//------------------------------// // Chapter 11 // Story: The Tome of Faust // by DungeonMiner //------------------------------// Another breakfast at what was soon becoming Mouse’s favorite inn, and another morning watching the guards scramble through the city. It was now the third time that he had besmirched the guard’s honor, and it was starting to make public news. Posters had began to pop up, with a reward of fifty gold bits offered by the guard themselves just for information on the mysterious thief. The offer was certainly tempting, but Mouse resisted the urge to give the guards a description. It would be his luck that the guards would realize he was talking about himself. So for now, Mouse was content to let the guards have nothing. Well, almost nothing. Officer Golden Shield had her suspicions, yet for some reason, she remained quiet. She had offered nothing about the thief, she gave no description, no name, not even from what tribe Mouse was from. She kept it all for herself, and that was quite fine with him. It made it especially interesting when she came by in the mornings to glare at him. Sometimes they would share a few words as Mouse ate, other times, she would just scowl and mutter under her breath. She seemed absent today, though, and that did disappoint the thief to a small extent. He had honestly hoped he would see her again today, watching her fume was becoming quite the hobby, and a rather enjoyable one at that. Ah well, he had to be off anyway. Sleep called him and he had to be ready for Sap’s next job. That, and he had to keep an eye out for anything that Cut could use to prove that Sap was hiding something. Unfortunately, that meant he would actually have to spend a night in the den, and with his knives still catching the eye of every other— “You…” The voice dripped with unadulterated hatred. It’s chill was that of the northern, winter winds. It’s bite that of venomous snake. For a second, the single word sent a chill down Mouse’s spine before he turned to see Officer Golden Shield standing behind him, with a glower that could kill a small animal. Mouse nearly leapt out of his skin at her sudden appearance, and had to take a second to compose himself, much to the officer’s pleasure. “Uh...hello, officer, what I can I do for you today?” Mouse asked, before he sipped at his morning tea. “Fall over dead.” “Of course, Officer,” Mouse replied, “but it may take a while.” “Shame,” she said, in a perfect deadpan. “In the meantime, care to join me for breakfast? I had a busy night and I am famished.” “I’m sure,” she replied, teeth grinding together. “Is that a ‘no?’” Mouse asked, confidence returning with each passing second. She offered nothing more, but simply turned and stormed away. Mouse simply smiled, and went back to his tea. “Alright,” Sap said. “I have a new job for you.” Mouse nodded, waiting and listening. “This one’s a little more...complicated than our usual jobs.” “How so?” “We’re looking to get our hooves on a pegasus sword, supposedly belonging to one of Hurricane’s Hundred.” Now Mouse had heard of them. There was hardly a night at the Fox’s Heart without the local bard singing about the one hundred pegasi warriors that first left Pegasopolis when Commander Hurricane was first court martialed for establishing peace with the other two founders. The fact that they had more songs about them than actual members impressed Mouse in all the wrong ways. Most of them were dead or presumed dead now, having given their lives in key battles against massive beasts or lost in the great woods and swamps around Canterlot. Most of it was a load of manure, although there had been at least one battle against a splinter force of pegasi that had made an actually entertaining story. “So what’s complicated?” Mouse asked. “Other than the fact that he’s dead?” Sap asked. “Our hero here, some featherbrain named Warhawk, apparently impressed some earth pony landowner. As a result, Warhawk secured himself a nice mausoleum after the fight for the landowner’s life went south.” Mouse waited for the hard part. Almost as if sensing his impatience, Sap continued. “The problem is that we don't know where the tomb is. The only pony that does know is the landowner’s son, and he is your first target. His name is Bay Leaf, and he basically owns every inch of fertile land around Baltimare.” Mouse nodded. “So he and I are going to have to talk, hmm?” “And after that, you’re going to have some good, old-fashioned grave robbing,” Sap said. “Now, you can't have the sword, this time. You’re going to have to bring that in for the gang, alright?” “Yes sir,” Mouse replied. “And, I hope I don’t need to tell you that this mission requires a great amount of...discretion. Don’t tell anyone.” “You got it,” Mouse said. “Oh, yeah, that