Fancy Pants took in the sight of his new office.
To say it was well-equipped would not do it justice.
Star-Swirl the Bearded once occupied the room and though he’d used his own workshop to practice the spells and incantations he was most famous for, a great deal of his old work adorned the walls and desks.
This was his observatory.
A great globe was fitted into the wall, rotatable through hoof or magic. Upon closer inspection, the globe was actively pinpointing events and individuals across the known world. The fire rescue campaigns in Bittsburgh, the civil war in Shajarat, anti-war protests in Trotterdam, Bayjing’s first female Secretary of State. All of the images lit up across their area.
Star-Swirl always liked to be kept informed.
Hopefully, were the day of Star-Swirl’s fabled return to arrive sooner rather than later, he wouldn’t take the fact that somepony else was using is office and touching his things too poorly. The old wizard had never enjoyed the political aspects of his career.
The gentlecolt walked in, still on his cane, and breathed in deep.
The awe and wonder of standing there was so solid, one could taste it on the tongue.
“I didn’t know Star-Swirl long...but I know he made good use of his observatory...and I know you will too”
Fancy Pants wasn’t all that surprised to see Princess Celestia appearing behind her.
“I fear I’ll have to spend a considerable amount of my term working out exactly what all these nick-nacks, doo-dads and what-nots are meant to do” he said with bewilderment.
“You don’t have a ‘term’ anymore, Fancy. Your time in office ends whenever you please, you may serve for life if you so wish and the title can be hereditary with approval from myself and your fellow councillors”
Fancy sighed.
“All this for getting cut open a little?”
“You’ve done more than you know...and you may have more work on your hooves as a result of it” Celestia took a few paces and stood beside him “The doctors have been examining your injuries. Only some of them match those sustained by your parents. Either this torturer intended to make your death quick, unlikely, or...”
“There was more than one...” Fancy bowed his head, his face blank.
“Do you know...” he said softly “I have no bally clue how I’m keeping so calm. In the middle of my most important point in both my career and love-life, the pony who murdered my parents in cold blood appears from out of nowhere and nearly does the same to me. Then, my most prominent political nemesis is revealed to have been behind it and threatened various friends and mentors to keep their mouths shut...for fourteen years. I should be enraged, traumatised...possibly fallen completely off the edge...yet everything feels so...numb. Fourteen years ago, it happened. Before yesterday, it was all just a painful memory that became more and more...fanciful...with every passing moment. I never imagined it could all become so...real”
“There’s more to it, I fear” Celestia said, placing a gilded hoof over his shoulder “We found that powder he used around your horn...this is where it gets very bleak”
“The powder. I’d almost forgotten. What was that?”
Celestia grimaced, stepped slowly over to the globe and turned it to a very prominent yet so rarely mentioned part of Equestria.
“The Crystal Empire” Fancy Pants murmured, his eyes wide “You mean...”
The alicorn gave a grave summation.
“Ages past, it was the vile King Sombra’s pleasure to create and warp magic crystals to suit his own evil purposes, countering their formerly benign properties through dark magic inconceivable. One of his favourites was Cruciamite, known to some as Torturer’s Treasure. Proximity with these crystals caused the victim to immediately lose their powers over magic, flight or equilibrium as their minds became infested with visions of their worst fears”
“That...that’s right” Fancy found himself a seat “It...It was like being trapped in a nightmare only...only my own nightmares hardly seem close to comparison! My parents, my household, Fleur...they were screaming out to me”
“Exactly. Sombra would have caves full of the dreadful stones where he would often throw ponies he took particular issue with” She shook her head “Exposure to one crystal over an hour was capable of turning a pony mad with fear and despair. Locked in a room full of them over days and days does not bear thinking about”
“But it was powder, how...”
“You see, Fancy Pants, these crystals were artificial, mutated, imperfect. Grown from the empire, they would spread across whole regions but removed from their usual cultivation sites and taken far from the empire, these crystals lost their powers. It was discovered that powdering the crystals, whilst still in the empire, retained their effects but much weaker. The effect on ponies, body and mind, would only be temporary. Enough to incapacitate or torture somepony but not enough to fully break them”
“But...if those crystals were tied to King Sombra then...” Fancy Pants took a closer look at the empire on the globe.
“They must have been extinct for centuries!”
“Exactly” Celestia said grimly “Yet our doctors have no doubt that this powder came from Cruciamite crystals and that’s not all. Carcassonne swears blindly one of the mercenaries had access to these in the form of anti-magic bombs. This powder was also found in a small puncture wound on Pokey Pierce, close to his forehead. A compact bullet, not enough to pierce the skull but enough to-”
“Interrupt his magic” Fancy Pants realised “Causing the accident. And...Dear Paradise and Tartarus! The day my parents died, I was in hospital after my magic was interrupted. I was practicing in the gardens, felt a sudden pain to my temples and lost control! He did it! Whoever killed my parents caused the accident that kept me out the way!”
