//------------------------------// // Day 59: The Braided Tail // Story: Around the World in 81 Days (And Other Problems Caused by Leap Years) // by GaPJaxie //------------------------------// The interior of the airship was tiny, its cargo area barely twenty feet long. Its massive engines shook its frame like an earthquake, the gasbag above hissing and creaking with the strain. The noise was deafening, and as the cabin was far too small to accommodate a substantive heater, the high-altitude air had its way. Frost formed on every surface; gusts of wind that made it into the cabin cut against flesh like knives. None of that mattered. Twilight had conjured a bubble of silence and a powerful warming spell. Spike had wrapped a blanket around them both. They were snuggled together, safe and comfortable in their own little world, and they were reading. For once, it was Spike who’d suggested the subject matter. He’d bought a book of Saddle Arabian faerie tales, translated into modern Equestrian. “Once upon a time,” Spike read, speaking slowly, “there was a small kingdom being menaced by its more powerful neighbor. The armies of the greater kingdom were said to be so vast they stretched from one side of the horizon to the other, and where they marched, rivers were drained dry by their thirst. All who they conquered they enslaved, and the king of the smaller kingdom feared for his ponies. In his desperation, he called upon all the unicorn sages of his realm for a solution, and in their own desperation and in their loyalty to him, they drew from the tomes of forbidden lore that they had so long kept safe from the world. In the king’s throne room, they carved a circle of stone and filled the circle with oil and set it alight. Into the circle of flames they chanted to call upon one whose soul was fire, cruelest of spirits, the princess of all djinn, whose name turned the lungs of mortals who spoke it to ash. One by one, the sages spoke her name, and each burned from the inside out, until the last sage fell, and the king was alone in his throne room. Long he waited there, until the sun set and fires died down and all was darkness. It was only then, in the faintest starlight, that he saw something dread and terrible take shape in the circle. He quavered with fear and could not speak, and though the sages had warned him he would face the djinn alone, he called for his servants. The servants came when they were called, bearing torches to cast back the darkness. But when light returned to the room, the terrible shape was gone. Instead, a mare stood in the circle. She was of plain appearance and manner, and though surrounded by the king’s resplendent hall, she dressed herself only in the saddle cloth of an ironmonger, a single iron earring her only finery. And she waited for the king to speak. ‘Thou art the princess of all djinn?’ the king asked, and the mare said that it was so. ‘Why do you clothe yourself thus?’ ‘For my soul is fire, O mortal king, and hast thou seen fire conjure steel from the ether? Nay. Though fire may turn iron to steel, the iron is consumed for the bargain, never to return. Such is my nature, and the nature of the wishes I may grant. Ask of me that a mare should love thee, and she will adore thee with devotion and loyalty, but closed is the path of the mare thou mightest otherwise have wed. Ask of me strength, and all the world shall be borne upon thy back, but hidden are the roads a weaker stallion might have walked.’ The king did not know what to make of this, and so spoke: ‘I wish for victory in the war.’ The princess of djinn bowed her head before him and said that it could be done. Yet before she called upon her powers, she spoke once more: ‘Art thou sure,’ she asked, ‘thou wouldst not rather have peace instead?’ The king said that he did not think such a thing was possible, for it was well known that his enemies’ cruelty was exceeded only by their greed. ‘It is for this fault that peace is possible,’ the djinn said, ‘for it is known that to enslave a city, one must have three ponies for every ten one seeks to enslave, and that three of the ponies taken will die in the process, and two more will be pegasi, and escape, and harass the countryside. Slavery devours silver like rust devours iron, and a greedy pony does not take at great cost what he may have cheaply.  Pledge to thy betters two-hundred-thousand taels of silver a year for thy ponies’ freedom, and by my power, I foresee they will honor their word.’ The king’s temper rose. ‘Such a tax would impoverish the realm to the last serf!’ ‘This is so,’ said the djinn, ‘but it can be done. And so peace can be thine.’ The king refused, and so the djinn said, ‘There are other roads by which thou mightest gain peace.’ And the king demanded to hear them. ‘Thou mightest bend thine knees, as thy magic hath compelled me to bend mine,’ the djinn said, ‘swear thy kingdom and thine armies to thy better’s cause, and marry thy daughter to their grandson, and I foresee they will rule thine ponies as honorable vassals, and protect them from predation.’ The king’s temper flared brighter, and a dark mood surrounded him. ‘Such surrender would see my ponies vassals of an empire. We would never again be free.’ ‘This is so,’ said the djinn, ‘but it can be done. And so peace can be thine.’ ‘I do not want peace,’ said the king. ‘I wish, as I have wished, for victory in the war.’ ‘Then victory shall be thine,’ the djinn said. ‘Thy wish is granted.’ And so the djinn cursed the king, and his brothers, and his vassals, and every stallion in his realm, that if they were not victorious in the war, their sisters and their wives and their daughters would burn from the inside out, as the sages had burned. And every stallion in the realm knew they were so cursed, and knew what would befall them if victory was not theirs. It is said in the wise writings of sages that when soldiers abandon their cookpots, slaughter their slaves, and burn the provisions they cannot carry for they know they shall never again need them, that an army is prepared to fight to the death. And when the invading army appeared on the horizon, the soldiers of the weaker kingdom did as such, and painted their faces with the blood of cowards. Battle was joined, and each stallion fought like a pony possessed. No threat nor wound could deter them, and with each defender that fell, the invaders gained no more profit than a howl of rage that chilled the bones of the living. The attackers’ ranks faltered, and in time broke, and the battle turned. Those who had thought to conquer found themselves sheep set upon by starving wolves, and not one survived. And yet, all was not done, for the stallions of the weaker kingdom were given to doubt. The army was destroyed, but could the foe not raise another? What was victory, with all that was precious on the line? And the madness did not abate, but grew into a foul beast of smoke and flame, more dread than any dragon, and upon the stronger kingdom marched the army. Each city in turn was struck, and in each, the entire population was put to slaughter, to the last filly and colt. And thus in time it came to pass that the king stood in what was once the capital of his foe. The whole of the city burned, and the sky was naught but smoke and flame. Monsters that were once ponies shrieked and snarled around him, each a rabid dog straining at its chain. Up to his ankles ran rivers of blood. ‘Am I dead?’ he asked. ‘Is this the underworld?’ And the princess of all djinn appeared by his side, and told him that he yet lived. ‘No pony will ever forget your wickedness,’ he told her, tears streaming from his eyes as a young filly pulled from its mother. ‘I see your true heart, monster. Let a thousand years pass, and all of Saddle Arabia will tell tales of the evil of the djinn. Never again will you be summoned.’ ‘Ponies may tell what tales they will,’ the djinn said, her voice mocking him with every word, ‘but thou knowest the truth, O mortal king. This was thy wish.’ Bile rose in the king’s throat. ‘I did not want this.’ But the princess of all djinn only sneered. ‘Nor do farmers want to till their fields, but we cannot eat their wants in lieu of grain. I have offered thee no deception, oh mortal king. Thou wast warned at the start there would be a price, for I cannot conjure steel, nor victory, nor peace from the ether. Thou stoodst before my altar, wrapped in my grace, and three times I sought to turn thee from this path. Freedom was thine for silver, for pride, for your ponies’ daughters, and three times thou refusedest me, and now the daughters of a great nation are all slain, and their brothers beside them.’ Rage rose in the king’s eyes. ‘Do not presume to tell me my own soul, monster.’ ‘Then wish of me once again,’ said the djinn, ‘and by my power, I shall turn back the hands of time. Thou shalt be the starving king of an impoverished nation. Or perhaps a servant, watching thy daughter bear thy conquerors’ children. Or perhaps thy sages shall find nothing of me in their books, and we shall never meet, and thy kingdom will be enslaved, and thou wilt die in thy throne room, and all this will be undone. Wish of me, and it shall be so.’ The king looked at the fire and blood around him and said nothing. ‘Hear me, O mortal king, and know my words to be true. That while thou mayest have wanted to avert this, thou didst not want it enough. All is fire, and fire consumes, and to that hunger must one be sacrificed that another may be warmed. This is life, and the warmth that I put in the blood of the living, and the choices that make them alive. Thou hast made thy choice, and by thy choice, thou livest, with thy silver, and thy pride, and thy daughter. May they bring thee joy.’ The princess of all djinn then vanished, and the king did not see her again.” The last page of the story had historical notes on the story’s origin, as well as an illustration depicting what a Saddle Arabian king from that era might have looked like. Spike fiddled with the page with a claw as Twilight finished reading the annotations. “Wow,” Twilight said, drawing in a hissing breath through her teeth and letting it out as a sigh. “That was kinda dark. Aren’t there any happier stories in this book?” “A few,” Spike shrugged. “I asked if we could read this specific story for a reason though.” “Oh?” Twilight turned to look at him. “Is it important for some reason? Historically or something?” “It doesn’t strike you as a little odd?” Spike asked. Twilight tilted an ear, and her head along with it. “Like, kind of remarkably, even precisely similar to the situation we’re in? Like maybe in a history repeats itself kind of way?” “I don’t follow.” “Come on, Twilight,” Spike sat up, waving a claw through the air. “Two countries are involved in an old conflict. A seemingly unremarkable craftspony selling metal and metal-based products shows up and offers them whatever they want in the world. And it seems like a great deal, but when they take it, everything spirals out of control, and what started as a small, manageable conflict blows up into something way worse.” Twilight stared at him. Spike let out a sharp breath. “None of that strikes you as familiar?” “So…” She paused. “In this metaphor, I’m like, what? The djinn trying to warn the king?” “No, Twilight!” He lifted his claws to his face. “It’s not a metaphor. It’s literally happening again. The two warring countries are Aero-Lipizzia and Orlovia, or really, any of the countries we’ve visited. The brewing war is the brewing war. The curse is artillery, or dreadnoughts, or any of the other promises that the losers’ cities will be destroyed. And the djinn is The International Guild of Artificers, Tinkers, Mechanists, and Engineers, i.e. the iron-based organization that sells weapons to the highest bidder. I mean, come on. The djinn appears as an ironmonger, which I remind you is another way of saying ‘weapons dealer.’” “Eeeeh.” Twilight tilted her head back and forth. “I guess. I think you’re kind of projecting, though. The story keeps things simple by just saying the king’s enemies are so big and so powerful and so evil that he’s backed into a corner. But in real life, things are more complicated than that. There are always third options which—” “No, Twilight. No.” Spike quickly thumbed through the book to an earlier page. “You’re not getting it. Like, look at this story.” He pointed. “This is the story of King Al-Haifa. King of the Saddle Arabian golden age. Specifically it’s the story of how he defied a djinn’s wishes by refusing to renounce Celestia, and so she cursed him that his pride would turn to poison in his veins. And I ran into an artificer earlier who said that the Guild gave Saddle Arabia the chance to reject the old order, but they refused, and so their pride was going to turn to poison in their veins.” “So he was quoting the story.” “No, he wasn’t!” Spike’s voice rose, and the frustration in his tone rose with it. “This book has two hundred Saddle Arabian stories about the djinn, and they all have the same themes. Djinn love appearing as innocuous merchants, they hate alicorns and hurt them by hurting the ponies they love, and they like cursing people and inciting wars. Seems like a pretty good fit to me.” “Spike.” Twilight gave a little laugh and stroked down his spines with her hoof. “You know that djinn aren’t real, right?” He hesitated. His eyes glancing between Twilight and the page. “They might be real. Nopony thought Nightmare Moon was real before you.” “That is true,” Twilight said, but she gently shook her head. “But this time, I’ve asked Celestia directly. All the Saddle Arabian fables she’s allegedly a main character in never happened, including all the ones about evil fire spirits.” “But that doesn’t prove they don’t exist,” he insisted, lifting his hands into the air as though to