//------------------------------// // Chapter 30: A Good and Faithful Servant // Story: To Serve In Hell // by CoffeeMinion //------------------------------// Sitting alone in the subterranean gloom of a stone-walled cell, covered in bruises, and bereft of her usual leather armor, Sassy waged a silent battle with the greatest foe she’d yet faced since the Longest Night began. It wasn’t the Governor, who’d seen her beaten and imprisoned. Neither was it some insidious Resistance, striking from the shadows before scurrying from the light. It was far more sinister, and it brought lashes of shame that struck with even greater force than the agony that lanced across her face each time she blinked. The enemy was doubt, and it was legion. At the forefront of her mind was continued doubt about the Mistress’ worthiness to have servants as faithful as herself, who were willing to lay down their lives—even if she ultimately hadn’t. She shuddered as well at the question of whether Silver Shill had delivered the letter she’d given him; certainly he struck her as loyal enough to follow-through on such a grand trust. But even if he had—even if the Mistress was wreaking her vengeance upon the traitors at that very moment—Sassy knew that her faithfulness wouldn’t guarantee her a place in the conflict’s aftermath. Time and again, she found her mind drawn back to the innumerable deaths she’d seen the Mistress mete out for far lesser failures than her own. She might just as easily be left in her cell, alone and forgotten despite her faithful service, and perhaps even condemned to death by starvation, as had been intended for Zecora. For with both Bon Bon and Fashion Plate lost to her, surely nopony else would risk themselves to bring her food, as Rarity had done for the zebra. Her tears of pain and shame had long since dried, though, and Sassy felt determined not to let her momentary losses of composure give way to deluding herself about her chances. The sound of distant hoofsteps made her ears perk up. Sassy raised her eyes to gaze at the dimly lit hall leading to her cell, and spotted a silhouette approaching from the far-off stairs. For a moment Sassy was gripped with fear about the cloaked stallion who’d precipitated her capture. But as the shape moved closer, Sassy soon heard an all-too-familiar voice say: “Here you are. Oh my, but you’re—” “Hurt, yes,” Sassy croaked, closing her eyes to keep from having to look at the arch-traitor who stood before her. “By friends of yours, no doubt.” “What friends?” Rarity asked, her tone laced with a curious edge of anxiety. Sassy laughed, and winced. “I didn’t get the pony’s name who left me a sitting duck for the Governor’s toughs. But I guess it doesn’t matter now. You managed to stop Silver Shill from delivering my note, didn’t you? Probably killed him, too? So there’ll be no help coming for me; no vengeance raining down upon you, the Governor, Fashion Plate, or any of your traitorous ilk?” Rarity went silent for a few heartbeats before speaking slowly: “I may not have gotten his name either, you understand.” Despite her abhorrence for showing weakness, fear, or any other such thing, Sassy failed to stop the tears that came pouring from her eyes at the thought of Silver Shill’s demise. She sniffled loudly, and held a hoof up over her face. “He was loyal,” she sobbed. “More loyal than I… I…” She drew in a heavy breath, and loosed a groan of desperation. “I… I don’t want to die. Even though I know… I would’ve seen so much of I’ve done in the Mistress’ name as… as ethically bankrupt, before. And now I see it too, but I… I… there’s no stopping her! Even though she’s inconsistent… she…” Sassy lost control of her own frustration, grief, and pain, as her mourning of Silver Shill’s death opened the floodgates of emotion in her heart, and left her to finally feel the depths of her own fall. She wailed in wordless torment as she even felt compassion for the innumerable masses whom she’d helped oppress during her service to the Mistress. “Sassy…” “No,” she choked through her sobs. “I don’t want to hear more promises and lies. Silver Shill may have died for a tainted cause, but he was honorable to the end. He didn’t break down, or fall prey to doubt and temptation, as I… I have.” She took a long, ragged breath, and forced herself to continue speaking, despite her shattered spirit. “I hate this world every bit as much as you and your Resistance