//------------------------------// // Season 1, Episode 3: His Father's Colt // Story: EMPIRE // by JackAnarchy //------------------------------// EMPIRE Season 1, Episode 3: His Father’s Colt In the heart of Canterlot stood the majestic Abrasax Towers, headquarters of Abrasax Industries and the crowning glory of pony engineering. Many a pony had gazed in wonder at the towering monoliths of pure crystal and steel, glimmering like spires of pearl and silver in the radiance of the morning sun. Dubbed ‘The Stairway to the Stars’, it remains to this day, the tallest pony-made structure in all Equestria. Not to mention, over the years it had become a sort of a tourist attraction. Not that it mattered to the young Lord. Orion held little to no regard for his forefathers, and respect was a word he used with great discretion. His ancestors had long considered pride and vanity virtues rather than transgression, and Abrasax Towers was proof of it. What the common pony may perceive as a subject of awe, all he saw was a shameless testament of power and glory. A proclamation of preeminence and prestige, as well as a grim reminder to the mundanes and the degenerates who would dare aspire to challenge it. “Now just a little more,” said the turquoise pegasus mare, dabbing Orion’s nose with one of her puffy makeup brushes she had clutched between her teeth. “And, we’re done!” Sitting atop a standard dressing room chair, Orion leaned forward, rubbing his chin as he inspected his reflection in the mirror with squinted eyes. The mare swallowed hard. “So… do you like it?” Orion huffed. “No… no I don’t.” “Oh…” the mare bit her bottom lip as she turned away. “I’m so terribly sorry, Lord Abrasax, I—” “I love it.” He faced her with a smile. “Excellent job, Roxy, bloody well done.” She blushed, rubbing her hooves together as she gave a nervous smile in return. “Oh, it’s nothing, really. Just… doing my job.” “Oh, stop being so modest. I’ve been tended to by countless mares such as yourself, and believe me when I say, I have a gift for recognizing talent when I see it.” He tightened the knot of his tie and adjusted his golden brooch. “I’ll be sure to mention you to Aunty Shores when I get the chance.” “A-A-aunty S-S-shores? As in… Sapphire S-S-Shores?” Roxy’s eyes went wider than the Hordsons River. “The Sapphire Shores?” “Know her?” Orion patted his charcoal-black suit vest as he flashed a grin. “She’s practically my fairy godmother. My father was an avid fan. Took me to each and every one of her concerts. She even sang at his—” He paused, only to close his mouth with a mournful look on his face. “Lord Abrasax? Is… is everything alright, Sire?” Roxy’s expression grew soft with concern. Orion perked to attention. “Oh, my apologies, I must have forgotten myself there. Anyways, where was I?” he asked, adjusting his ruby-studded cufflinks. “Sapphire Shores?” “Ah, yes. Well, my father was fan. Although, I honestly can’t say I shared his penchant for pop music, but over the years Sapphire Shores had grown rather fond of us, and I of her,” he said, leaning down as he came eye-to-eye with the mare. “All that beeswax you read on the tabloids? All lies.” He then slipped into his jet-black blazer. “I’ve never met a kinder, more humble pony in my life, but I digress. You have a gift, Miss Roxy, one that should be recognized.” “I… I don’t know what to say. Thank you, Lord Abrasax,” Roxy said, her emerald green irises glistened as if it was taking all her willpower not to lose herself then and there. “Just do me a small favor.” He gestured with a finger. “Anything, your Grace.” “Please come by for all my current and future events. It takes real talent to make this ugly mug look the least presentable,” he said with a click of his tongue, making her blush. “We’re ready for you, Sire,” said a bulky brown earth pony with a clip file in hoof. “The Doctor’s speech is almost done. Follow me, please.” “There’s my cue. Good day, Miss Roxy, and Maker willing, we’ll meet again soon.” Orion got to his feet, leaving the mare completely flustered. Whoever arranged this conference needed to redefine their understanding on the difference between a conference and a concert. Watching from behind the folds of the velvet curtain, Orion saw an ocean of ponies so vast, it spanned beyond the courtyard. If not for their suits, cameras, and courteous dispositions, he would thought they were here for a separate matter entirely. Although, he couldn’t help but scowl at the sight of picket signs at the far end of the crowd being levitated by a group of unicorns as they marched in a circle. The Church of Arcana Eternia, why am I not surprised? Orion was no stranger to these