“Haloo!” the Doctor called as they and Councillor Cookie entered the Chancellor’s front hall. “Is anypony in?”
There was the sound of a loud thumping from the other room. Smart Cookie sighed and facehoofed. “Chancellor,” he said in a loud, patient voice, “You’ve a visitor!”
The old pony popped his head out through the doorway. He was covered with soot from head to hoof, but was grinning nonetheless. “Ah, Smart Cookie! Unknown pegasus! How good of ye to drop in!”
“Thou wast checking to see if the chimney was wide enough to fit down, were thou not,” the councillor asked flatly.
Chancellor Puddinghead looked shifty. “Oi… nae…” he muttered. “Oi might've been cleanin’ the oven…”
Smart Cookie merely shook his head and sighed. “Chancellor, this is Professor Query, here to take census.”
“Taking census?” the Chancellor gasped. “Oh, arr! Well, I suppose you can take my sense of hearin’. Don’t hear none but the jabb'ring o’ statesponies anyhow. But don’t touch me sense o’ humor, thou und'rstand?”
The Doctor grinned. “I see. How do you feel about common sense?”
“Ah, if Oi had any left, sure an’ thou could ‘ave it,” the Chancellor responded with a cockeyed grin and a sparkle in his eye that the Doctor found quite familiar; they saw it whenever they looked in a mirror.
“Oh, no…” Smart Cookie groaned. “There’s two of them.”
“Steady on, Cookie,” the Chancellor laughed. “No fear, I’ll hear thee out first, and then ye can head home.”
“Perhaps I can take away your sense of foreboding?” the Doctor asked mischievously. Smart Cookie glared at them. “Alright, alright, pax,” the pegasus sighed.
“Professor, would thee care to make thyself at home in the kitchen as I talk to my chief councilor?” Chancellor Puddinghead asked.
“Of course.” The pegasus pottered off down the hall and closed the kitchen door behind them.
The Chancellor closed the door to his study. Cookie was pacing nervously around the room. “I’m worried,” he began without preamble. “I be not sure what it is yet, but something is rotten here.”
Puddinghead nodded. “Speak on,” he encouraged.
“Tis… I think.... Oh, I know not, I know not!” Cookie snapped, turning away. “Not everypony is as intuitive as you are, Chancellor.”
“Hmm. That be true,” the Chancellor admitted. “So let dear ol’ Uncle Puddinghead work it out, aye?”
“Thou art barely three years my elder,” muttered Cookie, in the tone of one who has made that particular correction many times over.
“So. When didst thou begin to worry after this whate’er-it-be?” the Chancellor asked, leaning forward.
“This morn only,” Smart Cookie replied. “I felt… there was something in the trees. Watching. Oh, it sounds foolish, e’en to mine own ears,” he sighed. “T’was like as not just a squirrel, or a bird mayhap.”
Chancellor Puddinghead frowned slightly, but nodded. “Aye. Very like it was. But, supposing it were not... Well, let Oi know if thou have any other feelings o’ wrongness. There may be more sooth in them than thou suppose.”
Cookie looked as though he were about to say something, but changed his mind. “Aye. I shall. Thankee, Chancellor. Pleasant dreams.”
“An’ to thee, Smart Cookie,” the Chancellor returned with a broad grin. The smile immediately fell, however, as soon as the other pony had left. Smart Cookie was a good sort, but didn’t trust himself nearly enough. It was rather a good thing that the Chancellor knew potential when he saw it, else the stallion would still be a laborer. He glanced briefly at the wall that stood between the room he was in and his kitchen, then turned to where the councilor had stood. “He said something,” he thought aloud, staring at that wall. “Not somepony. Something.”
***
Smart Cookie walked home with his head down, lost in thought. At times, he wondered if the Chancellor wasn’t cleverer than he seemed. At other times, he wondered if the Chancellor was just a very charismatic and lucky idiot. Right now, he wasn’t sure what to think. For the briefest of moments, a shadow crossed the sun and Smart Cookie shuddered.
For the briefest of moments, he thought once again that he was being watched. For the briefest of moments, he wondered if the village would be better off being led by someone with common sense. For the briefest of moments, he entertained dark and dangerous thoughts.
But then, the sun returned, and Cookie shook his head. What had he been thinking? Nothing very important, he was sure. The councilor continued on his way home, not noticing that it was an utterly cloudless afternoon.
***
Chancellor Puddinghead paused for a moment in the hall outside his kitchen door. There was no noise from inside. He quickly pushed the door open, his eyes darting from side to side. Professor Query sat idly at the table, spinning an empty pewter mug around in his hooves. He glanced up. “Ah, Chancellor,” he said, smiling faintly. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
Chancellor Puddinghead smiled broadly back. “Ah, ‘twere naught. Hast thou anywhere to sleep tonight? I’ve a spare bed, if thou desire it…”
“Thank you, that would be most kind,” the Doctor replied with a nod. “However, I simply must repay you for your hospitality. Are there any chores that you need done? Chimneys measured?”
“Nae, Oi fear not,” the Chancellor replied with a sad shake of the head.
“You should,” the Doctor muttered, his face falling for just a moment as he cast a glance toward the forest.
“All Oi ask of thee is some entertainment,” the Chancellor said, spreading his hooves placatingly. “Terribly dull life out here.”