must; I merely believed the Mistress to be fundamental. But I know now that she isn’t as pure as I once believed, and I… I only wish… I could’ve at least seen my oldest and best friend just once more, before you condemned her to burn—” “Sassy.” She opened her eyes and saw Rarity standing before her in a long, elegant, dazzling blue dress that seemed to light up the gloomy prison. She expected Rarity to be holding a weapon, or at least showing a gleeful or vindictive expression on her face, but there was none. Instead, Rarity’s eyes were much softer; her frown one of sorrow and empathy, not disgust. “You should kill me if you’re going to,” Sassy spluttered through tears. “I doubt you’ll catch me at a lower point.” Rarity shook her head. “I’ve asked a new friend of mine for a favor on your behalf. If you’re willing, I could let you—” “Do what you want. I’ve seen what you and your friends have in store for me. And I have to compliment you, really I do—I had no idea that I’d been so ineffectual at rooting you out. But tell me… why toy with me this much? Why plant the letter for me to find, and tease the Mistress with it, of all ponies? And what of your damnable zebra friend—was she just collateral damage?” “Perhaps this will be easier if I show you, first.” And with that, Rarity lit her horn, and some kind of shimmering sphere came projecting out around them. Sassy squinted at it. “I don’t recognize that weave…” “It’s non-detection, and quite high-level, at that. Again, courtesy of a new friend who seems gifted in such things. But Sassy… I’ll let you in on a secret if you promise not to tell anypony else.” A dark, mirthless chuckle escaped Sassy’s muzzle. “Dead mares tell no tales.” “No, Sassy. As much as you’re awful and vindictive sometimes, I’ve never known you to break your word once you’ve given it, at least not directly. So promise me that you won’t breathe a word of this to anypony but the Mistress, if you still insist on doing so once you’ve seen this.” “You fool. Certainly I’ll agree to that. What do you think you could show me that—” Rarity’s hornglow brightened all at once, and Sassy shielded her eyes with a hoof. When she looked back, she saw that Rarity was channeling her magic into a small metallic box that was, in turn, emitting a flat, broad, shimmering circle of white light in the air. It was accompanied by a sound like small bells or chimes ringing, as if they were wind-blown. Sassy found the sounds appealing, if pointless; at least until the shimmering faded, revealing a picture of a burned, battered, bandaged pony lying in a bed. Then the picture moved. The pony was clearly breathing. Sassy stood, albeit with some effort. She approached the bars separating herself from Rarity, and her eyes widened as she took in detail after detail that led her to the conclusion that this truly must be: “Bon Bon?! But I… I thought—” “Without wishing to boast, I wanted you to know that I rescued your candy-making friend myself after her shop was set ablaze, and I’ve kept her survival as secret as I could to protect her. I fear she won’t be up and about anytime soon, but given time, she may recover.” A smile worked its way across Sassy’s muzzle, as fresh tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh Bon Bon, I… I thought I’d lost you.” Rarity reached forward with her free hoof, leading with something metallic. Sassy recoiled on instinct, eyes widening with shock that Rarity had lured her in for the kill after all. But then whatever was in her hoof made contact with the door, and turned with a squeal. It was a key. The door swung open by a few hoof-widths. Rarity’s hornglow faded, and the image vanished with it. Then she turned to leave. Tremors wracked Sassy’s limbs. “W… Wait! That’s it? You’re just… going to let me go?” Rarity halted and glanced back at her. “Sassy, I can’t say if your truest enemy is the Nightmare, or yourself—nor how you’ll face the sorrow you might feel for what you’ve done. But I was never your enemy, regardless of what you may think of me. And neither is the Resistance evil, despite their imperfections.” She shook her head and turned back toward the stairs. “Perhaps your rather… straightforward worldview had blinded you to the truth. But perhaps the greatest irony is that you were too honest of a mare to make an effective spymaster.” Sassy stood in silent contemplation of the doubts she’d carried for so long. The weight of