His face paled and his breath grew drawn and haggard.
“What...what sort of creature goes to those lengths?! And who has those weapons and resources in the first place?”
The Princess of Equestria’s sun closed her eyes a moments and hung her head.
“An old enemy of mine...from long ago...very long ago”
*
The outskirts of Llamalland weren’t such a perilous trek as the main part of it. Mostly mountainous and volcanic, the llamas and those related to llamas were the only creatures who knew how to make a living in the harsh lands of Western Tapiri.
The outskirts led to the great plateau between the mountains and the forests. Further in were the llama villages, accustomed to the most sweltering summers and the most blistering winters.
Balisong, a native of the Fillypines, didn’t feel particularly at home in such conditions. Swaddled in climber’s gear, he made her way over hill and valley to a ridge where a flare had been fired in reply to her own.
Pausing to catch her breath, the winds easing further from the snowy passes behind her, she grew aware of the sound of somepony singing in an elegant, harmonious ode.
“I have been ready at your hoof
To grant whatever you would crave
I have both wagered land and youth
For to take your love to my grave”
Rolling her eyes and bracing herself, she reached the top of the ridge and there she found him.
“Greensleeves was all my joy
Greensleeves was my delight”
Dancing with grace around a campfire was a tall, gaunt pegasus, sable-black-coated with an ivory-white face and underbelly, the tips of his hooves speckled grey, every dry strand of his long maroon mane billowed in the wind.
“Greensleeves was my heart of gold
And who but my Lady Greensleeves”
At first glance, he could have been mistaken for a graceful, cultured soul and he very much was.
But if one supposed he was harmless there were two tell-tale signs that demonstrated otherwise.
First were his eyes. Near devoid of colour, his dull, pale mint-green pupils sat in the centre of his cold, sunken eyes. Balisong had never recalled a moment when he’d seen him blink.
Second, rather more noticeable, was the sight of his meal.
It was definitely a creature that had once walked on four hooves and spoken clearly. Now it was a flayed corpse, its mouth open in a silent scream, impaled through a long length of wood as a makeshift spit, its eye sockets charred and empty, the flayed flesh bright red and blackened around the edges, smoking and smouldering as its cook sprinkled oils and spices over it with great care.
As Balisong approached, the pegasus halted, his back to her, his black, bedraggled wings spread out in alarm.
“Who’s there?” he cried “Stand and unfold yourself!”
The mare groaned and answered.
“It’s me, Bali. Cascadius sent me”
The pegasus spun round and gave her a grin that would have looked friendly on somepony who didn’t eat his own kind.
“Dear, sweet Balisong, you come most carefully upon your hour”
“Been a long time coming, ya’ old fruit-loop” She offered a hoof which she shook gratefully and kissed.
“To me, fair friend, you can never be old. For as you were when first your eye I eyed, such seems your beauty still”
Balisong pursed her lips and gave the pegasus an unimpressed glance.
“You know the iffy thing ‘bout Shaking-Spear?” she said “No matter what ya’ spouting it can always come out like some posy, smart-flank way of insulting somepony”
“Such was the stallion’s unparalleled wit, sweet sister-in-forelegs. Please sit, lunch is nearly ready”
“Look’s like time’s been right proper to ya’...Corax”
Corax went by many names in his line of work. The Cook. The Corpse-Eater. The Crow of the Fields. The Bloody Bard. The Black and White Butcher. But Cascadius and his band were among the only ponies or indeed creatures across the Known World who’d ever call Corax ‘friend’.
And even then, that was pushing it as far as Balisong was concerned.
She had no love for the stallion’s habits and very little faith in what little remnants of his sanity he had left.
Nonetheless, she knew he wasn’t without many unique talents, battle-wise in particular.
Sitting down, she noticed the pegasus had been wounded recently. A large gash just beside his right ear was quite prominent.
Though in their line of work, these things were hardly unexpected.
“Nice song there by the way” she muttered off-hoofedly.
“Ah, well...If music be the food of love-”
“Play on. I have heard that one. I’m not totally uncultured” she pointed to the meat on the campfire “Llama?”
“Vicuña” he corrected, patting his meagre stomach “I’m eating light”
It was odd. Corax was known to instinctively feed on the corpses of his victims constantly yet he was thin as a pole and nothing seemed to change that. Pegasi were known for their fast metabolism but this was something nopony Balisong knew could put their hoof on.
Some believed that was how he’d found his habit.
Corax wouldn’t speak of his background outside of cryptic riddles but as far as they’d found out, he’d had been separated from his family as a foal during a war of sorts and imprisoned somewhere in the Badlands, left to starve to death unless he cooperated with his captors. He escaped when he grew so thin that he slid through the bars of his cage and proceeded to break his fast upon his own captors, some of which he left alive for months, just so he could fatten them.
His own cutie mark was a pony on the spit, looking quite similar to the unfortunate vicuña.
“Didn’t put up much of a fight, eh?” she scoffed.
