//------------------------------// // Chapter 15: Loose Threads // Story: To Serve In Hell // by CoffeeMinion //------------------------------// “Watch it!” Sassy shouted, dodging a pair of liveried stallions lugging a desk in their forelegs. Before she could think of a more pointed reprimand, two other ponies entered through her allotted bedchamber’s arched door carrying wooden end tables, prompting her to press against a tall, red-curtained window. Despite Sassy’s increasingly frequent need to let other ponies by, the room was large enough to accommodate the desk, some chairs, a double bed, several bookshelves, and a chest of drawers. But the press of chambermaids and other sundry workers, either cleaning things or moving in furniture, felt stifling to her. And after another few moments of hesitation, Sassy felt that escape was in order. She pushed her way to the washroom at the far side of the chamber, lit her horn, and pulled the door shut behind her. Sassy closed her eyes and, with some effort, slowed her breathing. When she opened them again, the first thing that she noticed was her own reflection in the mirror over the fine porcelain wash-basin. She turned her head from side to side, examining herself in the dull hornlight. Her already thin face looked pinched, and worry-lines stood out more strongly than she remembered. The frown she wore softened slightly as she looked at her eyes, though; while rimmed with heavy bags that belied her need for good sleep in a proper bed, at least they weren’t still swollen from the blows she’d suffered at Rarity’s hooves. Her gaze moved downward, where she noticed little bits of the soft fur underneath her neck still showing signs of red from whatever had happened back at the castle. It struck her that it looked like it had been inexpertly dyed and then washed in haste. Sassy’s frown deepened as she studied it; finding such a thing went beyond merely uncomfortable and into the realm of the bizarre. She lifted a cloth from next to the basin with her magic, then dipped it into the water, wrung out the excess, and rubbed it over her face. The cool water and the gentle stroking of the washcloth up and down her muzzle felt refreshing. She closed her eyes, and a rare and welcome sense of calmness overtook her as she continued washing her head and neck, trying to work out more of the strange dye. The feeling stopped once she reached the top of her armor. Sassy opened her eyes again, studying the tall, hard, determined pony who stared back. A pony who liked to style herself as a survivor, and a bringer of order. “But merely a servant,” she whispered aloud, “of a Mistress who cares nothing about violating her own decrees so long as it preserves her power.” Sassy lowered the cloth back to the side of the basin. Her reflection seemed quite lonely now, with downturned eyes and damp, lightly-mussed fur. A quiet rapping came at the washroom door. “Enter,” Sassy barked. The door creaked open, and a slim, white, bespectacled head appeared. “Overseer Saddles?” came the thin voice of Silver Shill, a servant whom Blueblood had loaned to her. “Ma'am, I was to tell you if there were visitors at the castle, or if anyone came or went.” Sassy cracked a smile. She’d been told that the Governor’s own Seneschal was indisposed, but that Silver Shill would see to her needs in the interim—and thus far, he was doing admirably. “Indeed you were. Whom did you see?” “Lord Filthy Rich, ma’am.” Silver Shill broke into a nervous grin. “He only just arrived a few minutes ago. I galloped straight up to tell you!” “Rivets and rasps… he’s here? In the flesh?” “He is, ma’am. Shall I take you to where he’s meeting with Governor Blueblood?” “Yes indeed.” Sassy didn’t add how odd it seemed for such a disreputable pony to be associating with the Governor. Instead, she followed Silver Shill through the bedlam of her chamber, and back out to the mansion’s central staircase. They descended the stairs together, she with the sounds of creaking from her leather armor, he with a light, metallic clopping from his shod hooves. In time, they passed through the grand entry hall once more, and Sassy looked with disdain at the small army of serving staff bustling to and fro with bright red bows, long table-runners, and preserved, possibly fake wreaths. “What are they doing?” she asked. “Making ready for the ball, ma’am,” Silver Shill answered. “He’s serious, then? I suppose he did say that this sort of japery appealed to him. But surely there are better uses of these ponies’ time?” Silver Shill made no comment. Sassy spotted tension in his face, though. “Well? What do you think, then?” “It’s not my place, ma’am.” “Nonsense. I order you, speak your mind freely.” He worked his jaw for a moment. “The Governor certainly enjoys making grand gestures. Especially this last year or so.” “Hmm.” Sassy let her head droop slightly as they passed