Let me tell you something, recruits. The Equestrian Barrier Lands isn't all ardor, valor, and patriotism. This is a harsh existence we have to carve out of this harsh land and our harsh neighbors. Hard times harden hearts very quickly, and this doesn't always result in the stoic, unflinching warrior that you've read and fantasized about.
Sometimes, adversity doesn't merely harden ponies, it bends and twists them. Though it might pain any pony who loves our nation dearly, we must always acknowledge that we have more than our fair share of criminal elements here. Any guard, indeed most ponies, can tell you that the laws of the Barrier Lands may have differences from one settlement to the next, but they all share a few things in common: they are strict, they are exacting, and they are frequently enforced ruthlessly. Most ponies know how to survive under these laws, and appreciate the protection they provide. Some even thrive. Others don't. The reasons vary; poverty, greed, lack of discipline, insanity...the end results are the same: the Barrier Lands Underbelly, which is what we call crime in the Equestrian Barrier Lands in general. You may have heard localized versions of this such as the Great Delve Underbelly, a literal place in our city, much to our embarrassment.
Among the poorer ponies, one can expect a variety of criminals to come crawling out. There is no city in the north, west, or south that doesn't have its typical pickpockets, burglars, and the like. They will often form gangs to pool their resources. Outside the cities you will find bandits usually led by deserters from the Legion or some local guard. These ponies will have some sob story or another to tell you when they're caught. They were poor, they didn't know how to provide for themselves, the Legion made them do things they couldn't handle...most will probably be true. Yes, you can afford some sympathy for these types of criminals. You'll still have to turn them in or execute them if they resist. They knew the consequences of getting caught, but try to kill them quickly and cleanly.
There are other types, though. You will find slavers who capture citizens, usually the children, to be sold to the ophidites or some very twisted ponies. You will find those who peddle the wretched, destructive substances produced by the Empire to conquer the weak-minded. There are ponies who take advantage of desperate ponies who sell their own bodies in order to take a portion of the meager profits in exchange for dubious advantages. These are not criminals taking a twisted path to ensure their survival. They are degenerates, and must be destroyed. We will execute them wherever we may find them. You'll find that many of us in the Guard will not be too aghast if you make them suffer a bit if you catch them, nor are we particularly concerned if the hangpony in charge of their execution "fails" to estimate the necessary height to snap their necks. We must uphold our laws, but we take our vengeance when we can.
Delve Guard Captain Ring Mail's informal speech to some recruits
Even though she was already inside the Rondo's secret chambers, Moon Sail still heard the light pings of her alarms going off. She had precious few tools left as a Blackmoon Blade, but the resonant alarm bells attuned to her was one of them. The sound would be too faint for anything else to hear, but it reached her with clarity. It bounced off the living near the bells, alerting her of how many were near the alarm. It was a complicated, though temporary, enchantment used by Blades to set up perimeter alarms. These were made by Shrine Fire, before she sold her life dearly during the Legion raid on the Great Delve sanctuary. They were gone now, consumed by the magic coursing through them after that one-time use. With them, Moon Sail's only remembrance tokens of an old friend. It didn't matter, though, she was going to be meeting up with Shrine Fire soon enough.
Moon Sail expected a second, smaller group of legionnaires hiding in the background. That was a pretty standard move. There were too many, though. She may have underestimated the number of legionnaires in this investigative group. But that didn't make sense. She had scouted them out earlier. She knew how many they were. She also knew of the call for reinforcements went out yesterday. Additional legionnaires were just arriving now, so where did these come from?
Well...that won't matter too much. These legionnaires were going to die. A necessary sacrifice to pit the Legion against the wretched Rondo. Moon Sail was sure they wouldn't mind if some of their ponies died if it was for the safety of Equestria as a whole. They certainly didn't mind when the Blades were also massacred for the exact same cause.
Not the ones outside, though, despite the anomaly when it came to their numbers. Some of them have to escape to tell the rest of the Legion what happened.
"Moon Sail, where are you taking us?" their Skirmisher Captain, Coal Grey, asked.
Naive boy. Despite his age, he had the eyes of a blooded killer, true, but this was one who had killed an ursan or two. Maybe an ophidite as well. Moon Sail could tell from his stance and his tone that he had very little understanding of how insidious his own race was.
"You asked to see Spared Rod," Moon Sail replied. "I am taking you to him."
"This place looks like a bandit's fortress," Chill Gaze said. "Why does he hole up here with his party so far away? Is he that paranoid?"
This one would know. He looked at every pony from the village, to the party, to this place, as if they were all criminals that had to prove themselves innocent first.
"You will see soon enough," Moon Sail said.
Seeing was one thing. They should be hearing it already, and smelling it. A different sort of music from the earlier festivities drifted along the tunnel; deep, slow, rhythmic drums, and slippery, high-pitched flute-tunes. The smell of burning incense and befuddling grass drifted along the tunnel's stale, warm air, also carrying the heavy musk of a lot of ponies sweating. Moon Sail wrinkled her nose, watching with some satisfaction when the legionnaires behind her did the same. They must already have plenty of idea what they were about to walk into, even the naive Skirmisher Captain.