is definitely a trap,” Cut said. Mouse had immediately gone to Cut and explained the grave robbing mission, about how he had to locate the tomb and clean it out. “The mission itself isn’t that bad,” Cut went on. “The problem arises when you bring the landowners. Landowners are insanely rich, while nobles have servants and guards that were pledged to their service, landowners can afford lots of mercenaries. If I were you, I wouldn’t get anywhere near the landowner, because he no doubt has four to five ponies surrounding him, and everyone of them is no doubt armed to the teeth.” “Wait, he wants me to literally talk to him?” Mouse asked. “Kind of, he wants you to shake him down, bully the info out of him. That’ll get you killed. No, I have a better idea. One of the things earth ponies do well is family. Some say that earth ponies used to worship their ancestors, and I doubt that anything they handed down was lost. I’m willing to bet you a hundred gold bits that the location of the tomb is written down somewhere family’s Book of Ancestors.” “Book of Ancestors, got it,” Mouse said, nodding. “Alright, you ready to go then?” Cut asked. Mouse nodded. “I believe I am.” “Great, get out there and make the gang proud,” Cut said, standing to lead Mouse out the door. “By the way, whose corpse are you robbing?” “A pegasus named Warhawk.” Cut stopped. “W-Warhawk? You mean one of Hurricane’s Hundred?” “Yeah,” Mouse said. “He supposedly saved Bay Leaf’s father, and the old man gave him a pretty nice grave.” Cut stared at him, eyes wide, and mouth shut. “Cut? What’s wrong.” The shorter pegasus opened his mouth, closed it again, and swallowed. “M-Mouse, I need to ask a favor.” “What? What is it?” “When you find Warhawk’s tomb, get the sword, and get out, don’t take anything, just the sword, alright?” “But...but I get most of my cut from the extra—” “I will pay you five hundred gold bits to not take anything but the sword, alright?” Cut said. Mouse blinked. Five hundred gold? That was...that was no small amount. He could buy a nice boat for that amount, a little pleasure boat that he could stock with some good wine, some good beds. “I...see…” Mouse said. “Alright...I’ll just take the sword then.” Cut nodded. “Thank you, Mouse. This is important to me. Very important to me. Just...just let me know where the grave is, okay?” “Sure...I can do that.” Mouse slipped into the dark house, as silent as a whisper on the wind. The massive Bay Leaf plantation sold huge amounts of sandy soil crops, and stretched across a decent and well-irrigated section of sand dunes that were just far enough away from the sea that the salt wouldn't kill the plants. Potatoes, raspberries, asparagus, and rye grew in well defined plots that earned the Bay Leaf family a good bit of coin, and this alone was reflected in the number of ponies that guarded the plantation. Patrols of two ponies, armed and armored unicorns, pegasi, earth ponies, and even a handful of griffons wandered across the entire grounds. Their shields were decorated with an array of mercenary and family crests, the spectrum of which almost gave the entire force a ragtag feel. If Mouse hadn’t been warned, he probably would’ve done something stupid and found himself staring down the blade of a mercenary's sword. Instead, he cut straight to the plantation house. The window opened easily enough to his spell, and the next thing he knew, he was standing on a very nice pegasus silk rug. It gave only just slightly as he stepped on it, it’s what Mouse imagined walking on clouds felt like. Bay Leaf’s house was an eclectic collection that would make a museum jealous. Pieces from all over the old world were spread throughout the entire building, and spoke of griffon, zebra, and minotaur cultures. Swords, masks, tapestries, goblets, odds and end, and all sorts of odd, interesting and valuable things lay scattered across the hallway. And all of it was just begging to be taken to a nice fence somewhere in Baltimare’s sewers. After a mask, tapestry, and a decorative axe all disappeared into Mouse’s magical bag. He began to head deeper into the house, searching for the Book of Ancestors. According to everything he had learned, it should be kept in the center of the house, in the center of the room, and bound in wood. It shouldn’t be terribly hard to find, all things considering. He swept past the rooms, keeping his hooves on the incredibly soft rug, which padded each step so that the floor did not even creak beneath him. He slipped past the bedrooms, snuck past the dining room, and with a few more steps, found himself standing in doorway to the family room. End tables, couches and chairs all were carefully arranged in a large circle, around a podium, on which was situated the wood-bound time, with