Ghost woke, yawning as he stared up at the ceiling of his small room. The red and black banners and tapestries that surrounded him left the room warm and cozy, leaving the ability to slide out of bed criminally impossible.
You know, things aren’t so bad, he thought to himself as he rolled on his goosefeather bed. He had, maybe two kills that he didn’t particularly like, and was practically swimming in gold. Honestly, it was more than he knew what to do with. He had enchanted armor, knives that cost an unholy amount of gold, some fine cloaks, a magical bag, and enough food to last years.
Things weren’t so bad.
Yes, he did have to live with the death of the sacrifice that he had to perform when he first entered this little cult, but she was suffering, and was not long for the world anyway. He ended her suffering more than anything for her.
The other was Windswept. The kind, respectful pegasus that simply wanted a job. The poor beggar that was down on his luck, and just wanted enough to have a normal life. The poor, hopeful, Windswept that only wanted a chance, and…
Yeah, he was going to stop thinking about that.
He rolled in his bed, sighing as he sunk further into his soft, soft mattress. The place to sleep was also one of the best he had for years. He couldn’t deny that this alone was easily worth one pony’s blood. Maybe two.
A knock sounded on his door, and Wraith entered. “If you’re done sleeping, breakfast is served.”
He nodded, and rolled out of his bed. Taking a moment to stretch, as he had been taught by Demon, Ghost quickly woke up, before heading to the main room.
As he stepped into the main hall, he was first greeted by the sight of Spectre downing her fifth ale for the morning. Her ability to just put away beer confused Ghost to no end. Even when it came to proper ale, instead of the light, morning brew, she was able to drink tankard after tankard of the stuff.
Then again, if he had the same relationship with his parents that she did, he might not blame her.
Ghoul picked more than ate his food. An almost dainty fork slowly stabbed his food and brought it up to his mouth with all the grace typically reserved for a noble’s table. His concentration on his plate was almost absolute up until Ghost entered the room. “Well, well, good morning my dear canvas.”
Ghost nodded in acknowledgement, but said nothing else.
Demon ate like his namesake would a soul. His crazed zealotry of the Void carried into every facet of his being, including the way he ate his food. Carrots, honeyed apples, and more was shoved down his gullet as fast as he could possibly manage.
“Slow down or you’ll choke,” Phantom warned, taking bits from his own plate with practiced precision. Ghost still found his strange insistence that “everything is a lock” strange, but it made him constantly slow and methodical to a fault. Of course, Ghost wasn't going to complain much, what with considering that there was no lock that could separate Phantom from whoever he wanted dead.
Oracle didn't eat with the others, he always took his meals alone, and prepared them himself. He didn't mean to be rude by it, it was a strange habit that he never explained. In fact, Ghost was willing to bet that Oracle himself forgot what reason was, but Ghost wasn't quite willing to trust luck again.
“What do we have this morning?” He asked as he walked up. “Shortbread? Cornbread?”
“Scones,” Spectre answered as finished her next drink.
The cream-glazed, and still-warm breads were passed his way, and he eagerly grabbed a pair before biting into it. The glaze practically melted on his tongue, and the scone yielded eagerly to his teeth. “Hm, perfect as usual.” He took another bite, enjoying every second of the fresh bread. “Where do we get this?” he asked.
“Hmm?” Spectre hummed in response.
“The bread, where do we get the fresh bread? Is there a mare down in the town that bakes it, or…?”
“Wraith bakes,” Phantom told him, picking at his food as though it were a massive lock.
“Wait, Wraith?” He asked.
“Yes,” she answered.
“You bake for us?” He asked.
“I learned how best to mold magic by spending years braiding dough, yes,” she told him.
“Huh,” Ghost said. “I’m surprised that you haven't tried to poison me.”
“I’ve certainly thought about it,” she told him. “The biggest problems is getting just you without making you a separate cake. It be too suspicious if I gave you a scone with ‘for Ghost only’ written on it in glazed sugar.”
Ghost nodded. “Fair.”
Demon laughed. “To face the prospect of death so calmly. I have trained you well, Ghost.”
“You tried, at least,” Ghost agreed.
“I’m still not convinced you aren’t a spy,” Wraith muttered.
“I know.”