unicorn supremacists and their ongoing crusade against Machina. Bloody Luddites, the lot of them, he thought with a resentful scoff. Unfortunately though, Equestria was very liberal in regards to rights of assembly, and even under the watchful eye of dozens of Royal Guards and Abraxas Security personnel, their presence remained a warrant for vigilance. “As the saying goes, every great inventor, historian even scholar was inspired by the accomplishments of those who came before, and aspired to be just like them. My inspiration, was of course, the late Lord Sol himself.” The rich Trottingham accent directed Orion’s attention to the brown earth pony at the podium, and his lips lifted upwards in a broad smile. “I remembered all those years ago at the thirty-seventh Canterlot Young Inventor’s Competition. I was but a little colt, but an aspiring inventor nonetheless, but sadly, the glory of a champion was not mine to claim.” The Doctor paused as his eyes of cobalt blue searched the yearning faces in the crowd of what Orion assumed were tell-tale signs of ample curiosity. Public Speaking 101: Tell a story, draw them in, and keep your audience engaged. Perhaps he may have misjudged the stallion after all, his charisma had the crowd eating out of his hooves the moment he took to the stage. “But imagine my surprise when I was approached by Lord Sol himself, who was at the time, one of the competition’s esteemed judges. He came to me, and he said—” the Doctor cleared his throat and did his best impression of the old stallion “—my boy, failure is but a cobblestone in the path to greatness, but talent may only get you so far. Broaden your horizons, work hard and above all, persevere. Believe in yourself, and perhaps one day, stone by stone, you’ll pave your own path to the stars.” The stallion wiped a tear from the corner of his eye to the sound of thunderous applause. “I’ve held those words close to my heart, and it made me the stallion I am today.” The Doctor then lowered his head, ears drooping as he shrugged. ”And like you—” He scrunched his face at the crowd picketing unicorns as one of them hurled a rather racist slur, only to be hauled off by one of the guards. “Most of you, I was devastated at the news of Lord Sol’s passing.” “But…” There was a pregnant pause in the air before the Doctor continued, this time with a proud smile. “From the void left behind by the greatest pioneer we’ve ever known, comes a new breed of leader. Though young, he’s a stallion of insight. One with a dream, nay, a vision for a better Equestria.” He turned to the crack in the velvet curtain. “And from the moment we met, I knew that the immortal soul of Lord Abrasax lives on. Sure, he maybe cocky little upstart, and little arrogant to boot—” Orion’s smile immediately turned upside down as he glared at the Doctor with enough daggers to fill the Royal Equestrian armory. Note to self, revoke the Doctor’s hot latte privileges when we get back, he thought. “—has the tendency to come off little obnoxious from time to time, and has a penchant for showing up at important events completely and utterly unprepared.” The Doctor inhaled and exhaled with a most blissful expression as if the weight of the world had just evaporated into thin air. “But there is no place on Celestia’s green earth I would rather be, than at the side of Lord Orion Abrasax. “Now, as the new Chief Science Officer of S.W.O.R.D., I have the honor, the privilege, nay, the pleasure, of introducing the new President of Abrasax Industries. He’s my inspiration, and above all, my dear friend. Fillies and Gentlecolts, put your hooves together for the stallion of the hour. The one. The only, Lord Orion Abrasax!” Orion emerged from behind the curtain to the boundless sounds of cheers, thunderous hooves and camera flashes. Making his way to the podium, he took the Doctor’s hoof in hand, giving it a firm shake and a hug. “How’s that for an introduction?” the Doctor whispered into Orion’s ear with a haughty undertone. Orion, however, responded with an immediate scoff. “Well, you could have refrained from being a tad bit overenthusiastic.” “Consider it payback for parading me like a pouncing Pomeranian. That being said, I’ve set the ship in motion. All you have to do is bring it home.” The Doctor then broke the hug. “Bring it home?” A grin spread over Orion's face, wide and open. “Doctor, I intend to blow it straight out of the water.” The Doctor rolled his eyes. “To each his own, I suppose. Break a foreleg. Well not literally, mind you.” He petted the young Lord on the shoulder as he made his way off-stage. “My gratitude to Doctor Whooves, and his inspiring speech.” Orion rested both his hands