“By no means. I am an expert hunter. She didn’t see me. She didn’t hear me” He spun his trusty longbow round his foreleg “A clean kill. I observed her for hours and chose her for my meal once I was certain she was not sick or mad”
With a thin knife and a small earthenware plate, he sliced off a sliver of meat from the carcass, speared it with the knife and popped it in his mouth with the manners of a finishing-school filly, gently patting his lips with a napkin in his coat-pocket.
Yet Balisong could not ignore the fact he was eating a living, breathing creature, an intelligent one at that and that earned Corax a look of disgust.
He paid no mind to it as he pursed his lips in evaluation.
“Hmm, a pinch more saffron, I think, or perhaps two and...more honey over this side” His hoof dipped in a pot of bright yellow powder and sprinkled it over the roasting beast then glazed it with a few spoonfuls from a jar of honey. Tasting another sliver, he nodded and craned down, cutting several hefty chunks out of the belly, layers of meat, fat and crackling loading up his plate. As he turned back to his guest, he produced two large pots, one filled with a thick onion and bell pepper relish, the other with a tossed salad of lettuce, cucumber, cherry tomatoes, avocado, peas, corn and a few tiny roast potatoes thrown in.
“Please indulge yourself with the lion’s share” he said, spooning the relish onto his meat “The needs of your stomach require meeting the spoils of my hunt will not, it appears, sate. I always prepare for a guest”
“Aw, aren’t you just a sweetheart” Balisong chuckled, honestly unsure of whether she was being sarcastic or not.
A guttural howl came from below the ridge. Balisong leapt to her hooves, reaching for her glaive but Corax simply raised a hoof.
Three hideous creatures, grey-skinned, withered, hairless and built like apes crawled across the rocks and approached the pegasus. Clutched in their hands or slung over their shoulders were a collection of creatures, a small deer, a fox, two monkeys, four grebes, a chinchilla, a couple of frogs and a young tapir. All of them dead, their throats torn out.
Corax smiled at them in a manner resembling genuine affection.
“Good fellows, indeed good friends” he mused “Clean them and ready them to eat on the road and...” He pointed to the meat on the fire “You’ll have a whole leg all to yourselves. Cut off at the rump, all crisp and juicy. Would you like that?”
The ghouls nodded, emitting a series of hoarse grunts and chatters before crawling over out of sight and setting about skinning their quarry with quite stunning precision.
Balisong watched with concern.
“So you found the horn then?”
Grinning with his colourless lips, Corax produced an ancient hollowed-out great goat’s horn adorned with silver, a great screaming maw sculpted into the head.
“The Headstone Horn. A fine prize from a peculiar priest in Trotsylvania. I gave him a warm home in return” He patted his stomach “An even trade. With it, the restless dead from ages past and worlds apart are mine to command”
“I thought ghouls obeyed the horn’s master without question” Balisong said, munching on the salad with enthusiasm. Corax, despite his practices, was an all-round culinary artist and his dishes were delicious. He often cooked for his fellow mercenaries in the field.
“Oh they do. But a dog that is well-fed and petted from time to time will remain loyal, with or without the leash. Should I ever be deprived or fleeced of so fine a gift...”
“Prepare for every possibility” Balisong chuckled, impressed “The boss has been rubbing off on you”
“Oh to be sure. So do indulge my pining pries, good Balisong” He leaned towards her, smiling like an excited colt.
“What would Master Cascadius wish of his most faithful crow?”
*
Lady Cadence paced along the corridors of the royal palace anxiously, trying hard to recall events as they were.
She had seen the mask, the knife, the photo and the note in her room, she was certain.
When she asked Fleur about the attack yesterday, she’d mentioned the gas mask Fancy’s torturer had worn, black and grey with red goggles.
Whoever had done those horrible things to Fancy Pants and his parents had found a way into Twilight Sparkle’s bedroom.
Cadence could barely think about without breaking down.
He was in her room!
Anything could have happened. She had operated on Fancy Pants. She had seen, first-hoof, what that sadistic creature had done.
The thought of him doing the same to-
She covered her mouth with one hoof, either to stop herself screaming or vomiting, she wasn’t exactly sure.
She couldn’t let that happen.
She wouldn’t.
Bracing herself and praying Princess Celestia would forgive her if she ever found out, she entered the great Canterlot library, gazed upwards and spread her wings.
The library had quite an ingenious method of protecting the restricted area. The area itself was several layers above everywhere the stepladders and stairs reached but blocked by a barrier that could only be passed by magic-users. Pegasi couldn’t pass that barrier and earth ponies and unicorns couldn’t reach it. Alicorns however, could accomplish both.
Cadence had lived all her life as an alicorn, at least as far as she could remember. It was time to put her capabilities to good use.
Flying through the barrier, she found her way to the restricted area where great ancient tomes of wisdom and knowledge, written by Equestria’s most famous or most secret individuals. Books that she knew Twilight Sparkle would give all she owned for a read-through.