She had, admittedly warmed to him a touch, once she had watched him long enough to prove to herself that he wasn't sneaking away to meet with a shadow council behind her back. Still, her paranoia was still strong and healthy enough to make sure she locked her bedroom door with four separate locks, chains, and bolts each.
So...as healthy as paranoia can be.
Still, he was surprised that the mare could bake something so delicious. He heard that baking took heart, and her complete lack of empathy made him think that anything she could bake would come out black and tasteless. So he was at the very least, very surprised.
As they ate breakfast, the cult of assassins spoke to each other in hushed tones. They didn't speak low for the sake of fear or unease, they spoke quietly because it was expected of them. They were assassins after all, and silence was their brother.
As the morning meal was winding down, Oracle appeared on the balcony above. “Ghost, come. Another job has come for you.”
Ghost sighed, scone halfway in his mouth, while Phantom smirked. “That's our job my friend. As long as three ponies remain on this planet, somepony will want somepony dead.”
Ghost nodded, but said nothing as he pushed himself away from the table, scone still in his mouth. Up he walked the stairs, chewing absentmindedly on his breakfast, until he finally came to Oracle’s office.
Swallowing whatever was left, he entered to find Oracle at his desk with the all-important tome in front of him. “Ghost, you must go to Canterlot,” Oracle said in the surprisingly straightforward manner of his lucidity. “You must go there and kill the leader of the Dark Wood Company branch there, named Cedar Sprig.”
Ghost nodded, faintly remembering the large earth pony he met six months ago.
“You will infiltrate the group, by whatever means necessary, and kill him as a member of the company for this contract to be completed correctly, am I understood? “
Ghost nodded.
“Good. Go and bring them to the Void.”
Mouse backed out of the office, and frowned in thought as he turned to his latest instructions. This was perhaps one of the shortest briefings he had ever been to, yet, despite that, it was also incredibly complicated.
He’d have to build an identity for day-to-day life for a long enough time that he can be considered a proper member of the company, that alone would be difficult enough to do.
Unless…
Cedar walked down through the Dark Wood Company building, checking the beds and facilities of the building for any sign of wear and tear.
Today had been good, if he said so himself. The team that was going out to the Dark Wood would be coming back today, and their latest contract would be complete. It’d bring in some gold, and he’s finally be able to afford to fix the leak in the roof.
As he finally came down to the main room, however, he was surprised to find a new pony on his floor.
A grey unicorn with a Unicornian short sword by his side and a blank flank stood in the lobby, looking nervously from wall to wall.
“Mr. Mouse?” Cedar called, surprised to see the pony again.
“Oh, hello, Mr. Cedar, right?” Mouse asked.
“Yes, can I help you?”
“I’ve decided to join up after all. The job I’ve had feeding pigs just hasn't been enough for me, so I changed my mind and...well...I hope you’ll still take me?”
“Of course! Of course!” Cedar cried. “Absolutely! I tell you what, most of the other ponies are out on a small excursion right now, but when they come back, I’ll sign you up with a mentor right away.”
“Sounds perfect,” Mouse said.
Cedar smiled. “Great, in the meantime,come on in, sit down and enjoy yourself. I’ll get the forms ready for you.”
“Thank you so much,” Mouse said, before he took a seat and smiled.
The excursion team returned, lead by Polar Wind and Copper Oak, to find Mouse going through piles of paperwork. Cedar was not far away, almost hovering over the unicorn to make sure everything was fine.
“Hey, hey!” Copper said. “It’s the runt! How you doing runt?”
“Copper!” Cedar growled. “Do you want to clean the latrines or are you just dense?”
The smaller earth pony went quiet.
“Alright, Mouse, give me a minute to deal with everypony, and I’ll be right back.”
Mouse nodded, seemingly caught up in the paperwork.
“Alright, Polar give me a report!”
“Sir!” the pegasus said in salute, before he began to drone away about this, that, and the other. Ghost didn't care. Ghost was looking from pony to pony, trying to get a read on who was the biggest dog of the group.
Demon always warned him that appearances can be deceiving, and he had shown Ghost the scars from when he had once thought otherwise. Just because a pony looked like he was helpless did not mean he was, and that was especially true amongst the Dark Wood Company.
Luckily, Ghost didn't have to judge on his own. As long as he could read the respect that the company had for each other, then he could gauge what he needed to.
From the way they stood, watched and their general demeanor, Ghost's best guess was the armored pegasus with the longsword, was perhaps the best fighter among them.