on the crystal podium and faced his audience, which was brimming with anticipation. “Fillies and Gentlecolts of the press, my fellow Entitled, delegates, acquaintances and of course, strangers from distant lands. Some of you may already know me, but for those of you who don’t, allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Lord Orion Caelum Abrasax, fifth premier of House Abrasax, Transcended, and newly appointed President of Abrasax Industries by will of my late father, Lord Sol.” He then graced the crowd with a welcoming smile. “I would like to thank you all for gracing me with your fine presence. Truly, you honor me greatly.” The crowd erupted into round of both enthusiastic cheers and applause, though they began quieting down as Orion lifted a hand. “You know, I’ve watched my father speak from this very podium more times than I could count. Never in my wildest dreams would I dare to imagine, that one day it would be me standing here in his place.” His chest heaved with a heavy sigh. “And that I would be doing it alone. It’s rather daunting actually.” After a short pause, and a deep breath, he continued. “I’m assuming that this is the part where you expect me to speak of Abrasax Industries, and my vision for the future, or perhaps inspire you with my lifelong achievements.” He grinned and narrowed his gaze ever so slightly at the crowd. “But you’re not here to be inspired, you’re here to be enlightened. So let us try something new for a change, and go straight to the Q and A. Questions, please.” Orion heard the Doctor groan from behind the curtains. In an instant, the front row erupted into a state of disarray with ponies piling upon one another like eager little preschoolers as they called out to the young Lord with their hooves in the air. “Yes, you over there. Miss…” Orion pointed to a purple unicorn mare with a silver mane. “August… Lavender August, Baltimare News. Lord Abrasax, the latest issue of Horus Magazine had you ranked as one of Equestria’s top ten wealthiest individuals. So how exactly does it feel? To be under twenty five with more coin than you can possibly imagine?” She pushed back on her thick, black-rimmed glasses. “Funny you should ask.” Orion rubbed his chin in thought. “Last night I had a most horrifying nightmare. You see, I was being chased through the Everfree by a walking, skulking… tax collector. Gives me chills just thinking about it. I have to admit, Princess Luna does have a cruel sense of humor.” The audience then erupted into a roar of laughter. Orion chuckled slowly and warmly. “My apologies, I simply couldn’t resist. On a more serious note, Miss August, it actually intimidates me, and I believe anypony in my stead would be wise to feel the same. Well, next question please.” He then gestured to maroon unicorn stallion. “Yes, the fine gentlecolt over there.” “Yes, Ran Winkle of The Sentinel. Lord Abrasax, Abrasax Industries has a presence in almost every known corporate sector. So as the new President of Abrasax Industries, would you care to share your visions for the future?” The stallion levitated his recorder into the air. “Well, I’ve always wanted to launch my own line of socks.” Orion took on a rather cheesy grin, earning yet another hail of laughter from the audience. “Over the past several moons, S.W.O.R.D. and I had maintained a close working relationship as we remained diligent in continuing my father’s lifelong work.” He tapped his finger on the podium’s surface in contemplation, feeling like a giddy little teenager with a dirty little secret, “And the truth is, we have something extraordinary in the works. Something I believe will change the world as we know it.” “That’s a pretty bold claim, Lord Abrasax.” Ran Winkle stated as the sounds of awe and amazement danced in the air above the crowd like a hymn, brimming with pure anticipation. “In fact, I believe your father, Lord Sol made a rather similar statement thirty years ago before he unveiled the Crystal Core. Would you care to elaborate on that, Lord Abrasax?” “Patience my good stallion, all in due time.” Orion gestured with a wave of his finger. “There is still much work to be done, but I can tell you, and you can quote me on this, it will start a war.” “A trade war, you mean?” Ran Winkle asked to which Orion responded with a Cheshire grin that lit up the young Lord’s face like a sallow candle in a dirty paper lamp. “Yes, let’s go with that.” Orion then snapped his fingers and turned to the crowd. “Any more questions? Come now, despite the rumors, I swear on my honor that I will not relieve you of your mortal souls.” “Hey, Lord Abrasax.” A dark brown earth pony in a fedora lifted a hoof into the