by a large, open room lined with statues and expensive paintings, which seemed to be the epicenter of the serving-ponies’ activity. Teams of stallions lugged in heavy wooden tables, and groups of unicorns raised expensive-looking silk and glass decorations to the walls. Prancing through their midst was an energetic earth pony stallion with a deep blue-green coat, a close-cropped grey mane, a red plaid neckerchief, and—remarkably—a pair of silver sunglasses perched low on his muzzle. “No, there!” the stallion shouted. Then he turned to another group and tsked loudly. “No, no no! That stays! Honestly, you ponies are lucky I don’t get out my riding crop! Yes, you heard me, I went there!” Sassy’s steps slowed, despite the urgency she felt about her mission. “Is that who I think it is?” “That’s the Governor’s Seneschal, ma’am,” Silver Shill said. “His name’s Fashion Plate.” “Well I’ll be,” Sassy said, letting herself smile. “Always a pleasure to see a familiar face.” She entered the red-and-gold carpeted room, dodged between the many busy, milling ponies, and stalked right up behind the stallion. “Move that there,” he said. “And that there, and that—” He whirled around, nearly plowing into Sassy, before he gasped and smiled. “Sassy Saddles! Oh…” He held a hoof to his mouth for a moment. “Sorry! Overseer. Sorry. Great to see you! How are you doing?!” Sassy was pulled into a tight hug. She squirmed against the pressure of the much shorter earth pony’s face against her armored barrel, and of his foreleg around the back of her neck. And yet, she didn’t pull away, as she couldn’t recall the last time she’d so much as been hugged by anypony. “Fashion Plate,” she croaked, noting the surprised and sometimes amused glances of the various serving-ponies all around them. At length, she gently pushed him off of her. “Come on, Plate. You’re making a scene.” “Ha, not yet I’m not! Let’s get a look at your ensemble…” He took a step back, setting his eye roving over her. His smile lost much of its buoyancy as he did so. “Oh, honey,” he said, leaning closer and dropping into a loud whisper. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like you got beat up for stealing from the kinky backroom of a department store.” Sassy snickered. “Oughtn’t we maintain some semblance of decorum, as befits both of our positions?” He giggled. “Not a chance, fillyfriend! The Governor didn’t pick me because he wanted a pony who got decorum; he wanted a pony who got him! He’s got this whole big, crazy, artistic vision! It’s the freshest thing I’ve seen in years, ha!” “Can we… you’re busy, I see. But I should greatly enjoy catching up if you have an opportunity. I miss our correspondence. I didn’t even realize that you were in town…” “And I do too! Well, this job’s still pretty new, and I haven’t made a big splash outside the castle yet.” Sassy glanced at Silver Shill, who was prancing nervously by the door. “I’m afraid I have business to attend to, but feel free to work through the liaison that the Governor’s assigned to me. I’d love to schedule something.” “No problem! I’ve gotta keep these slovenly ninnies on-task anyway. But it’s great to see you! Ta!” Sassy let Silver Shill lead her out through a large hall lined with windows, and she turned her head to scan the mansion grounds. A glint of light on metal drew her eye toward its large gates, which were open; and she spotted a single pony passing through them, pulling a small covered cart. Sassy looked backwards along the path the cart-pony had taken, down toward the entrance to the mansion proper, and spotted a much grander coach parked there. The coach and its driver were bedecked in Lord Filthy Rich’s familiar livery: a trio of money bags over a brown field. Her eyes were drawn back to the motion of the departing cart, though. “Mr. Shill, do you know what business that other cart-pony had?” Silver Shill trotted over to the window and peered out. “I think that's the mare from the Royal Archives who stops by from time to time. Seems like she’s around a little more often, of late.” Sassy furrowed her brow. “Interesting. How much further until—?” “The reception hall is just through here, ma’am.” As she approached the heavy wood double-doors, she noted the sounds of conversation and hooffalls from the other side. She had only a moment to duck back before the doors swung out toward her. “—And that’s why I need your…” Lord Filthy Rich said before stopping short and locking eyes with Sassy. Governor Blueblood came to a halt beside him and gave Sassy a smirk. “Lord Rich,” she said slowly, frowning at Blueblood’s unexpected expression. “Whatever brings you here tonight?” He dropped into a speedy bow. “Forgive me, Overseer Saddles; the Governor did not inform me he had company.” “Slipped my mind,” Blueblood said with a simper and a shrug. “Nor did I realize we’d have a chance to speak so soon, Lord Rich. But in