“Good,” Cedar said. “That's what I like to hear, the fewer of those monsters there are, the better. I’ll contact the buyer, and get you good gentlecolts paid.”
A cheer went up, and the ponies quickly scattered to eat, drink, and be merry.
“Storm! Front and center!” Cedar called before the ponies got too far, and the armored pegasus quickly walked up and saluted. “Sir!”
“Mouse, come here,” the Commander of the branch called.
He wandered over.
“Mouse, did you read over the team policy of the orientation document?” Cedar asked.
“I read something about teams of two, yes, sir.”
“Well, not only do we have teams of two, we also set up a mentor system,” Cedar explained. “In short, your team member knows the ropes, and is going to show them to you until you're ready to take on your own teammate, but that's not for a while yet.”
Cedar then turned to the pegasus. “Storm, are you ready for this?”
The pegasus practically bristled with pride. “Sir! Yes, sir.”
“Good, then meet your apprentice. Mouse, likewise your mentor.”
Mouse nodded, and gave a slight bow.
Storm did the same.
Cedar smiled. “Alright, good to see you’re getting along. Strom, take him to the training ring, and see what he’s made of.”
“Yes, sir,” Storm answered, before he pulled the stallion asde. “Come on, Mouse, is it?”
Mouse nodded.
“Alright, let's get you in the pit.”
Storm led Mouse around, while the unicorn was doing his best to try and read the pegasus’ demeanor. He didn't seem unfriendly, despite his short, clipped sentences, but he didn't seem open, either, despite the smile on his face. The odd combination made it difficult guess how the armored flyer thought.
Finally, they came to the pit.
A foot-deep depression in the ground filled with sand, some of it still stained red from the occasional blow that landed harder than intended. Mouse found a lone tooth sticking up out of the shallow dunes, lost from its owner long ago.
“Are you formally trained?” Storm asked.
“No, sir. I’ve learned a bit, but not much.”
“Well let’s see what you’ve learned then,” Storm said, hovering over the pit and drawing his blade.
Mouse drew his short sword.
“We're just using the flats, no edges,” Storm said, before giving a wide, slow swing.
Mouse raised his blade, and moved closer, trying to move in on the open side of the swing.
“Very good,” Storm said with a nod. “You know how to move.”
Slowly but surely, they worked their way up to a spar, both swinging and at each other as fast as they dared while blocking, parrying and moving.
Anyone who watched, however, could see that Storm held the obvious advantage. Even slowing himself down left him faster than Mouse by a not-insignificant margin. Still, neither of them stopped, not until Storm suddenly disengaged, and said. “Enough, enough. Well done, Mouse.”
Both ponies sheathed their swords, and stepped out of the pit. “Despite your lack of training, you know your stance and your footwork,” Storm said. “Of course, that is arguably the hardest part of the fight, so well done. Your strikes need more work, but you have the endurance to last a whole fight without falling to your knees. Overall, I have to say you learned much for not having formal training.”
“Well,” Mouse began. “I saw a few knights fight in a tournament years ago, and picked up a few things.”
“Really?” Storm asked. “Do you know what knights?”
Mouse paused a moment. “N-no, I can't remember, it was years ago.”
Storm nodded. “I see. Well, anyway, let me show you to your bunk.”
The next week or so went by without incident. In fact, the past week had been nothing but bringing Mouse up to snuff. Hours a day were spent sparing, running drills and more all for the sake of the improvement Storm thought he needed.
Of course, Mouse wasn’t going to tell him otherwise. So as the week went by, Mouse began to slowly “improve,” and even managed to learn a few new things in the style Storm was teaching him.
Of course, Mouse didn’t spend the time idly.
There was very little privacy among the Company, and everyone slept in the same two rooms, one for the stallions, one for the mares. Even Cedar slept with everyone else, as a way of keeping morale high or somesuch. This made killing him in the night hard, since any sound or scream could alert the whole building that something was amiss and that there was an assassin among them.
The only time where Cedar was properly alone was when he was in his office, and even then, the only time when the door was closed was when he was receiving a report. So, considering that he had this armored pegasus attached to him, and therefore present for any report that would ever be given by him, he would need quite the opportunity to catch the massive earth pony alone.
Of course, these were secondary at the moment. First and foremost he needed to earn the trust of the Company.