her uncertainty was crushing while she clung to the messages of self-assurance that were born of her station’s influence and power. But, thinking of herself as just a pony—a lonely, haunted, and defeated one at that—laid waste to the lies she’d based her last few years on. The Nightmare wasn’t eternal; she was a newcomer, a pretender, a usurper of the rightful Princess’ throne. Neither was the Nightmare invincible; she was constantly being evaded, outwitted, and undercut by ponies like Blueblood and his allies... including Rarity. And as Sassy’s mind’s eye turned to the half-forgotten faces haunting every corner of her memory, the final lie—that of the Nightmare’s so-called purity—stood out in sharp relief. She could only scoff at her own naiveté; “purity” had no place in the Nightmare’s realm. These were bitter truths, but Sassy felt grateful to at last be able to face reality. The realization was sweetened by Rarity’s selflessness; she was the first pony in a long time to do something for Sassy without ulterior motive. Rarity had saved Bon Bon because she was a good pony, not because she had any realistic expectation of currying Sassy’s favor. “Wait! Please,” Sassy called after Rarity. “I think… I’d like to talk.” Rarity stepped out behind the Governor’s mansion, and drew a long, trembling breath of cold evening air. A pair of liveried guards who were flanking the door regarded her with curiosity, but said nothing. “Just enjoying the starlight,” Rarity said to them, not really caring if they believed her or not. Despite her need for calm, she couldn’t resist a bit of nervous prancing as her mind filled with questions about the servant to whom Sassy had mentioned giving a note. Either way, though, the guards soon nodded and returned to staring past her out into the ruined grounds that sprawled behind the former castle. Rarity jumped at the sound of hooves on stairs behind her. She turned and saw Limestone descending to ground level, her eyebrows raised in an unspoken question. Rarity clenched her jaw in silent answer. “Why don’t you guys take a break,” Limestone said to the guards. “The Governor might get jealous if he thought somepony else was spending too much time with his girls.” The pair of them glanced at each other, then at Limestone and Rarity. Finally they murmured something noncommittal and retreated into the mansion. Limestone watched them depart, then leaned in close to Rarity. “How did it go?” “Better than I’d expected, for the most part. She seems contrite, and eager to work with us. She even offered to share what she knows about using the Hellshard.” “Impressive,” Limestone said, cracking a hint of a smile. “Keep it up and we won’t have any trouble talking Twilight into giving your mark back. And who could’ve guessed that Sassy would’ve joined our side all along if we’d just leveled with her about how stupid she was?” Rarity opened her mouth to protest, but she was forestalled by another sound of hooves tromping down the stairs. Governor Blueblood sauntered out behind them, took a long sniff of the night air, exhaled loudly, then threw his forelegs around both Rarity and Limestone. “Well then? Are we ready?” He paused and regarded Rarity with narrowed eyes. “And will our Sassy little loose end be joining us… or was she right about you wanting her dead?” “I was just telling Limestone that we have a complication,” Rarity said, scowling at him. “What? I thought you said things went well!” “All but one thing. Sassy mentioned giving a letter to a servant before she was apprehended. One ‘Silver Shill,’ I believe.” With a chortle, Blueblood gazed up at the mare-marked moon. “Y’know, I love that little guy. I tell ya… he’s nervous as all get-out, and I still haven’t managed to get him laid, but he’s pretty much the best at what he does.” Rarity bit her lip. “Yes, but this letter contained a summons for the Nightmare… and a statement regarding your treason, Governor.” Limestone’s eyes went wide. “What?!” Rarity nodded. “Though again, this was hours ago… just before her imprisonment. I… may have led her to believe that he’d been killed by the Resistance. But I tend to think that if he’d delivered the letter as instructed, we already would’ve seen the Nightmare descending upon Canterlot, particularly given the chaos in the streets.” “I’ll talk to Twilight,” Limestone said, raising a hoof to Rarity, who promptly returned the communication charm she’d