//------------------------------// // Part I: Chapter III // Story: The Count of Romaneia // by Dandereshy //------------------------------// Chapter III As the first duty of the day, Count On you was to attend the Royal Court -- and declare whom is guilty or not. Wearing a black suit jacket, his mane combed back and slickened, he took a deep breath and shoved open the heavy oak doors, strolling into the courtroom. This was his first ever appearance in court, but he'd studied enough beforehand to know what to expect. Still, the atmosphere of the room made him shiver upon entry. The room wasn't very big by the castle's standards, but it was still large. The rectangular courtroom had bare walls, decorated only here and there by the triangular blue flag of Romaneia, and the row of armor-clad knights lining the walls on either side, somehow instilling fear into even the bravest of those who entered. The floor was carpeted down the middle of the room with a short, blue carpet, leading directly up to the Chair of Royal Judgement, where Onyx would take seat. On the right side of that chair was a small wooden lever -- the most feared thing in the courtroom. It was a judgement tool, a final action against those whose crime or crimes deserved more than imprisonment. Put simply, one did not want that lever pulled. Finally, the dim lighting made the room appear as it was: an ominous chamber for the doomed. Onyx stood near the doors, sweeping his gaze over the room. A few ponies stood around, chatting idly in hushed voices. They grew quieter when they noticed Onyx's presence. At the prosecutor's bench, a tan-colored unicorn was busy organizing paperwork for the soon-to-begin court session. The defense bench was vacant. "It certainly is a busy morning, is it not, Lord Onyx?" The sudden voice behind him startled him, and he eyed the earth pony with repressed petulance. "You are...?" The blue stallion cleared his throat. "Pardon me, Your Lordship. I am the Civilian Defense Attorney, Dr. Sand." He bowed swiftly. "Of course," Onyx said with a nod. "Now, why do you say it's busy? This courtroom is more lifeless than a countryside cemetery." "For now," Dr. Sand agreed, glancing around the room with the count. "But soon the room will be lined with prisoners whom you will judge. Fairly, I hope." Onyx cringed at that last part. "I'm not a tyrant, Dr. Sand. Don't say things like that." Dr. Sand waved his forehooves before himself. "Oh, no, Lord Onyx. You misunderstand. I meant it is to my knowledge that this is your first experience in the Royal Courtroom. I was uncertain about your knowledge on court etiquette, is all. Forgive me, Lord." "I assure you that I'm well informed. My judgement will be just." "Then all will be well, Your Lordship." Onyx hummed thoughtfully. "How many?" "Lord?" "How many prisoners today?" "Twelve," the attorney said. Onyx gave a single nod, indicating that he'd heard the pony. However, his mind was preoccupied. This was his first court appearance, and, despite reassuring the attorney he was educated, he still felt nervous. He would be in charge of the demise of twelve ponies today. Their lives would be changed just by his word. Furthermore, he did not want to have to use the dreaded lever today. "Lord?" Onyx broke free from his thoughts. "Yes? What is it?" The defense attorney motioned towards the benches. "My apologies for interrupting your thoughts, Lord. The Royal Court is ready to proceed whenever you're ready." "Let us begin then," Onyx said, walking to the small staircase with a decorative railing on one side and ascending it. He stared down at the heavily worn wooden seat in the Chair of Judgement. It was clearly old and much used. Onyx took a seat and waited for the first prisoner, feeling a bit anxious but refusing to show it. The double-doors to the court swung open and two armed guards -- the Topaz Army -- strode in and split to either side of the doors, snapping to attention. Their deep-blue armor glistened brilliantly despite the dim lighting. One-by-one, bound prisoners filed into the room until there were twelve. They were divided evenly to either side of the room, standing on the cold, stone floor. Behind them trailed two more guards who slammed the doors and stood at attention with the other two guards, preventing the prisoners the chance of escape. Onyx observed the prisoners curiously, and noted that most of them didn't appear afraid. Perhaps they were all here on minor crimes, he thought. In any case, it was time to begin. "Will the first prisoner please come forward?" the prosecutor stood and said. One of the guards grabbed ahold of the furthest one on the left and brought him exactly three feet before the Chair of Royal Judgement, standing him on the carpet while the guard himself stood off intentionally on the bare stone floor. It was safer for him that way. The prisoner was a pale green earth pony with an off-white mane that swirled around his head and neck, unkempt and filthy. He stared down at the floor, visibly nervous now. "What is your name?" Onyx asked the prisoner. His low-tenor voice echoed loudly despite him not using much volume. That was the acoustics you got when you designed a room of