So far, that front was progressing well. Mouse could practically see the approval growing in Storm, as he improved in his form and power. It was exactly what he needed.
In another week, Storm thought Mouse was ready. “Mouse, come here!”
Mouse obeyed.
“We going on your first job,” Storm said with pride.
“What?” Mouse asked, feigning surprise. “Are you sure?”
“Only one way to know for sure. Pack your things, we’re heading for Dark Wood.”
The Dark Wood was three days journey away, and stood like a massive wall of green on the horizon. Over those three days, Storm had explained the job, and done his best to prepare the new Company member.
They had been contracted to hunt down a troop of gnomes, wipe them out, and bring back their toes, caps, and eyes.
Supposedly the toes and eyes were useful alchemy ingredients, and the cap was a very fine fabric of a deep red color that could fetch a fine price on the market.
Although, this did leave the question of “what, by Luna is a gnome?”
“You’ll figure it out,” Storm told him, before they continued on.
Now, they were there, on the very cusp of the forest edge, making camp before they dived into the woods to search for these little beasts, and waiting for morning before they stepped into the forest for which they were named.
“Stew is ready,” Storm said, stirring a pot over the campfire as Mouse finished setting up the tent.
That news got Mouse to smile. As a pony that starved for a good part of his life, and appreciated food to no end, Storm’s stew was simple, but delicious. He continued to smile, as he pulled the wooden bowl from his bag, and walked up to the pegasus and the pot, ready to receive the hearty broth.
Storm poured him a bowl, and one for himself, leaving just enough in the pot for half a bowl for each of them. “Enjoy,” Storm said, pulling the pot from off the center of the fire.
Mouse already was. Thick cuts of potato, carrots, celery and beans were greedily slurped up into Mouse's waiting mouth, while he eagerly drank the red broth down.
Storm smirked. “Glad to know you like it.”
Mouse nodded.
A moment of silence passed between them as they ate their soup, with only the crackling of fire and the sound of horn spoons clacking against the wooden bowls.
“So how did you get your name?” Storm asked.
Mouse nearly choked on his stew as the question hit his ears, and his mind began to race. What did he mean by that? Was he implying that he knew that Mouse was false pretense? Or was it simply a gamble to try and get him to stumble? Or was it an innocent question, and he was just overthinking a simple thing?
Now terrified at whatever could be said, Mouse looked up and asked. “What do you mean?”
“Mouse isn’t really a normal name.”
Mouse began to reach for his sword as slowly, carefully, and as stealthily as he could manage.
“I’m just curious,” Storm said. “Personally, I took the name Storm several years back, so I understand.”
“Wait…” Mouse said, leaving the sword where it lay. “Storm isn’t your real name?”
“No, I was somepony else before. Then I became a squire to a knight, and he insisted that I changed my name to something more ‘heroic,’ as he put it.”
“Oh...well…”
Storm nodded, before motioned for Mouse to continue.
“Right, um...Mouse was a nickname, given to me by a few bullies, and I...hit my head. I forgot my real name, and have gone by Mouse ever since,” Mouse said.
“You’ve forgotten?” Storm asked.
Mouse nodded.
“That's a shame.”
Mouse shrugged. “It's what I know.”
Storm nodded, and poured himself another half a bowl of soup.
Morning came and they quickly packed up their camp, and Mouse took his first dive into the Dark Wood.
The old, massive trees around him groaned as the wind pulled on the highest branches in the unseen canopy. Faint cries of strange, and unseen beasts barely pierced the the foliage, leaving everything muted and quiet. The thick, light-blocking trees reached up to the sky with long, jagged, leaf-covered claws, and the smell of decay, sweet sap, and the occasional, overpowering scent of pine wafted under his nose.
In all his time in Equestria, Mouse never thought he find another place like the Canterlot jail.
The air felt claustrophobic here, and the trees were almost closing in on him from all sides. The darkness of the forest was almost all consuming, and the vines that snaked from tree to tree and across the paths threatened to trip him at every step. Mist, protected by the banishing sun, wafted around him like a gossamer veil, leaving him blind beyond ten feet.
“Mouse,” Storm called from his left, making the smaller unicorn jump from the broken silence. “This way.”
Mouse tried to follow, pushing his way through the thick, unyielding underbrush, after the armored pegasus whose armor gave the occasional clink, and whose sword glinted among the black trunks of the willow-like trees.