grasp some unseen object in front of him. “It could just mean that Celestia never actually encountered any. If they’re not real, how do you explain all these stories about them?” “Because they’re good reading, Spike.” She gently gestured at the half-open book of tales. “Djinn are fictional monsters used as a metaphor for evil so that the writer can show a character’s inner monologue on the outside. Sometimes they represent greed, or hate, or dark magic, but they’re just an allegory. King Al-Haifa did exist, but he wasn’t cursed by an evil spirit. He was poisoned by his son who wanted to seize the throne.” After a moment’s thought, she reached out again and pulled him into a hug. “I know this has been hard on you. And I totally understand wishing that everything terrible happening in the world was being caused by an evil spirit, something the girls and I could get together and go turn to stone with the Elements of Harmony like the old days. But I promise, things will work out. Cadence is going to stay in the Water Palace, and once she turns them around—” Spike pushed Twilight away, hard enough she had to let go. She frowned intensely, but he kept his hand up, holding her at arm’s length. “Twilight,” he said, “Cadence is not going to turn the Empire around.” “Oh, come on.” She smiled. “Did you read the Deputy Minister’s speech?” “Yeah.” Spike nodded, his brow furrowed and his eyes intense. “Did you? Because when you strip out all the fluffy junk about eternal friendship and love and respect for Equestria’s wishes, do you know what he actually said? There were only two parts of actual policy in that speech: building twenty new dreadnaughts, and drafting half a million soldiers. He’s made up his mind, he’s just waiting for an excuse so he doesn’t look like the aggressor.” “Cadence says she has a lot of influence with the ponies and the legislature. She thinks she could still turn it around.” “Then Cadence is wrong, Twilight!” His voice rose to a shout, the sound reverberating inside their little bubble. “You just… you get these notions in your head,” he shouted, gesturing wildly. “You always have! Curses don’t exist, you have to send in a friendship letter every week, the world’s ending next Tuesday morning, the train schedules are always accurate, all the world’s countries get along great, omens aren’t real, Cadence is going to turn this around, and djinn don’t exist! And you’re always so sure you're right, and you won’t let anypony talk you out of it. And…” His voice grew more and more strained the longer he spoke, until what had started as a furious rant had reduced itself to a squeak. His voice wavered up and down and finally cracked as he struggled for breath. “What do you think’s going to happen, Twilight? We’ve only got two countries left. Kiria isn’t an aggressor, and the Guild owns half of Tawantinsuyu. What do you imagine you’re going to say in those countries that will somehow turn this around?” Twilight let out a little breath, her ears folding back to the halfway point. She lifted a hoof to rest it over Spike’s hand, offering what comfort she could as he kept the two of them apart. “I’ll say whatever I can, Spike,” she said softly, “and I’ll hope for the best. And yeah, maybe… maybe it won’t work out.” Her own voice strained a little, and she sniffled. “But you know, it is just like in your story. The djinn warned the king, and I’m going to warn them. But if somepony is determined to be evil, you can’t force them to think the same way as you. You just—” Spike ripped his hand out of her embrace. Twilight’s eyes went wide. “No. No. No.” Smoke curled from his nose even as his eyes started to water. “That’s not what the story is about. Not at all. The point is that wanting something doesn’t mean anything if you aren’t prepared to make sacrifices to get it. So you know who you are? You know who you are in this story?” His tone turned nasty, and his claws balled into fists. “You’re the king! Because something is getting sacrificed at the end of this story, and you’re the one who gets to pick what it is. You had the option to sacrifice your neutrality, the option to sacrifice your reputation, and the option to sacrifice your morals, and you said no to all three. So instead, we’re sacrificing a couple countries. Instead, we’re going to have a war, Twilight! And wanting it to end doesn’t mean a thing if you aren’t willing to actually stop it!” “Woah, woah.” Twilight lifted a hoof as though to ward off a blow. “Spike, calm down. I know you’re upset, but when did any of that happen?” “In Saddle Arabia, you refused to take sides with Celestia’s homeland