a way, you’re just the pony I’ve been looking for.” Lord Rich cast a narrow-eyed glance at Governor Blueblood. “Leave me out of this,” Blueblood said, holding up his forehooves in mock defense. “I’d rather watch you two fight it out, especially if it should come to blows.” “I don’t think that will be necessary,” Lord Rich said, taking a deep breath. “How may I help you, Overseer?” Her pulse quickened with eagerness, and she gave him a tight smile. “Lord Rich, would it be safe to say your business reputation of finding rare goods for discerning ponies might bring you into contact with certain… less savory sorts, from time to time?” His jaw clenched. “I work through a number of different associates, Overseer, but I always vet them carefully. I have my daughter to think about, after all.” “Of course. It was a grand day for the kingdom when the deviant Svengallop was cast into Tartarus, and I’m sure you were elated that the Guardian returned your lovely daughter at the same time. Was that… six months ago, now?” “Something like that, yes.” “Good that your sources are vetted so carefully. Some ponies choose to play with fire, and destabilize the Mistress’ order, heedless of the danger that lawless chaos might bring. I should hate to see the Mistress’ wrath visited on ponies whose only crime is being too close to the flame.” Filthy took a step back, then glanced at Blueblood as if expecting aid. Finding none, he cleared his throat. “I agree, nopony would want that.” Sassy hesitated. She all but knew that Filthy had ties to the Resistance, and she now knew that the Mistress knew as well, but the nature of her mandate was limited to investigation—at least until she had more concrete evidence. And so she said: “A pony sharing useful information about such matters could earn my recommendation for leniency, regardless of their past associations.” “I shall bear that in mind, Overseer.” Filthy gave her a small bow, but his features tightened as he did so. “Is there anything else?” “Perhaps not for now. Remain in town, though; we may need to speak again.” As Filthy made his goodbyes and began to retreat, Sassy heard the sound of one hoof striking another. It repeated a few times before she could turn and see Governor Blueblood sitting on his haunches, giving her a slow clap with his forehooves. “Oh, very well done, Miss Saddles. I’d give that an eight out of ten for careful handling of a potential suspect in your investigation.” “Indeed?” she asked, her tone flat. “Certainly! Certainly. I should think you’d be upset—or maybe jealous—seeing your quarry flee into the same protective hooves that now encircle you.” He giggled. “Why, it’s as if I have two wonderfully eligible suitors chasing after me!” “He sought protection from you?” She looked at him askance. “Why would a pony with Lord Rich’s reputation expect that from you?” “Well, truth be told, he really is good at finding things other ponies can’t. Such as… vintage reading material.” Blueblood winked. “If you know what I mean.” Sassy drew in a breath and prepared a retort, but paused as her mind raised a connection between Blueblood’s joke, a tidbit of information from Silver Shill, and something else the Governor had shared in his office. It was only a hunch, but it struck her as something that might be worth pursuing. “Very well, Governor. Good night, for now.” “Ciao!” he shouted, turning about and setting off down the hall. Sassy’s brow crinkled. She turned to look at Silver Shill, who had moved back to a discreet distance. “Mr. Shill, you said the pony pulling that cart was from the Royal Archives, yes?” “Yes, ma’am.” “And that she comes from time to time to… bring things for the Governor to read?” “No, ma’am; I believe her cart’s usually empty when she comes.” Sassy paused and replayed the information through her head. It was all so incongruous. And yet the hunch seemed to linger with her. “Do you think that you can gallop fast enough to catch her and bring her back for questioning?” “P… possibly, ma’am. She only left before I came to you, and she didn’t seem to be in a particular hurry.” “Very well, then. Even if this comes to nothing, let us have a look at what the Governor’s been sending to the Archives.” Sassy relaxed into the comfortable overstuffed chair, feeling grateful that she’d wasted no time in establishing an office. The chair creaked slightly as she settled deeper into its plush embrace, and the heat of the crackling fire next to her sent waves of tingling pleasure through her left foreleg. The yellow unicorn sitting opposite her looked much less comfortable, despite occupying a similar chair and positioning relative to the fireplace. As seconds passed in silence, she squirmed and fidgeted with her hooves and the few accessories that she wore. One hoof adjusted her glasses, then another smoothed out her floor-length black sweater-dress that was starting to wear