’t recall receiving so much as a thank you for it either”
“Thanks” I sarcastically obliged her, “And you were doing a wonderful job of it, until the Feds realized that something was amiss and sent choppers laden with their fearless enforcers after me. The situation looked sketchy, but instead of perfecting the art of the fail, I powered through fighting tooth and nail” I summed up with a shrug, “Bastards tried to drop a building on top of me in their fervor. First time I’ve had that happen” And merciful lord above willing, I prayed it was the last.
She laughed, a pleasant sound from a pretty face, “Ha! That was because of you!? They covered that up as a faulty demolitions triggering, and you downplay being the real reason cool as a cucumber. Spoken like a true blockade runner” She crossed her arms together and frowned, “Bringing down the building on top of you was a bit excessive even for the government in its efforts to rid itself of us runners. Many bystanders minding their business below were injured by falling debris; one of them was the niece of wealthy politician who exited out of the scene. You inadvertently gave him second thoughts about that choice. Now Candidate Forester’s following is well on its way to becoming the dominant voting party”
I scowled, “Don’t you know that the elections are rigged? Half the time the leader of the progressive party doesn’t even live to see the people cast their ignored ballots. Forester will be no different”
Her eyes narrowed as she looked at me, “Have you always been this cynical? The populace is inflamed by how intrusive the Feds have gotten, thanks to the carefully leaked information that we have been acquiring and that our clients have been dispensing publicly. Nothing is forbidden to the rampant regime, and folks are just beginning to realize that and stand against it vehemently. Our efforts will fan the flames until it becomes an inferno” She stood confidently as she spouted her zeal, “There is a prospect for positive change in the future, all due in part to our tireless work”
A.I.M intervened before I could reply, “Runners. Scans indicate that you both are in for a round of unpleasant company. Security has overridden my owner’s primitive yet effective delaying tactics and forced both lifts to head straight for this level. I estimate sixteen individuals total. All are undeniably armed and dangerous. Recommend caution when engaging”
I sighed and un-holstered my gun, “Might as well give them a warm welcome” I let A.I.M resume slicing and dicing the encrypted data so vital to this mission and made to greet our guests.
“Woah, woah!” Faith stepped in front of me, “The doors to those elevators are going to open and over two dozen guys are going to pour out of them spitting hot lead. Are you bulletproof?”
“My torso area is adequately protected” I assured her, sidling past her and down the stairs of the catwalk, “And I have a nasty surprise awaiting half of that number” I brought up my wrist computer and cued the application for remote detonation of the plastic explosive I hid in one of the elevators.
One tap of a digital detonation button later and the floor rocked violently from the reverberations of the bomb, the lights overhead flickered sporadically before they shifted to a red, the warning siren began blaring like a wounded banshee, and the P.A system announced that the building was under assault and that the authorities were mobilizing all units in the region to converge here. Faith looked at me in concern before I gave her a look saying ‘This is how I roll. Either get with the program or go home’, to which she inhaled and steadied herself. She seemed exasperated that she was putting up with my reckless modus operandi, but she was in too deep to withdraw herself now.
“You have a weapon?” I asked her, taking out the clip of my pistol to ensure that it was at full capacity with one in the chamber before shunting it back into the gun with a shuffling scrape.
She shook her head, “That’s not how I normally do things. We should just grab what we need, trash the server banks, and leave” She spoke as if from personal experience.
“The timer for A.I.M’s extensive work has to expire before we just up and go. You can’t always take flight, Faith” I told her, “Sometimes you got to hunker down and fight. I’ll draw their fire and focus their attention on me. You see an opportunity to attack, you take it”
She was about to argue, but the doors to the undamaged elevator slid open and flashbangs were tossed into the room. I lost track of Faith as my instincts kicked in again. I took cover in a depression behind the stairs where there was a groove in the ground allowing passage beneath a row of server banks to perform maintenance. The flashbangs went off with an explosion of light and tremendous bang that had my ears ringing despite covering them. Men in combat gear came forth in groups of two wielding compact submachine guns and body armor. I briefly took aim and squeezed off a round. A flash of the muzzle was accompanied by a spray of blood as the bullet tore through a man’s unarmored jugular and he went down with a thud. His partner on the right saw where the fire came from and unloaded the clip of his submachine gun in my direction. I ducked down into the makeshift trench as the bullets impacted harmlessly overhead, with some hitting the bullet resistant glass encasing one of the server banks and spider-webbing it with ugly cracks.
“Watch your fire you fools!” An aggravated voice that I vaguely recognized yelled over the constant screaming of the siren, “That equipment is worth more than any of you would make in ten of your lifetimes! If any of it is damaged in any way, then it’s on your head! Kill the culprit only if you have a clear shot away from the servers!”
They were warned against accidentally destroying the server equipment, and they only knew that I was here with them. That could prove advantageous in this fight. I crept to my left and rolled in between a row of banks underneath the glass caging. A duo of men passed by as they swept over the area I was previously and notified their leader over the radio. I scaled the groove and opened the door to the glass cage before rounding the corner to begin stalking my clueless enemy. Faith hadn’t made her move yet, though I was reasonably sure that she was doing the same, but from above in the poorly lit area above the top row of servers. Singling out the most isolated duo of government lackeys, I dropkicked the one on the right, sending him sprawling forward onto his face, and shot his partner in the ankle as I landed none too gently on the ground.
The howling man accidentally pulled the trigger to his suppressed automatic weapon and discharged bullets all over the place, two of them striking me in the chest like a one-two punch but failing to penetrate the reactive gel in my protective wear, as well as weakening the glass to several server banks and demolishing a tiny section of the outside glass panels, exposing the room to the outside elements. I ended his misery with a follow up shot to his chin and painted his helmet with brain matter. The man on the floor hastily got to his feet and spun around with his weapon ready, my foot sprang forward and kicked his aim aside as I did the same to him. With the penetration values of the bullets I was using, it wasn’t really necessary for me to exploit their unarmored regions, but it was a judicious practice that I stuck to.
The Five seveN roared like a particularly peeved beast though, and as soon as my weapon had gone off, everybody knew precisely where I was. I heard and saw on my heartbeat sensor that two squads in the vicinity were running my way and about to close off my only avenues of escape, which was when Faith made her move. Dropping down from above as one squad rounded the bend, she landed on the shoulders of one shocked security guard and used her momentum to spin around with her legs wrapped around his neck. The man let out a strangled croak and lost his footing, tumbling to the clean floor in a heap. She latched on to his helmet and punched down into his throat, stunning him and preventing him from throwing her off as she strangled him into a state of unconsciousness. His partner had noticed what was going on and skid in his tracks before rotating in place with his gun trained on the woman. He was about to pump Faith full of lead when I unloaded three cartridges of 5.7×28mm into his spine, causing him to fall bonelessly to his knees before plunking his face onto the floor tiles. I sensed gratitude in her brown eyes as an unspoken understanding passed between us.
I accessed our surroundings with the heartbeat sensor and noted that the men were pulling back to the elevators after our demonstration, “They appear to be holding off at the moment. They know we can pick them apart if they split up” I searched the bodies of the dead security officers and lifted two grenades that they had no need for anymore.
She stared at me peculiarly, “I don’t remember you being so composed when the bullets started flying, nor so serious when they were. Usually you’d be grinning like a madman when your blood was up”
“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think” I countered, pressing on the magazine catch by the trigger of the pistol to eject the nearly half emptied clip. When given some breathing room by your opponents, always reload the weapon. It’s far better to have a full magazine at all times.
She wasn’t pleased with this response, I could tell, “Well do you at least have a plan for dealing with these bastards? I’m not proud of my uselessness in these cramped spaces, and it’s unlikely that they’ll continue to let us divide and conquer”
“You’re doing fine, Faith” I assuaged her with sincere words, “Our plan is simple. Observe our enemies and react accordingly, as dictated by the circumstances” I inserted the fresh mag and felt the urge to pull the slide back to chamber a round despite there already being one in there, “At least take a sidearm with you. There’s not much space to maneuver in here the way we’re used to, so guns will have to be the order of the day”
She shuddered but acquiesced, “Firearms make me feel dirty. It doesn’t help that I feel like a trapped bird in this glass and metal cage”
“The beneficial news is that they want to protect their invaluable servers more than they want us dead, so sticking by those should make them hesitate with pulling the trigger. Plus I have a few tricks on my sleeve” I reminded her, before raising my left arm to my mouth in emphasis and speaking into the miniscule microphone on the wrist computer, “A.I.M, can you get me the camera feed to this floor?” If we knew where our opponents were, we could outmaneuver them if they chose offense.
“Indeed I can, Runner” It responded in a hushed voice, “Diverting camera feeds to your device. I’ve taken the liberty of presenting you with the closest one to your adversaries. Audio was scrambled from the stun grenades, but I’ve rebooted it for your convenience” It added, sounding eager to please us despite its lack of a true personality.
The screen on my wrist computer switched to a fuzzy camera feed of the remainder of the security forces huddled by the elevators. Berating them and giving frenzied commands was a classily suited man who had a hand in making me who I was today.
“Andersen” I growled, “The fates are smiling on me tonight, for they have delivered you to me”
“You know this man?” Faith questioned, unsettled by the concentrated venom in my tone.
“I know that he’s a dead man walking” I seethed, grinding my teeth, “Leave him to me. He is mine to kill”
Faith cringed at the unadulterated hatred in my voice and watched the screen as the men nodded to their leader, equipped breathing filtration gear, and pulled out multiple cylinders with troubling markings stamped on them before yanking at the rings and tossing them our way, “Wait… what are they doing? Are those…?”
“Tear gas canisters. Not something we want in our lungs” I realized, before indicating to the corpses, “Quick, put on their gas masks!”
We frenetically ripped the M50 masks off of their persons and donned them straightaway, right as the obscuring smoke began to fog around the spot we where hunched down in. I made a single glance down at the screen and confirmed that our antagonists had not moved, likely waiting for reinforcements from below since they hadn’t the manpower to overwhelm us now. Faith and I couldn’t handle too many men, or we’d be overrun. I motioned at her using standard silent Runner signs for her to create a diversion to draw most of them away from their positions, handing her both of the submachine guns from our felled opponents. She understood my meaning and stalked off to set up her ambush. With two guns and the thick smoke limiting everyone’s field of vision, she could reasonably trick our opponents into believing that both of us were in one place when the reality was not so. If she was persuasive, I could use the distraction to toss a grenade into the last elevator’s doors when they opened and permanently deal with that threat.
I switched to thermal video imaging and studied the screen on my watch closely, feeling somewhat impressed that Faith was still sneaky enough to bypass the viewing fields of the cameras. I repositioned myself by running up the window to jump onto the glass caging of a server bank before traveling to the other side of the room from there. The popping report of dual gunfire erupting and men shouting as some were hit and returned fire occurred to my left as I palmed my grenades like they were precious jewels. Once I had tiptoed into the space in front of the elevators, I discovered another dead security guard lying in a pool of his own blood as his comrades fought to avenge him in the fog. There couldn’t have been more than three of them left at this point, and if they were foolish enough to fall for our tricks then we might pull this off. I pulled the rings to the grenades and held them primed for a two second delay until detonation. The elevator arrived promptly within the next ten seconds and its occupants had those two seconds to let out a strangled curse before they were engulfed in flames of orange and yellow. The sheer force of the blast severed the lift from its cables and it plummeted below to crater into its final resting place.