It was conveniently in alphabetical order. Mundane wasn’t always so dull in practice.
Finding the right book, a gargantuan tome fit to bursting with pages, she withdrew it from the shelf with great effort and placed it on a wooden outcrop that served as a table.
She hoped it wouldn’t break under the book’s weight.
She noticed an enchantment in the back of the book. Like some of the most prominent works in the library, it was still being written as present became the past and future became the present. Books like these were very rare and immeasurably invaluable.
Setting it down, he took a deep breath, hoping she wouldn’t choke on the dust, and began to read, starting with the title.
‘A Compendium of Sightings of the Time Turner, Doctor Whooves’
*
Blue Murder never liked it when ponies who knocked on the door instead of pressing the doorbell.
It meant either one; they had a particular aversion to musical alarm systems, or two; much more common, her old life had come back to haunt her.
She rarely got time to herself as it was.
And even less time for Tungsten.
Before she could put abandon the dishes in the basin, her precarious little son had already answered the door.
“Hey, Uncle Shadow!”
Blue Murder hung her head.
It was number two.
She heard the enigmatic batpony’s voice mixed with her son’s.
“Hello little Tungsten, you don’t want to be so loud now. You’ll disturb the neighbours”
A lie of course. She knew Shadowplay couldn’t give two hoots to the concern of any neighbours. He wanted Tungsten to keep quiet for secrecy’s sake. Not that anydonkey on the street spoke Equestrian. Blue Murder could only speak a few words of Onagerian but fortunately her co-workers could translate and most of the time all she needed to say to those who didn’t was ‘talk’. The translators would do the rest.
“Is your mother home?”
“Yeah, right in here” Little Tungsten, a blue-grey colt with curly-blonde mane tottered into the kitchen with the dappled batpony in tow.
“Blue Murder” he said, his voice low and eloquent “You appear in good health”
“You’re a bad liar, Shadowplay” Blue Murder turned round to face him with an unimpressed frown.
The stresses of her daily life had shown on the navy-blue mare. She’d put quite a bit of weight on and her eyes looked tired with noticeable bags sagging below them. Her cherry-red mane was cut short and her horn was stained with the rust of her wedding ring.
“If you’re hungry, Shadow, you’re out of luck, we just finished supper”
“No trouble, I’ve no taste for Onagerian food. Disagrees with my insides. If you have any fruit, however”
“There’s some grapefruit in the bowl”
“Mum makes the best quiches ever!” Tungsten piped up, hopping around excitedly “You should try some, Uncle Shadow. And later can you teach me how to hang upside-down like a batpony”
“Tungsten, if there’s going to be any hanging upside-down in this house, it’ll be our washing” Blue Murder said firmly “You’re not washing are you?”
“Washing? You mean I can hang upside-down in the shower?”
“Don’t push it, cheeky-colt” Blue Murder snapped, resisting the urge to crack a smile, something Shadowplay did not do.
The batpony had a soft spot for her son. All her former colleagues did.
It didn’t make up for what had happened on their most fateful mission.
One which Blue Murder would never forget even if they did.
“Alright my lovely, I need to talk with Uncle Shadow for a few minutes” Blue Murder bent down to kiss her son on the forehead “But I’ll be upstairs soon to check on your homework”
Tungsten bit his lip and looked around innocently. His mother rolled her eyes.
“You have done your homework haven’t you?”
Tungsten’s face immediately brightened and he grinned cheekily.
“Yep!”
“Aw, go on, off with you” Blue Murder couldn't resist laughing, patting Tungsten on the back as he left.
Giggling, the little colt scampered off.
“Shame on you for leading your mother on like that” Shadowplay’s scolding was distinctly unconvincing.
“Well she shouldn’t doubt her own son” he hollered down the stairs.
“Good point. I’m disappointed in you, Blue” He caught sight of her humourless expression and thought it best not to continue, picking out a pink grapefruit and admired it a moment.
“Does Onageria even grow grapefruit? Odd crops for the alpines”
“From the Cochonnette Republic. President Croque-Mitaine has recently become quite chummy with our beloved Colonel Strigoli” she couldn’t have sounded less cheerful as she finished the dishes “Fruit is about the only thing he’s sending over that isn’t being used to kill South Onagerians”
“I don’t see many Cochonettans around” Shadowplay shrugged.
“Just because the Colonel takes their fruit and weapons, doesn’t mean he wants zebras on Onagerian soul any more than he did before”
“True enough. So how’s Tungsten doing?”
“You didn’t come here to talk about Tungsten. You came here to talk about a job you’re planning. Unless it involves Tungsten, in which case I’m going to wonder whether your scar could use some additions”
The batpony pawed at his eyepatch a moment, Blue Murder’s threat having its affect.