a leaf crest burned carefully into its face. The brand was set perfectly in the smooth face of the wood, and the edges had been rounded with time. Mouse quickly slid up to the tome, and with the ginger touch of a veteran thief, opened it. The pages in the book were immaculate, with not a mark on the pages other than the neat script that was written in perfect lines between the perfect, margins. Another few pages, and the script changed, still written within those perfect boundaries, but letters themselves were sloppier. It was as if someone else, someone used to writing large notes, was forcing himself to follow the lines set by the first. A new author, and more words that spoke of the Leaf family history. Another change in script, that still refused to break the laws of the page borders. Mouse flipped through, ignoring the contents before he finally came to the last written pages. Coming back, he began to skim the pages, looking for any hint of Oak Leaf, Bay’s father, and his meeting with Warhawk the pegasus. Crop growth, growing technique, praising the ancestors, no, no, no… There! “On the 13th day of october, after the ringing of none, I, Oak Leaf, now in my winter, went for a walk to the East in the forest surrounding my home in this new land of Equestria. I walked slowly, enjoying the cool of the autumn afternoon, when I was beset upon by a beast. It was great and terrible, with fangs as long as a stallion’s arm, and scales as thick as an axe head. “With a horn that plowed the earth asunder, the monster charged at me, and I thought I would meet my end. I could see Halden’s face approaching quickly, and I had just enough time to make my peace, when a pegasus came to my aid. Armed with a gleaming blade, he fought the beast, striking the monster against its hide as they began their battle. The fought long and hard against each other until at last the pegasus wounded the beast with a deep cut that dug through flesh, bone, and brain. “The battle slowed to it's end, and I finally gained the courage to speak to the young stallion that had saved my life. He was sporting many wounds, and his strength had been expended. With what little he had left, he told me his name, and before my eyes, he passed in Halden’s care. “Now that I knew that this young stallion was one of Hurricane’s Hundred, I petitioned to the Commander for the honor of housing this soldier’s grave. Hurricane accepted, and I took the stallion named Warhawk, and buried him in the forest where he saved me.” To the East, in the forest? Nothing else? Thanks, old man. Still, Mouse could work with that. Besides, he didn't need to bring the sword back today. He could take the time to find the tomb now that he had a general idea. Closing the book, Mouse began to move, when he turned, and found himself staring straight in the face of a young stallion. He was young, having just entered stallionhood, and wore nothing other than a necklace of pebbles. He stared at Mouse, sleep clinging to his eyes even as the sight of a strange pony in his house began to wake him. Mouse blinked. “Now kid,” he began, only for the young stallion to move. “Fire!” He yelled, gripping one of the stones on his necklace, before a ball of fire flew at his head. Mouse ducked, his body moving faster than his mind as it slowly began to process the fact that an earth pony used magic. The fireball slapped against the walls of the house, and the young stallion reached for another stone on his necklace. “Blizzard!” A ball of freezing cold followed the fireball, heading straight for Mouse, before the thief pulled a knife blade free from his bag. The hungry, crescent blade ate the spell in the air, even as it flew toward him. Spinning around, Mouse grabbed the book, and held the blade up to its ancient pages. “Reach for another stone and the book’s going to shreds.” The young stallion stopped, and, as Mouse had hoped, the spells stopped. A long pause separated the two and Mouse finally spoke. “That’s quite the talent you have there, kid.” The stallion sneered. “Magic doesn’t belong to the unicorns alone.” “Well that’s news to us,” Mouse said, threatening the Book of Ancestors, as he slowly backed up. “Now look, it’s obvious to me we got off on the wrong hoof, so let’s try again. I’m the guy the guard’s been scrambling to find for the past few days, who are you?” The young buck scowled. “I’m Maple.” “Maple, huh? Well look, I tell you what, with the things I have in my bag, I’m probably going to make about fifty gold pieces. You’re going to make that all back with just a name for the guards to chase, so how about we all calm down, I’ll give you a name, and no harm no foul?” Maple grimaced. “I’m going to burn you to ashes.” “I’m alright with that, as long as it’s not tonight,” Mouse said. The