I heard a yell of rage behind me as the man I had waited over eight years to kill finally showed his face in person. I felt him tackle me to the floor and my grip on my pistol was wrenched away as he turned me about and pummeled at my face with his meaty paws. I begrudgingly let it go and brought my arms up to defend my rugged good looks. Agent Andersen wasn’t liable to recognize me with the gas mask covering most of my features, but I knew his shape, his impatient movements, and the jagged scar on his nose that he probably earned for being a ruthless murderer. I also know that he was personally responsible for the deaths of at least fifty of our people, leading covert assaults on dens where the resistance movement coalesced its numbers. They barely had the slightest warnings from the outside sentries before his men had charges planted on our doors and stun grenades at the ready. Taken off guard as they were, each of the resistance cells they assailed were slaughtered almost to the very last man.
Before all of that bloodshed, the man was part of a botched assassination job involving my father at our lakeside cabin over the waters of a lake. It had been a secondary home that we infrequently used for vacation when my mother had still been amongst the living. Before the regime rose to power, my father was an influential member of the old government and was respected among his peers and rivals alike for establishing a common ground between opposing parties. It came as no surprise that the regime would crave having him onboard to support their new platform of safety and security through acts of wiretapping, (then) illicit subterfuge, and intimidation. They increased the budget for both defense projects and police forces to put them in their pocket, they limited and outright forbid certain rights of the citizens that were ‘unsafe’ for them to exercise, and began a wave of surveillance reforms that gave them eyes on even nonthreatening places that were ordinarily mundane. I grumblingly concede that this government did maximize efficiency and praised shrewd stewardship over the environment, championing renewable energy as the primary energy source for the country. For his future role in ridding them of what they perceived as a substantial challenger, they would elevate Andersen to his current position as one of their loyal attack dogs.
Why did I hate Andersen so much? Well, when my father refused to jump on the bandwagon of the newly elected administration, the regime officials saw this as a blatant act of defiance and considered him a possible risk to their consolidating power. So they scheduled an unofficial ‘accident’ to take place as my father and I sojourned to our privately owned picturesque cabin in the woods for ‘Some quality time together away from the worries of the world’ as he ironically put it. Officially, the tale was spun so that I was to take the blame for the murder of my father; supposedly shooting the man in his sleep and setting the cabin alight as I fled the scene. This fabricated story was only so because I was awake sipping at my iced coffee when they broke into the place, aspiring to find us easy kills. I ran to the fireplace to retrieve our aging eight gauge, double barreled hunting shotgun and tore it off the rack nailed over the mantelpiece. I leveled it at the two men who were to silence me and the massive buckshot rounds gibbed them in that close quarters range. Seeing that his comrades were messily dispatched, the last assassin drew his suppressed gun and was about to kill me as I fumbled with reloading the clunky weapon’s tubes. Instead my father had heard the racket and was awake. He saw the peril I was in and lunged at the assassin to throw the man’s aim off, swinging his fists and shouting like a man whose home had been invaded.
Brave as he was, my father was a retired politician, not a fighter. All the cussing assassin had to do was backpedal and dodge my father’s nigh rabid hooks until he had a clear shot, which he took no less than six times. As my father sunk to his knees and spat up blood, I screamed in despair and sought to kill his murderer. But the bald man recognized that he had achieved his task and bugged out as the wood where his head had previously been splintered into a thousand fragments, but not before he glowered at me for making his job more complicated… which permitted me to memorize his facial characteristics after I had committed his gruff voice to memory, which was a mistake he would come to rue someday. He detonated an incendiary charge that set the cabin on fire as he ran into the woods, hoping to destroy all evidence of what happened there. The conflagration spread ravenously, and I had only a short amount of time before the flames threatened to consume us.
I was hardly into my adult years as I cradled my dying father in my arms and sobbed like a lost child. His last gurgled words were a plea to me that I would run, run from these men who had taken everything from me in one fell swoop and live my life freely. He begged me to take the hatch under the living room rug that we used for swimming in the lake that the cabin was suspended over, caressing my cheek once before going limp in my arms and giving up the ghost. I shut his eyes with my trembling fingers and gingerly set him down as the fire blazed around us, feeling strangely calm inside. I honored his final wishes and escaped a death by cooking alive, swimming to an island overgrown with foliage in the middle of the lake where I could wait out the men who were unquestionably watching the cabin turn to cinders to verify that there were no survivors.
A day came and went before I crawled ashore on northwest end of the lake with a different kind of fire affecting me. A burning desire for revenge. My father had emergency sums of money stowed away on offshore accounts he told me about that were not accessible to the government, and in the event of his death, would be dispensed to me… along with passports and falsified documentation, presumably for undergoing an identity change. They were accounts that I could use to easily disappear, but instead I used the wherewithal to purchase equipment and train rigorously for the day that I could exact my vengeance on the people who were directly involved in my father’s senseless murder. They couldn’t even respect his memory, indicating him in several false unsavory acts that depicted him as a relic from a corrupt and rotted past, inciting me to further heights of fury. It didn’t even register with me that I was accused of being the one to kill him. The evidence at the crime scene had been altered as to best inculpate me as the likeliest suspect, with the charred bodies of the assassins claimed as my father’s protection detail. This was corroborated my total disappearance, which admittedly did not lend me much credence as to my innocence in the matter. Not that I had much of a choice between that and being put in kangaroo court and being subsequently ‘disappeared’ while on the truck to prison.
With my unflattering unsmiling face photo plastered all over the nation’s news agency feeds and a ridiculous backstory made up by government investigators of my sociopathic tendencies being kept a secret by my father until it killed him being narrated by grinning bimbos with unnaturally white teeth, it was not long until I was anonymously contacted my somebody who personally knew my father, and by extension myself through him. He didn’t believe a single spoon-fed word of what the recently established regime had to say about my father or myself, and offered me a choice. I could remain in the shadows preparing to wage a one man war against a government that could lazily snuff me out the second I materialized from hiding, or I could wage it alongside a newly created movement that operated out of the public eye, delivering messages and packages between clients whose interests aligned with ours. Knowing that it was the best opportunity for vengeance that I could wish for, I accepted and joined the nascent liberty seeking Runners. They taught me how to make best use of the environment to facilitate my movement, showing me the ins and outs of making a drop, coaching me in underground training facilities far removed from the government’s notice, and instructing me on keeping cool when the situation grew hot.
Back in the present, Andersen had left an opening that I exploited, catching his fist and punching him in the face with the force required to crack the eye lens on his mask. His head whipped back from the blow and shifted enough of his weight for me to toss him off with a heaving motion. We both got to our feet and rushed at each other with murderous intent in our eyes. Andersen’s style of fighting resembled dirty boxing, trying for grapples to the neck to hold opponents in place as they sustained withering uppercuts, elbows, and knees to the face. To counter this, I slid and spun away his attempts to grab me. I wasn’t the greatest at martial arts, preferring to just shoot my enemies (I was lucky that Andersen was vicious enough that he chose to beat an opponent into submission first before killing them with guns) instead of smacking them about. Still, as I danced around my hated enemy, I felt my body begin to move in ways that I had never trained in. I countered Andersen’s hooks and haymakers by intercepting them at their fulcrum before striking at his body’s pressure points with my fists.
My body stance was like a rod of bamboo, firm yet flexible, rooted yet unyielding. I idly wondered where all this Feng Shui nonsense came into play, but didn’t complain since it was granting me the ability to kick this man’s ass, which he was sorely in need of. Any punches of his that made it through my solid defense were absorbed as I adjusted for the sudden shocks like a human block of gelatin. Andersen’s inability to find any weaknesses in my defense made him angry, which in turn made him act rashly and foolishly. Two minutes into our clash I blocked a sluggish lead fisted overhand swing and kissed his solar plexus with my knuckles and everything I had, essentially driving the wind out of him and engendering him to take a few steps back. He vocalized a muffled cursed at my obstinacy and his hand slipped into his suit, undoubtedly clutching for his gun. I saw the shiny silver of a Desert Eagle’s chrome casing aimed right at my forehead and his fingers tensing at the trigger before a single shot rang out.
Andersen yowled as the high powered pistol clattered to the floor, along with a few of his fingers attached. He held up the afflicted hand and gaped at the fleshy ruin sprouting from his palms, where bits of bone could be faintly seen. He backpedaled in the direction of the elevator, the doors of which had been ripped ajar from the grenade blast. I seized the opportunity presented to me and darted full steam ahead before putting all of my weight into a dropkick, sending him careening into the black maw waiting to swallow him up. In a last desperate attempt to save his sorry skin, he grasped at the edges of the elevator doors to keep from tumbling over the precipice. I retrieved my Five seveN and immediately shot his uninjured left hand, destroying his grip with that hand as his bloodied right began to slip from the lubrication of the sanguine fluid.
As I prepared to finish him off, I switched my gun to my left hand and grabbed him by his fashionable suit tie to pull him close to me with my right, “For my Father” I whispered, and his gray eyes widened as he recognized me. My pistol barked and his right hand was obliterated as I callously let go of him, resulting in Andersen taking the express route earthward. For such a vociferous man in life, he was remarkably quiet on the way down to his death.
“A.I.M!” I snapped commandingly to the wrist computer, my need for vengeance partially satiated, “Filter this room for me please! I’m sick of wearing this frigging mask!”
The pint sized artificial intelligence obeyed, and the vents in the room roared to life as they worked overtime to flush the tear gassed room and replace the fouled air with unadulterated oxygen. I did away with my gas mask and breathed deeply of the recycled but now purified atmosphere, under the impression like a massless weight had been lifted from my shoulders. There was an abrupt sound of a submachine being discarded and I turned about-face. A likewise unmasked Faith wandered up to my side looking a bit worse for wear, covered in scrapes and scuffs along with a sizable chunk of shredded flesh by her bicep where a bullet tore clean through in a close call, the wound now oozing with blood. I saw this injury and was concerned for her. We had worked in coordination loosely before, but this was the first time we faced down death together and came out on top, so she had earned my implicit trust.
“So you finally killed him, huh? He and the last of his men were pinning me down by one of the servers when he heard the explosion and realized that he had been duped. I was preoccupied but got back here in time to prevent him from putting one in that skull. Though with how thick that thing is, chances are the round would’ve bounced off” She apologized as my expression let her know how unamused I was by her jest, “Feel any better?” She asked, not unkindly.
“I’m underwhelmed, honestly” I admitted. It was half a lie and half the absolute truth, “Though if I wasn’t a proper gent, I’d kiss you for creating that opening for me” That I meant unanimously.
“It’s a shame you’re such a prude then” She retorted lightheartedly, eyeing me indecipherably.
“Anyways… you’re wounded” I stated the obvious, ignoring her teasing, “Here. Let me help you” I unzipped a pouch on my pack containing a container with analgesic foam that would also speed along the healing process while stanching the blood loss.
She tried to dismiss it, “Ah, it’s not a big deal” She said, hissing as I applied the heady smelling foam to disinfect the wound.
“Just a flesh wound, as it were?” I replied with a smirk. The Monty Python reference had her chuckling. Both halves of me thought up that reference, and now both sides were arguing over who conceived it first.