Shadowplay had once been a very handsome creature as most batponies were. Many years ago in rural Ib’Xian, a rampant mob had sought to change that, burning him and his pony parents alive as creatures of darkness. The young batpony grew frenzied and escaped, cutting the mob to pieces. Half his face had been burned away in the flames. This he hid with a length of coloured cloth but the edges of his scars were noticeable. Perhaps he preferred it that way.
“The deal still stands, Blue” he said vehemently “Nothing happens to the colt”
“Good” Blue Murder calmed herself and heard the transceiver buzz. Not bothering to apologise, she answered it.
“Yeah? Yes, I’m busy but go ahead” Her tone was unfriendly “You still haven’t got him to talk? What kind of interrogators are you?!”
She turned her back to Shadowplay, who sunk his fangs into the grapefruit and drained it of its juices within a minute.
“Well stop him closing his eyes...Uh, take away his eyelids, perhaps?” She gave an exasperated sigh “What do you mean you don’t know how?! You’re a Coldwater Commando! A member of the toughest army this side of Stirrope! I’ve seen fillies at Disneighland who know more about torture than you...What's that supposed to mean?” she nodded “I see...And how is that relevant? Look, I don’t particularly care if he is dating your daughter and neither will the Colonel! He’s a suspect in a city-wide scrying-attack and the equipment he’d been supplied was not of Onagerian manufacture. That means someone, somewhere is committing state terrorism. Find out who and find out where or the next time you sit an interrogation, you’ll be on the other side of the table. I won’t say it again. Get him to talk!”
She slammed the phone down and rested against the kitchen table. Shadowplay threw the dehydrated grapefruit in the bin and rinsed his hooves.
“Has the Colonel recognised your capabilities yet?”
“In North Onageria, recognition often gets you killed. I just do my job and don’t ask questions...to my superiors that is”
“Ponies led by donkeys. How very ironic” he chuckled “I suppose the Colonel considered it quite good for morale”
“To the Colonel there’s only two kinds of creature. Folk like him and folk below them”
“So you’re not particularly happy with your prospects then?”
Blue Murder threw him a nasty look.
“I just want to be safe. I want Tungsten to be safe”
“Safe?” Shadowpony stood up and spoke frankly “Blue Murder, you are living in a country at war, a war it’s losing, working for a fascist, xenophobic government that spits on equine rights, led by a crazed military failure who regularly purges his own subordinates at the slightest sign of dissent, real or imaginary. How can any of this be considered safe?”
“It’s hardly more dangerous than working with you again!” the mare snapped.
“You know that’s not true. You know what we’re offering. What we’ve promised. If anything happens to you, Tungsten is provided for. Cascadius only makes promises he knows he can keep”
“He never promised he’d keep Tungsten’s dad safe...” Tears welled up in Blue Murder’s eyes as she glanced at a photo on the fridge.
A young Blue Murder, thinner, livelier, happier, one foreleg holding a newborn colt, the other wrapped around an orange, golden-maned stallion in a mail-pony’s uniform.
“Blue...” Shadowplay said solemnly, noticing the photo “Marmalade was my friend. He was a friend to all of us. It wasn’t meant to end the way it did”
“But it did, Shadow! And what’s to stop it happening again? What’s to stop it making a corpse out of me and an orphan out of Tungsten?”
Shadowplay was quiet for a moment. Sighing, he sat down at the table and gave Blue Murder a measuring look.
“There are no ex-mercenaries, Blue Murder. You taught me that last time I tried to quit. Don’t pretend you’re not like us. You could have become anything, Blue. You’re not unintelligent. You’re more than qualified to be a teacher or a grocer or an author. Instead you work as an interrogator for a merciless stratocracy. You are drawn to the harsh life. The life of the warrior without a banner. And to make matters worse, you bring your foal with you”
“Leave him out of this!” The mare got defensive.
“No, Blue. I won’t” Shadowplay’s tone, in contrast, was perfectly relaxed “He is in as much danger as you are while you live in this country. Back in Trottingham, with his guardian, he’s guaranteed a safe upbringing. You are letting your resentment put him in danger”
“Don’t talk to me about my resentment!” Blue Murder screamed “Marmalade was the best thing that ever happened to me! I finally had something that didn’t involve putting my life or others at risk and-”
“Blue...Don’t act like that’s what you wanted. You carried on working with us, behind his back. And worse still, we had no idea where he was or that he even knew. Don’t blame us for your actions. Marmalade was your one true love. But he wasn’t your one true life. That, Blue Murder, has always been us. You are one of us, however much you deny it”
Blue Murder’s horn flashed bronze as her eyes flickered with rage. A collection of knives rattled on their rack.
Shadowplay raised a wispy eyebrow.
“Don’t try anything rash, Blue. We both know I’m better with the knives. If you’re going to shut me up, bring up your rifle. If not...” He threw down a small crystal-operated transceiver on the table and stood up “We’ll be in touch”
He began to pace steadily out the house. Cursing herself and hoping Tungsten hadn’t heard the ruckus, Blue Murder called back.
“Is this the last one?” she asked “One last job?”