air. There was presumptuous undertone to his Manehattan accent. “I gotta a quick question for ya.” “Yes, you there.” Orion gestured with a point of his finger. “Inky Quills, Manehattan Daily.” In an instant, the young lord felt his brash enthusiasm dilute with a tinge of regret. The infamous tabloid had earned a rather charming reputation scrutinizing and at times crucifying the Imperial Families for little over a century. Needless to say, they had drawn much ire and controversy, so much in fact that even their fellow reporters avoided them like the bubonic plague. “As ya know, Lord Sol makin’ ya his heir had been the talk of the town since day one.” Inky flipped through the pages of his notepad. “I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is, at least what everypony’s been askin’ lately, is that why would he choose you, and not yer brother?” The young Lord’s expression washed blank with shock, suspended for brief second, but long enough to betray his bravado. A small smile played on Inky’s muzzle like a prized angler, and Orion could have sworn he saw the stallion mouth the words ‘Fish On’. It was a blatant declaration of war, and the reporter was out to claim his pound of flesh. Smug little bastard, he gritted his teeth in thought, but the show must go on. “Isn’t that the question of the day?” Orion brought the microphone a little closer. “Finally addressing the elephant in the room, I see. Well, my father—” “Would risk runnin’ his family’s company to the ground?” Inky interjected. “Let me remind you, Abrasax stock took an epic nose dive after Lord Sol named you heir. Ticked off a whole lotta’ investors who had their bits on Lord Ares.” He tilted pushed his fedora forward. His exaggerated simper was a flagrant testament of his nefarious intentions. “And personally, I don’t blame ‘em, considerin’ Lord Ares’ outstanding portfolios. ‘Stead they got you.” Inky’s statement drew inaudible but distressing murmurs from the audience. Orion swallowed hard, struggling to retain his composure. “I’m afraid you exaggerate, Mister Inky.” A nervous chuckle escaped him. “The devaluation of stock is a common occurrence with every significant change in management. It is common knowledge and—” “Abrasax Industries had seen two hundred and forty nine billion bits in evaporated wealth over the course of ten years,” Inky read aloud from pages of his notebook. “Now I ain’t no accountant, but that’s a whole lotta lost bits to me. Hard-earned bits your loyal investors watched go right down the drain. Losses which could’ve been avoided if Lord Ares were standin’ at that podium right now, ‘stead of you.” He smirked as if savoring his ten minutes of fame and the impending victory about to come. “But I’m sorry, gettin' a bit off topic here. Back to my question, and I’m lookin’ for yer personal perspective, why did ya think Lord Sol picked you, ‘stead of yer brother? Why did yer father believe that you, outta’ all yer brothers and sisters, have what it takes to be the President of Abrasax Industries?” Orion took an unconscious step back, breaths quick and heart racing, but like the walls of Galahd, his well-constructed bravado had fallen. Inky had him played from the start. The stallion's entire offensive was an elaborate plan, catered to but single purpose, to leave him utterly defenseless. Orion never stood a chance. The audience exchanged conversations with one another, their words soaked with slander and premature accusations while they debated their personal perspectives. Orion was losing them, along with his morale. As the seconds ticked by, the young Lord tilted his head, staring in resignation at his own reflection as he contemplated surrender, and weighed the repercussions that may follow. He closed his eyes. Slowly but surely, the world around him, faded like shadows in the blackness of his mind. At that moment, he recalled a memory. Ten long years, and yet, he still he remembers it clear as day. The sound of raindrops against the clear glass window, glowing neon in the downtown lights. The unbearable stench of alcohol and bleach smeared across every square inch of the ward. The soft beeping of a cardiac monitor entwined with the ever-stretching pumps of a breathing apparatus. Most of all, Orion remembered the look in his father’s golden eyes. That forlorn expression draped with both grief and sadness. He remembered the endless questions coursing through his mind as he laid in his father’s final embrace. His father’s greying beard now damp with bitter tears. He remembered his father whisper his final words. Words the young Lord would cherish for all time. “Walk tall, my son… and remember… I will be with you… always.” Orion’s