She stood on one foot and shook her right leg, “My leg’s not off, so I’m in relatively okay shape all things considered”
‘You gotta love a girl who can share your appreciation for cliché humor’ A part of me missed making allusions that other understood, though the other part had no idea why.
“I see our senses of humor are still intact” I dryly observed, wrapping the wounded area in sterile gauze. After that was done, I began to climb up the stairs and towards the platform where the visual display terminal was standing, unscathed from all of the violence that had taken place in the form of bullets and shrapnel. Though most of that had been constrained to below the stair level.
“A.I.M. Is this terminal linked to the grid perchance? Do you have access to all telecommunication networks from here?” I inquired of the glorified talking supercomputer in a can as I approached the terminal, the case containing the artificial intelligence was still hooked in and was wreaking havoc with the Fed’s information systems, as well as bypassing its security and downloading data simultaneously. A.I.M was truly one of a kind, worth countless dollars, and would prove central in eroding the government’s remaining credibility with the uninformed public.
“Indeed I do have full media access, Runner. Additionally, every satellite owned by the nation is now permanently under our control” It chirped cheerfully, “Do you wish to patch yourself through? I have several pre-written inspiring, call to action speeches at your disposal should you desire to utilize them. Furthermore, my data slicing subroutines have run their course. We need only extract ourselves before your mission is complete”
“That’s great news, but I think I’ll speak from the heart on this one” I told it in a genuinely relieved voice, “Now lets see if we can make some history”
I stood in front of the screen camera of the terminal, my face dirty with sweat and drying blood that wasn’t mine from the intense firefight just prior, and spoke into the microphone, “Citizens of the City, we interrupt your regularly scheduled bullshit to bring you a message. I’m here with a friend in the recently torn up server room located at the top of a seemingly abandoned edifice in the Golden Condor District” Camera feeds of the room we were in were shown to me and the viewers on the mirroring screen, showcasing the server banks used to store and encode the information gained from the government’s acts of unregulated surveillance, “In this chamber are stored all the events of your daily lives. From the time that you sat down with your favorite bowl of bran flakes to when you pulled the blankets over yourself to get some shuteye. Every single thing that you’ve been doing… the government has been monitoring… and if they see something they don’t like about you, guess what happens?”
I snapped my fingers and glared at the camera, “You’re gone! Vanished! Poof! Wisps of smoke! It’s already happened to three dozen people in the last two weeks alone, and according to the information I have here… over half that number are now deceased from the initial trauma they’ve inflicted on them, and the other half are being ‘behaviorally reprogramed’ via a nasty concoction of drugs injected into their bloodstream, solitary confinement in a pit devoid of light and all human presence, and a regimen of periodic shocks to both mental and physical integrity. In short… they’ve broken these people beyond repair. To the regime the common people are merely sheep prancing about to their tune. If they don’t like the way they dance… then they shear them. If they still don’t see an improvement… they butcher them” I emphasized, bitterness seeping into my every word and imbuing them with resolution.
Pictures and media clips were inserted into the video feed of these poor souls going through hell. Some of them were teenagers barely on the brink of adulthood. Half of them were screaming in agony as men dressed in white calmly and clinically interrogated them, punishing them with more pain when they refused to answer their questions or were too scared to muster up words. The solitary confinement pits were nothing more than shallow holes dug into the earth that were too narrow to sit and recuperate, and too short for a person to stand entirely. This senseless cruelty was intended to maximize the shock factor and incite anger at the indignity of what the Feds had done to its own citizens. I did neglect to mention the detail that a quarter of these people were with the resistance and technically insurgents, since that didn’t excuse the other three quarters of the prisoners. There was plenty of evidence highlighting the sins committed by the government in their quest to keep their boots firmly planted on our necks, but they would have to wait before it came to light.
“I’m seeing helos in the distance!” Faith warned to me in the background over the incrementally increasing noise of whirring chopper blades, “We’re running low on time here! Get to the point already!”
I grunted in frustration, before obliging the woman pressuring me and getting to the point for my audience, “The people who are in power… are monsters. Paranoid to the point where even regular Joes droning away in the background are perceived as threats for having an undue fascination with the color of crimson. Don’t think that this is something that can be rectified through the system of law, or through litigation, or even with peaceful demonstration. None of us have forgotten the November Riots so many years ago, nor the good people we lost once the government took its gloves off. The issue was that when they played their hand… the populace folded. We as a society have become too lax, and yielded up too much power over our destinies to those who would abuse it at the first chance. It’s high time we had some of that power back”
“What a repressive government never seems to comprehend about its citizenry is that the harder they tighten their grip on us, the more control slips through their fingers” I gesticulated with a contracting fist to the camera. My voice was almost pleading, “No one can take away your ability to choose, not even the government, try though as they might. So I’m outlining your options for you so you can make a legitimately informed decision about how you’ll face the future. If you don’t like what I have to say… if you prefer the fragile peace of the lie that you’re living… then you can shut off the screens you’re viewing this on and go about your lives like nothing has happened. However… if you agree that the will of the people takes precedence over the will of the few…” The symbol of the organized revolt my employer was a member of flashed up on the screen, “…then look for us… and we’ll find you. We are the Free Runners. Signing off”
The screen went dark and I could tell even through the tinted glass that the searchlights of the choppers were within range to illuminate our silhouettes through the window. A.I.M disconnected itself after purging the servers of all data and rendering them blank, its purpose having been served flawlessly. The fourth estate would soon receive a tidal wave of data enlightening them to what the government had been up to over the years, both illicit oversea and domestic affairs. The Press was one of the few non partisan entities to resist government influence with little to no negative consequences to them. They could spread the word with virtual impunity. And if the government acted against them, then the people would have no choice but to take to the streets. I had a hunch that the resistance would be expecting a significant increase in recruitment within the next few weeks. I snatched up the case and stuffed it in into my inventory before Faith motioned for me to follow her as we took another maintenance access that led to the roof. The roof itself was studded with spinning air conditioning units and a discreet helipad that was unlit. Next to the helipad was an offloading zone where an uncovered Skycrate and a couple of large bags could be found. Upon closer inspection it was revealed to be parachute gear. Rimming the edges of the rooftop were concrete walls that kept all of this concealed from anyone with a pair of binocs.
“Strap this on for size” Faith directed to me, handing me the larger of the two harnesses, “We’re going to glide to our means of evac. Don’t pull the ripcord too soon, or those choppers will catch up to you drifting in midair and dice you into chunks. Pull the second ripcord to detach the chute once you’re certain you’re over the boat”
“And where is this means of evac?” I inquired askance, putting on the harness and making sure the straps were securely fastened.
“See this boat bobbing up and down on the river water waiting for us? At the terminus of the second wooden pier on the left concrete embankment?” She pointed it out after hijacking usage of my wrist computer to switch to camera view of the river piers, “That’s going to be our ticket to the extraction point”
The shadowy speck didn’t appear all that impressive from where the camera was suspended, being a simple four seater motorboat by my reckoning. And I somehow doubted that my opinion of its capabilities would change once we were down there running for our lives.
“I’m not exactly reassured by your arrangements” I expressed those doubts. Though perhaps I was being a whiner. Powerboats were deemed unsafe by the regime and were scrapped, though I believe only because they could evade anything hounding them with ease.
“Would you rather swim?” Faith retorted without skipping a beat, “Besides… it was the best I could lay my fingers on with what I was given. Not all of us Runners have the luxury of generously wealthy clients. There is a time for fighting as you say, and there is a time for flying. Now would be one of those times”
“Fair enough” I conceded, “Albeit even I would be denied if I requested my employer to provide a speedy Hydro-craft for dodging the Feds downwind of one of their most treasured complexes”
“Oh, poor you…” She crooned, before grinning devilishly at me, “Race ya to the bottom!” She immediately began to sprint ahead, jumping on top of and hurdling between the boxy AC units with bounding strides, as if she was a gazelle.
I cursed confoundedly as my competitive nature kicked into gear, chasing after her. It took more effort than I was willing to confess to negate her head start, but before I could overtake her, she had already leapt off the ledge. There was a part of me that was secretly terrified of heights and dreading what I was about to do, but the part that had me in motion was an adrenaline junkie that loved the sensation of free fall. I vaulted over the edge and there was an instant pinch in my chest, the portion of me that hated heights was railing as my bladder went into my throat. I didn’t care though… I was having too much fun. I spread my arms and legs out midflight to increase the air resistance on my body and manipulate a miniscule bit of my descent. The drop didn’t last longer than a few seconds before I had to yank at the ripcord to avoid becoming a splatter of guts on the sidewalk.
Faith’s ram-air chute blossomed out of her pack, exhibiting a circuitry design in the moonlight much like the tattoo on her arm. I glanced up at mine and was disappointed to see that it was featureless, but it was a petty complaint that had no real bearing on its function. The once intermittent reception of helicopter blades went from a dull white noise to a pertinent din, warning us that danger was right on our tails. I spared a look to our rear to see that transport choppers were circling around the building and troops were rappelling onto the rooftop. What was worrying though was that they had an agile Little Bird helo with them that seemed to take notice of us as we glided to our getaway vehicle, which was a classy looking wooden boat with fiberglass coating the hull to give it that glossy texture when illuminated. Faith and I tugged at the second ripcords and detached from our chutes as the lines automatically severed themselves, landing inside the watercraft.
“I’ll take the wheel!” Faith shouted, manning the helm and starting up the ignition. The dual engines growled as they began working before settling on a rumble, signaling that they were primed and ready. I sat next to her and watched our six.
The Little Bird was in the middle of its descent to begin pursuit as Faith pushed all the way forward on the lever of the accelerator and we rocketed out of the pier and down the river. The river itself followed a snakelike meander and became wider as we progressed past docks and fat cargo ships loading and unloading their cargo containers. The boat we were on wasn’t slow by any means, but the Little Bird nipping at our heels was a good deal swifter and was gaining ground on us by the second. From this distance I could tell that it was armed with rocket pods and twin miniguns that could mince us to pieces if they got in an accurate strafe. The pilot of that chopper must have had an itchy trigger finger, since he tried his luck when he was a range greater than two football field’s lengths. The miniguns sputtered and a barrage of bullets sent up sprays of water scarily close to the mark, and that was just a ranging shot.
“Gonna need some evasive maneuvers here!” I called to Faith, clutching at my seat with a viselike grip.
“How would you like to drive!?” She snarled back at me, the pressure of having an attack helicopter on our ass abrading her patience.
Regardless, she jerked the wheel back and forth to send us into a serpentine zigzag to confuse the bloodthirsty pilot’s aim. She was smart about it as well, never trying the same pattern more than once. I desperately wanted to be more than a helpless passenger, but my Five seveN wasn’t rated for disposing of choppers, even if I could make the shot at the cockpit. The Little Bird pilot was persistent though, even launching unguided missiles at us that we were fortunate enough to skirt around the splashes of, the waves battering us like a ruby ducky in the bathtub of a rambunctious two year old. The river was amply broad by now that the cargo ships chugging along it could pass each other abreast with the narrowest amounts of space separating them. Faith seemed to have the same idea forming in my head as she spun the wheel and put us in line with passing ships.
