King Sombra Wants Back Inside His Empire

by naturalbornderpy

Using Lawyers!

From the outside, Discord’s business offices appeared about as small as a cramped closet; yet once inside, it expanded four-hundred times in size. Three entire floors had been dedicated to Discord’s various business ventures—each floor with their own receptionist desk, cafeteria, break room, and scarcely furnished waiting area. So far, Sombra had sat in all three of these waiting areas, doing exactly what the title would suggest.

He absently flicked at a magazine with a thin mare on its cover, an untouched cup of liquid by his side.
The receptionist stopped typing at her typewriter for a moment. “Enjoying your lukewarm cup of water? Care for any salt to go with it?”
Sombra only glared. The receptionist on the third floor was played by Discord, clad in a white pearl necklace, bushy yellow wig, and polka dot dress that made Sombra feel funny in a weird sort of way. From the very first second he’d stepped through the front doors of Discord Incorporated, Sombra had interacted with several types of Discords: receptionists, security personnel, floor managers, janitors, lunch ladies, you name it.
But sadly not the official draconequus himself.
“How much longer will Discord be?” Sombra asked.
The receptionist chewed on the tip of a pencil. “Hmm. Hard to say. He’s had quite the glut of busy meetings this morning—important clients, you know. You ever played with a yoyo before? Earlier today, he had brunch with the pony who invented it. What a bastard that pony is. My sister almost choked on one of those infernal things. I hope he trips in the shower and gets shampoo in his eyes.”
The reception began busily filing her nails. Correction: his claws.
Sighing, Sombra threw his magazine down. “How can you not know when Discord will be in? You are Discord! You’re all Discord!”
She waved a sharp claw at him. “Nuh-uh, Mr. Grumpy Pants. I’m Discord’s receptionist. I only handle his scheduling and mailing concerns. Thankfully, he takes care of all the tricky stuff and leaves the easy stuff to me to tend to.”
“Then what’s your name?” Sombra asked her sharply.
“Excuse me?”
“If you’re not Discord, then what’s your name?”
The receptionist hesitated for a moment. “Well, obviously, it’s… Dis… cord… elia. Discordelia!” She smirked at him greasily. “See, Mr. Smarty Pants? I’m not Discord.”
“And neither am I, buddy,” said—yet another—Discord donning a dark mustache and blue overalls, hauling a bucket and mop around the room. He had a bizarre accent Sombra couldn’t quiet place. “I’m Carloscord. And I sure do like to mop up around here!”
With that said, “Carloscord” did exactly that, mopping under the waiting area’s table and chairs with horrifyingly messy results. While he worked (whistling tunelessly as he did), Sombra crossed his forelegs and fumed. Perhaps consulting with Discord had been a bad idea. Thousands of personalized balloons were one thing, but highly sophisticated legal practicing? Maybe it was all too much to hope for.
Sombra made it one step toward the exit when the door to Discord’s office opened.
“Mr. K. Sombra?” a black suit and tie dressed Discord asked, viewing over his half-moon spectacles. Finally, the real Discord in the building. “Is there a Mr. K. Sombra here?”
Sombra glanced to the left and to the right. He was the only non-Discord entity in the entire building. And just about to leave all these Discords behind, too, he thought sarcastically.
“Planning on leaving us so soon, Sombra?” the real Discord asked.
Sombra raised a brow. “Did you just read my mind?”
Discord giggled brightly. “Of course not! Why would I want to be in that dirty old mind of yours?” He motioned to his office. “Come. Sit. Let’s chat. Has Discordelia offered you any lukewarm water? We have scolding hot, too.”
“Anything cold?”
“Ha! You’re funny. I like that.” Discord gave him a reassuring pat on the back then shoved him inside his office.