over a country full of necromancers. I bet if I was Princess Silver Dove, I’d be a little worried about the prospect of fighting an alicorn. But you made it pretty clear you weren’t going to stand in her way!” His hands shot up, spreading out to either side. “Then, in Zaniskar, you had the option to guide the actions of a major country by playing along with them, but you turned that down too. Then, finally, you had the option to save Zaniskar and Saddle Arabia by fighting the most evil First Citizen to ever get elected, and you couldn’t even do that!” Twilight’s face fell. Her tail sunk between her legs. “You said… uh. You said you thought I did the right thing by not fighting him.” “I was lying to make you feel better! Of course you should have fought him. You should have snapped his neck like a twig!” Spike squeezed his eyes shut, and tears rolled down his face. He pulled his legs up and wrapped his arms around them, burying his face in his knees. “I love you, Twilight. I love you so much and I want you to be happy, but it’s all falling apart and I need you to understand that. You’re the only one who can fix it.” Twilight reached out to Spike to hug him, her leg halfway around his shoulders. Then she paused, and retracted her hoof. Her ears folded tight against her skull, and she looked down to the deck. It took her a moment to find words. “I’m sorry, Spike,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry for everything. I’m sorry I brought you on this trip. I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you. I can see how much strain you’re under. The stress of everything that’s happened. But I also know that what I’m hearing is just the stress talking. The Spike I know is a wonderful person who would never say that murder is the answer.” “The ship we were going to take to Kiria was part of the merchant marine,” Spike said, sniffling as he forced the words out. “It got activated and wasn’t available for us. The next fastest ship would have slowed us down by two weeks. This was the only airship that could get us into Kiria ahead of schedule. And the only way to get it on such short notice was to spend sixteen thousand bits bribing a bunch of customs clerks to get it reassigned.” “Spike! Where did you even get…” Twilight pulled her head back. “Bribing a public official is a crime, Spike!” “Of course it’s a crime,” he sneered, looking off into the corner. “So is writing checks for Equestria without the government’s permission. So is paying off a driver to use their Guild car for personal use. So is pretending you’re somepony you’re not to get information on train schedules. So is a quartermaster using military cargo space to store his personal provisions, but I didn’t see you complaining when the navies we’ve been traveling with somehow always found what you needed.” She stared at him, mouth agape, eyes wide. Her breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t speak. “So here we are,” he snapped. “You got what you wished for. We’re making it around the world in eighty-one days. And now you’re going to shout, ‘But that’s not what I wanted,’ and I’m going to say just what I’m going to say. Just give the word! The pilot will turn us around, and we can go back to being weeks behind schedule. If that’s true, and this really isn’t what you want, give it back.” “Spike…” Twilight’s eyes filled with water, her voice shaking in her throat. “What happened to you? Why are you doing this?” “I don’t know.” He looked at the floor. The walls. The ceiling. Anywhere but Twilight. “I’m a dragon, remember? Creature of fire. And you said I was supposed to look around and see what really fit me. And I did. And maybe I have more in common with the bad guys in this story than I thought.” Twilight let out a single breath. Squeezed her eyes shut. “That’s not true, Spike. And I know you’re hurting and I know that when ponies are hurting sometimes they need to lash out. And I know that’s just part of how these things go. But you’ll have time. And you can get over it. And heal and… and everything will be okay. Everything will be fine.” She snuffled, rubbing at her eyes. “Here. Here. Let’s just…” She tried to put the book away, but her horn flickered, and her concentration broke. The sound bubble vanished and the warmth with it, the roar of the engines and the lashing cold rushing in. Spike grabbed the blanket before it could blow away and pulled it tight around him and Twilight, a little puff of his fire breath keeping them warm. Twilight told him he was a good little brother. She told him she loved him. But she didn’t tell the pilot to turn around.