Chapter 18
Chapter 18
“That’s all for tonight, Tally. You may go.”
The sun had set hours ago, and the guildhouse was empty but for the two earth ponies. Most everypony else had left around sunset at shift’s end, perhaps to enjoy a quiet evening at home, or to partake in a bit of the Pferdian nightlife. The few others had trickled out as the hours wore on, until only two remained.
“Are you sure, Seneschal?” said the Scrivener with some concern in her voice. “I could always wait here with you. It’s no trouble.”
Seneschal Abacus looked up from his pile of ledgers at the young mare. The older pony gave her a smile barely visible in the candlelight as he shook his head. “Please Tally, you have friends, right? A life outside of work?”
The assistant nodded reluctantly.
“Well go live it. Go hit the town. At least then, when the both of us come in exhausted tomorrow, one of us will have had a good time to show for it. Meister’s not paying you enough to keep you here until the wee hours dotting every ‘i’ and crossing every ‘t.’ That’s my job.”
“When you put it like that, it hardly sounds fair at all,” said the mare.
“Bah,” he replied dismissively, “there are plenty of perks to being personal Seneschal to the head of the Trade House and the Plutarch of all Pferdian.”
“But you’ll never get to use any of them if you never take a vacation.”
The Seneschal laughed. “I haven’t taken a day off for nearly ninety years. I wouldn’t even know what to do on a vacation if I did take one. If it keeps you from feeling guilty, though, there’ll be sizable stack of approved cargo manifests for you to file tomorrow when you get in. So go out and party, and then get a good night’s sleep. Don’t you dare get in any earlier than I do tomorrow.”
This time it was Tally’s turn to laugh. “How can I? I don’t even think you go home anymore.”
“One more thing,” the Seneschal said, pressing a button on his desk. “Let me arrange for House security to escort you home. It wouldn’t do to let a young lady like yourself walk the streets alone.”
“Thank you, Seneschal,” said Tally with a smile. Outside the window behind the Seneschal’s desk, the lights of downtown Pferdian called to Tally; the glittering skyscrapers and the bustling streets of the entertainment district. She left his office to gather her things at her own workstation, excited at the prospect of being among them.
She was also relieved to have the escort. Though normal crime was rather rare in Pferdian as compared to other cities, the streets—especially in the business district—were by no means safe.
Competition between the great trade houses of Pferdian was, to put it simply, cutthroat. Long ago, the lines between business, organized crime syndicate and political entity had blurred beyond recognition. The most prosperous merchants were also the local nobility, and all too often they were crime bosses as well. The guilds and trade houses had been the de facto rulers of the city for so long, that traditional governance was judged impractical. As long as the city paid its tithes on time, the higher Equestrian authorities didn’t care who called themselves Governor-Mayor. The office itself, now called the Plutarch, was a commodity to be bought and sold.
Simply being employed by the current ruling house made Tally a target. The local police—the Constabulary—could be counted on only until the sun went down. After that, the private armies and thugs employed by rivaling guilds were the law. And they would do whatever they could get away with to hurt one another’s bottom lines. Fortunately, Tally was a small target, and a few armed guards would make “inconveniencing” her more trouble than she was worth.
By the time she was ready to leave, the Scrivener was almost bouncing with anticipation. If she could get home quickly enough to call her friends, she could be downtown with enough time to actually enjoy herself. She just had to let the Seneschal know she was headed out to meet her escort at the front door.
Her hooffalls echoed loudly in the otherwise empty guildhouse. She reached the office and raised her hoof to knock, but as the stillness settled once again, she thought she heard something new. The young mare pressed her ear to the door.
It was a voice, quiet and muffled. Tally couldn’t hear what it was saying through the thick oak door, but she could hear how Seneschal Abacus reacted to its owner.
“I have to say, I wasn’t expecting you to come yourself,” he said angrily. “If you think I won’t go to Meister with what I’ve found, you’re wrong. In fact, I suggest you skip town right now, if you want to save yourself. Once he finds out what you’ve really been up to, I doubt he’ll show any mercy.”
The voice responded, speaking even more softly. Tally pressed her ear even harder against the door, trying in vain to make out the words.
“You wouldn’t!” she heard the Seneschal say raising his voice. "Why, if you so much as… what is that? No! Ahhh-!” The cry was cut off abruptly, and followed by a loud crash.
“Seneschal!” Tally yelled. She rattled the handle with her hooves, but it was locked.
In the office, she heard hooves tromp across the room, and then the creaking of old hinges.
Behind her in the guildhall, Tally heard the voices of the guards sent for her. “Help!” she said, “come quickly!”
Unable to budge the door’s handle, Tally turned around and bucked at the heavy wood with all her might. The ancient door cracked, and after another buck, it splintered around the lock. Tally burst into the room.
There was virtually no light in the room. The candle on the desk streamed its wispy smoke, just recently blown out, and the overcast moon outside the office’s open window.