solid, foot-thick stone. Without looking up, the prisoner replied, "Mint." Onyx hesitated. "Mint? Just 'Mint'?" Mint sighed. "Mint... Creme..." A couple prisoners snickered, earning a deadly look from the guards. The count pondered why the name deserved the attention. Was it somehow amusing? "I see." He shifted uncomfortably. What was he to say? "Your Lordship, the prisoner before you is guilty of theft. He was apprehended as he fled the market with stolen food stuffs," the nasally prosecutor said, tapping the parchment he held up with a forehoof. "I needed food for my family," the stallion prisoner retorted, finally glancing up at Count Onyx. His deep blue eyes sparkled piteously, demanding his innocence be announced. Onyx shivered. "Your Lordship, the subject was a mere block from a food bank," the prosecutor said, shaking his head. "He easily could've obtained the food he needed for his starving family in a legal fashion." "The food bank refused me. I'm there too often, I'm afraid." The prisoner shrugged, the chains binding his legs chinking noisily. "Again, his fault and problem. There is plenty of work to be had in Romanhoof. If he and his family needed food so severely, a job could've solved all his problems." The prosecutor sat back and clasped his forehooves together expectantly on his desk. The prisoner shook his head. "I have an injury that prevents me from working on my hooves." The prosecutor snorted. "But not preventing you from hopping a 13-foot wall and leading authorities on a half-hour chase?" He turned to Onyx. "Lord, the subject knowingly and willingly stole food despite there being countless other options available. He must be held accountable for his actions. I'd recommend the five-year standard for this kind of crime." Onyx rubbed his chin thoughtfully, studying the prisoner before him. The prosecutor made a few good points, but it was time to see the flip side of the coin. The defense attorney cleared his throat purposefully. "Lord, let me begin by attacking the term 'thief.' it's a gross misnomer and our subject does not deserve such a title. He merely obtained necessary rations to suffice his family's hunger. In what dimension is trying to stay alive a crime?" "In what dimension is committing a crime okay if it is done to stay alive?" The prosecutor rolled his eyes. "Irregardless of reasoning, the subject broke the law. The day we start giving passes for thieves because they 'were trying to feed their family' is the day we allow stealing altogether." "Your Lordship, this is an attack on the subject's character. Once again, he's undeserving of the crime, as he was simply feeding his starving wife and two foals. I fail to see the crime in that, and so should you. Please, Lord, let this stallion return to his family so he can support them the best he can." The defense sat back, as if he'd won with that statement alone. Onyx stared down into the defendant's eyes, searching them for a clue of what to do. He found genuine fear, apprehension, and innocence staring back at him. Should this stallion be convicted for attempting to feed his family? Although he may have a good reason for it, he still committed a crime. That much was true. However, the prosecutor was seeking five years -- a hefty sentence for taking some food. Onyx sat back and began quietly drumming his forehooves on the surface of the desk, deep in thought. He was facing a serious moral dilemma here. This particular crime shed light on why his father disliked court so much. One simply could not stick to the books in cases like this. The defendant was only thinking of his family's survival. Which meant there was only one thing to do. Onyx took a deep breath to speak, resulting in the whole courtroom focusing attention on him all at once, all in anticipation on what he'd say. "How old are your two foals, Mr. Mint?" The prisoner was taken aback by the formality. He frowned and replied, "Three and five, Lord. Filly and colt." Onyx nodded. "And you were stealing to feed them because you had no other options available that you were aware of?" "I... I suppose so, Lord." "Very well," he said, leaning forward. He could now feel the prosecutor's gaze burning a hole through his side, but he ignored it for now. "Finally, I'd like to ask if you'd have been willing to hungry yourself to be sure your family was fed well enough with any food you obtained." "That was my intention all along, Lord." "That's all I needed to hear. The subject is not guilty and is to be released immediately." Onyx slammed the old wooden gavel down. "You're just like your father," the prosecutor grumbled, shaking his head. "King Topaz was always far too lenient. Despicable." Onyx turned and narrowed his eyes at the portly unicorn. Had he really just said that? "I beg your pardon?" All activity and quiet murmuring in the room ceased as its occupants sensed the tension building suddenly. "I believe I was quite clear," he spat, glaring up at the count. "First of all, that's not how you address me. It's 'Lord' to you. Second of all, you will not interrupt this court session with besmirching of me or my father. Thirdly, see me after court. Your disrespect must be dealt with." He lowered his voice