//------------------------------// // Chapter 18 // Story: The Tome of Faust // by DungeonMiner //------------------------------// As they stepped into Baron Jet’s carriage, Mouse was silent. Maybe it was curiosity, maybe boredom, but Mouse wanted to hear what the Baron had to say. The larger, older unicorn waited until his servants shut the door before he began. “Trust me when I say I hold only the highest regard for this country. To be founded in the middle of our darkest winter, and to strike out against hundreds of years of grudges and pain to make a new land where ponies can live in harmony, regardless of tribe, is incredibly noble, and takes strength unlike any I have seen in my own lifetime. Unfortunately, the problem Unicornia faces when dealing with such a new player on the board is greater than the opportunities it presents.” The carriage began to pull away, leaving the mansion after the baron’s sudden “faintness” tore him from the party. “Tell me, assassin, are you familiar with the Golden Revolutionaries?” “I’ve heard the name before,” Mouse replied. Jet smiled. “Well, Equestria’s dear Princess Platinum abdicated the Unicornian throne, as you might expect, and left succession in the hooves of her younger sister, Princess Gold. However, before her coronation, the youngest, Princess Silver managed to stage a coup, and took the throne for herself while exiling the elder.” The Baron produced a set of goblets, and a bottle from a container beneath the seat. “Wine? It's an earth pony make, grown in the Sunkiss Valley Vineyard, an excellent year, at that.” Mouse slowly took one of the goblets and waited to be poured a glass. “If you would be so kind.” The Baron nodded, pleased, before he poured both glasses. “Now Queen Silver will say it was the manifestation of divine-right that allowed her to take the throne once her father passed away. Of course, anyone that wanted to keep their head didn't mention the fact that the general became her consort perhaps faster than most others would have deemed proper, but that is neither here nor there. Suffice to say that Silver has not been good for the kingdom at large, and the Golden Revolutionaries hope that restoring the rightful heiress would likewise restore the kingdom.” The Baron sipped his wine, and motioned for Mouse to do the same. Mouse obeyed, listening as the Baron sighed. “Wonderful, isn't it? Very full, with just the faintest nose to it. Almost goes down as easy as water.” Mouse agreed, and took another drink. “Now, while I admire their goal, their methods are...short-sighted. They would destroy their own lands to put Gold back on the throne. I seek something less destructive. I seek to bring Equestria into the fold, if you will. A place where all three ponies are working together is a powerhouse for any country. Why, with Equestria at Unicornia’s side, Queen Gold could easily bring Earthonia to bow, simply because they won't be able to keep the prices on their food so high. After Earthonia, then Pegasopolis would fall soon after that.” Mouse nodded. Uniting the new and old worlds was a thought. “Of course, before that can happen, Equestria needs to be properly...groomed.” Mouse took another drink. “You see, while I agree that the tribes should live together, many in Unicornia would see this as a personal insult, unless unicorns received...preferential treatment. “This, unfortunately, means that the founders must be dealt with. Their vision for an equal Equestria is dangerous to a proper alliance between Unicornia, and the freedom and strength of will of these six mares could threaten Queen Gold’s chances of support here more than anything else.” “Why are you telling me this?” Mouse asked. “So you can understand the importance of my goals. I am not here to dismantle this country brick by brick, nor am I here to destroy whatever life you choose to live when you have served my purposes. I simply want to shape this country so that it may better survive. I hope to make Equestria what it was meant to be, a colony of Unicornia, from which the rightful Queen can gain influence.” Mouse nodded. There was some sense to be made here. “All I need to do is set up a proper nobility, purge the undesirables to a proper working position, and get rid of the other five mares that act as this country’s leaders.” “The other five?” Mouse asked aloud. The Baron smiled. “You don't think that Clover the Clever really died from illness, did you?” He asked with a laugh. “True, they were supposed to target Platinum, but I was beginning to doubt if she would be willing to negotiate anyway.” Mouse said nothing. “In any case, you’re someone that knows how to get a job done, and now that you know what that job is, then I expect you to get it done. Do we understand each other?” Mouse nodded. “We do.” The carriage came to a stop, and the Baron adjusted himself on his seat. “Good, I’ll call upon you again. For now, we have reached your stop, and my last instruction is only this: tell Oracle that I’m disappointed that he decided to keep you in the dark. It doesn't speak well of him.” The door opened, and Mouse stepped out of the carriage. “Farewell, Ghost is it?” The Baron called. “Yes, farewell, we will speak again soon.” The driver shut the door, and quickly climbed up to his seat before the team of guards that was now pulling the carriage