She made out a pony-sized shape in the Seneschal’s robes lying on the floor just beside the desk. Tally rushed over, and put her hooves on it. It was cold and stiff to the touch.
“Seneschal, are you alright?” Tally asked. To her relief, the guards had finally reached the office. Whatever had happened, thought the Scrivener, he was safe now.
Out the window, the clouds parted, and moonlight streamed into the room once more. Tally looked down at the shape beneath her and screamed.
It wasn’t Seneschal Abacus at all.
Not anymore.
“Wait for me!” called Fyzzix.
He trotted crisply across the flight deck where they had parked Her Solar Majesty. The Pferdian aerodrome crews could finally begin refueling the ship, now that the Meq-priest had finished the blessings necessary to entrust her to their care. He still cast one last fretful glance over his shoulder before catching up to the others.
“How is the wing treating you, by the way?” Fyzzix asked Hairtrigger.
The other pegasus stretched the appendage out to its full length, and with a few flaps, rose into the air. “Just dandy, I reckon,” he said, landing again. “I don’t rightly know how you did it.”
Fyzzix beamed. “While it wasn’t ultimately my calling, I wouldn’t call my time as a Magosus Biologis a complete waste of time. I certainly never get rusty in the Medicae, tagging along with this bunch.”
“And we appreciate it,” said Mystic. Her leg was also healed; a few surgical scars under her fur were the only indication that it had been broken just days ago.
The five of them headed across the aerodrome to an area reserved for much larger craft than their own. They stopped at one landing pad, one used to accommodate heavy lifting vessels. It was currently empty.
“Where is she?” Roughshod said impatiently.
Caballus shrugged. “She was due to arrive the same time we were. I’m sure she’ll be around any minute now.”
“You still haven’t told me who we’re meeting here,” said Mystic. When she’d pressed Caballus for more details, he’d been evasive.
“You’ll see,” was all he had said.
Roughshod and Fyzzix hadn’t given up much either. Both had remained disdainfully silent on the subject.
They only had to wait a few more minutes—just as Caballus predicted—before the sky over the landing pad was filled with metal. Jet wash whipped at their clothing and hair, and the sound of turbines winding down deafened them. When the troop transport touched down, the ground shook for a moment.
“The Nonpareil,” Fyzzix read off a data-scroll he had gotten from the port authority. “Rouncey-class personnel transport, support vessel in the Heliarchal fleet based at the shrine-township of Ofillia VII.”
The ramp to the boxy craft opened and lowered directly toward the ponies. It touched the flight deck with a loud clang.
Two ranks of ponies marched down the ramp. They were Battle Fillies, resplendent in their sleek, ebony-black power armor. Red cloth fluttered from their suits, inscribed with holy verses and blessings in silver thread. The rows of warrior-nuns came to a sudden halt on either side of Caballus and his team, their lines extending back into the transport. A second later, they stepped in perfect unison to face one another. The white, pointed visors over their faces betrayed nothing but stony, impassive silence.
Between these assembled rows of Battle Fillies, a new armored pony stepped onto the ramp. Her suit was also polished black, but it was bedecked in glittering gold. Strips of parchment boasting her righteousness were pinned to the breastplate by wax seals of purity. A hoof-rainer hung from her croup, its tank sloshing with multicolored fuel.
Darting around behind her was a small, cybernetic pegasus foal, a vat-grown cherub carrying a scroll listing the battle honors of its Order. It recited them over and over in a squealing chatter.
The gilded Battle Filly came to a halt right in front of the Inquisipony. She looked down at him through her visor, a full head taller than the stallion in her armor. A hoof came up and lifted the helmet off her head, revealing a cream coat and a snow-white mane in a bob cut. A small Fleur-de-Lis had been tattooed on her cheek, a cheek which was currently drawn back in a warm smile.
“Caballus!” she said, embracing him. “It’s so good to see you!”
“You too… Sera,” he grunted. He suspected she wasn’t fully aware of how strong of a hug somepony in power armor could give.
She released him. “I can see you’re none the worse for wear, after all these years. How has the Friendquisition been treating you?”
“Quite fine,” Caballus replied, and then looked Sera up and down once more. “But not as well as the Sororitrots has been to you. Last I heard, you were a Palatine in some backwater convent outside of Hippopolis. Now look at you.”
The Battle Filly puffed up her chest. “Standing before you is the Canoness Commander of the Order of Our Martyred Mare at the Ofillia VII shrine-hold.”
“It seems you’ve earned it. You have more scars than I remember.” Indeed, two jagged lines traced across Sera’s neck, and another went from her left eyebrow up into her maneline.
“Oh Caballus,” she said, batting her eyelashes, “you always were such a sweet-talker.”
Mystic saw Caballus’s own grin as he bantered with the Filly of Battle. It was rare that she saw him so… happy. It was a shame his work was so cheerless, she thought. The smile suited him.
Then Sera turned to the Inquisipony’s first companion. “Roughshod, it’s been too long.”