The chopper on our tail had to pull up and swerve to the side to avoid crashing into the navigation bridge of the rightmost cargo ship. The cargo ship on the left’s steersman must have been spooked by the sudden appearance of the chopper, as the medium sized vessel began to veer into its counterpart. The metal buckled as the bow of the massive ship smashed into the stern of the other, a horrific groaning noise grated at our ears as the vessels collided. Multiple containers had been displaced from the violent sideswipe, their fastenings snapping from the shearing stress, but thankfully those splashed over the side we weren’t speeding through. I was worried that the Little Bird would be laying in wait at the other end, but he must have pulled back to avoid causing any more collateral damage.
“They must really want us dead!” I remarked as we emerged from the channel betwixt ships.
“No kidding!” Faith agreed, “We obtain some footage of this maniac and post it online and people will have another reason to despise the Feds!”
Before long, the Little Bird was on us again and spewing away with its guns whenever its pilot had the opportunity. Faith appeared to have a general idea of where she wanted to go, steering us into busy shipping lanes where it was too risky for the chopper pilot to fire upon us and flanking smaller ships when it wasn’t. By some miracle, the Feds hadn’t organized a response on the water beyond the whirlybird of doom, otherwise this experience would have been even more nerve racking. We were running low on room though, and we coming up on a waterlogged tunnel burrowing underneath an urbanized landmass leading to the open ocean. The pilot in the attack chopper anticipated our plans and sped ahead, blocking the entrance as his miniguns began to spin menacingly. We were only two hundred meters out and rapidly closing the gap.
“In the rear seat is a long, dark green metallic case” Faith described urgently, “I want you to remove what’s inside and take careful aim with it”
I obeyed and unlatched the case, my eyes widening once I saw that there was an AT4 rocket launcher. I lifted it out of its container and hefted it in my hands. I pulled out the transport safety pin, unsnapped the shoulder stop, adjusted the iron sights, and cocked the launcher. I steadied myself as best I could with the boat rocking up and down on the water and aimed at the enemy Little Bird. The pilot made the job easy by hovering in place while zeroing in on us. Once I was certain of my aim, I held down the safety and pressed the trigger button. The rocket zoomed out of the tube and left behind practically no recoil. The missile impacted the pesky chopper laterally, the force of the explosion sending it careening into the cranes of a nearby dry dock, where the tail section broke off before the bubble canopy struck the main support beams and wrecked itself there in a twisted jumble of metal, fire, and smoke.
“Nice shot!” Faith congratulated me, her voice as relieved as it got from a harrowing attack heli chase.
With the obstacle no longer a risk to us, Faith maneuvered us into the tunnel, sheltering us from further danger. The tunnel was pitch black, with the only illumination being provided by the boat’s lights. She eased off on the throttle about halfway through until we came to a stop. Ignoring my questioning gaze, she relieved me of the AT4 and commenced with drumming it against the metallic handrails lining the edges of the boat in a what was ostensibly a random clanging, until I listened closer and discerned a pattern. It was a signal in Morse code. Though the code was of an abbreviated term, the meaning of which eluded me at the moment. When she was satisfied she returned the launcher to its case and sat back in her seat with a heaving sigh.
“I’m curious” She began, “If I hadn’t helped you abscond from that building, how would you have escaped the wrath of the Feds? Even you wouldn’t be so rash as to fight your way out of the building with their whole army bearing down on you”
“I would have resorted to stealth” I patted the pack on my back, “A.I.M would have selectively shut off all the power and engendered a blackout, effectively veiling the city in darkness. I would have used the elevator to backtrack, and the heartbeat sensor on my wrist mounted computer to bypass the patrols. The second option was having A.I.M remote pilot a hybrid manned-unmanned transport chopper to the building’s roof and use that. Though that would have meant contending with Federal air support… and we’ve both seen how crazy they are” She and I shared a laugh at that, it being too true.
“What was the Morse code for?” I motioned at the handrail she had been tapping.
“You’ll see” She smiled mysteriously.
As if on cue, the dark, murky waters beside our boat gradually became illuminated as a submersible craft breached the surface. The vehicle was flattish for the most part, save for three, streamlined bubble canopies dotting the main body. There were viewports on the sides that ensured full degrees of visibility. It had searchlights mounted on the front and rear frame to penetrate the overwhelming darkness of the late night waters. The sub was painted an ugly mustard yellow and as a hatch flipped open, I could hear apt Beatle’s music piping from inside reminding us of just that quality. An older man with graying hair wearing a captain’s hat and smoking from a pipe with a crab insignia embossed onto the wood waved to us as he poked his head through the aperture.
“Howdy” He greeted us in a slight Dixie accent, “You two called for an underwater taxi?”
“Taxi?” I slumped my shoulders dramatically, “I left my wallet in my other jumpsuit” I looked at Faith and waggled my eyebrows, “Far be it from me to request a lady to foot the bill but…”
Faith in turn stared hopelessly at the older man, “Ignore this joker, Denton. He successfully infiltrates the Fed’s most vital building in this city, broadcasts a rousing call to action for the citizenry, and then he thinks the world of himself after blasting an attack helicopter to smithereens”
Denton grinned, flashing us his poorly maintained teeth, “Is that so? Then I’d say he has sufficient reason to feel like a million bucks. Now’s not the time for chitchat though. The Feds on the radio frequency are in total disarray, though they’re still coordinated enough that they’re huntin’ for ya” He gestured for us to climb aboard, “C’mon. We can wait out their manhunt underwater until it’s time to get you two lovebirds home safe and sound”
Faith was aghast at the implication, “We’re not dating! Hell, other than a few meet and swaps and tonight’s excitement, I barely know the guy!”
The old man wasn’t buying it, perhaps noting the evident complementing chemistry between us, “You’ll be spending a fair amount of time with me until the heat blows over” Denton said, puffing smoke through his nostrils, “And there’s nothing like some classic rock for young folks to bond over” He fished a media device out of his pocket and tapped the screen. The music then changed tracks to ‘Something’ sung by George Harrison, the smooth baseline grooving in the sub’s interior.
I stifled a chortle as Faith’s face lit up like a Christmas tree with only red lights strung about it, the chortle fully leaving my lips as she glared balefully at me.
“Okay, that’s ample ribbing for tonight” I spoke, as Faith pouted and muttered a word that sounded suspiciously like ‘Men’, “We should ditch the craft in a way that the Feds won’t suspect trickery”
“They know you were last seen entering this tunnel” Denton apprised us, “They’re waitin’ for you to make a reappearance, and as soon as ya do… kaboom. I’d recommend only givin’ them the boat to blow sky high. If you’re lucky, they’ll presume ya dead and call off the hunt”
“Got any dummies stowed away in there?” Faith flicked a finger at the sub, “Would be partially credible at first glance, if they restrained themselves from erasing us forthwith so they could snap a picture to put in the funny papers”
“Only one dummy, I fear” Denton exhaled sadly, “And he’s kinda indispensable, ‘less you folks prefer to sink and swim”
“I think I shall pass on that most generous offer” I quipped in monotone, before sweeping a hand toward the sub to Faith, “Ladies first”
She rolled her eyes as she obliged, with Denton ducking down to make room for her. I propped the steering wheel in place and pushed the accelerator to maximum throttle. I hopped onto the deck before I had to doggy paddle to the submersible, closing the hatch behind me as Denton operated the controls and we dived to a depth of fifty feet. The quarters of the submersible weren’t terribly small, though with three people jammed inside of it like a sardine can, personal space was at an all time low. The instruments measuring underwater acoustics picked up on an explosion ahead of us as we chugged slowly down the tunnel, which we confirmed as the Feds taking the bait on the other end. Only time would tell if they truly considered us eliminated, but for now it looked like we were in the clear. It was then that Denton produced a bottle of Port wine from somewhere along with three diminutive wine glasses. He poured into all three of them by knuckling the stems of the glasses in his left hand while he poured with his right.
“How’s about a toast to our success?” He proposed distributing the glasses among us, “It’s not everyday that the resistance strikes a debilitatin’ blow to the regime, as y’all well know”
“I’ll drink to that” I agreed wholeheartedly, lifting the glass in the air as vertically as I was allowed to in the cramped interior of the sub, “To the Free Runners! Long may we prosper” I finished the wine in a single gulp, relishing the sweet, fortified flavor.
“Hear! Hear!” Denton bellowed, before remembering that the Feds might be listening and lowered his voice, “To kickin’ ass, takin’ names, and stickin’ it to the man” He whispered, and went bottom’s up with his glass.
Faith shrugged, “To drinking” She forwent the toast speech, taking ladylike sips. She kind of killed the celebratory mood by doing so, but we were alive, we had won a victory against our repressive government, and my faith in the future had been renewed.
⁂
“-enith? C’mon, wake up. The time for catchin’ Z’s is over” Applejack’s twangy voice, paired with her rough, uncouth nudges, roused me from my slumber.
My brain hadn’t quite caught up to my body though, and words passed through my lips unbidden. I bolted straight up in the bunk, “I read them for the articles, I swear!” I exclaimed, a cold line of sweat beading down the nape of my neck.
I then proceeded to give my face a good thwack with the palm of my hand, in part to punish myself for being stupid and partly to shake off the residual drowsiness. AJ shuffled nervously in place beside me, too nonplussed to make any sense of that.
“Errm…” AJ’s lovely green eyes flicked back and forth in bemusement, “… right, I’m sure you do. Anyhow, we’re back home”
“We are?” I muttered dumbly, my brain still in the painfully slow process of rebooting.
“We jus’ pulled in not two minutes ago” She informed me, “You’re a real heavy sleeper if the sound of the brakes screechin’ to a halt did nothin’ for ya”
“I once dozed through a four pointer on the Richter scale” I told the cowgirl, “Objects were scattered onto the floor and folks afraid of quakes were shivering in their skins, yet I slept soundly through it” I woke up and discovered that I was no longer in my bed, but that’s what I get for sleeping on the edge.
“Y’all had ground quakes where ya came from?” Applejack inquired, looking at me in curiosity.
“Are they not a common occurrence in this world?” I asked in return by way of answer.
She shook her head, “Not that I know of. Though I’ve heard from Twilight that the volcanic areas somewhere beyond the badlands to the southwest where the Dragons sometimes migrate to are sei-… seis-” She struggled with the word, furrowing her brow in frustration.
“Seismically active?” I filled in for her.
She stamped her boot on the floor. “That’s it! Seismically active” She stood tall and looked proud of herself, as if she had figured out the word on her own and considered it a personal achievement, “Though Heavens know why that is”
“Likely because of the volcanoes” I surmised, “Magma flow and pressure changes combine to sporadically produce ground tremors that can be felt. They aren’t very substantial though and rarely felt unless it’s a major shift in plate tectonics, which I offhandedly don’t think operate here the same as they do in my home-world, otherwise the Dragons wouldn’t choose it as a migration worthy spot”
“I forget that you and Twilight received a formal education” Applejack commented, “Ya can be pretty smart about things I’ve never heard about”
“Meh” I summed up my feelings towards the many years I expended on schooling, “Book Smarts and Street Smarts are equally desirable, and you have abundant reserves of the latter, I believe. Which is why I’m glad that you going to be with me when we head south”
“A’hm pleased that you think so highly of me, Zenith” She smiled, a faint reddening appearing on her cheeks before she cleared her throat and looked elsewhere, “I’ll be gatherin’ mah belongins’. Meetcha outside” Without waiting for a response from me, she promptly exited the room to fetch her luggage.