The tunnel they were following twisted and turned a few more times before the passage began to widen. Moon Sail could barely contain a smile. The Blades had always known of the the Rondo's excesses. At first, they tolerated it, tried to view it as a different expression of one's devotion to the moon princess. Then, they tried to trim the excesses as one would clip an unruly hedge. Faced with extinction, the Blackmoon Blades only had one recourse; tear it out by the root.
The passage finally opened to the main chamber of the Rondo's secret lair. Behind her, even these hardened legionnaires that must have seen a death or two could not hold back their sharp inhalations and brief cries of surprise. It was unlikely that the occupants of the chamber heard them, though. The slow, deep pounding of drums pulsed through the air, like the heartbeat of some giant creature. Mixed with the music were tittering conversations, laughter, and moans in equal measure.
The main chamber was a huge, open cavern; roughly circular with a high, vault-like ceiling. The floor had seen some work so the natural roughness was, at least, level. The Rondo was known for its artistic endeavors after all, not craftsponyship. The large, circular carpet at the center was of a beautiful black and silver pattern with a full moon at its center. Imposed on the moon's center was the slit eye of the Silver Sentinel; a common depiction of the Moon Princess back in the day. Moon Sail had taken note of it earlier. It must be a relic from the Rondo's better past, if such a time even existed. It could even be a Silver Star original.
The carpet was covered with stains, though: wine, blood, sweat, and other disgusting fluids. It might be better off burned. Just one more crime to exterminate the Rondo for. The torn, battered, and smeared art piece was far from the most enraging thing in the room, especially for legionnaires who didn't appreciate the Moon Princess to begin with. All along the sides of this cavern were cushions great and small, covered in velvet and silk of garish colors. Mares and stallions alike lay on those cushions, if they weren't just lying on each other. Large, silver trays were scattered among them, covered with bowls of food and large goblets of wine.
Also scattered within the chamber were tall, cylindrical cages with vertical iron bars that met into a single point on top. Inside each was either a mare or a stallion dressed in silks designed to accentuate the hips and tail. They gyrated and spun in their little spaces while some of the ponies outside watched.
The "audience" proved the most unnerving. These were mostly Rondo ponies, mares and stallions alike, enjoying the true contents of their festival. There were a few villagers as well, probably the most wretched ones in Moon Basin. This was a starter, after all. On the third day and onward, more and more will be welcomed here as these villagers went among their fellows to talk it up, and this “party” will spread out like a disease.
There were supposed to be a few guards from the Rondo itself, recognisable by their spears and light barding. They weren’t at the spot Moon Sail had assigned to them. A scan of the room revealed where they were with the other Rondo ponies, weapons scattered nearby while they participated in this insanity.
The revellers were only partially interested in the dancers. They divided their attention was between the cages, the platters, and each other. The wine poured freely from the goblets, running down pony chins and chests, pouring down their forelocks while they giggled. Occasionally, it would even find its way down a gullet or two. Fruits, grains, and vegetables tumbled down cushions and hides, peeking obscenely from open mouths while ponies chewed and spoke loudly. More than a few couples exchanged delicacies from one mouth to another, if they weren't just busy licking and kissing one another. In the shadowy corners of the chamber, silhouettes heaved, groaned, and moaned, hinting all too vividly what was going on back there.
At the far end of the chamber was Spared Rod himself, a colt by one side while he delicately fed another with a bunch of grapes. These were not colts from the Rondo, as Moon Sail had not seen them earlier. They had leather collars on and a timid, glazed looked in their eyes. Nearby, "Sassy Saffron" stood by attentively, an eager vendor attending to a customer's inspection.
Such abandon simmered Moon Sail's blood, and she was expecting this. Behind her, she expected, no demanded, that these legionnaires would fare worse. They were not Blades. They could not feel any sort of outrage over this spectacle of mockery towards the Moon Princess. Yet, all it had to take was for them to have some shred of decency to be enraged by this.
"This...this is degeneracy!" one of them, Chill Gaze, shouted. Music to Moon Sail's ears.
That sharp cry, especially with the mention of degeneracy, cut through the throbbing music and the foul fog of burning drugs. The ponies of the Rondo looked up and towards the entrance at last. The sight of shocked, then grim, legionnaires standing so close jolted them out of their drunken, drug-addled stupor, and their lewd entanglements. With cries of shock, they scrambled into what they must have thought were less incriminating positions, eyes glancing about for exits, and out of embarrassment.
It was like...like kicking over a dead tree stump. Under the rotten roots, there were certain to be wretched worms, maggots, and roaches, immediately reduced to squirming in agony upon the slightest touch of sunlight. Look at them, as if there was any hiding what they were doing, yet they tried to pretend anyway; feigning guilt, feigning innocence. It was nearly enough to make Moon Sail vomit.