borrowed. “We’ll call in everypony we’ve got to work this. Wherever he is, and wherever that letter is… this has to be priority one.” “Hmmm.” Blueblood frowned at both of them. “I’ll get everypony in the mansion looking, too. Also, the stallions I ordered for our ‘trip’ are probably about half-ready by now. Why don’t I go try to usher them along, and we’ll meet up back here in ten?” Blueblood turned and walked back into the mansion. Limestone turned as well, speaking over her shoulder: “Wait here, I’ll be back.” As Limestone turned to go, Rarity felt a sudden, strange sensation like hot breath on the back of her neck. She turned, and her breathing quickened as she studied the darkness at the edge of the Governor’s torchlit cart-park. Nothing seemed particularly out of place, nor did she see what she was looking for, if she could truly be said to be looking. But she swore that she could feel somepony’s eyes upon her, even if she couldn’t see them… “Psst!” Her eyes snapped toward a series of small carts that were parked near the end of the grounds. A hoof waved out to her, then vanished behind the carts again. Rarity breathed a heavy, shaking sigh. A clawing sense of trepidation made her teeth rattle as she considered seeing him again. Yet it occurred to her that if anypony might already know of their predicament with Silver Shill and have the means to deal with it, it would be him. Still though, her mind dwelled on the thought that his aid always seemed to come at a terrible price, and she was slow to descend a short set of stairs from the mansion’s outer landing to the grounds proper. She crunched with plodding hooves across the gravel loading zone to where the carts were parked. The feeling reasserted itself with still greater strength when she approached the edge of the cart she’d seen the hoof behind. A strange chemical odor distracted her briefly as she approached it, but she was much too preoccupied to consider its origin. Resigning herself to what she’d find on the other side, though, she sighed and stepped around it. As she feared, a dead stallion lay sprawled there amid a patch of greatly disturbed gravel. He was light of fur and mane, and a pair of shattered glasses lay close to where he’d fallen. Yet his death appeared to have been relatively clean—certainly not the work of the expected knife. “Y’know, I gotta compliment you,” said the shadowy stallion whom she knew she’d find there as well. He was still in his favored heavy cloak that obscured most of his features, but she took the impression that he was grinning like a cat that had caught a mouse. “I didn’t think you were quite ready to sweet-talk your way into the Resistance’s good graces, but boy did you prove me wrong! You’ve even got Limestone on your side, more or less. That’s amazing! Certainly better than I ever did with her. Remind me to buy you some candy sometime.” “Do you truly think that’s an appropriate remark when a pony lies dead before us?” He shrugged. “Fine; more candy for me. But hey, here’s the big thing—the main thing: you trusted me.” His grin deepened, straining both credulity and the boundaries of his own face. “C’mon, you knew I had this mook, and all you had to do was get your friends to go away so you could come collect. Here’s the note, by the way.” He held up a folded piece of paper with crude charcoal writing and bits of blood on it. He also offered a signet ring bearing Sassy’s three-pin cutie mark. “Th… thank you,” Rarity said, turning away from what she presumed to be Silver Shill’s corpse. “I should hope this would be the last pony who’d need to… to…” “Die? Take a dirt nap? Eat it? Buy a rock farm—” “Yes.” He laughed and shook his head. “Well, either way, the only thing you might still need is a cover story, seeing as how we’ve got a fresh li’l body here and you’re the one left holding the bag. Er, note.” Rarity’s eyes went wide. “I… no. You can’t be serious. You want me to… present myself… as Silver Shill’s killer?” “Why not? You might hate getting your hooves dirty, but what’s the real difference between telling your friends to go catch and kill him, versus killing him yourself? Doesn’t matter who takes credit; either way, he ends up pushing daisies.” Her stomach felt hollow. “No… no, I didn’t say kill him…” “But they would’ve, right? Or they might’ve. You don’t know! I mean, look at what’s happening out in the rest of the city; it doesn’t take much for most