//------------------------------// // Dryadhill Manor // Story: Pandemic: Stirrings in the World of Human Magi // by Corascal //------------------------------// Four Days Post-ETS Pandemic “Master Augustine, the Quimbley family has just arrived,” Michael Bradley, the head butler, grabbed his attention from the doorway to the sitting room. “Thank you Michael. Please go and welcome our guests and make sure they… wipe off any mud or dust before coming in,” Augustine replied, relieved that he can finally resolve the trouble currently occupying his time, but still annoyed that he even had this problem to deal with in the first place. Michael, whose dwarfish stature, tanned skin and wild black hair made him stand apart from the stereotypical butler, bowed his head and walked towards the foyer to greet the Quimbleys. Augustine huffed, grasped his cane, got up from his seat and turned his attention back to the other half of his current problem. “And there is a man who knows more about cleaning up people’s messes than you ever will, Edward.” “Augustine, please. You have been hard enough on him already. It does him no good for you to keep disparaging him like that,” Wanda Dorothea Wellingsford interjected from the seat at his right hand, daintily sipping an iced coffee before rising herself. “Mom, please. Dad has just been relishing how much he gets to tell me ‘I told you so,’ so please stop making excuses for him,” Edward Peter Wellingsford resignedly replied, as he sank into his seat as much as possible. “And that also means no more excuses on your part or retorts to your mother from here on out,” his father snapped as he and his wife moved to the doorway. “And get yourself over here and stand up straight. Our guests and your future have arrived and I will not suffer you lying about like an animal, even if you have become a pony.” Edward groaned as he brushed a long lock of silver hair out of his gray eyes with a steel-grey foreleg. Then, he got off of his blank haunches and stepped to the floor, his hooves softly thumping on the carpet. He refrained from looking up at his father, partly because of the shame he had put him through but also because his father was now even higher in respect to him than he had since he had been a small child. Even to the tip of his horn, he didn’t reach his father’s waist. He then followed his two human parents as they walked to the foyer to greet the Quimbleys. Once again, the man of the house resisted the urge to rub his temples and sigh in exasperation. For Augustine Nelson Wellingsford the Third, maintaining the perfect image of the quintessential modern English country gentleman was both a chore and a delight. On the one hand, overseeing the Wellingsford estate required constant vigilance. While his family had been involved in textiles for centuries, even before the Industrial Revolution, he also owned extensive stock in various other industries, from long-standing shipping companies to brand-new technology firms. Keeping track of both the old family business and the new stocks was a constant drain on his mind. On top of that, the main family itself owned three different mansions on two different continents, and overseeing the unity and well-being of such a far-flung family was merely annoying at best and nerve-wracking at worst. On the other hand, it made associating with the world beyond his estate much simpler and more enjoyable. When he socialized with the remnants of British aristocracy who still appreciated old traditions, he had found that he enjoyed horse-riding, and discussion of classical literature and architecture. If he made the acquaintance of more modern businessmen, he could regale them on many of the intricacies of the British financial system as to how it has evolved over his family’s history, and his debates with some of them on the merits of modern art in contrast with everything else were on the verge of being legendary. He would love to live his entire life only as the quintessential modern English country gentleman, but his familial duty as the eldest son of Augustine Archibald Wellingsford the Second dictated that he continue the research and legacy of the Wellingsford family of magi as its head. He had never wanted the role, then or now, but he knew that there was no better choice: his brother, Randal, was possessed of a brilliant mind saddled with questionable sanity and morals, even by magi’s standards; his first sister, Alexandra, had run away to Lithuania of all places to marry the head of one of the Rasputin branch families; and his other sister, Selena, was the kindest and most innocent person he had ever known, and anyone with those traits who became a family head would be eaten alive in the Family Affairs. Both Augustine’s father and grandfather had remarked that, ever since the