Shadowplay didn’t turn to face her.
“He can’t make that promise”
*
“You mean you told her?”
The Doctor gave Spinning Jenny and Madam Coldblood a bashful look as they sat in the living room of the Whooves family flat.
“There were mitigating circumstances”
“Doctor...” Coldblood massaged her temples with one claw “At the Gala, when we last spoke, I urged you to keep your daughter’s true parentage a secret. What part of that did I not make absolutely clear?”
“Coldblood, her aunt was going to take her away. She’d have sent Derpy to the madhouse and Dinky to...I don’t even want to know”
“I chanced upon the Countess at the Gala, milady” Jenny admitted “I can’t say he’s wrong”
“That mad mare could have caused quite a stir, this is true, but it wouldn’t have been anything we couldn’t handle”
“There was no time. I’m sorry, girls, but I’m staying with them”
“Well, cracking” Jenny groaned “Meanwhile, the Deceiver’s forces are massing away in the valley with weapons and resources we can’t comprehend. It’ll take ‘em just less than a decade to march on Equestria”
“You should know by now that’s more than enough time for us to thwart the daily baddie” the scruffy stallion chuckled, rising to his hooves “C’mon you two, just because I’m staying in Ponyville, doesn’t mean I’ve gotten soft”
“Let us hope not” Coldblood said “I believe the disappearance of the Headstone Horn may be our first priority. We don’t want Arkham the Ghoulking returning from his grave a third time”
“Uh...Doc?” a nervous mumble came from the kitchen “Could you help me with the tea tray?”
The Doctor smiled as his treasured companion, the muddle-headed grey mail-mare called Derpy Doo, appeared in the kitchen doorway, cradling her baby in one foreleg.
“No probs, love. You and Dinky go and sit down, I’ll handle the tray” he said, kissing his lover and daughter before disappearing to the kitchen. Derpy found a chair and sat down gratefully, smiling at the Doctor’s two acquaintances who nodded politely.
“Were you guys talking about that sciency-stuff and timey-wimey conundrum-um-um-ums?”
At her mismatch of words, Dinky broke out into giggles while Coldblood and Jenny raised one eyebrow each.
“In those words...yes”
“Its okay, I’m not dumb or anything, I’m just trying to get Dinky to laugh”
“No such assumption was made, I assure you” Coldblood said courteously “And how is the little one?”
“Well that depends” the grey pegasus propped her foal on her hind legs and gave her a cheesy grin “How are you Dinky?”
“Wah...tah-mi wah-mi...Can-dwamamamamamah” she burbled before nuzzling her gleeful mother lovingly.
Coldblood couldn’t help but chuckle discreetly while Jenny grinned from ear to ear.
“Aww, she’s a right sweet old tiddler, she is”
“Isn’t she”
“Curious” Coldblood mused “Often when complimented on their children, a mother would thank the one who gave such a compliment”
“Oh...sorry”
“No, no, my dear. I’ve always found the habit rather unbecoming, as if the child is an extension of the mother and not possessed of its own sense and sentience. You, however, show agreement but no sign of seeing her aesthetic achievement as that of your own” She gave a smile and licked one of her eyeballs with her prehensile tongue “I find that quite admirable”
“Oh um...thanks...” Derpy said, a little confused by her words “I mean...I know Dinky’s a very smart little baby. She can’t say anything right yet but she’s able to copy words quite well...I think it’s er...” She looked into the kitchen where the Doctor was pouring tea “I think it’s from his side of the family”
“You’d be surprised” Jenny said “Take good care of her, love”
“Victory, ladies and gentlecolts, the breech in our security has been repelled”
Heavy paw-steps rumbled down the stairs as Blunderbuss, a proud member of the squat, stocky hairless canine race known as Demolition Dogs, strode out of the upstairs bathroom smiling proudly. Coldblood and Jenny hung their heads.
“You didn’t blow up the toilet did you, Blunder?” the Varan asked with concern.
“No, madam, I did not”
“Good”
“I simply rigged it to blow up at the slightest sign of dissent”
“How can a ruddy toilet be dissentious?” Jenny snapped.
“It can’t! Not anymore! It’s a flawless long-term strategic manoeuvre”
Jenny sighed and made her way upstairs, carrying a sack of bomb-disposal instruments.
“Every ruddy time we stay over...” she grumbled.
“Blunderbuss, your ceaselessly belligerent temperament notwithstanding, need I remind you we are guests here at our dear friend’s homestead?” Coldblood said with exhaustion.
“And?”
“And it is highly improper to fit bombs across the property of a host...without their expressed permission and consideration”
At this, Blunderbuss’s ears drooped and he put on a truly shamefaced expression.