"Moon Sail!" Spared Rod cried out. "What are they doing here?"
All Blades were trained to resist even the worst sort of torture, but Moon Sail could barely avoid smiling and laughing just looking at Spared Rod's panic. His disgusting, perpetually euphoric grin crumbling to genuine fear tasted better than any of the wine they were serving.
"They forced me, Spared Rod!" Moon Sail wailed. She stumbled forward, affecting a limp as easily as she affected a pained moan into her cries. "They're not here for an investigation, they want to exterminate us, just like what the Legion did with the Delve's Blackmoon Blades!"
Eyes widened all around. The faint senses of guilt and shame dissipated as easily as their propriety would when presented with privacy. The Rondo cared not one whit for the Blackmoon Blades, but they had enough sense in their rotten minds to know that what happened to one organization dedicated to the Moon Princess could easily happened to the other. Some turned to run, but there was a huge crowd here, and the passages behind them were narrow.
"Hold on!" Skirmisher Captain Coal Grey called out. "I've given no such order, nor was that ever our mission!"
"It sounds like a good suggestion, though, Skirmisher Captain," Chill Gaze said. "Look at those cages! Consider the secrecy! These are slavers! The punishment for slavery is death!"
"Wait!" one of the Rondo ponies cried out from the back. "They're not slaves! They're entertainers here on their own free will!"
One of the mares pushed her face against the bars, and nodded as she called out. "Yes!" she said. "That's right!"
"Indoctrinated slaves at that," Chill Gaze growled. "Are these even ponies we're dealing with? By all aspects, these are ophidites!"
"Be quiet, Inquisitor!" Coal Grey said. He stared at Spared Rod and the two colts. Now, that was an incriminating sight. Chill Gaze conjured conjectures from the sights around them, but this thing before them with Spared Rod...this was as damning as it looked.
"Explain yourself, Spared Rod," Coal Grey said. His gashing blade was slightly out of its sheath, ready to be brought forth with one expert pull with his mouth to cut down anything in front of him.
From his supine position, Spared Rod's legs curled up to his body, he pulled his head back and low, his lips pressing tight even as he spoke. Moon Sail let her upper lip curl just very slightly, making sure to keep it out of sight. It wasn't hard as all the attention in the chamber had descended on this confrontation. Spared Rod was the very picture of a cornered rat, Coal Grey, the tentative hunter, unsure of the next move.
"What is there to explain, Sir Legionnaire?" Spared Rod said. He put on a grin that could barely disguise his nervousness. With a foreleg, he gently nudged the colts with him just out of sight. "I understand that some of our revelry can be rather...uncomfortable to watch, but we are not doing anything that demands Legion interference."
"You have slaves dancing in cages, degenerate," Chill Gaze said.
"Sweet Cheeks and her troupe are here as professional entertainers," Spared Rod said. "I have their contract..." he patted himself down, only to realize that he was not wearing anything, then pointed over to some crates behind him. "...somewhere over there."
"And these colts?" Coal Grey eyed the colts that were about to sidle over to Sassy Saffron only to freeze at their mention.
Spared Rod draped his forelegs on the two and smiled. "Why, these are but my nephews, Sir Legionnaire, and I am just a doting uncle." He looked to Sassy Saffron. "Isn't that right, Sassy?" he asked.
Sassy Saffron smiled that oily, venomous smile of hers. Safaszan may be an expert in taking on a pony's form, but pony expressions were clearly not part of that expertise. Or she probably just thought most ponies were too stupid to read into such obvious expressions. She wouldn't be that wrong.
"Yes, it is, dear brother," Sassy Saffron said.
"You would bring your children to this pit of vice?" Chill Gaze asked. "A likely story. I have studied ophidite slavery, Spared Rod, I know the symptoms of indoctrinated children, and those two could not fit the description more, you couldn’t even be bothered to remove their collars. Skirmisher Captain, I recommend executing these lot," Chill Gaze said.
"Is this true, Spared Rod?” Coal Grey said. He faced no immediate reply, but the slowly crumbling facade on Spared Rod’s face spoke well enough.
An unusually reasonable response from the Skirmisher Captain. Moon Sail didn't quite expect that. It was usually the younger legionnaires who were eager to prove themselves with combat. If left to his own devices, he might just move on from this.
But exposing the Rondo's filth was only a portion of Moon Sail's plan. The group that tripped her alarms must be well into the tunnel now. A place that she had especially prepared. She tugged on a lone, long wire attached to a special knob on her foreleg device. She heard the very light ping of a canister's pin snapping off at a far distance. The silence of the chamber certainly allowed for it, and her trained hearing, un-dulled even by all the years, picked it up with ease.
She could see the first yellowish wisps all the way from her spot, and hear the hiss as more of the gas escaped. The tunnel filled quickly, and, while she was no illusionist, the trickery was spot on. Sure enough, a loud cry came from the tunnel.
"Cloudkill! We're under attack!"