to just above a whisper and leaned towards the now nervous prosecutor. "My father has given me full control of the kingdom, which includes giving punishments for insubordination," he grinned pleasantly, "so play nice, understand?" The unicorn nodded, a bead of sweat forming on his brow as the magnitude of his mistake hit him full-on. "Yes, Lord. My sincerest of apologies." "Good," Onyx said, turning his attention to the baffled courtroom. "Let us continue. Bring the next prisoner forward." Tourmaline Castle grew quiet as the evening hours rolled by, and soon Count Onyx was left with nothing to do. So, as usual, he went to visit his father in the infirmary. The hospital in Tourmaline Castle was the best equipped medical center in Romaneia. Surgeries, resuscitation, disease care, and anything else that might ail somepony within castle walls was performed in the medical area on the fifth floor. Sometimes, the local hospital in Romanhoof could not care for a particular illness or injury, in which case the castle would receive the subject. Luckily, medical care was free in Romaneia, so one hadn't the need to worry where they received treatment. In the infirmary, Onyx sat quietly at the bedside of his sleeping father. King Topaz lay still, the covers pulled up to his chin, the only sign of life being the rise and fall of the blue blanket with each of his heavy, raspy, labored breaths. Somehow, the stallion appeared many years older than he had just days before. Ever since he'd fallen ill and given control of the kingdom to Onyx, things just hadn't felt right. Without the king and queen, Romaneia was like a ship without its captain. Except, now the first mate was in charge. Onyx was that first mate, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. Running a kingdom at his age seemed an impossiblity, yet it was happening, and things were going smoothly. Or so it seemed. In any case, he'd surprised himself with how well he'd been doing, and he was certain his father would be proud of him. He'd have been especially impressed at his performance in court earlier. "Oh, the things we'll discuss when you're better, father," Onyx whispered with distant hope. King Topaz stirred, but remained asleep. Onyx sighed sadly and wondered why his father had even fallen ill in the first place. It didn't make any sense that his father, a cleanly stallion, careful and a bit paranoid at times, would contract such an illness to leave him bedridden. If he didn't know any better, Onyx would almost say his father had been intentionally afflicted. Despite it being an absurd notion, it was a possibility he couldn't rule out -- mostly because his gut insisted not to. A pretty mare nurse flashed Onyx a smile as she passed by, and immediately Onyx began revisiting the memories of a time not long ago where his father had tried to land his son a partner for life. The previous summer, during the week of the Grand Crystal Gala, Onyx had stressed to his father that he was lonely and craved attention, the kind one only received from a mate. King Topaz immediately taught him some valuable lessons about mares and how to treat them, which was first and foremost in picking one up. Unfortunately, it wasn't only just the lack of knowledge on females that plagued the young stallion -- he had a terrible case no social prowess, complete with a taciturn personality and paired with unsurmountable shyness when speaking to members of the opposite sex. So, the night before the gala, King Topaz gave Onyx lessons for overcoming timidity and approaching a mare that he held interest in. The night of the gala, Onyx strolled into the ballroom dressed sharply and possessing high hopes. However, at the end of the event, he'd been unable to approach a single mare and left the ballroom single and disconsolate. His father, displeased that his son had botched such a simple task, offered him no sympathy. "You either get a wife, or you don't. Either way, when it comes your time to take my place on the throne and run this magnificent kingdom, you'll want a queen. It can get rather lonely without one," his father had warned him. The message scared him now, sitting at the bedside of his mysteriously ill father. What would happen if his father passed this very instant? Onyx would be thrust into kinghood. He'd no longer be a count, but instead the King of Romaneia. "Father, I promise you," Onyx said quietly, "that I will run this kingdom perfectly -- with or without a queen. It's my promise to you." Deep in his heart, though, Count Onyx was afraid... afraid that he'd end up soon as the first king in Romaneian history without a queen. Back in the keep, Onyx lay reclined on his bed against a large, feather-stuffed pillow, reading some books he obtained from one of the castle's many libraries. One of which was a time of great interest to him -- it was titled, "Of Hearts and Desire." He hadn't been looking for such a self-help, but as he'd sifted through shelves of books for anything about diseases and illnesses, the tome caught his eye. Now, as he lay on his bed flipping through the pages, he was finding out some interesting information. Squawk! Beakon announced his arrival to the headboard behind Onyx, who