late 18th century, it was almost a family tradition that each generation would produce one near-perfect heir at the cost of rearing a host of more eclectic and chaotic characters. They called it a tradition because they could never settle on whether to call it a blessing, a curse, or the strangest string of coincidences in history. Unfortunately for Augustine the Third, he had only three children so far, and while Anne was too young to judge, being an infant, the other two were definitely not looking to become the next family head in his eyes. The elder of the two, Micah, was a dangerous mixture of one-part computer and magic genius, one-part adrenaline junky, and one-part egomaniac. This translated into a self-described “international freedom fighter” that gallivanted across the world into every political and magical hot spot on earth that fought every possible enemy for the sake of “truth and justice.” His only saving graces were his impossible luck and his hold of just enough common sense to not flaunt magic everywhere he went. He was fortunate his other son had smaller ambitions than global adventuring, but he was thoroughly vexed that they consisted of trying to get in the pants of every single female he took a fancy to. He heard his butler as he and his family entered the foyer. “Introducing Mr. and Mrs. Quimbley, and th-” “WHERE IS THAT BLOODY BASTARD?!? LET ME GO! I WILL RIP HIS FUCKING HEAD OFF!!!” Looking across the room to the doorway were the simultaneously expected and unusual consequences of his son’s thoughtless libido. “LET GO OF ME JEEVES! I WANT TO SMASH THAT PONY DEAD!” What was expected was the mother and father accompanying their daughter to meet with him, with the mother and the butler holding the father back from venting his righteous indignation upon Edward for extramarital coitus with his daughter, who was nervously standing off to the side behind the chaos. What wasn’t expected was the fact that the father was a huffing and roaring blood-red bodied and black-maned pegasus, the mother was an earth pony with a sunflower yellow coat and a multi-shaded purple mane, and the daughter was another pegasus with golden fur and a scarlet mane. “Edward, stay with your mother,” Augustine said to Edward, who meekly complied. Augustine then strode forward to confront the furiously flapping father, stopping in front of him to intimidate him with his height. “Welcome to Dryadhill Manor.” “And a bloody good day to you, asshole,” snapped the pegasus, as he tried to fly up to eye level with Augustine, only for the butler on his legs and his wife on his tail to keep him too low. “And you can help me by letting me give your fucking son a good beating around the ears!” “Ponies don’t curse or swear, honey!” his wife replied, the strain evident in her voice. “I’ll curse and swear all I like!” he retorted. “And no dream pony or you is going to stop me!” *CRACK!* Everyone shut up, the wife so shocked that she let go of her husband’s tail and he froze in midair, just long enough for Michael to bring him back to the ground. Everyone’s attention was drawn to Augustine, who had just stabbed his cane into a marble tile with enough force to break it into five jagged pieces. “Mr. Quimbley. I understand that you’re upset with my son. I am upset with him as well. But he is still my son and I will not tolerate threats against him. So please control yourself, so I do not have to do it for you.” Mr. Quimbley swallowed, suddenly apprehensive of the graying gentleman in front of him. Augustine looked down at the marble tile he broke, before looking back at the pegasus stallion. “Do you know how much history you are standing inside of, Mr. Quimbley? For example, these tiles we are standing on were laid here in the late nineteenth century, and the marble used to make them were specially imported from Italy as a gift to celebrate 800 years of our family’s history. This is a proud legacy that I want to pass on to my children. Which means that when something goes wrong in my family’s affairs that threatens it-” A maroon glow encompassed his hand, enveloping and traveling down the cane to the broken tile, pulling them together and fusing them into one piece. “-I fix it.” All three ponies in front of him all gave interesting reactions. The father was stammering and pantomiming at both Augustine and the tiles. The mother backed away into the butler as if trying to flee a monster. But the daughter was oddly silent, sharing curious and even guilty glances toward Edward. Augustine straightened himself and dusted off some nonexistent dust from his gray suit. “Now I believe a proper introduction is in order. I am Augustine Wellingsford the Third. Behind me is my beloved and beautiful wife, Wanda, and my son, Edward, with whom I am sure your daughter is intimately familiar