took it and the Baron away. And Mouse watched them go, even as he began to pull his shadowkey from his bag. “Nutcase…” he muttered before he stepped away back to Tall Tale. The moment he got back, Mouse was torn between Demon and Wraith for this training and torture/interrogation. The next few weeks were back-to-back fighting and spells. His body was beaten and his mind was taxed to the point where either of them would snap under the pressure. But just when Mouse thought he couldn't take it anymore, salvation finally came to him. Somepony else had to die, and Mouse was going to be the one to deal the blow. This job was simple, and straightforward. All he had to do was meet a pegasus on the road, and challenge him to a duel. Amy other details went over his strained head, and his weakened body was too frail to keep him awake through the whole briefing. After falling asleep on his hooves for the third time, Oracle finally dismissed him for sleep. Mouse didn't remember falling into his own bed, much less finally getting to his room, all he knew was that he would finally have a break. “Are you ready this time, Ghost?” Oracle asked him. Mouse nodded, now fully awake after a day and a half or rest. “Your target is a pegasus, one of Hurricane’s Hundred, if that means anything to you.” It did, and Mouse was starting to wonder if this job was as simple as he first thought. “He will be traveling with an entourage up to Canterlot in one month, and your job is to kill him before he gets there,” Oracle explained as he traced his hoof over the cover of the Tome. “Destiny says that now he must die, so it is written, and so it shall be.” “A month? Why tell me now?” “You will need the time. Just let me explain.” Mouse nodded, still not as sure in himself as he thought he would be. “The way to kill him with greatest ease is to kill him in a duel, his entourage will be forced to watch quietly as you perform your holy duty, and he cannot rely on his stealth, nor can he run away without breaking his honor.” Mouse nodded. “Very well. I understand why he will fight with honor, but I’m still wondering why I need to.” “You will be disguised as a local unicorn noble, and you are to challenge him openly, and you are going to cheat.” “Cheat? We're framing him then?” Oracle nodded. “Don't make it obvious until after your target is dead. If somepony in the entourage catches you, they will count the duel illegitimate and attack. You want them to swear vengeance against the noble instead of carrying out justice against you.” Mouse nodded. Not being beaten to death sounded preferable. “Do this, and the pegasi shall become uncertain in their place here, and Hurricane will have to speak out and expose himself.” “We're going after Hurricane? Right after this?” “No, this is but the clatter of stones before a rockslide,” Oracle replied, his madness slipping into his tone. “This is a destiny beneath you, Nail. Though it too depends on the lack.” Mouse was quickly losing him. “Alright, so shall I go and see Ghoul then?” “Dust we are! Ghosts in history! All ponies are but steps for those who come after. But are we climbing? And what to?” “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said simply before rushing away out if Oracle's office. “Dust upon dust! Bones on bones, and no will between them!” “That's very nice, Oracle!” he said before he ran out of earshot of the pony’s ravings. When he finally had a moment’s peace, he sighed. “I’m working for a madpony, who works for a mad pony…” After a very short time bemoaning his situation, Mouse made his way to Ghoul’s workshop. When he first arrived, Mouse had made it a point to avoid anything called a “workshop.” Just the thought of it brought images of torture chambers, or grisly dissection rooms, and while living in prison gave him a stronger stomach than most, he really didn’t want to test it against the twisted mind of an assassin. Imagine his surprise then, when he found in filled with clothes. Petticoats, dresses, overcoats, vests, hats, armor, anything that could be used in a disguise was here. Mouse himself had worn a vest from here when he went up to meet with Baron Jet just a few weeks ago. Ghoul looked up from his work, the seam of a new jacket and smile. “Ah, hello, my canvas, what can I do for you today?” “I need to disguise myself as a noble,” the smaller unicorn replied. “Ah! The dueling job, is it?” Ghoul asked with a smile. Mouse nodded. Ghoul laughed, before he pulled a journal from his desk and flipped it open. “Yes, yes, you must be disguised as Lord Shining Shield, of the Shield family,” he said, reading aloud. “That sounds right,” Mouse said. “Good, good,” Ghoul said, before shutting the book. “Well then, I think we need to Specter in here.” “Specter? Why?” Mouse asked. Ghoul smiled. “Let’s just say she’s invested.” “Who?” the pegasus asked as she glared at Mouse from across the table. “I’m supposed to be Lord Shining Shield.” “You’re framing Shining Shield? Of the Shield noble house?” she asked. Mouse nodded. “Yes, that’s what I said.” She set the tankard that was in her hoof aside, before she stood. She stared Mouse in the eye, staring into his soul as she regarded him. “No, you’re not taking the job.” “What?” “I’m taking the job,” she growled. “I...I don’t know if you can.” “Ghost, you don’t get it,” she said. “If anything’s going