lips stretched into a smile as he lifted his head to the crowd. His purple irises seem to glow as he zoomed in on Inky Quills. There was a delicious moment where the stallion’s smile died faster than wisps of smoke dissipating after a snuffed out candle flame. “An excellent question, Mister Quills.” Orion unhooked the microphone and held it firmly in his hand. “Yes, why did my father choose me?” He then stepped around the podium to the middle of the stage. “Why did the one and only Lord Sol Abrasax, make yours truly, and I say quote from all the articles I’ve read over the years, primarily from The Manehattan Daily, your distinguished tabloid if I may add—” Orion gestured to Inky Quills. “—this misshapen creature, this abhorrent thing, the heir to the Abrasax fortune, hmm?” His eyes swept the crowd, studying every expression upon their now solemn faces. “Yes, why not Ares? Why not my dearest brother? Certainly, he was a far more suitable, not to mention capable candidate than I am.” “So, why didn’t he? Why would choose to risk everything on me? Why would he put his inheritance, his birthright in my hooves?” Orion’s voice grew louder and more erratic with every word. “Why would he risk soiling his reputation, his life’s work, his legacy? Why, why, why, why!” He shouted and the crowd jumped. There was an unnerving silence across the entire courtyard before Orion continued. “But then again, why would this humble old stallion choose to save this poor, unfortunate soul? Why would he offer him a name, a home, a family to call his own? Even with five beautiful foals, he decided to open his home to sixth? And above all, shower him with so much love, that he could never want for more.” Orion started to pace back and forth across the stage. “As a colt, I hardly remembered a time I wasn’t by my father’s side. In fact, I followed him around so much, he started calling me his little shadow.” He forced a chuckle. “I spent most of my foalhood in his private study, just watching him work. When he wasn't working, he sought to inspire me with stories of great ponies and their triumphs. Stories of Starswirl the Bearded, Xander the Great, and Orpheus the Courageous to name a few.” “Fillies and gentlecolts, I have sailed illustrious canals of Altissia, traversed the fiery deserts of Akkadia, and even conquered the frigid mountains of Yakyakistan. I’ve seen the insides of countless mansions, consulates, and palaces so grand they take your breath away.” Orion took a deep breath. “Yes, I have seen the wonders this world has to offer, and yet it pales in comparison to my father’s study.” Once again there was soft murmuring in the crowd. “Why, you ask?” Orion continued. “Because as vast, and as beautiful as our world may seem, I was forced to accept at a very young age the harsh reality that I was the only one of my kind. Certainly, being an Entitled meant living a life most could only dream of. What you don’t know, however, is that behind my romanticized existence was a never-ending battle to validate my worth not only to my fellow Entitled, but also my own kin.” Orion’s gaze narrowed ever so slightly, his words now laced with spite. “And believe me when I say, it wasn’t pleasant in the least.” Orion traced his fingers over the purple stone worn pinned beneath his tie like a badge of honor. “But whenever I'm with my father, I felt as if the tenebrosity of this cruel and vicious world had no power over me. For even in the most darkest of days, he had shown me courage in adversity, humility in mockery, and loyalty in ambiguity. Lord Sol Abrasax was more than just a father to me. He was my mentor, my guardian, my pillar of strength, and most of all my dearest friend. They say, as a foal, one’s aspirations are often limited by their perspectives of the world. Back then, my father was my world, and all I ever wanted was to be was to be just like him.” “So much, in fact, I even tried to walk like him, talk like him, and even enjoy his tea the way he does. Oh, and it’s Chamomile with a slice of Apple Crumble, by the way.” The crowd laughed, though not as enthusiastic as before. “But I can’t do it… I knew I couldn’t, and I never will, because there is nopony in this world, like my father… like my Papa.” Orion choked on his words. “And now he’s gone.” “And for the first time in my life, Miss August.” The mare perked at the sound of her name. “Even surrounded with wealth beyond compare, I’m scared. I’m petrified, because no amount of coin can ever erase the fact that not only do I stand the helm of one of Equestria’s largest corporate empires, but I stand against an entire world who had deemed me wanting from the start, not because of who