The Puppetmaster

by Zee The Freeman

An Intestinal Matter

Ponyville Library was always a curiosity to Claude. A source of untold knowledge built into what's essentially a natural lightning rod never really made sense for him. In his few years of living in Ponyville, he'd never been granted access within, always some excuse of events or catastrophes that required the library's sole attention. He always watched it as he passed by in his daily routines, noting those who came out and who or what entered. Even when the now Princess Twilight moved in, he never once knocked upon its door. Business picked up, and he'd never found the time to see Twilight to ask to explore within. Pulling himself from the bench, Claude walked towards the library. The street silent, save for the slow clop, clop of his hooves. The tall and oaken library door shone some light through it's viewing window. He peeked inside, and saw a blurry mare moving from one side of the room to the other.

"Glass is foggy..whoever made this ought to be-" Another moving figure caught his eye. Green, and short, it seemed to be the only thing the mare inside yielded to. Claude fixed up his coat, and knocked on the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock. A slow knock echoed through the main room of the library.

"Who could that be?" Twilight wondered aloud, "Spike, you didn't invite anyone over, did you?"

"You're a princess, it's probably ponies needing to ask you for help or something." Spike replied half-minded, and waddled into the kitchen. Twilight raised an eyebrow at her assistant, and turned towards the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock. The rapping echoed once more. Claude chewed his lower lip, impatience contorting his face. He glanced at the windows nearby. A latch opened, and Claude looked upon his princess.

He respectfully bowed to her, "Your highness, may I have but a moment of your time?"

Twilight pulled him back to face level, "You don't need to bow. I'm always happy to help those in need."

"You see, I've lived in Ponyville for many years now. I've never been able to see inside the library. I figure myself a bit of an academic in-"

"You what?!" Twilight exclaimed, shoving him inside before he could finish. She whirled books around the room, showing him the various sections and subjects and the countless bits of information she possessed from years of study. Claude politely listened, though when she turned her back to him, he prowled about. He scribed mental notes about every interesting detail the library held.

A few minutes passed until Twilight stopped turning around. She focused now upon the books, still talking about them to the open air. Claude passed her by, and listened around. Clanking of dishes and some quiet grumbling emitted from the kitchen. He peered inside, and saw his treasure.

Spike stared into the oven, watching his creation cook while his stomach rumbled. A casual glace behind him revealed a portly shadow monitoring him. Panic shot through him, and he branded his spatula against the shadow. "Who's there?"

Claude stepped from the shadow, a giant grin painted on his face. "No one who might pose a threat to you," he chuckled at Spike's spatula, "You may sheath your weapon, brave warrior."

Setting his spatula on the counter, Spike examined Claude. "Hey, you're the puppet guy, aren't you?" He questioned, Claude served a proud grin in response. "It's kinda late, what're you-"

"I'm here for you, my dear dragon friend," he adjusted his top hat, "You do remember the fair, yes?"

"Yea, Rarity sure made a knockout theater. Well, she made two of them, but you-"

"I already explained the flaws of the first. I came to ask for the 'designer secret'. How did she create the second theater so quickly?"

"Oh, that's an easy one. It's an old spellbook from The Castle of The Two Sisters. Called the Inspiration Manifestation."

Claude raised an eyebrow, "And where might I find this Inspiration Manifestation?"

"I-uh, I ate it."

"You what?!"

"It was the only way to get it away from Rarity, it made her go crazy!"

Claude rubbed his chin, "Did it...pass?" His face awkwardly twisted.

Spike frowned, "No. Twilight said she'd help," He listened through the doorway, her book babbling still filled the other room. "She's easily distracted, if you couldn't tell."

He chuckled, and turned attention towards the oven, "Then why are you making food?"

"Well, if enough goes in, it'll have to come out eventually...right?" Spike shot Claude a nervous glace, and Claude shrugged.

"Since the Inspiration Manifestation is currently...in use, I'll merely have to make due," He listen in on Twilight, she began to slow her speech, "I better get back in there. Good luck with-" he nodded at Spike's gut, "that." Claude abruptly left Spike, who shrugged and returned to his meal-watching.

Twilight turned just as Claude returned to his seat. Exhaustion and excitement mixed on her face, "So, what do you think?"

Claude nodded, shining his proud grin, "Quite a wonderful collection you have," he produced a pocket watch from his coat and glaced at it, "My, look at the time. I must get back. You know, last minute maintenance on my puppets before the next show."

"I think Spike's making nachos, you wouldn't stay for those?"

He stood and walked to the door, "I'm afraid not," Opening the door, he tipped his hat, "Good evening, princess." The door slammed, and Twilight raised an eyebrow. He ran through the empty street, wind ruffling his neat facade. Bashing through his front door, horn illuminated, the puppets revived.

Both shared glances, and sat upon the table as Claude paced about the room. "So he ate a book of infinite power," Malcolm pondered, "He probably didn't think of it coming out the other end."

"Bet he still would've eaten it," Mormo noted, "You know what Rarity looks like. Guys'll do a lot of things for a pretty face."

"Including defecating an entire book?"

Mormo shrugged, "Only one thing for sure now."

Claude paused, and looked to Mormo, "What's that?"

"We gotta get the book one way or the other. It's probably pretty damaged as is, any longer it'll be utterly unusable."

"So what, we feed him pound after pound of laxatives?" Malcolm suggested.

"No," he looked to Claude, "Time to get out the amateur surgeon kit." Claude stared at his old friend. Malcolm grew livid, flying around his master in protest. "Do you want infinite power or not?" Mormo flew over to Claude's ear, "Or are you content with being out-shined by stuffed rags while hiding in a tablecloth?"

Author's Note:

Decisions, decisions. Stay weak and hidden, or take action and gain great power? Both will result in permanent consequences.