“A matter of opinion,” he muttered with a polite nod. If Sera took offense, she didn’t show it. Instead she moved to the next Throne Agent.
“And Fyzzix, how have you been?”
The Meq-priest put his front hooves together in the Sign of the Cog and bowed. “I continue to receive the blessings of the Lunassiah, Canoness.”
She shook her head in amusement that seemed to Mystic to be somewhat patronizing. “Still spouting your nonsense, I see.”
Hairtrigger was the first to require an introduction. “And you’re an Arbitrotter?” Sera said, after the pleasantries were exchanged. “I like this one already, Caballus. We’re both keepers of the Princess’s laws, after all, be they laws of government or doctrine.”
Finally she came to Mystic. With the way Roughshod and Fyzzix refused to talk about her, Mystic thought, I didn’t expect her to be so nice. But as soon as she saw Mystic, Sera’s attitude changed. She raised an eyebrow. “Caballus, she’s a unicorn?”
The Inquisipony cringed, ever so slightly. “Er… um… Yes. She’s been in my service for many years, now.”
Sera nodded thoughtfully. “Oh. Very well.” She started to turn away, but paused.
“Might I see your brand?” she asked Mystic casually. Out of the corner of her eye, Mystic saw Caballus tense even more.
“M-My… brand?” the green unicorn stuttered.
“Yes,” Sera said, “your Brand of Sanction. The one you received once you completed your magical training.”
Mystic’s heart skipped a beat. “I-I… don’t have one,” she said.
It was almost too quick to follow. The nozzle of Sera’s hoof-rainer was suddenly pressing into Mystic’s nose. Her tone was cold.
“Suffer not the witch to live.”
Stats
Page generated in 0.022 seconds
Total duration
992 users online
2,267,501 hits today, 2,561,572 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
gifsforum.com/images/gif/dis%20gon%20be%20good/grand/this_gon_b_gud_gif.gif
Oh boy...
HI INQUISIPONY STALLIUS YOU ARE THE BEST :D
I'm still leaving you comments on EQD, but this is just a little hello to say I found you!
441717
It actually hadn't occurred to me to link my EqD page to here as well as the google doc. Feel free to leave me comments here, if you prefer, since I like FimFiction's comment system much better than EqD's. I'll even be responding to your last critique here instead. It'll look a little strange to everyone else.
Thanks Present, your watchful eye is always quite welcome. I fear I've been without it for far too long.
Errors are all fixed. It's strange that a few of them were auto-corrected in my Word document, but not before they were copied to the google doc, and then copied here. Oh well.
I try to pick names for everything that has at least some little nod to something or another, either a 40k-style reference to ponies, or a pony-style reference to 40k. "Destrier" is a good example: A passing mention of a ship class is named after a type of medieval war horse.
That Dragonshy reference also goes the other way: Vulkan, before he was Primarch of the Salamanders, slew a giant alien lizard in a volcano in a contest against the Emperor.
The occasional shift in POV is a technique I imitate from my muse, Dan Abnett. Truly the Cadillac of 40k authors.
Shaking? At the confectionatus scene? Really? I suppose I was going for "awe-inspiring," so I guess it worked. And I'm glad my little stabs at wordplay aren't entirely in vain as well.
I was a little worried that the flashback would either be too obvious or not obvious enough. The Stablea Progenium and a lot of the related terms are taken almost directly from the Schola Progenium of Warhammer background. I've only ever encountered it in the events of a story in "Cain's Last Stand," of the Caiaphas Cain HERO OF THE IMPERIUM series. It is a rare and often brief glimpse into peaceful, civilian Imperial society.
Of course Banehoof was an Inquisipony. How else do you become an Inquisipony Lord?
A fan of the Mechanicus, eh? I figured it's probably easier to do the Sign of the Cog as a pony, as they don't have knuckles. But when it comes the the Sign of the Aquila? Probably only pegasi.
I apologize for getting you all worked up only to leave you hanging.
Once I get through my scholarly obligations, I'll be sure to keep chiping away at the next chapter.
443142
>Shaking? At the confectionatus scene?
I get a little overwrought sometimes. :B
And most of what you said went completely over my head. You know I know nothing about Warhammer, right? That's why the names keep impressing me; I have to imagine they're extremely clever takes on the very somber Latin WH terms.
I was already wondering how you would weave Luna into your background story
To make her the Omnassiah is awesome.
Never liked the overzealous Sororitas/Sisters Of Battle in W40k and I see I wont like the pony version either. Keep Mystic alive!!!
443142 Nary does our ever-wise inquisipony know the concept of a short comment.
1732850
Whenever I deign leave a comment, I try to be clear and concise. Unfortunately, I can't seem to manage both, so I usually pick clear.
That particular example was in response to a critique Present left on this story's Equestria Daily page, right around the time I created a page on FiMFiction for it.
These various combat orders seem to be mostly foaming-at-the-mouth lunatics. I wonder how hard it's going to be to pull her off of Mystic?