//------------------------------// // Springing the Trap // Story: A Story Told // by Lil Penpusher //------------------------------// The sun shone down onto Baltimare and the countryside. Birds were singing in the trees, the sea was calm and glimmering in the light of the sun. Inside the Baltimare Barracks, just outside the city, Fernand had locked himself into his personal quarters. He stood in front of a large mirror, joyfully eyeing himself in this moment of triumph. He was wearing his usual officer attire, the light blue uniform clearly distinguishing him from the red uniform of the common soldier. “He who dares charm my darling,” he mumbled to himself, “shall know what true regret means.” Fernand looked over to his right and eyed a small table. On it lays the only thing still missing from his uniform: His hat. He reached out towards the small, low table and took hold of the grey tricorn. A small, sun shaped cockade was pinned to the head, to symbolise his loyalty and allegiance to Princess Celestia, the Sun and Equestria. Today, however, he added another, final touch to his headgear. Once again he reached over to the table, grabbing a length, pitch-black feather which he slowly fixed to the hat. Fernand looked into the mirror again, tricorn in his hooves, and smiled maniacally. He raised the hat and slowly lowered it onto his head, enjoying every second of the act. He performed a swift spin after having set the headgear down, a low cackle escaping his mouth afterwards. “Oh my dear, beloved Shycedes,” he said out loud, “he shall separate us no longer. He shall be gone, never to be seen again, never to be even thought of...yes, this he shall, and this he will. For you.” A knock on the door brought his monologue to an abrupt halt, and he moved over to the said door at once, though not before eyeing his mirror image one last time. This was his day, his moment of triumph. Only a few minutes later, Fernand could be seen leading his own, small column of soldiers through the streets. Ponies old and young alike stopped and turned their heads towards the unusual sight. Rumours began to spread as soon as the line of soldiers passed them, some believing there to be a fight down at the docks. Other, more exaggerated claims would say that the soldiers were to take defensive positions and that the city was under a siege of some sort. Fernand paid no attention to any of the whisperings, however. Fernand and his ponies drew closer to their destination, marching to the beat of a drum in the back of the small column of 8 uniformed stallions. The purple pony shot a gaze over to his right side. The ponies there gulped and froze as his cold, evil eyes sent a shiver down their spines. “He must have seen the horrors of battle,” some of them thought to themselves in an attempt to explain his cold, emotionless state. But Fernand, still, cared not for the rumours, thoughts and chatter of the common pony in the streets. He had a goal in mind, and was close, oh so close to finally achieving that goal. Fernand had not slept for the last night. “How could I rest when the plan is so, so close to its conclusion?” he had asked himself, running up and down his room. “How can I possibly fall asleep with him still around?” He remembered the small photograph of Edmond which Shycedes had given him. He had thrown it away almost immediately after he was left alone in his room, ripping the small image of his rival apart. No. He hadn’t slept that night, hadn’t rested. He had done nothing but think of his cunning revenge, his ‘master plan’, as he called it. He became obsessed with the thought, the thought of ridding himself of Edmond, cursing to himself and saying “oh why can’t I just shot him on the spot.” And so, throughout the night, up until the sun rose, he waited, he planned. This lust for revenge had long consumed him, and was the very thing driving him towards Edmond’s house at this very moment. He gave the order to break into quick time, as their current pace, so he felt, was like it would take days to get to his enemy. The soldiers behind him breathed heavily after many minutes of marching at the accelerated pace, but to Edmond it paid off. Their march was over, they were there: Edmond’s time had come. The soft light of the early morning sun entered Edmond’s bedroom, weakened by his grey curtains. The young stallion’s eyes were squeezed shut as rays of light met them. Edmond, still asleep, turned his head around the other way instinctively. Yet just as he was about to drift off into a truly deep slumber, he was awoken not by the sun but a noise. A quiet banging. Edmond once again squeezed his eyes shut, his ears twitching at the sudden noise. There was silence for a few seconds before it banged again, louder this time. The cyan-coated pegasus woke up, opening his sleepy, tired eyes. Before he could even fully come to his senses, the banging returned, once again louder than before. Without even being able to think properly, having just awoken, Edmond knew it was somepony knocking at the door. “Yes, yes...I’m on my way...!” he gave out as it banged again, rising from his bed. He slowly walked past his father’s bedroom, where he could hear the rather loud snoring once again. Just as he arrived at the stairs, a single bang on the door, so powerful and furious it seemed to almost break down the door itself, echoed through the house. “Dear Celestia, patience! I’m on my way!” Edmond shouted at the visitor, swiftly walking down the stairs to meet them. “I do hope this is import-” he froze as he opened the door. In front of Edmond stood Fernand, fully dressed in his officer attire, behind him the rest of his soldiers with shouldered muskets. “Edmond Dash,” Fernand said simply, his voice was cold and emotionless, just as his eyes. “Oh, uh...Fernand, was it?” Edmond had almost forgotten about the fellow which now stood at his doorstep. Fernand clenched his teeth at hearing Edmond speak out his name. It equalled a direct insult to him. “Yes, that is correct. I am not here to have a chat, however, as even you might be able to tell.” Fernand slightly stepped to the side, allowing Edmond to see the combat-ready soldiers behind him better. “Yes, I... figured as much. What is the matter, however?” “We have reasons to believe you might have taken part in the murder of the Honourable Captain Fleclere,” the purple-coated alicorn stated in a monotone voice. Edmond was stunned. “W-what? Murder? Me? But the Captain died of disease, not brutal murder! I-” “Yes, yes,” Fernand interrupted, shoving Edmond aside