My head plopped back onto the pillow with a dull thud. My mental processes were consumed with thoughts concerning the absurdly vivid dream that I wasn’t sure was really a product of my imagination. It was so familiar too… like I had experienced it sometime before, though with a lesser degree of self-awareness. A memory materialized in my head of Discord warning me that crafting my newfound weapon using my own magic as raw material would have the side effect of affecting my dreams. It was evident that the man was not kidding. But I was having serious doubts about what I had experienced being solely a fanciful dream. It was too visceral… too emotionally provocative… and those conflicting thoughts and feelings. It was like I was sharing a body with somebody else, and neither of us were completely in control nor cut off from influencing the other’s actions. I would have to pick Luna’s brains about this sometime later, figure out how deep this rabbit hole went.
I swung my legs over the side of the bunk and my feet touched down on the floor. I retrieved my invaluable, expanded storage adventure pack and strapped it over my shoulders. I exited the cabin where the bunks were and to the door where the metal steps led down to the platform. My breath was vaporous in the crisp winter air. The sunshine hit my face and I felt reenergized by its warmth, as if its handler was bequeathing her strength to me herself.
People native to the town of Magiville were in the midst of unloading their luggage as they debarked from the passenger cars. Presently they were being greeted by loved ones who had skipped out on the games to manage responsibilities at home, or were waiting to be picked up by transport coaches that would drop them off at their homes if they went together. With all the hubbub and activity, scarce few of them recognized me from my outfit, and those that did bowed their heads respectfully to me and left me to my own devices. I could see in their eyes that they knew I was more than I initially appeared, and some ingrained sense of reverence for their rulers was extended to me. Though whether it was as one of their Agents or as another Trifect as many in the Press speculated was difficult to discern.
Since it was December, the climate was chilly as was scheduled, with ornate flakes of snow occasionally drifting down from the clouds above. The local weather team guaranteed that the conditions didn’t require the roads to shoveled or snowplowed, resulting in interesting looking formations lining the skies over the town. The physical wrangling of the weather would always be something uniquely alien in my book, though the sheer list of benefits that meant could not be understated. A brief wintertime of a month was mandatory for the magic in the soils to rejuvenate, ensuring the optimal growth of crops for the rest of the year. Since it was only a month and fairly mild in intensity, winter here had that magical charm in the heartland that was romanticized in the Christmas Carols. Agrarian settlements to the south that had a lack of Skyborn to tend the weather had to forgo winter seasons, though with all of the copious quantities of space with which to expand with on that frontier, building mega farms and orchards offset the decrease in marketable crops. It was incredibly probable that Miss Jubilee’s orchard dwarfed Sweet Apple Acres in terms of acreage if it was the premiere supplier of cherries in all of Arcania.
Applejack saw me standing there reflecting on all of this and trudged over with all kinds of bags and cases slung over her body, “Ya ready to head out, Zenith?”
“Ready when you are” I nodded in affirmation, “We’re just stopping at Sweet Apple Acres for you to deposit your bags, yes?”
“Eeyup!” She adjusted the weight of those bags on her shoulders, “Then it’s back here for the train’s next departure for Dodge Junction” She squinted her eyes around, searching for a coach to relieve her of her burden, “But first we gotta hail a…”
I intervened, wrapping an arm over her, “Hold on tight to your things, if they aren’t in physical contact with you, they’ll be left behind… and I don’t want to backtrack any more than I have to”
Before Applejack could form a response, I channeled magic from my internal font and commanded it to convey us from the station platform to the front of the farmhouse that Applejack called. The world flashed and warped around us as the spell was released. When being the person to initiate a teleport, the sensation of your guts being scrambled is absent… or mitigated to the point where it cannot be perceived without effort. In no time at all, we were firmly in the center of the Sweet Apple Acre’s farmhouse, a faint dust cloud being kicked up from our instant displacement. Activity at the orchard was virtually nil, which was to be expected since the town was in the clutches of winter. No snow covered the trees of the Acres itself, with the Apple family’s property being safeguarded from frost by the Skyborn.
Applejack grunted, holding a hand to her stomach and swaying queasily, “A little warnin’ would’ve been nice” She reproached me, bending over a tad to recover.
Yeah I knew how that felt, “Sincerest apologies, AJ. Allow me to bear the yoke of that baggage with you”
“I got it!” Applejack protested, turning my help down, “Don’t let me trouble you none. You’re an honored guest here, and that means you don’t hafta pull any of mah weight so long as you are. Since you were so kind as to bring us here right away, I guess you’ll have time enough to say hello to mah brother” She encouraged me to socialized with one of the few people here who shared my propensity for reticence. The poor guy had to mind the farm and his aging grandmother while most everybody else got to go to the Athletic Games, not that he’d wear his disappointment on his face if he felt any.
“Sure, I’ll say hi to the big man” I agreed as we walked up to the house, having nothing better to do during the layover.
Granny Smith was napping on the porch in her rocking chair, wrapped up like a burrito in several layers of apple theme quilts and blankets. The family dog Winona was likewise resting by her feet, her ears twitched and her head perked up when she spotted us, but she did not bark her excitement. Applejack and I tiptoed past her as quietly as we could as light snores emanated from her lips, with me scratching the friendly pet behind her ears by way of greeting. The interior of the barnlike farmhouse was cozy, retaining commendable insulation despite being constructed of regular lumber. Applejack deposited a few of her bags filled with groceries from the Krystal Kingdom and climbed the stairs to put away the rest in her room. I relocated to the kitchen area where I found the man of the house halfway done with eating his lunch, which consisted of slices of apples, country fried steak, and mashed potatoes.
Macintosh noticed my entry with one eye and swallowed a bite of steak before speaking in his succinct manner, “Afternoon”
“Macintosh” I reciprocated, sitting down at the table with him.
“You and the girls back from the North?” He inquired, stabbing at another chunk of fried steak and chomping at it, flecks of breading falling from his lips and dotting the table surface.
“Just myself and your sister” I answered, “The older one, anyway”
He hummed thoughtfully and went back to eating. His eyes widened minutely as if he had forgotten his manners, he pointed with a fork to the stocked pantry (eighty five percent of which was apple based vittles), “Fancy gettin’ yerself a bite?”
I wasn’t hungry, so I had to decline, “Considerate of you, but I wouldn’t want to infringe upon your hospitality”
He hummed a second time, “Not to be nosy, but why have only you and mah sis returned to Magiville?” It wasn’t an outright accusation, but I could sense that the man suspected chicanery.
“That… is sumthin’ I need to discuss with you” Applejack’s voice interjected from the archway, “Mac. Zenith and I are leavin’ again in twenty or so minutes”
Big Mac processed this, “Where?” He tersely continued his questioning.
“Dodge Junction” AJ replied, “And once we’re there, we’re gonna pay cousin Braeburn a visit”
Mac’s eyebrows lifted imperceptibly, “Braeburn? When did he move to Dodge Junction?”
“He didn’t” I took over, “He’s there on account of somebody else. Somebody of great importance to the Buffalo Braves”
“Explain” He rumbled.
I did so, “You cousin had eloped with the daughter of the Buffalo Brave’s Chieftain. The Princess has entrusted us with restoring her to her people. Tensions between the settle folk and the Braves are in jeopardy of igniting like they nearly did before”
Mac put down his fork and gave us his undivided attention, “Why?”
“Their people are being killed and kidnapped by men the Braves are mistaking for Arcanians” I hesitated, “And if they are… then they’re outlaws… and I have to bring them to justice” It will be a violent affair, if my record proved consistent, I refused to add.
Mac kept his face neutral, “Alright. What does mah sister have to do with this unpleasant business?”
“Zenith hasn’t been to the southern regions, Mac” AJ piped in, “He’ll need me in case he gets lost there”
“Can’t he jus’ hire a guide? He’s in with the Princesses, ain’t he?” The burly man actually sounded worried. My mentioning that these Braves were being savagely slain by outlaws must have had his protective Big Brother routines working overtime.
“I’m goin’ with him and that’s final, Macintosh!” She used his whole name, making him wince, “A’hm a grown woman now, brother. I can make mah own decisions… been makin’ ‘em for a while now”
Mac sighed in defeat, “I’ve never tried stoppin’ you before, an’ I won’t start now. You, on the other hand, should start guidin’ him by fixin’ his attire. He’ll stick out like a sore thumb if he dresses like that” He pointed above with an index finger, “He’s about mah size, so he can borrow from mah wardrobe. I never wear half of that stuff anyhow”
“Ya got a point there. We’re mighty grateful, Big Brother” AJ tipped her hat before grabbing me by the arm and yanking me out of my seat, “C’mon. It’s time for you to play dress-up”
“I’ve played that game with Rarity on more occasions than I can count” I idly commented as I was dragged out of the kitchen, not failing to catch the amused curl on Mac’s lips.
Our shoes clattered up the deteriorating stairs until we were on the second floor. AJ and I entered Big Mac’s simple yet neatly organized room, which only had a bed, a dresser, and a scant few other furnishings of low import. The cowgirl raided his wardrobe and threw all kinds of sundry and comfortable looking apparel that I wasn’t aware Mac even had onto the bedspread. The man himself was fond of his jeans and red checkered shirt combo, but what I saw laid out before me was a varied assortment of vests, dress shirts, hats, gloves, boots with removable spurs, frock coats, oilskin dusters, pants, jeans, chaps, and more.
Once she was done emptying his wardrobe closet, AJ politely left me to change in privacy, “Take yer pick, see whatcha like, and call me in once you’re set to get mah opinion on it”
As the door shut behind her, I stared in disguised awe at the number of clothes Big Macintosh never wore. Many of these clothes were in pristine condition. It was as if on the day he received them he simply consigned them to the closet till he was forced to wear them. Taking my time, I deliberated on how I wanted to be perceived once I was boots on the ground in the southern regions. ‘Clothes are just as much a part of your first impression as your manners, darling’ had been Rarity’s thoughts on the subject, which I had to mostly agree with. It was superficial nonsense to me, but I knew that people on average appraised the whole package rather than singular details. That being said, I wanted my outfit to match my personality while still having a Wild West aura to it. I set my adventure pack onto the floor and stripped off my robes, reverentially folding them up (while employing extra precaution with the handling of the Mage-blade shards tucked within) and stowing them in the pack for another occasion, along with the belt with the infinite triangle symbol on it and all its accoutrements. I kept my sword hilt on me though, since it was my badge of authority.
My decided combination of clothing were black jeans, a long sleeved beige shirt that I rolled up till it went no further than the elbows, a shortened denim vest to cover that with, my robe boots with ten pointed roweled spurs attached to the heel, black deerskin gloves, a dark oilskin duster with plenty of pockets that would conceal my gun belt, and a black Stetson hat of leather material with a metal band hugging the crown, which had a teardrop shaped crease on the top and white trim on the brim. It was the tiniest bit loose on me, but it was made for an owner that had a greater bulk.
“Okay, AJ” I announced toward the door when I was done evaluating my appearance in the dresser mirror, “Can you tell me if I look the part?”
The door squeaked on its hinges as Applejack opened it, “Well I’ll be… Don’t you look fine an’ dandy!” AJ exclaimed, eyes prowling up and down my form and approving of the aesthetic changes. Her gaze lingered on the belt with confusion, but dismissed it in favor of everything else.
“I certainly feel like I could go toe to toe with Angel Eyes and come out on top” I remarked, my image in the mirror fitting the profile of a darkly dressed, bounty hunting cowboy.