“How do we find the gnomes?” Mouse asked, swinging his shortsword at a branch as though to punctuate his question. “How can you even track with all this bush?”
“You need to listen,” Storm said in a whisper, flying just above the undergrowth, and just under the grasping branches of the trees. “Gnomes are incredibly loud, we will hear them when we get close.”
“So...what do we do in the a meantime? Do we just wander around until we hear them or…?”
“Gnomes live in very specific areas. They need clearings for grass, and sunlight. I spend a few minutes scouting for a clearing from the sky this morning while you were packing up camp.”
Mouse blinked. “So he wasn’t abandoning me to get out of work?”
“I saw one further in in this direction,” Storm said, pointing ahead of them with his longsword.
Mouse nodded, before he finally spoke again. “Glad to know that we’re not wandering aimlessly, I suppose.”
Storm shook his head. “I don’t do aimless anymore.”
Anymore? That sounded...well, like there was a story behind it, really.
Mouse decided not to ask, but kept quiet as he tried to cut his way after the low-flying pegasus.
What seemed like hours passed, with Mouse forcing his way through the bush and vines, before Storm suddenly stopped him. “Hush. Do you hear that?”
Mouse paused, listening intently, before a sound wafted to him on the wind. Screeches, whoops, and hollers pierced through the trees, barely audible for the thick plant life all around them.
“Yeah, I hear it. I thought you said they were loud, though?”
“They are, they're still a half a mile away from us. It's how they keep their dens safe. They scare away basically everything around them with the racket,” Storm explained.
Mouse shook his head. “I’m amazed that works.”
“Come on,” Storm said. “We still have a way to go, and the woods will not make this easy.”
Following behind Storm, the pair kept moving, heading closer and closer to the din that the terrible things were making. “Wait for my attack,” Storm ordered, as they got ever closer to the gnome’s clearing. “Once I make my move, make sure they don’t leave through the gate?”
“Gate? What gate?”
“You’ll understand when you see it,” Storm said.
Mouse didn’t argue, but simply kept cutting his way through the thick vegetation around him.
Time passed, and the gnomes got louder and louder, until finally, they were on the clearing, and Mouse saw the gnomes for the first time.
Hideous, stumpy, and furless things, the gnomes yelled, whistled, barked, and otherwise imitiated noisemakers to no end, as they ran about a sunlit clearing of grass and flowers. Their flat faces and bulbous cheeks wiggled and bounced as they rushed from one side of the clearing to the other, and they stumpy forelegs ended in small, fleshy, harmless-looking claws.
Strangely enough, the only thing that seemed civilized about them was their clothing. Bright cloths of green, red, blue and more covered their small bodies, but the strangest thing of all was the bright red, cone-like caps that were nearly as tall as they were.
Using primitive tools, the gnomes were busy building houses, while others took them apart, in a constant cycle of busy work that was as pointless as it was tedious.
Taking a moment to look around at the clearing, Mouse quickly found where he was supposed to be. The whole gnome village, if it could be called one, sat in a strange depression in the ground that was as deep as a gnome was tall. The only way in for something that tall was a small, gate-like pass that had to be gnome-made.
Storm gave him a look.
He nodded, and the pegasus quickly leapt up into the air.
And Mouse waited for the signal.
A few minutes of listening to the hideous, agonizing din, before finally, Storm struck.
Falling like a lightning bolt from above, Storm slashed into the gnomes. Panic erupted from the little monsters in a moment, and they immediately began running crazed circles, before they began running for the gate.
And Mouse stood in the gate.
And he cut the gnomes, the hideous, noisy, annoying, terrified creatures like grass.
Mouse was quiet on the trip back.
Storm carried the bag of caps, eyes, and toes, but the way he kept looking back at Mouse told he unicorn he was worried about him. Once they were finally out of the forest, and setting up camp, Storm spoke up. “Are you alright, Mouse?”
“Hm?” Mouse hummed, looking up from the tent he was setting up.
“You’ve been quiet. Are you alright?”
“Oh, yeah. Yeah. I just...they seemed helpless there is all.”
Storm nodded. “Gnomes on the warpath are something else entirely. Don't worry, Mouse, you did the right thing, trust me.”
Mouse nodded, and turned back to his work, and smiled as he surprised himself.
He couldn't believe he managed to say that with a straight face.