smiled up at it. "Hello there," Onyx greeted his feathered friend. It cocked its head at him, and Onyx returned his attention back to the book. The tome contained much about how to approach, where to approach, identifying body language, and delved into more intimate subjects eventually, such as courting and various other topics that made Onyx uncomfortable. He'd never truly "romanced", but he had taken a few mares to bed. It was only possible for him to overcome his awkward shyness by allowing the harlots he "hired" to take him to their place or a hotel -- and provide their services in complete darkness. With the lights on, Onyx simply couldn't bring himself to anything. Anypony that had seen his performance in the Royal Courtroom earlier would greatly contest the idea that he was "shy"; put him alone in a room with a beautiful mare, however, and watch him crumble like old, weathered stone. The soft patter of rain on the roof lured Onyx's attention from the book and his jumbled thoughts. The entire ceiling of the keep was glass -- about six inches of it, to be exact. It was made to be strong enough to support the weight of ten ponies, being shot up with the sharpest of arrows, and perhaps a cannon ball, but transparent enough to give occupants of the room the most spectacular of views. Right now, all Onyx could see is a sea of dark grey. This keep had been his home long enough for him to have already grown accustomed to the layout. He much enjoyed being so high up, as it gave him an impeccable view of the ocean, setting sun, entire sky, and the shopping district of downtown Romanhoof. Lately, his favorite in the keep had been the enormous verandah facing the sea to the west. Here, he could relax, think, or sing to himself his favorite songs. Simply put, the balcony had become like a second home. Beakon gave a weak chirp and flapped back up to the top of the huge wardrobe where it chose to roost every night. Onyx followed the parrot with his gaze, then redirected it to the clock over the fireplace before the foot of the bed. 11:10 PM, it read. Onyx yawned and stared down at the open tome. The words seemed to all blur together. "Must be time for bed," he said quietly to himself, closing the book and setting it with the others on his nightstand. He stood and shed his black satin robe, laying it at the foot of the bed. As he turned back to his bed, a bright flash of white stopped him. Within seconds, a deep, tumultuous roar vibrated the room -- a summer thunderstorm, the first in nearly a month. Onyx smiled to himself. He found solace in thunderstorms. Tonight wasn't a night he needed it, but it would surely act as a lullaby, guiding him into a peaceful, deep slumber. Yawning once again, Onyx hopped onto the bed and slipped under the ever-welcoming covers. He blew out the single candle lighting the room from his bedside table and waited for sweet sleep to embrace him, the sounds of a gentle rain and distant rumbles of thunder quickly lulling him there in no time. The next day, Onyx sat at the table in the situation room on the fifth floor. Around him were many important ponies: the captain of the Topaz Army, Admiral of the Topaz Navy, the major of the Topaz Air Guard, and the mysterious leader of the Topaz Ranger Brotherhood -- an elite troop of highly-trained knights elected to defend the castle in the event there is danger of it being invaded of overrun. They were also sent on secret missions, most of which Onyx knew nothing about. His father explained that it was better that way. Today, the meeting was about the current status of the kingdom, security concerns, and the economy of Romaneia. At the table as well we're a couple advisors and Onyx's servant, Ironhoof, although he wouldn't be saying much. Onyx say at the end of the long, solid oak conference table and listened curiously to the captain as he spoke about the armies bivouacked to the north. "My soldiers are finding out what high-altitudes can do even in the middle of summer," the grizzly, barritone-voiced stallion pegasus said, sitting back in his chair and folding his massive forelegs across his chest. The captain was a huge, scarred brute of a soldier, his black mane cut short and cropped. His coat of deep, silvery-grey was spotted and striped with various scars, Jo doubt received from battles in his nearly six decades of service to the king. "Are they properly equipped?" Onyx inquired, raising his eyebrows. The captain stroked his razor-edged goatee. "Hmm. I'd say so, Lord Onyx. We've enough supplies to remain there another whole winter, if need be." Onyx nodded. "I don't believe that will be necessary, Captain. Remind me to have your troops pull out from the valley beside Mt. Frost. No reason for them to remain there if the Rebel Federation has gone defunct." The Rebel Federation was a rather large group of anti-Topaz peasants who had banded together in an effort to overthrow the king over a single edict: the taxation on food. Exiled from Romaneia, the federation attempted to recruit and try a second time, but King Topaz would have none of it. One-hundred thousand troops were deployed to the remote mountains of the northern regions of Romaneia, where the Rebel Federation