to lead to Shield’s death, it’s me. So you’re going to walk up to Oracle’s room, and you’re going to tell him you can’t help.” Mouse blinked. She groaned, before she leapt up over the table. “Nevermind, I’ll do it.” Mouse watched her go, flying past up to Oracle’s office, still blinking and confused as to what actually just happened. He waited a moment or two before he heard shouting. “No! It’s my job! I laid claim to it, I always have!” That was Spectre’s voice. A moment of silence. “You knew! You knew and you lied to me!” She yelled again. Another break. “I can’t believe you!” A second passed. “What do you mean by that?” Another pause. “Fine!” She leapt out of the office, and down to the dining room. She landed hard, glaring at Mouse all the while. “Fine. Now listen well, because I’m not going to repeat this, alright?” “You got it,” he agreed. “Lord Shield takes his tea cold, because he believes it’s good for the humors. He insists that warm liquids damage the lungs, and thus his phlegm. Understanding the humors is the first step to understanding Lord Shield.” “The humors?” “It’s a bunch of junk,” Specter replied. “But you’re going to learn it.” Mouse nodded. At this point, she was the last pony he wanted to argue with. Specter led Mouse through all the hoops. Injest blood during the fight to increase your blood, to become angrier. Do everything you can to avoid being hit so as not to lose any. Speak like so, stand like this, and so on. She told him everything there was to know about the stallion, as well as more than he needed to know. She told him of the limp he had as a child, his fascination with the sky, his need to step over a threshold when he walked into a house, everything. And with every word, she growled through a mug of mead. By the time noon came around, she was thoroughly drunk, slurring her words and getting angrier with ever sip. “And...and the shardin’ shtallion, he...he-hesh doesh this thing wif hish shardin’ hooves where he clacksh tem together fer good luck in tha mornin’…” “How do you know all this?” Mouse asked, hoping that the change of subject would give him a chance to decipher the latest string of words. “‘Cause the sarder is my sardin’ father!” She growled. “Wait, what?” Mouse asked. “Shardin’ Dad, being a shardin’ idiot!” She yelled, kicking over a chair. Mouse blinked. “And you!” she growled, pointing at the bewildered pony. “You’re going to shardin’ get him killed by shardin’ framin’ ‘im!” “I-I’m sorry, I didn't know…” Beyond that, he didn't know unicorn’s could give birth to pegasi. “Ish not fair!” She roared, before stumbling down to her hooves. “I’m that one thash shupposhed to kill him!” “Y-you what?” “I’m shupposhed to kill the sharder…” she slurred. “He'sh always hated that fact that I’m a pegershus like Mom...he wanted unicorn babiesh, but I wash that black sheep.” Mouse blinked. “You know, Specter, I think that's enough for today…” “Merried a pegershus and had a pegershus kid. What a shurprish, Dad!” “Let's get you to bed,” Mouse said, slowly approaching the drunk assassin. “Shturdy wash alwaysh the favorite. Shturdy’s a unicorn, so he’sh gonna gonna get the family bushinessh.” Mouse slowly picked her up, letting her lean on him before he began to lead her away. “He’sh gonna get everyfing...and what does Gleamin’ get? ‘You’sh get to be a guard, Gleamin’! You’sh get to protec yer younger, better, unicorn brother.’ I hate ‘em sho much.” “C’mon, Specter, why don't we get you to your room?” “I hate ‘em all. They're all shtupid… all of ‘em. They all hate me…” “C’mon,” Mouse repeated, guiding the rantig, drunken mare. “I wanna kill ‘em. I wanna show ‘em that he should picked me. I’m gonna kill ‘em all. ‘Shpecially Dad…” Mouse pulled the mare to her bedroom, and quickly put her to bed. She groaned, moaned, and whined as Mouse got her in her cot, and threw the blankets and furs over her, but be was patient with her, and finally got her ready for a nap. “Thanksh, Ghosht. You're a good shtallion. No matter...no matter what Wraif shez.” Mouse nodded, and began to wake away. “‘Ey, Ghosht?” Spectre called. “Yes?” “Don't get Dad killed. I love him too much…” Mouse nodded. “I’ll do what I can.” Spectre slept until the next morning, which gave him some time to practice his new disguise. He walked the way Specter told him to, he spoke the she told him to, and he tried to use the rapier that she insisted her father would use. He spun the long, slender blade, feeling the weight of it in his magical grasp. He whipped it through the air, listening to it whip and snap around him. He brought the blade up, and watched as the candle light glance across the blade, before sheathing it. Yes. It was official. He had no idea what he was doing. The reach on the new weapon was nice, but it seemed too frail to parry or slice with, and he wasn’t quite trained to attack with thrusts all the time. This meant, of course, that he was going to need Demon. With a sigh, and a moment of preparation for the physical abuse he was about recieve, Mouse made his way down to the training ground where the large earth pony roamed like a prowling lion. Down the stairs, carrying the rapier, all the way to the small alcove where the training dummies lived, and the sound of blows rang up through the air. Turning the corner, Mouse was surprised to see Spectre there, practicing