as he entered his house, “It is up to us to find out whether that’s true or not. You don’t mind us having a look around, do you?” Edmond watched helplessly as one soldier after another walked through the door. “As if I had a choice...” he said quietly. “Brilliant.” Fernand replied with a smile. For the next few minutes, Fernand’s troops would turn the ground floor of the house upside down, checking every corner and every possible hiding spot. All of this happened under the watchful eyes of Fernand and the helpless, insecure eyes of Edmond. “This can’t be right, good sir.” Edmond turned towards the alicorn again. “I would be the last person in this city to commit such a deed. Who would frame me of such actions? Who would look upon me in disbelief and claim that it was me who gave the Captain the final blow?” “That is not one of your worries at this time, Edmond.” Fernand replied, monotone still. “Not one of my worries, sir? Pardon me for saying this, but surely I should be worried about things such as this?” “The pony wishes to remain anonymous, for whatever reason that might be. All you need to know is that they told us of this, and that it is our duty to investigate on it.” “But the rest of the crew can surely back me up in my claims on the Captain’s death. They all saw him fall ill, they all saw him weakened by the disease, they-” “But they didn’t see him die, Edmond. Nobody but you did.” He shot a gaze over to Edmond who froze. “...You can’t be serious. Me? The one to ram the dagger down into his good, honourable heart?” Edmond shook his head in disbelief. “No. You must excuse me, sir, but this is but a blatant, unreasoned accusation.” Fernand took his eyes off the pegasus and nodded silently. “That may be. That may be...” “Sir,” a soldier reported to the alicorn, “there seems to be nothing of interest down here.” “Hmm, very well. Move on to the second floor, perhaps there will be something there.” “Right away, sir!” The soldier replied, saluting his officer. Shortly afterwards, the soldiers began running up the stairs, the floorboards creaking beneath them. Another five minutes passed in which the soldiers scrambled places big and small up on the second floor. Edmond, watching all this, was only worried about them waking up his father. He didn’t want him to see any of this mess, let alone have him think he committed a crime. There was no real worry about the soldiers finding anything, however. He had nothing to hide, seeing as how he was innocent. He was sure that it was just a misunderstanding and the mistrust of one of his ‘friends’, and that the whole situation would be over in no time. However... “Sir!” a soldier called out to Fernand from inside Edmond’s room, “Sir! Sir, we found something!” Both Fernand and Edmond rushed into the room at hearing the call. “What is it, soldier?” he asked the green-coated stallion standing in front of Edmond’s small closet. “I believe...” he said, pulling a sharp dagger out from under Edmond’s clothes, “this might be of interest for you.” Edmond froze, his mouth hanging open, his eyes staring at the strange, unfamiliar object. “W-what? No! No, that isn’t right! That wasn’t there before! That isn’t mine!” he shouted, unable to explain the appearance of the dagger. Fernand took hold of the weapon and balanced it between his hooves, looking at some of the supposed ‘bloodstains’, which Berry had sprinkled on it before hiding it. “Edmond.” Fernand’s voice remained monotone, though on the inside this was his moment of triumph. “My dear Edmond.” “I swear to you, Fernand, this is not mine! I did not kill the Captain!” Edmond begged the purple alicorn, who paid no attention to him. By this point, all of the soldiers which Fernand had brought with him were watching them. They probably knew what they had to do next. “I am terribly sorry, Edmond, but the evidence speaks against your innocence.” “No. No! No! You can’t do this!” Edmond begged him once more. “You are hereby under arrest, Edmond Dash.” Fernand was unable to keep back his emotions, smiling at Edmond with an evil, maniacal grin. “No! Please don’t! I can explain!” “Seize him,” Fernand ordered to his guards, putting the knife into a pocket in his uniform as they moved in on the helpless figure of Edmond. “Trust me! No! Please!” Edmond begged one last time before being overwhelmed by the soldiers. Fernand, victorious and triumphant, slowly strolled out of the room, wandering down the hallway. There, he was suddenly faced with the other half of the Dash family, Louis Dash, father of the young Edmond. “What is going on here? What are you doing to my son?” He demanded. “Your son will be taken into custody until further notice. We have found evidence that he took the life of the honourable Captain Fleclere, sir.” “W-Wha...” Louis stuttered momentarily. “Impossible! My son is an honest, friendly stallion who would never, ever perform such an act of violence!” “Perhaps. But for now, the evidence speaks against him.” Fernand smiled confidently as he pulled out the dagger once again, showing the blood-stained blade to the father. Louis fell silent. He looked up, away from the blade, to see his son being dragged out of his room by two armed guards. Louis took hold of the knife, staring at it again before looking exchanging brief eye contact with his son as he was escorted past him. “Edmond...” he mumbled to both himself and his son. It would be the last thing Edmond was to hear from his father. “Now,” Fernand interrupted the sentimental moment of the two, “we will have to get moving. I pray your son truly is innocent, dear Louis. He always did come after his father, an honest stallion.” Fernand, after taking back the dagger and hiding it in the same pocket as before, now too walked off, slowly walking down the stairs. Louis, however, continued to stand where he was, unable to sort his thoughts. Only when he heard the door being shut he snapped back to reality, looking around the house which was ravaged by the soldiers during their search. Louis decided to retreat into his room, locking the door behind him. He slowly wandered over to his bed, and eventually sat down on its side, his head hanging low. He held a small photograph in his hooves: One of him, his now deceased wife and Edmond. Though he wished differently, something deep inside told Louis that he would soon find himself truly alone, that his wife would not be the last pony to be taken away from him by fate and fate alone. He raised the photograph up to his snout and gently kissed the image of both his wife and his son.