“I am deeply apologetic, madam,” he said to Derpy “I promise you I shall not plant bombs in your house unless you will it through voice of mouth” He saluted “I swear on the honour of my battle-den”
“Uh, thanks. It’s no trouble” Derpy giggled at the sight of the bashful dog in front of her “I’m sure you’re only trying to help but I’ll tell you if I need it”
“I thank you for your most gracious forgiveness, ma’am” he bowed and sat down, muttering out the corner of his lips “Pony scum”
“No worries, loves” Jenny reappeared down the stairs “All taken care of”
“I still believe it would be in our best interests to guard the bathroom in the very likely case of an attack. I could add some additions to the rubber duck if madam would permit it”
“I don’t know, Dinky really likes that rubber duck”
“I am certain that she’d like it indubitably more fitted with precision laser cannons and nerve-gas canisters!” the Demolition Dog cracked a deranged grin.
“That’s enough of that, Blunder, sit!”
Blunder’s ears pricked at the order and he immediately sat down. Upon noticing, he scowled at the smirking reptilian.
“I consider that command degrading” he sulked.
“Okay, who wants tea?” The Doctor came in carrying a tray full of tea, muffins, scones, crystallised fruit and a bottle of milk.
All hooves, claws and paws rose.
*
Doctor Bittersweet trailed a slender hoof along his desk and checked the sole. There was a thin layer of dust that gad gathered at the edges. He frowned.
He’d never liked dust.
A place of healing should be kept clean. Glanders Gate must be kept clean. He had told his staff again and again.
His patients wouldn’t be able to recover if their living quarters were not kept sanitised. The diseases they were gripped by were serious enough. Infection needed cleansing, germs needed killing.
The door opened and the enormous Matron Hellebore lumbered in.
“Doctor” she said respectfully “She is here as you requested”
“Very good. Close the door”
Hellebore did so and gave the guest a push forward in front of the Doctor’s desk.
The pink-coated, violet-maned unicorn mare stood before the head of the Asylum, her face contorted with concern.
“Hello Doctor” she began.
“It is good to see you again. I am glad you were so cooperative when we brought you here”
“It wouldn’t have done much good if I resisted” the mare sighed “What do you want from me?”
“Do not take that impertinent tone with the Doctor!” Matron Hellebore hissed, grinding her teeth.
“Please stay calm, Matron” Dr Bittersweet held up one hoof and addressed the young mare “Your dept to us is not yet paid, young miss”
“What more can I give you?” she asked bitterly “I worked for you for three years. I did everything that was asked of me. And...I brought Foxglove here...like you asked...” she sniffed, remembering her screams as the poor filly who’d come to see her as a sister was dragged away and treated like a toy ever since.
“Do not act as if you haven’t erred, young miss” Bittersweet said, adjusting his glasses “You sent your own parents here. You broke the rules and had us do the same. You owe the asylum a great deal of time and resources spent on the chase you led us on”
“I showed you what they did to me...and they would have done to my sister!” the unicorn growled “They were monsters!”
“But not mad. You had us use unwarranted treatment techniques resulting in permanent brain damage to two perfectly sane ponies. It nearly cost the asylum its fine reputation and that is something I cannot forgive very easily”
The mare stared at the insidious Doctor with his clean suit and fatherly face and hung her head.
“What do you want me to do?”
“I need you to go back to Ponyville. You may take your sister” There was a glimmer of hope in the mare’s eyes which he was quick to take advantage of “Find a healthy life, provide for the town. Stay for as long as you like...but in return we’d like to know everything about this pony” He pushed forward a photo of a wall-eyed, blonde, grey pegasus standing in front of the camera with a look of horror plastered on her face as the hooves of asylum interns held her shoulders steady.
The mare eyed it with concern.
“Tell us exactly what she’s doing, where she goes, who she sees, what they talk of, everything until it is time for us to act. Accomplish these tasks and your dept to us will be paid. We will never hear from each other again. Fail to do so...” He placed his hooves beneath his chin and eyed her with those cold, dead eyes that just didn’t belong on his otherwise kindly face.
“We will come after you. Try to run...we will catch you. Try to hide...we will find you. Try to fight...we will break you...and your sister”
The mare said nothing but her moist brow and chattering teeth spoke volumes.
“Fine” she said at last in little more than a whisper as the matron took her by the shoulder and escorted her out the Doctor’s office.
“Glanders Gate stood where it is since the foundation of Equestria...” Doctor Bittersweet boasted, looking out the window, uncaring whether or not there was anypony to hear.
“And it will stand where it is till its end”
*
“What do you mean it’s all My fault?!”
The driver of the police cart to Manehattan Penitentiary rolled his eyes as his passengers bickered furiously.
“You had the photos, Earwax!” Nitpick squawked “You assured us you’d kept them safe!”
“How was I to know they’d have a break-in?! I warned them about keeping them safe!”
“Obviously not enough! What kind of nincompoops are you?!”
“Nincompoop! Whatever that means, I don’t want to hear you calling me-”
Beside the three squabbling partners-in-crime turned hated enemies, Morion, Culverin and Arquebus stewed quietly.