I am, rather what I am, and I quote yet again from the exalted pages of the Manehattan Daily which had described me so perfectly—” Orion glared at Inky Quills with ruthless eyes, forcing the stallion to look away. "—the Abrasax Family pet." The crowd gasped in both surprise and revulsion. Orion shrugged. “But… fear is a choice, and one can only remain hesitant for so long, isn’t that right, Mister Winkle?” he said to the stallion from before. “You asked me of my visions for Abrasax Industries, because like my investors, you seek a sense of assurance. Investor confidence is a term I’ve grown grotesquely familiar with. Everypony wants security, and as such they expect me to be just like my father.” “And to answer your question, Mister Qills!” Orion called out suddenly to the stallion in question. “I don’t know why my father chose me in my brother’s place, but know that I never asked for this.” He then gestured to the towering structure behind him. “Any of this, but what I do know is that I am not my brother Ares, and I’m certainly not my father. I’m not the stallion that he was, I’m not half the stallion he was.” Orion then gripped the broach tightly in his hand. “But I am an Abrasax, and I am my father’s colt. Fillies and Gentlecolts, you looked to me for assurance, but for now, all I can offer you in return is not just faith, but a promise. Believe in me, and I will show you wonders.” Not a single pony in the crowd, not the guard, press, visitor, even protester made a sound. The world had come to a halt, until a slow round of applause broke the still silence, by none other Inky Quills himself. What followed was cacophony of applause and cheering, whooping, hollering, clapping, and stamping of hooves as palpable excitement buzzed through the charged air. Orion’s smile shone like stars in the dark. His cheeks felt damp to the touch, oblivious to the tears streaming down his face. He lifted his gaze to the heavens above as his heart brimmed with pride. Papa… I did it… we did it. “Well, I’m afraid that’s all the time I have for now. Now, if you would please excuse me, I believe I have a job to do.” The young Lord took a hearty bow before heading for the curtains behind him. Almost immediately, the reporters up front attempted to rush the stage, hurling more questions at the young Lord, only to be held back by security. A spokespony stepped up onstage and took hold of the microphone. “Fillies and Gentlecolts, please settle down. I assure you that Lord Abrasax will continue taking your questions at pre-lunch cocktail later today.” Orion pushed the velvet curtain aside as he stepped backstage. “How is that for an introductory speech?” He said flashing the Doctor a cocky grin. “What in bloody Hell was that?” The Doctor asked, half-throwing his hooves in air. “Tell me, have you absolutely lost your bananas?” “I find your question abhorrently racist.” Orion stepped past the brown earth pony as he proceeded to unhook his black trench coat from the nearby rack. “Would you please take me seriously for once?” The Doctor stormed up to the young lord, his hooves thundering across the makeshift wooden floor. “Admit it, you dodged a bullet. You rode into battle vulnerable and unprepared, and somehow by sheer dumb luck, you emerged unscathed,” the Doctor snapped. “But luck is a fickle mistress, you know that better than anypony.” Orion bobbed his shoulders and rolled his eyes. “Oh, by the Old Gods, contain yourself. Don’t you think you’re being a tad bit overdramatic?” He then stopped, and shrugged. “Okay, fine. I’ll admit it. It was rather foolish of me, and I should have known better. I apologize.” The Doctor blinked in surprise at the sudden comprehension. “Did… did you just admit that I was right?” he asked as the young Lord’s lips curled with crease of amusement. “It was a onetime thing.” Orion then swung the coat over his head before allowing it to settle upon his shoulders like a cape. “Savor it while it lasts.” He then proceeded toward the exit. The Doctor made good on Orion’s suggestion as he sniggered to himself like a crazed cartoon villain. “Oh, just so you know,” the Doctor said as the young Lord paused in his step. “I was touched about what you said about Lord Sol. I never knew he meant so much to you.” Orion’s expression softened. “I loved him dearly, still do, and I would give it all up in a heartbeat, if it meant having him here by my side,” he said as the Doctor offered him a smile in return. “Now come along, Whooves, you can lollygag on your own time. Right now, we have work to do.” Orion pushed the door open and stepped outside. The Doctor shook his head and followed after him. “Let’s go change the world.”