The name reference didn’t register with her, “Who?”
I shook my head, “Just something from a famous movie I saw once”
“If you say so” She had grown accustomed to these allusions of mine, “I ought to bring some spare clothes mahself. We’re liable to be out there for a while, huh?”
“As long as it takes to guarantee that the Buffalo Braves and the frontiersmen don’t butt heads” And that could mean anything from a week to a month, depending on how quickly I could hunt down these outlaws and disrupt their operation, as well as ascertain what they were doing with the people they had kidnapped, if they were still alive, and reunite them with their kin.
“And fetchin’ Strongheart so she can marry somebody she dislikes is goin’ to prevent that?” AJ expressed reasonable doubts with that plan, albeit she was automatically biased against her for her infatuation with her cousin.
“We can only hope and pray it does” Or find another way to curb the bloodshed. Perhaps if I hogtied members of the outlaws and gave them to the Buffalo Braves to do justice on… but that would present its own problems.
“A’hm sure it’ll work out for the best” Applejack optimistically spouted, “Pack what else you need. I’ll do the same” She retreated to her room and I heard the sound of a traveling bag being unlatched and items being interchanged.
I glanced at the rest of the clothes splayed out on the bed. There weren’t any other articles worth hauling with me, so the outfit I was wearing now would have to suffice. I politely replaced the clothes in Big Mac’s wardrobe so that he wouldn’t have to clean up the mess his sister made of it himself. As I was doing so, I noticed a dense book squared away in the closet, tucked beneath boxes stuffed with various objects which may have been broken or replacement pieces of farming equipment. I ironed the wrinkles out of a shirt using a spell that Rarity taught me and hung it on the rack before I stooped down to pick it up. It had been sitting there long enough to have accumulated a thick coating of dust on the cover, which I proceeded to wipe with my forearm. I ambled out of the closet and sat down on Mac’s bed with the book in hand. My curiosity was piqued and I still had minutes to spare before we had to leave for the train.
My fingers pinched at the rim of the cover as I flipped it wide. The book was some kind of picture album married with a scrapbook. It depicted the story of Big Macintosh’s life growing up on the Acres with his grandmother and his parents, starting with his toddler years with notes about how cute he was on the side written in what I presumed was his mother’s hand. His father incorporated notes as well, assuring him that he would grow to be big and strong someday, like his old man. There were pictures of a young Macintosh learning the tools of the trade, his achievements and blunders equally included in the album. Mac started writing notes himself once he had learned how, remarking on how great it was that he was getting a sister. With it in his possession, Big Macintosh must have been the designated keeper of this book. The years melted before my eyes as I sifted through pages and pages of memories.
Applejack followed her older brother’s example, cultivating and harvesting apples alongside her family as she gradually became the woman that she was currently. She learned the nitty gritty nuances about farming from her pa while her mother taught her how to optimally pitch it to prospective customers that Sweet Apple Acres grew the most delectable, juicy apples in the county. She even affixed her first lock of golden hair to one of the pages; proud of the way she had braided it. She’d never hear this from me, but Applejack made an exceptionally adorable infant, and that cuteness carried on all throughout her childhood… until it was marred by the tragedy that claimed both her parent’s lives before their time. Neither Applejack nor the then scrawny Macintosh smiled as much after that, though I saw signs of that happiness returning to them, as their mother left with one last gift in the form of Apple bloom. The book ended with multiple blank pages waiting to be filled in by the young girl as she experienced her own life, as was her birthright.
There was a knock on the wall as Applejack reappeared by the doorway, “Whatcha reading there, Zenith?”
I looked at her strangely, “You don’t remember? This book contains memories of when you, Mac, and Apple bloom were in your adolescence”
“That ol’ thing?” Applejack was indifferent towards it, “It’s jus’ a bygone family tradition of ours. Someday Big Mac will show it to Apple Bloom when she’s ready to learn more about our parents”
“Why hasn’t she learned yet?” I posed a difficult inquiry, “They’re her parents! She has a right to ask about them doesn’t she?”
“What makes you think she has?” She countered, an odd inflection tinting her words, “If my little sister had asked it of me, I would have sat her down all day to relate to her how wonderful our parents were. I would have done everythin’ I could to give her an idea of what they both were like, since she was too young to remember them” AJ’s posture sagged, “But she’s never asked… not once. It’s almost like she doesn’t care”
“Maybe she’s afraid to ask” I retorted, “Maybe its because whenever the topic involuntarily comes up, she witnesses how internally withdrawn everyone else gets. It wouldn’t take a great deal for her to see the notion of her parents as a forbidden subject. One of these days, you’re going to have to have a serious discussion with her about them”
She exhaled and scratched at the back of her head, “You assume an awful lot, Zenith, but in this case ya happen to be right. Whenever ma and pa are brought up in conversation, we become ‘sad sacks’ as Pinkie Pie would put it. I do what I can to suppress it, but Apple bloom knows that it’s a sore spot for us. I was so afraid that if she learned about what happened to our parents, she’d lose the happiness that she found for herself without them, but I can’t keep her in the dark forever” She planted a hammer fist into her palm, “I promise that one day Mac, Granny, and I will take turns explaining to mah sister that we were blessed with the most incredible parents… who loved her with everythin’ they were, even if she didn’t know it”
I placed the book on the nightstand next to Mac’s bed, so he could see it, “Forgive me for prying in such intimate matters. It didn’t concern me”
“No, no!” She held up her hand forbearingly, “Don’t say yer sorry. You had an appropriate reason… and it took you pointing it out to me to get past my own misgivings towards it. Mah family means the world to me… and if sumthin’s amiss with it, it’s mah duty to fix it!”
“Your devotion to your own blood is admirable” I complimented her. Though her inability to accept that her cousin might be in love with a woman of the Buffalo Braves lessens that somewhat.
“You betcha it is!” She chirped enthusiastically, “I told ya that the Apple family is connected close as the fruits we’re named after on their branches. You should be there for our next reunion. We’ll show ya the joy of being part of sumthin’ more profound that one person! You wish you were an Apple yousel-…” She saw my passive expression and was worried that she had crossed a line, “oh… shoot, Zenith I didn’t mean to…”
“It’s alright, Applejack” I effected a pained smile for her, “It doesn’t hurt anymore” I was family oriented in the same way that the cowgirl was, which made it easier for me, “We should be prepared to depart for the station soon. Did you say your goodbyes to your brother and grandmother?”
“I did to mah brother” She affirmed, “Though granny is still asleep, so I jus’ kissed her forehead and whispered mah farewells to her”
“Excellent” I rubbed my hands together impatiently and magicked my pack over to me, “All that remains is for you to hold on tight to your baggag-”
Applejack interrupted me before I could get to the end of that sentence, “Can we walk this time? I don’t think mah stomach can go through another round of torture”
I scoffed, “Being unexpectedly teleported by another person isn’t that jarring” I acquiesced though, “But… if you insist”
The walk back to the train station was uneventful, and given how eventful my life could be at times, I found myself welcoming commonplace occurrences more often. Mayhaps I was subconsciously seeking a balance between extraordinary and mundane. The sandy gravel of the Acres transitioned to snow that crunched beneath our shoes with the weight of our steps, with Applejack’s footfalls eliciting louder crunches than mine as we plodded down the meandering trails (Though to be fair, as an Agrarian she was naturally heavier with all of the muscle she was sporting, while my feathery Valkyrian aspect negated the majority of my heft). The train at the station was near the final phases of refilling its coal car and taking on water for its boiler from two towering dispensers on stilts. Because Applejack was unyielding with her inclination for a stroll past Magiville, we barely made it in time for the conductor to bellow the last call for boarding. I deduced that he must have been briefed on our identities, since he personally bid the train’s driver to hold off on departing with us. The special treatment made me want to roll my eyes, but I wasn’t one to complain about blessings, as biased in favor of VIPs as they were.
Once we were inside the decadent train car reserved especially for us, the conductor signaled for the train’s operator to continue what he was doing before he restrained him. With a strident tweet of its whistle, the train pulled with a jerk from the station and we steamed along the track, our destination bound for the south. This time I stayed awake, partly out of anxiety that I would fall into a dream that wasn’t a dream if I slept, and partly because I wanted to enjoy the passing scenery from my seat by the window. The clothing tailored for Big Macintosh wasn’t quite as comfy as the robes designed for my by Rarity, but they guarded me against getting too accustomed to softness, lest I become soft myself, and we couldn’t have that. Applejack was virtually silent for the entire ride there, only occasionally speaking when asked whether she wanted a beverage from one of the train’s attendants or yawning and remarking how she could do with some shuteye. She napped peacefully while I availed myself of the train’s fine dining menu, all costs covered by the Crown of course. I attempted to pay for my fare regardless, but they would not take my coin.
The landscapes whizzing by the window as the train chugged on were stereotypical forests at first, the darkest and most forbidding of which was the Neverfree as was the norm, but after we bridged the gap over a flowing river and then the Ghastly Gorge, there was a dramatic shift in backdrops. Snow capped forests petered out and were replaced by rolling hills and grassy fields that were sporadically populated by tile roof houses with solitary farmers minding their paddocks and crops. That grass eventually withered away, as did the trappings of civilization and for a while there was nothing but open expanse. For the entirety of the journey there, my mind was preoccupied cogitating on what my course of action would be once I was on site at Miss Jubilee’s ranch. Would I apprehend Strongheart and her lover off the bat? Or should I observe them first, ensure that their love was genuine and not some excuse for Strongheart to run from an undesirable marriage partner? What if they had ignored Miss Jubilee’s coaxing and escaped again? Would I have to hunt them down like vermin, or would I have to resolve the hostilities without her as a bargaining chip?
By the time the train had slowed to a halt in the Dodge Junction train station, the trip had consumed another three hours of the day. The sun was sinking closer to the horizon and the world had an orange tint to similar to the color of the shirt that AJ was wearing. From the polished window of the train car, the town of Dodge Junction itself looked like a scene out of a desert frontier movie. Wooden buildings with awnings to shelter people from a glaring sun in the summer were hanging signs that displayed what goods they had to offer. Traffic was a mix of people on foot and horses pulling carts or bearing riders to where they needed to be. In the distance were wooden enclosures that fenced in herds of cattle of innumerable quantities. Ranching was apparently the order of the day in the town of Dodge Junction.
The environment was generally dusty, gritty, and dry… which came as no surprise. The climate reminded me greatly of the west coast where I used to live, and the apparent shortage of water to facilitate life in this arid region struck closer to home than I could have believed. Contrary to this initial impression, there were a number of active, anti-desiccation water wells scattered throughout the town. Tumbleweeds rolled in the breeze and cacti were the only greenish plants to be seen, with the rest being shriveled up bushes and twigs as dry as bones interspersed here and there. The town of Dodge Junction was roughly half the size of Magiville, and was erected on the flattest hides of land nestled between hillocks and stony ridges. The people living here were predominantly Agrarians, with each of them wearing fashionable to not so fashionable headwear to cover them up from the heat of the sun’s rays. The cowgirl was awake by now and staring out the window with an expression bordering on apprehension and emotional tension, with there being tough memories of a personal failure associated with this location.
“Nervous?” I inquired in what I hoped was a comforting tone.