They were cursing Cringeworth, Cumbersome’s scrawny, sycophantic valet, for getting off with six years in Canterlot prison. Were he in the cart, they’d at least have something to pummel, anything to occupy themselves.
They were pulling around a turning on the road built into the vast expanse of hills between Canterlot and Manehattan, several hours journey and the bickering between the prisoners made it feel a great deal longer.
The driver kept checking the hills they climbed.
‘Height; approximately two-thousand three-hundred and sixty seven yards’
“How am I the nincompoop?!”
“You honestly thought taking a gang of thugs to Ponyville was going to go any other way?!”
“I was a Lord of the realm! How could they not see that?!”
“Ponyville ponies don’t care about that kind of thing, they’re all maniacs! You should have known that!”
“You’re probably one yourself!”
“How dare you!”
‘Two-thousand four hundred and twenty three yards’
“And honestly?! His housemaids and gardeners defeated you?! You’re meant to be a leader!”
“This coming from a charlatan outsmarted by a drunken palace grounds guard?!”
“And you, thwarted by country bumpkins, valley bimbos and foreign fools?!”
“Shut up!”
“You shut up!”
“No you shut up!”
‘Two-thousand seven hundred and fifty yards. This’ll do’
The driver paused, placed down the ramps on the carriage to prevent it skidding away downhill and removed his harness.
“What...what’s going on?” Nitpick asked, rasping in Cumbersome’s headlock.
“Is everything alright back here?” the driver’s face appeared in the barred window, smiling casually.
“You...you’re...” Nitpick blinked and looked at him closer “You’re the guard outside Invitro Hall!”
“No, milord. I’m not. That guard never existed” he removed his cap and nodded politely “My name is Cascadius. Your wife sent me”
“Ah...ha!” Nitpick brayed in delight as his carriage-mates engaged in uproarious cheers or sighs of relief “Ah that...that wonderful wife on mine, I knew she’d think of something” His assurance wasn’t convincing “Come on then, let us out and let’s make plans. I’ll see you paid well for this, just you wait! Do we have a rescue? A hiding place? Funds and contacts to see us out to safety?”
Cascadius paused, his smile unfading.
“I think you misunderstand the situation you’ve found yourself in, milord” he said slowly, taking off a rucksack on his shoulder and rummaging through it with one hoof “I understand that you would pay me a great deal to rescue you...but I’m afraid...your wife is paying me a great deal more...to keep you quiet” As Nitpick gave him a quizzical look, he found what he was looking for.
A pair of heavy sound-proof headphones.
As he watched Cascadius place them on, Nitpick babbled with fear and confusion.
“What...what was that supposed to mean...why are you wearing those?!”
“What?” Cascadius asked.
“Why are you wearing those?!”
Cascadius lifted one side of the headphones and asked again.
“What?”
“Why are wearing those!”
“Oh...” He adjusted the headphones, pulled out a vial of ice-blue vapour and held it up, one hoof on the cap.
“For this”
Twisting the cap, the area was subject to an unearthly noise like the scream of a newborn foal coupled with dragon claws upon the blackboard. As Cascadius fitted the vial through the bars, Nitpick fell backwards, blood running from the insides of his ears as he, Cumbersome, Earwax, Morion, Culverin and Arquebus fell about, jolting and spasming wildly, their faces twitching and stretching, their eyes rolling to the back of their heads.
The subjects incapacitated with no way to escape, Cascadius went round to the front of the carriage, checked underneath a moment, saw everything the way it had been prepared, bent one the wheels...and released the ramps.
The police cart immediately went skidding down the road at an alarming speed before reaching the turning, hitting the low wall at the edges of the road, flipping over and plummeting over the hillside.
A two-thousand five-hundred yard drop. At least.
There’d be very little cart left by the time it hit the bottom.
Even then, on the off chance that, through some means or another, one of its passengers would survive the drop, their minds intact even after the Sarakanite Gas Bomb had worked its magic, the cart he’d chosen to use was one of the carts fitted with a radiating system.
An old one. A volatile one.
Cascadius didn’t hear the explosion but he certainly felt it.
A slight rumble beneath his hooves, slight increase in temperature, the smell of smoke and gas and the sight of black smog ascending steadily into the sky.
Content, he reached for a transceiver and switched it on.
“Dealt with” he spoke into it “Pick me up at the checkpoint. You’ll know it when you see it”
“On our way, big colt! Wa-ha-hey, these controls are craaaazy!” the deranged giggling of Gringore greeted him through the transceiver. It seemed she’d succeeded in her objective in Manehattan. He strongly reckoned Nitpick and his associates would be glad to have died here.
Watching Gringore at work was not something you forgot in a hurry.
Plugging his headphones into his music player, he caught sight of the airship in the distance and patiently waited for it while listening to some classical music.
‘I must remember to get back my records and player from the lock-up’ he thought as his eyes gleamed and his temperament darkened, brooding over his losses from the unforeseen.
‘Seven years, fillies and colts...I hope you make the most of it...I certainly will’