ponies to panic and get desperate. Sometimes all it takes is just one kick.” He punctuated the last word with a strike at Silver Shill’s head. “Stop that! I would… I would never do that to a fallen adversary!” She met his eyes and felt a crawling, slick sensation overtake her as she pondered the facade that had been created for her. “You might strangle one with your magic, though, if he attacked you.” The stallion cracked a wicked smile. “Say if you spotted a died-in-the-wool loyalist who’d been hiding out here since the riots started, waiting to make his move? You got to talking, and he realized you were gonna stop him from getting essential information to his Mistress. He panicked. You panicked.” She stared at him aghast. “Is that why you didn’t use your knives?” “Yep! I always say you’ve gotta find the way of going crazy that’s uniquely you, unless you happen to be shopping for a friend. Oh, and that reminds me…” He bent down and removed a small, coppery charm from Silver Shill’s coat. Instantly, Silver Shill’s few small cuts began to trickle with fresh blood. Rarity’s eyes widened with shock at this, and the shadowy stallion giggled in acknowledgement. “Preservation charm. It’s… ah, well, let’s just say it’s a lot cleaner than some of the old-school Zebraic methods of preserving a body.” The macabre underpinning of his words left Rarity on the verge of tears, yet also strangely numb. “I can’t abide all of this… death.” He shrugged. “Look, I get it if your feelings-thingy is pretty maxed out right now, but I need you to start psyching yourself for what we might find in the Lowest Reaches of Tartarus. I mean, I’ve got some stuff that oughtta help protect us, and I’ll bet Twilight’s gonna focus on getting in and out as fast as possible… but if you can’t handle things up here, how are you gonna handle what’s down there?” Rarity shivered, turned away, and once more found her mind wracked with vivid recollections of Ponyville’s fall. In time, a sound of crunching hooves on gravel disrupted her dark reverie. The shadowy stallion was gone. She looked out and saw Governor Blueblood all but prancing at the head of a group of two dozen or so red-liveried ponies streaming from one of the larger double-doors near the center of the mansion. All were equipped with a mix of shorter weapons and light shields, or a longer polearm, save for the Governor himself; he carried only a mid-sized cane with a brass knob at the top. “Oh, Lady Rarity!” Governor Blueblood called. “Here there, you lads form up… somewhere over there. Lady Rarity, I’ve had word from our mutual wink-wink that a certain elbow-nudge is going to bouncy-bouncy—” “I believe I have what we’re looking for,” she called back, holding up the note in her magic. “Really! Ooh, I have to wonder…” Blueblood trotted over, stopping short as he came around the cart and gazed upon the dead pony at her hooves. “Oof. Couldn’t turn him from the dark side, eh?” “I…” Rarity swallowed but still tasted hints of bile in the back of her throat. The sharp, acrid smell from the nearby cart reached her again and accentuated her discomfort. “N… No, he… attacked me.” Blueblood touched a hoof to his chest in clearly feigned respect. “Well then, I suppose poor Silver Shill died as he lived: hard, and with a vengeance. I mean, it looks like you’re the kind of mare who’s willing to hit a guy with glasses!” “I… suppose,” Rarity said, glancing back down at the body with a frown. “Oh, don’t worry about that,” Blueblood said, waving a hoof at Silver Shill. “I’ll have a guy take care of it. Clean it right up like it never even happened. Guess we can tell everypony else to stop looking, too…” He glanced down at his forehoof, which was bare. “And look at that: it’s just about time to go carve our way through the crowd. Viva la revolucion!” He trotted away back toward his stallions, grinning like a fool. Rarity turned her eyes back down to the dead pony once more, unsure what she hated more about the situation: having him dead or being thought of as his killer. And the uncertainty just sat there, twisting in her gut like a knife as she continued to stare at him. Eventually a chill came over her, and she glanced back at her flank—still covered from outside view, but still blank underneath. Its duality fueled both her feeling of unease, as well as the fear of how she could possibly face the living nightmare of Tartarus with such a squeamish heart.