Arise, and awaken! · 2:05am Aug 27th, 2019
Prince Blueblood was wearing some sort of blue and red military jacket, something with little golden ropes but was devoid of the medals that Nut was certain should be there. He stood in the middle of the room, tall, proud, commanding, and there were two other ponies present with him, both foals, both unicorns. One was a filly—a rather sickly filly—who’s pelt seemed to be falling out and she had jaundice yellow eyes. The other, a colt, had a cup of what was sure to be military grade coffee. Both of them watched Nut’s every move.
“I was… well, forgive me, I was expecting something else entirely,” said Prince Blueblood. “Greetings. I am Blueblood, as I am sure you know, and these are cohorts for the time being. Miss Piper and Mister Nicker. You’ll have to forgive Mister Nicker’s silence, he was recently garrotted. Nasty business, that. He gives a good stern glare though.”
“Greetings and salutations,” Nut replied. “I am Nut. This is Miss Blossom, my apprentice. Might I inquire as to what you might have been expecting?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Coveralls, perhaps. Something more befitting a repair pony.” Blueblood’s words were as cold as the bare metal walls of the room. “I understand you did a little maintenance work on the airship.”
Unsettled, Nut swallowed once, which made an audible sound. He cast a hard glare into Blueblood’s eyes, but the prince did not turn away. When Nut spoke, he did so in the deadest deadpan he could muster. “Those were unscheduled repairs. I was not acting in any sort of official capacity, and surely, you must know that. I chose biology, and not the life of a repair pony.”
“Oh, can we dispense with the word play?” Blueblood demanded.
“I dispensed with my coveralls,” Nut replied.
“Clever.” Blueblood’s flattery was sincere and he bowed his head. “I was sent to thank you. Without realising it, you saved an untold number of lives.”
“I don’t think the airship held that many.” Nut eyeballed the two foals who sat on the bench, curious as to why they were here, and he heard Tater shuffling her hooves behind him.
The jaundiced filly bounced up from the bench, wobbled for a moment, regained her balance, crossed the cramped room, and then stood before Nut, with her eyes angled up at him. “You’d be wrong.” Her voice was strained, tired, and somewhat weak. “I am Piper Pie, of the Underwatch. There was an undercover agent aboard. They were being sent to Vanhoover, away from Canterlot. There’s some kind of medicine, or a serum, a little something that needs further development. We feared sabotage in Canterlot. Prince Blueblood”—she cast a vicious sidelong glance at the perfectly coiffed stallion—“believed that our best course of action would be a clandestine effort rather than official transport.”
In silence, Nut assembled the situation and put all of the various component pieces together. There were quite a number of alchemy labs and pharmaceutical labs in Vanhoover; it was a city that reeked of science. An airship crash would have destroyed the sample, thus preventing it from reaching its destination. Devious. Alarming. Unsettling. While the rats didn’t know the identity of the agent, perhaps, they’d discovered the ship. Possibly.
It wasn’t too hard to put what few puzzle pieces he had together.
“Prince Blueblood’s judgment was sound,” Nut said to Piper, and his words caused her to frown. “He had no way of knowing. It sounds as though all of Canterlot is compromised. Sure, the citizenry was put at risk, but anonymous transport was still, by far, the best possible option. The sample is safe, is it not? Was the agent harmed?”
“Our agent is fine,” Piper replied, obviously frustrated at this development. “We’ve recovered the sample. It’s very special blood from a very special filly. We want you to deliver it to Vanhoover’s Ministry of Plagues, Pestilences, Diseases, and Magical Maladies. Once you make the delivery, you will receive further instructions.”
“Huh.” Nut looked down at the yellow-eyed filly who stared up at him. “I didn’t hear a please. Or even a request—”
“I wasn’t asking,” Piper spat out, and as she did so, Prince Blueblood chuckled.
The filly had scars, and if Nut had to hazard a guess, he suspected that Piper was younger than Tater Blossom. He saw a crazed, almost maniacal gleam in her eyes, and pain—there was an awful lot of pain to be seen. She was far too young for all of this, which led him to believe there had to be extenuating circumstances.
“What makes the filly so special?” asked Nut. “I feel like I have a right to know, if I am being conscripted.”
“None of your—”
“Her name is Boxcars,” Blueblood said, interrupting Piper. “She has powerful serendipitous magic. Fortune favours every conceivable aspect of her existence. If she becomes infected with something, her innate luck kicks in to counter the disease. We need samples of her blood delivered to Vanhoover.”
“Fine.” Nut nodded. “I can do that.”
“Thank you,” Piper said, her tone softening. “Please, forgive me. I’ve been under a lot of stress.”
“She has.” Blueblood moved forward and stood beside Piper. “Far too much has been asked of her, but she struggles to meet the challenge. Mister Nicker, while technically the head of the newly formed Underwatch, is not a great commander. He is no great leader outside of battle. Miss Pie has taken it upon herself to do what Mister Nicker cannot.”
“Miss Pie, some ponies respect ferocity. Others are annoyed by it. Some cannot be cowed.” Nut lowered his head until he was eye level with the young miss. “Diplomacy is an art, just like swordplay. Learn how to read ponies and then carefully choose how you approach them. Has anypony told you who or what I am?”
Piper bit her lip, gave it a good chew, and then shook her head.
It was almost a relief to see that she was still a filly, and Nut smiled.
“I am a biology student.” He grinned and allowed his charm to flow.
Beside Piper, Prince Blueblood chortled.
It's a shame that only one story tag can be applied to a blog post. Because there's a few stories here. Crank up the hype machine, we're going for a ride.
ah looking forward
Turning up the dial, for what's sure to be a wild ride
It goes to eleven!
Wooooooooooo !!!!!