The Doctor nodded thoughtfully. “Yes…” he agreed. “Some sleight of hoof, perhaps? I am rather good at that.”
“Perhaps a game,” suggested the Chancellor. “Care thee for chess? Cards?”
“Hm. Neither of those for me, thank you. I’ve had enough of chess to last a lifetime or three, and as for cards…” he blinked a few times. “Well. Let’s just say that I’ve lost the Ace from up my sleeve.”
The Chancellor nodded. “Playing solitaire?” he asked sympathetically.
“You might say that, yes,” the Doctor muttered, glaring at the mug grimly. “How do you feel about peg-the-board?”
Chancellor Puddinghead cocked his head thoughtfully, sucking in a long breath. “I can no' say that I’ve ever heard tell of it,” he said.
“I’m rather new to it myself,” the Doctor admitted. They pulled out a triangular piece of wood, riddled with holes, as well as several short, colorful sticks of a material the Chancellor didn’t recognize.
“Where did thee get that?”
“Susan’s Diner, off Route 66,” the pegasus replied.
“Eh?”
“Not important. Now, how you play is, you put in all the pegs. One hole will be left empty, though you can choose whichever one you like to leave open.” They demonstrated as they spoke, filling in fourteen of the fifteen holes. “Now, you jump one peg over another into an empty hole, then remove the peg you jumped. The object of the game is to have only one peg on the board at the end.”
The Chancellor took the board from the Doctor, examining it minutely. “Shouldn’t be too difficult,” he said, setting up the board.
After a few attempts, he looked up at the Doctor. “A most interestin’ game,” he said. “No’ quite what Oi thought thou wouldst suggest, though.”
“Oh? Why not?”
He shrugged. “Seems t’ Oi, most intellectual types like their games like chess, with metty-fors in. Never understood what the metty was for, meself…”
“Ah. Well, this is no exception. May I?” the Doctor asked, reaching for the board.
The Chancellor waved his agreement, leaning back in his seat. The Doctor set up the board carefully. “Now,” they began, “What one needs to win at this sort of game is strategy. The sort of cleverness that allows one to see several steps ahead, you see.” They made a few jumps.
“You just need to keep an eye on how all the pieces fit together,” they continued, still jumping the pegs over one another. “How each move impacts future moves, and how it was impacted by past ones. Keep that up, see the patterns...” they jumped the last peg. “...and you’ll win every time.”
The Chancellor nodded slowly. “So… be this about how one sets up their forces?” he guessed.
“Not bad. Not at all bad. Not too long ago, it might have been,” the Doctor conceded. “Now, however, I ask you to look at what remains.”
Chancellor Puddinghead frowned. “Only th’ last peg,” he said.
“Exactly,” the Doctor said, his brow darkening. “One peg, all alone. King of his own world. King of nothing.”
The Chancellor tilted his head back. “A morality play?” he asked dubiously.
“It needs a little work, I admit,” the Doctor said, setting down the board on the table. “Nevertheless, the point stands.”
“Aye? And what’s that, then?”
“The point, my dear Chancellor, is that the three tribes must unite. If one pony were to disrupt the order as it stands now, if one tribe were to, ah, ‘jump’ the others and defeat them, it would be world-changing, and not in a good way.”
“So, ye be here to settle us down, is that it?” the Chancellor asked, his face hardening. “Keep the peace?”
“Nothing quite so mundane. I am here to protect you all from another force, one who would find the disharmony and strife between the tribes to be beneficial, even enjoyable.”
The Chancellor blinked. He had been expecting either a flat denial or a confession, not this nonsense. He briefly toyed with the idea that this stallion might simply be pretending to be mad, but decided it fairly unlikely. And if there was anyone who could tell feigned madness, it was him. Nevertheless…
The Doctor was still watching him. The pegasus' eyes were like stars— bright and shining, but cold, and very far away. “Of what sort o’ force do ye speak?” the Chancellor asked carefully. Even if the Doctor was lying, it could only be beneficial to get more information.
The Doctor frowned, kicking one back hoof over the other and leaning slantways against the table. “I’m not yet sure,” they admitted. “I have my suspicions, of course, but it will take time to test them. Even then, I’m not certain as to what may be done about it. Until then, we must be on our guard. Everypony must be on guard.”
“I see. I’ll call a gen’ral assembly on the morrow, to make sure that everypony keeps an eye open for… whate’er it be.”
The Doctor smiled a real, honest smile. “Thank you, Chancellor. Now,” they added, “I daresay it’s time for me to retire. Good night,”
“Aye, and to thee, Professor.”
The Doctor nodded, and went off to their room. They stared out the window for a long time. Night had fallen, and only the barest hint of the moon could be seen. Darkness enshrouded the town, and the candle light made the shadows dance and flicker as though alive. The Doctor stared into the abyss, pensive. For a moment, they felt the abyss stare back. They hardened their glare, and the abyss slunk away like a frightened cat.
Well. Now at least they could try to get a look at the real problems here.
They cast their gaze out at the forest that surrounded the town, trees prepared at any moment to reclaim what had been theirs, bushes that rustled from wind or less natural forces, and the darkness that oozed from the foliage. This village could at any moment be swallowed whole, and no trace would be left of it.
Their brow darkened. They stared out at the forest for the rest of the night.