with her bow and making her shots on the targets across the room. Arrows filled the eyes, the hearts, and livers of the targets, and she continued to make her shots, pinning her fury to the dummies with each shot. Demon worked nearby, oiling his blades before testing their edge with the light, but never once speaking up as Spectre filled his targets with holes. The earth pony looked up. “Can I help you, brother?” Demon asked. “I need training with this blade,” Mouse replied. Spectre fired another arrow into the target's head, between the eyes. Demon nodded. “I will do what I can. The rapier was never my specialty. I find a removed head is far more effective at killing a pony than forcing him to bleed all over the floor.” Spectre fired again. “Once my targets become available, I will show you how to use it.” “I will gladly take the break,” Mouse said. Spectre shot again. “I will be a while,” she growled, before firing again. Demon sighed. “I will take lunch then. Let me know when you’re done.” Spectre nodded, and let fly. Demon took his leave, leaving Mouse, his rapier, and Spectre and her targets. She fired again, nailing an arrow to a target. “What did I tell you?” she asked. “Excuse me?” Mouse asked. “I drank perhaps a little too much, I always do when Lord Shield is involved. I’m sure I must have said something. What did I say?” “You told me what he is to you,” Mouse answered. She pinned another arrow to the dummy. “Then you know I want to kill him,” she said. “I do,” He answered. “Do you know what you need to do, then?” she asked. “You need me to warn him?” “I need him alive. I need to kill him myself.” Mouse nodded. “I’ll do what I can.” The month had passed, and the time was now. Shining Shield, or Mouse as Shining Shield, had left Canterlot not five days ago, and had made all haste down the southern road where his target was traveling. He toyed with the rapier at his side, and watched with a growing apprehension at the approaching small army that Oracle had called an entourage. Once they were close enough, he leapt out from behind a rock, and delivered his speech about his damaged honor, and necessary recompense. The old pegasus, Steel Plume, agreed to a duel, and in that moment sealed his fate. Mouse did everything he could to get the first blow in, and the second the long, thin blade pierced his hide, the paralyzing poison went to work. In minutes, Mouse went from doing everything he could to dodge and duck, and leap out of the way to practically dancing around the older stallion. Before long, Steel was dead, filled with so many holes he could be mistaken for a sponge. Then it was just a matter of “accidentally” dropping the vial, and running for the trees. A quick invisibility spell later, and Mouse was walking back out of the trees without anyone of them the wiser. The word easy didn't even do it justice. Why, he could have probably even taken the old pegasus on without the poison. Okay, probably not. In fact it was more likely that he’d be bisected right about know if it weren't for the little vial of paralysis, but it was a fun thought. Still, Mouse had a more important job to do. Mouse ran, trying his best to dispel the disguise that sat on him, and heading back north for Canterlot. He ran until he shrugged the spell off, then slowed as he walked toward a house that stood alone on a single hill. Shining Shield sat at his desk, hunched over a scrap of parchment that his quill scratched into as he tried to balance the cost of a new magical item. The counters on his abacus clacked back and forth, before he finally had an answer. With a faint smile, he wrote down the final cost, before deciding on a 25% markup. “You need to leave.” Shining nearly leapt out of his skin at the sound of the voice, and he looked up to see a figure in the corner of his office. He blinked, looking to the door, which sat open, but silent. He hadn't heard a sound. “I-I will not be threatened in my own home,” Lord Shield replied, trying to reach for his rapier. “I am not threatening you. I’m warning you.” Shining felt the magically-attuned handle in his grip, and slowly began to pull his sword close. “Warning? Warning against what? Who sent you?” “Your daughter.” The room fell silent. “M-my daughter? Gleaming? She's-she’s alive?” The rapier clattered to the floor, and Shining took a single, shaking step forward. “Where? Where is she?” Mouse shook his head. “I can’t tell you.” “Can’t? No, no, you don’t understand. You need to tell me. I will pay you. I will give you twice your weight in gold! Do you like the house? It’s yours! Please! I need you to tell me where she is.” “You need to listen to her warning. You have been framed for murder. You must leave.” “You need to tell her! You need to tell her we need her to come home! Please! Anything!” the lord asked, falling to his knees. “Please! Tell her!” “You and your family must go into hiding,” Mouse warned. “Tell her she can have anything! Anything! I’ll give her whatever it takes to get her back, please!” “Leave. She will find you when she is ready,” Mouse said, making his way toward the window. “Tell her I miss her! I miss her more than anything, please! Please! Please let her know I love her.” Mouse waited a moment, staring out into the night sky beyond the window. “She knows.” And with his duty done, he leapt out, into the darkness.