with.” To Augustine’s satisfaction, his wife looked sufficiently preened, and his son had the decency to look at least a little ashamed, especially once Mr. Quimbley leveled a withering glare in his direction. Mr. Quimbley then straightened himself out. “Nice to meet you,” he politely growled. “You probably already know, but my name is Derek Quimbley, this is my wife Katrina- sorry, Amethyst Dollop, and this is my daughter Irene.” Augustine walked in front of the golden pony, and looked down derisively at her. “So you’re the one that turned my son into an equine.” “HEY!” Augustine was interrupted by the girl’s parents, who both rushed in front of their daughter to stand between her and Augustine. “You leave her alone. He’s only like that because he decided to seduce and rut my little girl. So back off.” Augustine nodded, and stepped back. He then motioned toward the sitting room. “Now that this unpleasant meeting is over, please come with us. We have a great deal to discuss.” He walked back to the sitting room, first the shocked Quimbleys and then his family behind him. His wife shot him a look that held a mixture of surprise, disapproval, and resignation, which years of marriage roughly translated to him into Did you have to show them that now? He gave her a look of strength and resolution, one which he hoped translated in her mind as It had to be done, and better now than later. Once everyone was seated, the two families sitting opposite one another, Augustine addressed them. “Now I am sure that you have many questions as to my actions earlier. But first, let me answer some of the more obvious questions you must have. What you saw was indeed magic, it is indeed similar to unicorn magic, and both myself and my family are all magic-users, what we call magi. Does that answer some of your questions?” This time, the pony wife, Amethyst Dollop, responded, after gulping. “Yeah. I guess I just can’t believe that there have been humans using magic this entire time, just like in Harry Potter.” Augustine’s wife, Wanda, snorted at that. “Do not remind me of those ridiculous books. Nevermind some of the utterly incredulous names that people and places are given in that world, I mean who in their right mind would name their school after warts on hogs? And let’s not forget that the life of that boy, Harry Potter is simply unbelievable by every metric. But the way those books portray magic-” Augustine put his hand on Wanda’s, cutting her off. “Dearest, I understand your… vitriol towards those works, but we do have more serious business to attend to.” He turned back to the ponies, the father of which giving a slight look of sympathy to him. “Now, do you have any other questions you wish to ask?” The daughter, Irene, tenderly raised her hoof, like in a classroom. “Uh- um. May I-” Augustine nodded. “You may.” She lowered her hoof. “Why don’t you show everyone your magic?” Augustine paused. He had not been expecting to have that question asked yet, with others pertaining to why and how they have magic first. But considering what he had seen of how she looked at Edward, it was entirely possible that he had already revealed those details to her – another thing he would have to lambast the boy for. “Why do you ask?” Irene hesitated for a moment, but after sharing a look from Edward, she spoke. “Because why hide such an important part of who you are? There is so much that ponies can do with magic. We can grow food, push clouds, build houses, and so much more that I can’t think of.” She gets off the couch and walks in front of Augustine. “If you’ve had this magic, and your family has had it for so long, why didn’t you help the people around you? You could have cured diseases, ended wars, hunger, and helped so many people. ‘With great power comes great responsibility.’ You had the power to help the world, but you did nothing to help it! All you do with it is sit around in your giant mansion fixing floor tiles! WHAT’S THE POINT OF HAVING MAGIC IF YOU NEVER USE IT FOR ANYTHING USEFUL?” All were stunned at the little pony’s stunning exclamation, complete with an accusatory hoof pointed at him. Wanda was scandalized, Irene’s parents wore a mixture of shock of pride, and Edward was a thin mask of glee, with a hint of concern. Augustine was stone-faced, and silent for an instant. “What has your transformation done to you, to make you forget the fallen nature of humanity?” he murmured. He rose from his chair, towering over the pony, causing her to shrink back in fear. “You want to know why we didn’t show the world our magic? Ask your mother, why do the wizards of Harry Potter hide from the Muggles? For humans fear that which they do not know, and then endeavor to subjugate or destroy it, and the Muggles are many more than the wizards are. That is the one thing about magic