young stallion’s frown deepened. “Look, kid,” Mouse began. “I don’t want anypony to die tonight. This little thing ate your spell already, and it can do it again. Even with whatever magic you have, this is going to be an ugly fight, and who knows which one of us is going to make it out alive. Do you want to risk that for fifty gold bits?” Maple went silent, staring at the thief who simply smiled as he slowly put distance between his blade and the book. “It’s not worth it, right? I’m just here for a little info, you’re not my target. This isn’t a fight that either of us need, right?” Maple shook his head. “Fine…” he sighed. “That’s a smart boy. No wonder you can use magic,” Mouse said. The faintest smile graced Maple’s face, but that was shattered the second that the Book of Ancestors went flying across the room. He leapt, grabbing the wood-bound tome, and he landed hard on the floor. “The name’s Mouse,” the thief told him, before he ran for his exit. He leapt out the window and ran into the darkness, leaving only a name behind. The forest was deep, and dark. It was not a wild as the Darkwood that dominated the middle of Equestria, but it was not to be taken lightly. Heading directly east from the plantation, Mouse began his search for the mausoleum of the pegasus soldier, hoping that just maybe he’d finish in time to watch the guards scramble once they had a name. That alone would be worth his name getting out. The trees were thick, and not a single ray of moonlight could pierce the darkness. Shadows ran long a deep against his path, and the forest’s maw opened wide to swallow Mouse whole. The thief offered a small, meaningless prayer to Peme, the Alicorn of the forests, before he began to move deeper into the darkness of the forests, as though the prayer to the goddess that may or may not exist would charm him against the dangers that were hidden in the woods. The long, dark, twisted trunks reached into the inky black canopy and surrounded Mouse on all sides, leaving nothing for the eye to see. Walking through the trees, Mouse could hardly move without the crunch of leaves or the snap of twigs sounding at his every hooffall. It sabotaged his every move, but he pushed on nonetheless, searching for the tomb of the supposed hero. And then suddenly he was in a clearing. Mouse blinked at the sudden light of the moon shining in his face, but now he could finally see what was going on. The grass here was black, and brittle to his touch, and a handful of dead trees, with their branches stripped of leaves, and the flowers were withered to sticks. Mouse blinked as he beheld the dead clearing, but he saw no source, no cause to this wanton death. It took a moment, and he still wasn’t sure what it was, but he found something. A stone was set in the middle of the clearing, and a ring of faintly glowing blue runes. More magic. Surrounded by death. A shiver ran down his spine, before he continued on, doing his best to put distance between him and the dead clearing. And then, as he was just about to enter the darkness of the trees once more, he found it. Four young trees, alive and growing, were bound together by rope, wooden beam, and iron. These formed walls, immovable against the tree trunk, that created shelter for a sarcophagus that was just visible through the arched doorway of the tomb. The arch itself was made from a pair of young trees, that had been carefully bent to create a perfect arch. Crowning the arch was a skull. Not the skull of any pony or livestock, but the massive, horned skull of a monster. Mouse gave a low whistle. Honestly the whole thing was kind of impressive, a living building surrounding the tomb. Of course, if it was this easy, then what kept everyone out? He walked around the building, checking the walls for anything that could be a trap, but saw nothing but the simple, rough walls that had been set around the trees. He worked his way, all the way around, before he finally came back to the doorway, and then finally, he saw it. A line of runes had been carved into the threshold. Each one matched the ring of runes he found back in the clearing, and each one was just barely growing, and Mouse quickly realized the magic that left there. So that was it, hm? Making his way back to the clearing, he quickly found the stone in the center, and picked it up. It was, oddly, terribly light. Taking it back to another stone, he began to slam them into each other until the runes began to crumble and deform. In retrospect, Mouse would admit this was a dangerous thing to do, and there was a very good chance that he would not be here today if it had been unicorn magic, but Mouse hardly cared. With the rock split and the the runes on the threshold dying, the tomb was open, and the sword was his for the taking.