“A’hm shakin’ like my sis whenever she lies about completin’ her homework” She confessed honestly, “I thought I would be over it by now, but just seein’ this place flashes me back to when I exiled mahself from Magiville for failin’ to bring home the blue ribbon and the prize money that went with it”
“Prize money?” I feigned ignorance.
“Some Skyborn gal who delivers the mail around Magiville managed to wreck the Town Hall’s roof once” She told me, unable to figure out how she accomplished this feat of destruction on her own, “There was a rodeo event bein’ hosted in Concordia that I was goin’ to anyway, and I promised to return home with the prize money necessary to repair it. Locally, I was a champ, but up there in the capital city? I was small fry competin’ with the big fishes”
Her teeth set in her jaw, “Mah skills weren’t up to snuff next to some of the professionals there. It was humiliatin’ for me. Enduring round after round only to receive second or third place ribbons and medals. I smiled as I stood to the lower side of the victor, but each occasion stung like a slap to the face”
“That’s hardly anything to be ashamed of” I started, but she wouldn’t have any of it.
“Second and third place didn’t cut it for me!” She snapped at me in frustration, “Whenever the opportunity to win money that I could donate to the town was presented, I screwed up bad at a critical point or underperformed”
“I’m sure the townsfolk of Magiville would have understood. You can’t be the one to win them all” I reassured her.
“Back then, I wouldn’t have accepted that answer” She was morose, “I was so ashamed of mahself that I took a job offer to raise money for the repairs while avoidin’ the people at home from a woman that I befriended while I was at the Concordian rodeo, the same woman we’re paying a visit to today”
People were disembarking from the train and I knew that we couldn’t stay there in the luxury car all afternoon, “Your story is going to have to be put on hold for now. We should get a move on towards the ranch”
We gathered our stuff before we stepped off from the train platform and onto the sand. There were fewer people piling out of the train than there were at Magiville, but this location was geographically out of the way compared to idyllic Magiville. As I examined our surroundings, I took note of the cargo being loaded in the back of the train where the cargo cars were. Men sweating in the sun struggled and heaved up sizable wooden crates from their transport carts with logos on the panels reading ‘Flim & Flam’s Magically enhanced fertilizers!’ in lurid yellow and red lettering. One of the men let out a yelp as a crate tumbled from his grasp and fell on the sandy dirt with a heavy thud and metallic clattering within the crate that didn’t sound right. His supervisor, stating that their bosses wanted these crates handled with the utmost of care, immediately chewed the man out for his foolishness. I filed this in the mental cabinet for later scrutiny as I focused on the task at hand.
“So we’re finally here” I announced to myself, my mental objectives kicking into gear, “Show me where Miss Jubilee’s Cherry Orchard is if you would please, Applejack”
“Sure” Applejack listlessly replied, waving down a coach, “Howdy there, pardner. Mind dropping us off at Cherry Hill Ranch?” She flashed the driver a few bits to persuade him to take us on.
“Nah, I don’t mind” He swapped bits with her, “You got business there?”
This man was nosy, in my opinion, but I dismissed it as idle curiosity, “Something like that” I spoke up, flanking Applejack, “My friend here is close acquaintances with the owner and boss, Miss Jubilee. She believes that it’s been a while since she’s spoken with her and wants to remain in touch. Letters can be so impersonal though, and my friend is of modest means and therefore cannot employ the services of bottled dragon fire to send any messages expeditiously even if she wanted to. So being the wondrous gal she is, she’s calling on her in person. I’m just here to see her there safely”
The driver was not unnerved by any hidden implications at the end of my longwinded speech, “Is that so? I thought she seemed kinda familiar” He gestured for us to come aboard.
Our baggage was insignificant, so we carried it onto the carriage before settling into the stiff, cracked leather seats that were in dire need of dusting. Once we were in our seats, the driver uttered a ‘hee yah!’ and whipped the reins, urging the two horses pulling the coach to get us underway. Since Jubilee’s ranch was situated on one of the few grassy hills in the area, we were several minutes out.
“You ought’a adopt the local accent, Zenith” She whispered to me, “Your outer appearance blends right in, but as soon as you talk, people will know that you’re from outta town. It’s a wise practice”
I sneered at her, “I’m never losing my accent-less accent, AJ” I laid back in the chair to get comfy, “So you were telling me about working under Miss Jubilee?”
She grumbled unintelligibly at my scorning of her advice, but relented, “It weren’t much different than harvestin’ apples, really, jus’ a mite tinier and more numerous. Pluckin’ those suckers could take a whole workday and you would never even clear a couple rows of trees. Miss Jubilee’s ranch hadn’t incorporated any kind of complex machinery, so I would often have to give this gigantic wheel a whirl to power a conveyer belt that her workers would use to sort out the individual cherries accordin’ to their color; yellow cherries in a yellow bin, red cherries in a red bin, and rotten cherries in a disposal bin. Miss Cherry Jubilee was a fair boss, as far as ranch bosses went. She provided room and board, and she paid me twenty bits an hour with bonuses if I exceeded my daily quota. I would only have to wait a week or so before I had the funds to recover from mah disgrace and return to Magiville with my head held high… but it was not to be”
“What happened next?” I droned, already having a crisp idea.
“Mah friends followed me, is what happened” She appeared annoyed at the memory before her expression softened, “Mah family had acquired my letter tellin’ ‘em that I wouldn’t be back home for a while, and mah friends must’ve gotten scared when they read it. They tracked me down be retracin’ my steps, gradually bein’ pointed in mah direction from there”
She sniffed, “I was exitin’ an outhouse when they found me. They questioned me, chastised me for disappearin’ on ‘em, and pleaded with me to come back with ‘em, but I was in no mood to see ‘em, let alone listen to what they had to say. I brusquely told ‘em to leave off and tell mah family that I was doin’ fine”
“Knowing your… our friends, it doesn’t seem likely that they would give up” I remarked.
“No… they didn’t” She agreed, “I came by work the next mornin’ to find ‘em sortin’ cheeries on the conveyer belt. Why didn’t they listen to me? I asked mahself. Why couldn’t they jus’ go home and leave me to wallow in mah repentance?”
Her fists clenched together, “I don’t know why, but seein’ ‘em there roiled me up somethin’ fierce. I thought to mahself that maybe they were tauntin’ me somehow, maybe they knew about mah failures in the Concordian rodeo and were rubbin’ it in mah face. It was an awful thing to conceive of in retrospect. But mah head was so clouded with anger that the ridiculousness of that thought must not have registered with me. Did ya know that I was voted the most dependable person in Magiville once, after corrallin’ a stampede of cows? They even hosted a fancy ceremony for me and pulled all the stops for it”
She laughed mirthlessly, “That was close to the same time that I wrote a report to the Princess on how foolish it was to refuse a friend’s offer of aid out of some misplaced sense of stubborn arrogance. A’hm still guilty of causing half of Magiville food poisonin’ from the ‘Baked Bads incident’ as it was labeled” She shyly divulged, to which I bobbed my head and pretended like I had heard a juicy piece of gossip, which I myself learned to do by emulating Rarity, “I might have learned from that lesson well, but Dodge Junction was an instance where I forgot”
Her teeth grit, “They attempted to be subtle about their intentions there, statin’ innocently that they were workin’ for Miss Jubilee, jus’ like me. Then they broached the questions again. What did I see at the rodeo? How did I meet mah new boss? They were so incessant that I couldn’t help but sprint, wishin’ to escape all of it. All that ended up doin’ was creatin’ an ugly mess that mah friends had to clean with buckets of soapy water and mops… which I felt bad about”
Applejack chortled, “Mah friends must’ve have switched their tactics to avoid that occurin’ again. Over the week I encountered them individually or in pairs while workin’ mah rounds on the orchard. I did what I could to avoid ‘em and pretend like they weren’t there… but then they sicced Pinkie Pie on me” She groaned, “Ugh… she yammered on and on and on about chimmicherries and kumquats and pickle barrels. It was enough to make ya lose yer mind, I swear! I had to swear to her a Pinkie Promise that I would spill the beans on why I prolonged mah homecomin’ at breakfast the next day to get her off mah back”
“And did you keep that promise?” I narrowed my eyes at her, “Pinkie guards those fervently” And may the Lord have mercy on your soul should you have the gall to break one.
She exhaled tiredly, “I tried… I really did try to keep it. But the shame of havin’ to admit mah failure to somebody, even mah closest friends, was severe enough that I resolved to leave town and repeat what I was doin’ elsewhere on another ranch if they’d have me”
“They would’ve trailed you to the next place even if you made a clean getaway” I reasoned, “They would have followed you to the ends of the Earth if it meant having their friend Applejack back”
Her eyes watered up and she wiped at them with her sleeve, “I know. I’m so blessed to know ‘em. They’re family beyond family to me. Which is why if I could time travel to the point where I had risen earlier than the rooster to sneak out of mah bedroom window, I would have slammed it shut on past me’s fingers. Unfortunately, Twilight says that the time travel spells invented by Starswirl could only take a person so far in time and only for so long”
“Time travel isn’t all it’s cracked up to be” I opined to her, “You might have to fend off Chaos worshipping Acolytes, save a poisoned woman from dying by collecting rare ingredients for usage in her recovery and convalescence, tussle with an Ursa Major, defend a town against an air raid, slash your way out of an underground mountain passage chocked full of Grimworts, come upon a ruined town with only a single survivor shivering at the bottom of a well, hunt two mystical figures across an expansive valley, fight for your life in naught but your skin, interrogate someone for the location of their hidden base, convince somebody who wants to both kill you and shake your hand for outfoxing them to assault that hidden base, eviscerate a hydra from within its putrid stomach, climb a rocky spire of two toned rock, save the day from the villain, and walk amongst the stars as your destiny is mapped out for you”
“Errm… right” Applejack was perplexed by my oddly specific list, “It’s probably for the best that I stick to the present where I’m needed, huh? Gettin’ back to mah tale, I had snuck out of mah room and was waitin’ at the train station to get the heck outta Dodge when mah friends gave chase. Hoo wee! Can Pinkie Pie get scary when she’s mad. I ran like the wind and commandeered a stagecoach, with mah friends likewise in pursuit. It was a bumpy ride too… makes this feel like napping on a cloud in comparison” As if on cue, the carriage jolted into the air as one of the wheels struck a rock and the suspension absorbed the energy directly, “They managed to get alongside mah stagecoach and Pinkie jumped aboard to confront me over breakin’ mah promise… which I technically didn’t because I never met them at breakfast”
“Exploiting the loopholes of a carefully worded promise, Applejack?” I beamed at her as we were in the middle of an ascending climb, “You may have a distaste for cozening people, but there is hope for you yet”
“A’hm the virtuous Element of Honesty” Applejack reminded me strongly, “I was sick to mah stomach takin’ advantage of mah own words like that. I promised that I would tell ‘em the truth, and yet there I was runnin’ from ‘em like a craven coward”
“What obstacle blocked you from doing so?” I asked her.
“Mah pride, mah damned pride” She bemoaned her stubbornness, “I risked their lives by tryin’ to lose ‘em via a game of chicken involving an oncomin’ train. They only made it by the slimmest of margins, with the train clippin’ the back of their wagon. I comprehended then that mah selfishness had put mah friends in danger, so I yanked back on the reins and slid the coach to a halt. I took mah satchel and emptied it in front of ‘em, tears blindin’ mah eyes as the truth came forth from mah lips like water from a fountain. They reminded me that I didn’t need to win all the rodeos or collect all the prize money in the world to be worthy of ‘em, I was their friend from the start, and nothin’ would change that”
“And the money for Town Hall came from what source then?” The roof of that building was undamaged from what I saw.