that those stories get right.” Then his glove glowed once more and crawled down his cane. Then it radiated out from the tip of the cane, startling the ponies as it spreads over the floor, underneath the furniture, around the fixtures, and even up the wall and across the ceiling, until the whole room is enveloped in a maroon glow. Irene stumbles back to her parents and huddles with them both on the couch as they look around fearfully at the magic being used. “W-What are you doing?” Mr. Quimbley asks, the fear evident in his voice. “Making a point, which is something I would rather do with words than actions.” Augustine then cuts off the magic, and the glow disappears. “This house you stand in is more than a residence – it is a fortress. From the moment you stepped on these grounds I had a thousand and one means at my disposal to end your lives, from swallowing you inside the earth to sending in a pack of chimeras to rip you apart. And even without the ley lines that run through the land beneath the estate, my magic is capable of allowing me to easily handle the three of you times ten.” Amethyst, still protectively huddled with her family, asked him, “What is the point of all of this? Do you honestly think we would attack you? Ponies would never do such a thing!” “Perhaps,” Augustine replied, stooping to the pony family’s eye level. “But this is no longer the world you’re familiar with. The moment my son impregnated your daughter, all of you were drawn into a magic underworld that has existed outside of the normal world’s knowledge for over one and a half thousand years. If you have the blood of a magi or are related to someone who does, then you are a member of the longest-lasting, most far-flung and bloodiest Family Affair in human history. As of now, the moment anyone a part of this world learns of your relationship with my family, however illicit, they will find you, and they will either use you to gain leverage over us, or kill you to get back at us.” The three ponies in front of him were now quivering, even the once seemingly indomitable Mr. Quimbley. “You’re a monster.” Before Augustine could respond, he felt a familiar hand on his shoulder. Turning, he saw Wanda standing there, a look of disappointment on her face as she looked down at him. Sighing, Augustine got up and allowed his wife to take his place in front of the pony family. Putting on a sympathetic and graceful smile, she expressed her thoughts to them. “I am sorry for my husband’s rudeness. He really doesn’t like it when outsiders become involved in the Family Affairs and he really does want the best for you, he just gets a little too enthusiastic in ‘laying down the law for newcomers,’ as he sometimes puts it. And being a part of this world isn’t all bad.” While the ponies were somewhat calmer with Wanda talking to them, but they were still quite fearful. Irene was the first to gather enough courage to speak. “What’s so good about being thrown into a magical real-life Game of Thrones?” Wanda simply smirked. “Well, the magic for one thing.” She then lifted both of her hands and snapped her fingers twice. At that moment, a pedestal opened up in the middle of the room, right next to Wanda. On top of it lay a turquoise crystal ball. Walking over, Wanda then placed her hand on the orb, and it flashed bright enough to blind all for a second. After the light faded, suddenly everyone saw that they seemed to be sitting upon the deck of a massive steamship, sailing towards a massive red and orange sunset. Any fear the ponies had was washed away by wonder at the magic they had just witnessed, and the scene they beheld. “It’s… so beautiful,” Amethyst Dollop breathed out, as she got off the out of place couch and walked toward the railing. “You got that right,” Irene concurred, as she joined her mother. Derek tapped his hoof on the ground, feeling the muffled thud of a rug rather than the tap from a hardwood deck. “Can you show anything else on that orb?” Wanda beamed. “Oh, yes.” The scene flashed again. This time, the scene was in the clearing of a dense forest, with tall trees all around with woodland creatures threading through the dense foliage on the ground and through the branches. The scene flashed again. The scene became a meadow, with fields of flowers of every shape and shade as far as the eye can see under an azure blue sky. The scene flashed again. Now they were all sitting above Earth during night, the lights of all the cities of Europe making a constellation of human activity below them. Augustine saw the amazement of the pony family as they saw each of the scenes, at how they marveled at the level of detail that each one came with. He looked over at Wanda, who smiled broadly at him. He could not help but return the grin. She is right, of course, he silently mused. Magic