“So they stole your diary and released it as a bestselling book?”
Sombra nodded. “They thought I was dead. They thought they could get away with it.”
Behind his opulent desk (and it truly was opulent—being as wide as his office walls would allow and covered from front to back with every miscellaneous workspace object known to ponykind), Discord pulled on his beard as he pondered. He leaned back in his chair, plopping his feet onto the desk. Unlike his business-like suit and tie, he had on pink sandals.
“So they would owe you some serious money, wouldn’t they?” Discord asked, as his eyes expanded greedily. “A lot of money.”
Again, Sombra nodded. “Most likely, but I really don’t know much about the law or how to get them to hoof it over. Think I could ask for the Crystal Empire instead of outright suing them?”
“Hmm. You could. I’m sure you could,” Discord replied evenly. “But, regretfully, I’m almost positive the Crystal Empire is worth far more than whatever earnings they took from you by informing the whole world about your and Star Chaser’s numerous countryside holidays.”
Seated in a stiff visitor’s chair, Sombra’s shoulders slumped. “You read the book, I take it.”
Discord grinned. “Twice, in fact. Made a good read to have while on the toilet; a good ‘what-not-to-do’ tale.” He stood and began pacing behind his desk. “And if there’s one thing I like best, it’s doing a job well done. And if there’s two things I like best, it’s doing a good job while being able to screw ponies around.”
Sombra stared at him deadpan.
“Eh-heh-heh-heh,” Discord chuckled out dryly, clearing his throat. “But not you, of course, Sombra. I mean Shining Armor and Cadence and whoever else! Like that obnoxious baby of theirs Fuzzy Tart.”
“Flurry Heart,” Sombra corrected.
Discord waved a hand. “Whatever. Just be assured that as my company’s second official client—”
Second?” Sombra spat. “That’s it? Two clients? I thought you were a professional!”
Discord gave him a toothy sneer. “But of course we’re professional here! Why, professional’s my middle name!” Under his breath, he added, “Actually, it’s Eugene, but I digress. Want to meet that first satisfied client of ours?”
Angrily, Sombra scrunched up his face. “If it’s another you, I’m leaving.”
Just then another Discord opened the door to the room (about to announce that he was indeed a satisfied customer, most likely), before the real Discord snapped his fingers together and slammed the door on him. The outline of his face had been indented into the wood.
“Is everything a joke to you?” Sombra asked him.
“Not ponies with type two diabetes. That stuff’s serious, bro.”
Sombra sighed. “So if I can’t get my Empire back, then what’s even the point of all this?”
“For money, of course,” Discord said as if addressing a child. “Okay, sure, you won’t get the entire Empire outta this, but you can damn well weaken them! Think they’re making a lot of bits owning that place? I mean, who comes to spend the weekend at the good ol’ Crystal Empire? Cold and miserable weather all year round? Check. Chance of crying-baby-induced-storms? Check. Complete lack of available skiing or snowboarding parks? Check. Abnormal amounts of yellow snow? Check-check-check!”
“Please stop insulting my Empire.”
“Then stop insulting my business practices!” Discord cried, lacing his hands behind his back. “We have a motto here at Discord Incorporated. A rather spirited one, actually: Discord Incorporated Completely Kills!”
Sombra grimaced. “DICK?”
Discord shook his head and held a hand out. “Oh, no thanks. I already have one, actually.”
“That’s not what I—” Sombra began, before he was rudely interrupted.
“Let’s have Ms. Discordelia tell you our company’s second motto.” Discord pressed a fat button on his intercom. “Discordelia? You there, hun? What’s our company’s second motto?”
“Umm…” squeaked the static-filled box. “Discord Incorporated: where we Punish Equine Nincompoops Into the Stratosphere!”
PENIS?” Sombra basically screamed before he realized what he was saying.
Like a disappointed father, Discord shook his head at him. “My, oh my, Sombra. Just what has gotten into you? All these vulgar words out of nowhere. Do I need to call for security to escort you out?” He playfully picked up a thick rotary phone. “Because I will. Don’t think that I won’t! You’ve seen how much I love playing dress-up.”
The door to the office rushed inward and another Discord stuck his head in, dressed in a blue and black cop’s outfit complete with shiny gold badge. “Sir? I heard some commotion a minute ago. Is everything okay in here?”
“Yes, yes, everything is perfectly fine,” the Discord behind the desk replied. “Our client here was just having trouble understanding our company’s many amazing mottos. Either that or he was simply coming onto me. Hard to resist, I know.”
The Discord security guard appeared gob-smacked. “Disliking our mottos, sir? As if! What’s so wrong about a company that thrives on Chaotic Occurrences Culminating in Knee-Slapping Silliness?”
Both Discords fixed their eyes squarely on Sombra. In return, Sombra merely kept his trap shut until the Discord in the doorway strolled away. Then he cut to the chase.
“So will you help me out or not?”
Onto his desk, Discord slapped down a thick stack of forms. “Certainly! Just sign your name on the dotted line and we’ll get started.”
Sombra leaned over the documents. “Shouldn’t I read these over first?”
Again, Discord regarded him as if he were an annoying kid. “Don’t you know reading contracts before signing them is bad luck?” And if that wasn’t enough, he went on to add, “Hey, bud. Don’t you want to take that pesky Shining Armor down a peg? Don’t you want to get back to that glorious Empire of yours? And, hey, did you know that Princess Cadence said you looked pretty darn fit the other day?”
“She did!?” Sombra spat, before signing the contract as fast as his cumbersome hooves would allow.
After it was signed and officially officiated, Discord’s large contract disappeared in a puff of white smoke. Sombra patiently waited for whatever came next, clapping his hooves together expectantly. What came next ended up being laughter. A whole lot of it.
Right in front of him, Discord guffawed and chortled until rivers of tears rolled down his face. He laughed so much, in fact, that he had to clear his desk off in order to lay overtop it while clutching at his non-existent belly. Eventually, he got a cramp in his side and had to stop.
Sombra asked him miserably, “You screwed me over, didn’t you?”
Discord sat up on his desk and wiped away a few more tears. “Yes, Sombra, I’m afraid I did. Although, if you really wanted to know just how badly I screwed you over, I could always go get that spare barrel of mine out of storage to lay you overtop of. Want me to go grab it, friend-o?”
Sombra didn’t think long on that. He politely declined.