and fray in places. Sassy lit her horn and raised a quill and notebook from the small circular table next to her chair. She met the other pony’s eyes, then opened the book, flipped to the first empty page, and started by writing the date. “Let’s begin with your name. Miss…?” “M… Moondancer,” the mare stammered. “And you’re the… Overseer. To M… Mistress Nightmare Moon.” “Do you fear the Mistress, to speak so haltingly of her?” Moondancer swallowed hard. Sassy cracked a thin smile. “Fearing her is always wise, child. But you needn’t fear me, at least not if you’ve been a loyal servant. I don’t doubt that your work with the Archives serves a useful purpose, and that is what I wish to speak to you about.” “The Archives, ma’am?” “I understand the Governor has been contributing to them. I’d like to know more about the nature of those contributions.” Moondancer sighed, visibly relaxing. “Oh, thank goodness that’s all. I…” She glanced back up at Sassy and swallowed. “Well, I mean… it’s strange. Or unexpected. Maybe both.” “Take your time, please. Organize your thoughts.” She nodded. “Sorry. Well, I don’t want to speak ill of the Governor, ma’am, but from what I’ve known of him, you might not expect him to be much of a reader. You know what I mean?” Sassy’s smile deepened a shade toward genuineness. “Unless he’d happened to stuff a dirty magazine underneath the book’s dust jacket?” Perhaps it was the tension of the situation, coupled with their greatly asymmetrical social standing and power-balance… but Moondancer chortled for a moment, before devolving into a fit of unseemly giggling. “The Governor does have something of a reputation,” Sassy continued. “But I take it you’re going to tell me something that I don’t already know?” Moondancer’s expression turned ashen. “Of course, ma’am. Well, in fact, the Governor’s been donating quite a number of books about historical and legendary obscura in the recent past. And maybe the most interesting thing about them is that some of them must’ve taken quite a path from their original sources.” “Sources?” “I don’t know how he acquired them,” Moondancer said. “But a few of them have inserts from other libraries that are quite a ways away. Again, I’m not complaining. It’s certainly helping us flesh out the new Archive.” “Perhaps let’s have a look at some of those books, shall we? Silver Shill?” Sassy clopped her forehooves together. A few moments later, the pale, thin, bespectacled earth pony entered the room, balancing a short stack of books in the middle of his back. Sassy lit her horn as he approached and plucked the top book off the stack. She floated it across the short distance to her hooves, then examined its cover. “Sonic Rainboom: Physics and Legend,” she read aloud. Moondancer shrugged. “That’s been a recurring subject of late, but there’s been plenty of other things that were just as obscure. Biographies about old mages, treatises on Chaos magic, commentaries on the treatises. And don’t even get me started about Tartarus!” Sassy raised an eyebrow. “Oh, he’s going crazy for it,” Moondancer blurted. “I mean… if you don’t mind my saying. But he is. I’m sure you know it wasn’t always like it is now? How it used to just be a kind of prison, before the flames and the Guardian came to it?” “Until recently, I bore the Mistress’ Key-That-Is-Not-A-Key. Suffice it to say, I’ve had reason enough to do my own research into Tartarus, and to understand the differences between now and before.” “Of course, ma’am; I apologize. But it’s like he’s fixated on it, as well as the things that were imprisoned in it, and what little’s known for sure about the changes. I’ve seen some really old books about it come through, alongside books that ponies tried to put together… more recently.” “After the crackdowns.” Sassy furrowed her brows. “He’s seeking out books that should’ve been caught up in the purges on dissent?” “Y… yes, ma’am. Which, speaking strictly as a scholar, has been absolutely wonderful.” Sassy nodded, though inwardly it vexed her that none of her informants had breathed a word about such movements of obscure and banned materials. “Well then, it seems you have been faithful to your duties at the Archive, if a bit slow to report what you’ve observed to the authorities. But fear not; your service is appreciated, as is your candor. This meeting has proven far more fruitful than I could’ve imagined.” Moondancer gave her a nervous smile. “Thank you, ma’am. Now, if you don’t mind, may I go? They’ll be expecting me back at the Archives with the Governor’s latest donation.” “Perhaps…” Sassy eyed the stack of books, then Silver Shill, who was still holding them. Beads of sweat on his brow suggested he might not be able to keep holding them for much longer. “You’re free to go, of course, but perhaps you could leave a few of the books with me for a time? Some of these might make for interesting reading.”