had set up a command center. The leaders were apprehended and imprisoned, and the roughly two-thousand recruits were disbanded. Despite this, King Topaz left the soldiers there, concerned the federation might still be operating somewhere out in the cold, snowy mountains, plotting against him. "Yes, Lord. As you wish." The captain looked relieved. Onyx didn't blame him. The Glacier Ridge Mountains were savage and inhospitable -- no place to live or camp at, even for the hardiest of knights. Onyx had a second thought, turning to the sky-blue stallion pegasus who ran the air force. "Major, do a flyover of the entire mountain range. Look for signs of remaining rebels. After that, the ground forces may retreat." The Major's eyebrows shot up. "The entire range, Lord?" he asked incredulously. Onyx leaned forward and swept a foreleg across the mountain range depicted on the large map on the table. "Indeed, Major. The entire range. Before pulling out, we must be certain it is safe to do so. We don't want any surprises later, now, do we?" Onyx eyed the pegasus expectantly, cocking an eyebrow. The major sat back, sighing resignedly. "No, no we do not." "Is there something wrong, Major?" The major hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Lord, the Glacier Mountain Range is over 90 miles long. That's quite a flight." Onux smiled. "That's why I trust your soldiers only to get the task done." The major decided to take the compliment and remained silent. "Moving on," Onyx said casually, turning to the admiral. He was a maize-colored, grey-maned earth pony, older but nonetheless strong. The wrinkles around his pale green eyes portrayed years of service at sea and his growing weariness and age. Unlike the other division leaders at the table, the admiral was actually quite small for a stallion. "Yes, Lord?" the stallion asked in a gravelly voice. Onyx pointed to the sea west of Romaneia, the major thoroughfare for shipping to and from the country. "Have you handled the piracy in the bay?" "Yes Lord, I have. We've managed to completely clear the coast of pirates, though unfortunately, we had to sink a hostile vessel loaded with stolen gems." "Losses?" Onyx asked brusquely. The admiral cleared his throat. "About eighty-thousand gems, Lord." Onyx cringed. That was almost five percent of the circulating gems in the kingdom. "Heavy loss, Admiral." "Absolutely, Lord," he agreed, then pointed to a spot about a hundred miles off the western coast. "It was sunk about here, Lord. Would you like me to send a dive and retrieval team to scour the seafloor for the lost gems?" "Do it." "As you command, Lord." Onyx now shifted his gaze to the quiet, hooded figure that was the leader of the TRB. Besides the navy-blue cloak he wore, Onyx could not see much else of the pony. His face was concealed by the shadow cast by his hood. "It's my understanding, " Onyx began, shuffling through some parchments, finding a report from the TRB, "that you've uncovered some important information for me?" "Indeed, Lord," the hooded figure said in a female voice. Onyx raised his eyebrows in surprise. There weren't many mares in the Royal Forces; even less were actual leaders. He'd assumed her gender far too quickly. "Yesterday, we intercepted a letter to a home in Haydale. The letter was from a suspected conspirer in West Romanhoof, a newcomer to our land from Equestria. The letter contained details about the layout of Tourmaline Castle and a crudely-drawn map. I'm to believe there's an inside source, Lord, based on some of those details." The mare never moved the whole time she spoke, which Onyx found unsettling. Onyx took a moment to process the information he'd just been fed. Haydale was a town southeast of Romanhoof. He'd only been there once, many years ago. The populace seemed friendly enough, which added to his confusion on why somepony from there would be conspiring against the kingdom. The admiral suddenly lit up a big cigar, the acrid smoke wafting throughout the room. Onyx scrunched his nose in distaste. He never understood why ponies smoked. He returned his thoughts to the matter at hand. "You say there's a potential source from within the castle?" he asked the mare, cocking his head to the side. If it was true, the suspect would have to be dealt with swiftly and apprehended before they could share any more information. "Yes, Lord. Shall I continue my investigation?" she asked. Onyx gave a hum in response. "Also, were the conspirers in Haydale and Romanhoof apprehended?" The TRB leader finally moved, but only in the form of a single nod. "They were, Lord. They're in the dungeon as we speak," she said, sounding almost prideful. "I see... Well, all that aside, was there anything else that needed to be addressed?" Nopony spoke. "Very well. This meeting is adjourned until tomorrow," Onyx said. Before anypony could even budge, the doors to the room burst open, and a panting servant rushed in. All eyes turned to the strange invasion, but nopony contested it. If a servant was panting, it meant news for the count -- important news. "Lord Onyx! The queen has fallen and is unconscious!" Onyx was up and to the door in a heartbeat. "Take me to her. Now," he demanded.