She waggled a hand in the air, “The Mayor hosted some kind of fundraiser event that the whole of the town chipped in for. After relating the same story to the crowd as to why I had kept away from ‘em, they had given so quickly that there was a surplus of bits one hour into the event. There’s still a budget excess that the Mayor hasn’t decided what to do with yet”
“We’re coming up on Cherry Hill Ranch” The driver declared to us, and I tore my gaze from the cowgirl to see what I could of Miss Jubilee’s cherry orchard.
My educated guess about the ranch surpassing Sweet Apple Acres in size was not unfounded. Cherry trees were laden with fruit that ranged from growing to ripened and were lined up as far as the eye could see. The leaves on the cherry trees were very pretty shades of purples and pinks that were reminiscent of cherry blossoms, except that these trees actually sprouted fruit. There were workers hauling tubs brimming with cherries under each arm, the branches of the trees contributing to the level of shade and mitigating the dry heat factor common to most arid regions. Along the same vein, Cherry Hill Ranch was bizarrely verdant when compared to the town it was based in. Grass carpeted the ground by the cherry trees and didn’t seem to be gasping for hydration as far as I could tell. The Agrarian green thumb sure was special. Almost as if it could magically irrigate the land where seeds had been planted. The Cherry Ranch had to have been a fixture here for years though, which was ample time to tame the sandy soil and remake it into fertile loam.
As the driver took us through a natural corridor between aisles of cherry trees, buildings could be made out through the gaps in the trunks. Each was structured disparately and was clearly suited for a particular purpose that made the Cherry Ranch the number one supplier in the country. The structure with the chute for dumping the wooden baskets of cherries had to be the sorting center, while the building connected to it via a brick hallway had to be a packaging center. This was confirmed when I saw a horse drawn cart stacked with crates pull around the side and converge on the road we were cruising, its driver tipping his hat politely at us in passing. The building with smokestacks spewing a thin line of smog had to be where the cherries were converted into scrumptious pastries ready for consumption. There was a building in the midst of construction whose purpose was unknown to me, though judging from the cola like bottle insignia, it was in all likelihood going to be a juicing center. I whistled to myself in awe. Miss Jubilee had her own private industrial complex going on here. The concentration of trees dispersed in increments until we were inside of a broad clearing where a farmhouse styled like a lodge stood stoically, the dull colors of its exterior contrasting with the varicolored grounds.
Standing in the center of this clearing was a slightly plump woman in a yellow dress with a red corset fasted around her waist, engendering her bust to bolster itself. There was a cutaway in her dress and my farsighted eyes could discern that she was wearing nylon stockings to go with her heeled boots. There was a cherry themed hairband binding her rich, dual toned cerise and dark red hair. She was halfway through barking out orders for her workers to obey when she saw us in the peripherals of her vision. Showing a common courtesy unexpected in a business owner (mayhaps it was because she seemed like a hands on kind of entrepreneur), she waved at us and shouted her acknowledgements.
“Well hello there!” The owner and proprietor of the ranch greeted us in a refined southern accent. For reference, it was on the middle ground between AJ’s usual way of speaking and when she put her Steelhatten vocal lessons to use. The driver halted us just shy of the road on the grass dividing cherry tree and trodden gravel. We climbed down and the woman who had been giving instructions walked to meet us in person.
She half curtsied for us once she was within conversational range, “Welcome to my home and place of business. I’m Cherry Jubilee. How may I serve you this fine day?”
Miss Jubilee’s green eyes brightened as they spotted Applejack, “Why if it isn’t Magiville’s best come to see me again! It’s been far too long, my dear Applejack. Have you returned for another change of scenery? Hmm? Hmm?” She embraced the cowgirl, eliciting a faint blush on her cheeks from what I presumed was embarrassment from the way she phrased it.
Miss Jubilee’s vision shifted to me and I saw a spark in them that put me on edge, “And who might this tall, winsome feller be? Another hand to tend my orchard perhaps?” She batted her eyelashes thrice at me in swift succession before settling on a half lidded leer.
‘Oh God, please tell me that wasn’t an innuendo’ This southern belle of a woman was nearly the same (from a relative viewpoint) age as Crystal Clear! Objectively speaking however, Miss Jubilee was still quite the looker. Though it did beg the question of why this majorly successful businesswoman slash secret servant of the Crown was unmarried. And now I realized that I just answered my own question.
“You may call me Zenith, Ma’am” I said, civilly tipping my hat to her, “And we’re here on…” I reached into a pocket in my duster and pulled out the hilt to exhibit to her, “…official business. Specifically concerning some guests you may have taken in?” I hinted to the woman so precisely that I might as well have screamed their names.
Jubilee’s eyes scanned the symbol on the hilt with razor like sharpness and her flirty demeanor morphed ever so slightly, “Yes… I might know a thing or two about that” She twisted her neck behind herself and hollered for one of her supervisors to justify his income while she saw to her guests, “Let’s continue this discussion inside, shall we? Come, bring your things. You’ll have free reign in my home for as long as you require it”
We obliged and followed her inside her house. The interior of the lodge like building was like a scene out of a Bass Pro Shop. There were stuffed heads of animals including deer, bears, and buffalo hanging from the upper halves of the walls, staring down at us with something like suspicion mixed with distrust. Fluttershy would probably dislike this place for those unsavory decorating choices alone, but Applejack’s attention only lingered on them long enough for her to look away with a vaguely unsettled expression. I couldn’t help but wonder if Miss Jubilee had hunted and killed these animals herself to bring home as trophies, or if she purchased them from somebody who had. Tanned hides of animals were draped over the railed of the stairs and only added to outdoorsman feel to the place. The air smelled of scented wood and nature in general, threatening to send my mind hurtling into an imaginary locale by a roaring river rapid where bears were catching salmon migrating upstream in their jaws.
The spurs on my boots clinked with regularity, producing noise again with each step forward I took. Miss Jubilee led us through her spacious home and into an area that had to be a kitchen, despite the lack of floor tiles that would designate it as such. The kitchen wasn’t exquisitely designed, with only a swirly granite countertop exuding any aura of sophistication, but I never cared much for elegant kitchen design anyway. There was a lengthy mahogany table close to an unused fireplace whose surface was waxed so thoroughly that you could see your own reflection on it if you looked at it carefully enough and at the correct angles. There were expertly handcrafted Victorian dining chairs with emblems of cherries embroidered above the seam lines of the cushions that were rather inviting to sit down in. It was becomingly exceedingly obvious that Miss Jubilee was extremely well to do for herself, though what we saw only seemed to be representative of less than a fraction of the wealth she possessed. I wouldn’t claim that she was living modestly, by any means, but she wasn’t as nestled into the lap of luxury as she could have been if she had only wanted it.
“Have yourselves a seat” She bid us, swinging her cabinets wide in search of some item, “Would any of you two care for some tea?”
I retracted a chair from the table and sank my keister into the plush, upscale cushion, “Pearl Grey if you have it, please” I recalled how it was the first tea I had tasted since arriving in this world, and I was oddly yearning for its flavor.
“Of course, Sugar” Some her flirtatious inflections seeped into her voice, “How about you, dear Applejack. Fancy a spot of afternoon tea?”
“Kind of ya to offer, Miss Jubilee. But I think I’ll pass” Applejack forwent the teatime niceties.
“Suit yourself ” She idly hummed a blissful tune out loud to herself as she poured scalding water into cherry themed teacups (‘These fruit cultivating families wear their crops like coats of heraldry, I swear’) using a kettle that she kept heated over an open flame. Once the teabags were inserted and properly steeped, she claimed her position at the head of the table, which was understandable since she was the independent lady of the house.
She set the cups on the table and motioned for me to take mine. Not bothering to get up and assert my ownership of it, I laid hold of it with a levitation spell and floated it over to me. My hat concealed most of my forehead, so my lack of a Focal Gem didn’t draw any negative notice. I blew at the steaming liquid and stole some of its excess heat with a leeching spell. I sipped at the fluid and was pleased that it was firmly in the Goldilocks’ zone. I loved how useful magic was when it came to both life threatening and mundane scenarios.
Miss Jubilee got straight to business after her second sip, “Do you wish to know about the physical conditions of my guests?”
I swigged at my drink, “Any information would be appreciated, yes”
She nodded, “Mister Braeburn is doing well. His mental state of health has improved markedly since he and Miss Braveheart first showed up at my doorstep” She had herself another dram of tea, “They had taken shelter in my cherry tree groves when there was a nasty dust storm not so many days ago. One of my workers discovered them huddled together beneath a tattered blanket and saw fit to notify me first thing. I came out to them once they had awoken and persuaded them to live under my roof as guests. I assured them that it wouldn’t cost them a bit, but Braeburn insisted that he pay their way and proffered his services as an orchard hand himself. Unsurprisingly, he is not the greatest with cherries, but he is persistent enough that he meets his daily quota with extra”
Applejack hummed proudly, “Darn tootin’! No self respectin’ member of the Apple family lags behind when it’s time to wet their brow with sweat”
“That he certainly did, and is doing now, Applejack” She agreed, before tittering, “Oh I do hope that my ranch doesn’t become a fallback location for employment to your family. Much as I cherish the times we had together, undue excitement follows those connected with you. It’s in the early stages of becoming a trend, if I’m not mistaken”
Applejack looked unsure how to respond to that.
I had emptied my teacup by then, “And what about Strongheart?”
“She taken to secluding herself in her room, preoccupying her mind with my personal collection of books” She had an admiring smile on her lips, “She has a ravenous hunger for knowledge about the world outside the plains her people call home, it’s quite charming”
We were off topic, “You’ve been briefed on what’s at stake, haven’t you? Strongheart is betrothed to a member of tribe who promotes aggressive policies regarding the string of kidnappings and killings affecting their people. A man who will doubtlessly see her disappearance as the work of the settlers and encourage his kinsmen to strike out at whom they perceive as the guilty party. This cannot be allowed to escalate into a full scale conflict, or it will end very badly for all those involved. Can I rely on you to assist me in doing what needs to be done, Miss Jubilee?” I stared at her with the unrestrained might of the stone face.
At that she hesitated, “I would love to assist you in any way I could, Agent Zenith” She was pensive, “But you need to know that the circumstances have become… more complicated than they were to begin with. Particularly in regards to this arranged marriage”
“How complicated are we talking here?” I inquired of her neutrally, planting my elbows on the table and steepling my fingers in contemplation.
Cherry Jubilee was sheepish about how to put it, looking anywhere but at us, doubly so avoiding eye contact with AJ, which did not bode well, “Hmm, you see… I only recently found out that the native girl… she’s…” She sighed and let the cat out of the bag, “She’s expecting”
The air in the already stuffy room stilled and the temperature rose a few degrees Celsius. I felt a mounting vibration under my elbows and instinctively knew whom it was emanating from. I cautiously crooked an eye to my side to survey the imminent catastrophe and need to effect damage control. I believe it was in that moment that Applejack surpassed her previous record of turning so red that she resembled her namesake fruit.