is more than a simple struggle of power. It is wonder incarnate. Soon after, the scene disappeared, bringing everyone back to the old sitting room. The Quimbleys groaned in disappointment as Wanda allowed the pedestal to disappear back into the floor. Wanda smiled warmly once more. “I can see you all loved that, right?” “Yes,” Derek replied, gathering back with his wife and daughter. “We did very much.” Wanda *hmphed* as she shot a look of triumph back at her stodgy husband. “Magic is a wonderful gift. But it is one that cannot be shared, as only those with the magi’s blood are able to use it. And many who do possess the gift abuse it in many ways, from greedily seizing more power in one way or another, or performing grotesque experiments that go beyond the pale. It is not only that we fear what the rest of the world will do to us should we be revealed, it is also that we fear what these people will do once they perceive they can operate in the open.” The three pony family looked to one another with grim and serious faces, the thought settling in their minds. Augustine saw his wife look to him, signaling that he continue. “The reason we have ultimately brought you here is simple. We brought you here not only to alert you to the reality of your current situation, but also to extend to you the Wellingsford family’s protection.” Derek Quimbley’s eyes narrowed. “What is this protection? What do you want from us?” Augustine leaned forward. “Your family, the Quimbleys, will officially be brought under the affiliation of the Wellingsford Family as a Branch Family. What you and your family would do is work toward the greater good of the Wellingsford Family faction in the Family Affairs. You would do so by experimenting with magic, overseeing projects, and then reporting and delivering the information and results of said projects to the Wellingsford Family as part of the greater well of the Wellingsford Family’s knowledge.” Derek’s skepticism shows further on his face, and he turns to his wife as they silently communicate their thoughts to each other. Turning back he asks, “What’s the catch?” Augustine leans back in his seat. “The catch is that your becoming a Branch Family is an oath sealed by blood.” Amethyst Dollop immediately recoiled. “You mean you need our blood to write a contract?!?” Wanda burst out laughing at her hysteria. “No. My husband is just saying in a needlessly complicated way that Edward and Irene need to get married.” This time Derek overreacted. “THAT’S EVEN WORSE!” “Is it really that bad?” Augustine asked. “The two of them have already consummated their relationship, this way any more impropriety can be forgiven and swept under the rug.” “I will not let my daughter be married off to some player who won’t stay faithful to my girl for more than two minutes!” Derek responded. “No.” All were surprised to hear Edward speak up for a change. “What do you mean, no?” Derek asked incredulously. Edward then stepped down from his seat, where he had been practically invisible during the entire discussion. Stepping in front of the Quimbleys’ couch, he then kneels forward on all fours and bows his head. “Mr. and Mrs. Quimbley. I am sorry for all the pain and trouble I have put you through. I am sorry for besmirching your family’s good name. Above all, I am sorry for taking away your daughter’s dignity. I know that marrying her is not my idea or hers, but I swear to everything that is good and holy, that if I do marry Irene Quimbley, I will do everything within my power to make her the happiest pony in the world.” After a brief few seconds, Derek Quimbley got onto the floor and tilted Edward’s face up towards him. He saw repentance, as well as determination. He sighed. “I still don’t trust you. But I will be keeping an eye on you. If you break my little filly-er, girl’s heart, I will kill you. Got that?” A firm nod. Derek then turned to Irene, and motioned her to come. She came and stood before the two stallions. “Irene, I know a lot has happened lately, and you’ve been caught up in a lot of it, but it’s also somewhat your fault. Nevertheless, this is ultimately your choice. Do you want to marry Edward Wellingsford? Be completely straight with us, I will accept nothing less.” Irene looked at Edward, who gave her much the same look as he had given her father, with an addition of caring. She closed her eyes in obvious contemplation. Then they opened and she gave her answer: "Yes.” Augustine was glad that the initial family drama was over. The Quimbleys would be accepted as a Branch Family, and their place as the first all-pony Branch Family would confer upon them a unique, if not special status in the extended family. But now that their admission was but a foregone conclusion, now came the really hard part: Negotiating the terms of their contract.