//------------------------------// // The quiet calm // Story: Princess Twilight Sparkle's School for Fantastic Foals: The Soul Thief // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// The kitchen was blinding. Gleaming white tile, mirrored-finish stainless steel, and an unbelievable sterile cleanliness, the kitchen was nothing short of perfect. Multiple stoves formed a line against one wall. Countertop islands formed an archipelago that stretched the length of the room. There were sinks as big as a bathtub. While Sumac stood in the doorway, trying to take it all in, Pebble sighed a contented, happy sigh. “I’ve missed this place,” she said while closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “So many happy hours have been spent here.” “This is bigger than where I live.” Moon Rose followed Pebble into the kitchen proper, then stopped to have a look around. “Are those… elevators?” “Service elevators,” Livingstone replied. “The dining hall is right above us, as is the ballroom, the assembly hall, and the auditorium. Five floors where food and drink is served. This place used to have dumbwaiters, but they were a tad inadequate. We like our lavish ceremonies of recognition.” “Like when my father was given a lifetime achievement in brawlology.” Snapping to attention, Sumac asked, “What’s… brawl… brawl-whatever-that-is?” “The science of whoopin’ ass,” Pebble replied in deadpan. “The Stubbs siblings are the undisputed masters of the discipline.” “Mister Teapot didn’t even flinch when Barnabus smashed a chair over his head in recognition of his accomplishments. That was a proud day.” Extending one wing, Livingstone wiped one eye, then the other, and then smoothed out his mustache. “What a fine culture of intimidation we have.” With an impatient huff, Pebble took off at a brisk trot, with Moon Rose right behind her. Sumac moved out of the doorway so others could pass. Pebble followed the archipelago of countertop islands for a while, then took a sharp left towards some tall stainless steel doors. Fortress doors, imposing and just a little bit scary. Grunting, Pebble stomped down on a raised steel plate near the wall, and one of the doors swung open, silent on perfectly oiled hinges. Beyond the door was an enormous room stocked with food of all kinds, and this was just one door. There were others. The pantry beyond was a long, narrow room that stretched so far back that Sumac couldn’t quite make out the end of it, mostly because the lights had not been turned on just yet. Tinned goods of every conceivable variety could be seen along the right wall, while bags and boxes lined the left. Sumac was overwhelmed by the sight of it all, and he could not help but remember his hungry days with Trixie. Livingstone made his way inside, carefully stepping over Pebble, and stopped in front of a shelf to have a look around. “Here we go,” he said to himself, “paving stones. We still have most of a bag. Some pretzels, some mixed nuts, and oh… some of these. Mellonella’s Munchy Moon Rocks.” “Oh, I like those.” Ever polite, Moon Rose looked up, hopeful, but said nothing else, made no request, spoke nothing of her desires. “Bertie likes the harvest moon flavour,” Barnabus said to nopony in particular. “I think we still have some frozen custard.” Livingstone—mindful of Pebble—began collecting packages with his wings, and passed the cookies to Pebble for her to carry. Then, with no warning whatsoever, the purplish pegasus began tossing packages at Sumac. “Here, make yourself useful.” Before Sumac was ready, he suddenly had things thrown in his general direction. Biting his lip, he had to concentrate to catch them and hold them aloft. Thankfully, he didn’t embarrass himself, and nothing hit the floor. It felt good to be useful, and having to maintain concentration to make his magic work prevented him from thinking about all of the awful things that had just happened. “He’s a quick one.” Livingstone smiled, but it was almost invisible beneath his mustache. “You have no idea,” Pebble deadpanned to Livingstone. Barnabus Stubbs dropped Sumac atop a stool and the small colt took a moment to get his balance. He had no fear of falling, as Barnabus didn’t seem like the type who’d let him take a tumble. Even though the stool was quite tall, Sumac’s head just barely peeped over the table, his chin mere inches from the stainless steel surface. “If you don’t mind me sayin’,” Barnabus said as he stepped away, “you lot hold up well in a crisis. Most foals would be a blubbering mess right about now.” “We’ve been in crisis before.” Pebble had the same problem that Sumac had, and she too, was far too small to be seated at this table. “I can’t think of a safer place than this one though.” She sighed, shook her head, and in a low voice added, “I hope my family is okay.” “This’ll be a bad night.” Barnabus’ gruff words weren’t reassuring, but they were honest. “We’ll be a different country come morning—” “Shut yer yap, Barnie!” “Bertie, I’ll only say this once… ‘tis better to be ‘onest than ‘opeful.” Baring her teeth, Bertie revealed that her teeth were also capped with silver, and her mouth contorted into a lopsided scowl as she focused her aggression on her brother. “Yer losing yer nerve, Barnie. Lapsing into a bit of the Old World, are we?” “You two… now is not the time to antagonise one another.” Livingstone’s stern words cut through the tension like a knife and as he spoke, he pulled the lid off of the container of frozen custard. “Why is it that whenever things get tense, you two always manage to try and have a go at one another? For goodness sakes, stop that.” The two siblings both scowled at the pegasus scolding them, but said nothing. “Sumac… would you please get me some cookies?” Pebble’s polite request broke the tension. She rested her fuzzy brown chin upon the edge of the table, and her ears pivoted forwards to point in Sumac’s direction. She was kind of… cute. Her flannel plaid nightgown was a bit dirty, but the sturdy fabric was no worse for wear. Sumac thought of Boomer for a moment, and a million other things bounced through his mind, including the adults having their tense moment. But all of this was mentally pushed aside when he pulled out some cookies for both Pebble and Moon Rose. If he was concentrating on his tasks, he couldn’t concentrate on his fears. Cookies were served. The frozen custard—lemon curd flavoured—was pulled away from Livingstone and Sumac attacked it with a fancy mechanical scoop. It was a relief to be working, to be doing something that took his mind off his troubles. He could turn off his brain and just work—which seemed like a perfectly reasonable thing to do. Bowls were arranged in a neat, orderly group, as were the plates, and an equal number of cookies landed on each of the plates. “Oi, lookit him go,” Bertie said to her brother. “I’ve never seen a ‘corn his age do that much at once. It’s like he’s possessed.” “Shush, Bertie, and let the lad work. This is the calmest I’ve seen him since this lot arrived.” But Bertie was not done, and she gave her brother a hard nudge in the ribs. “Lookit, Barnie… he works like Scratch. See, he does everything in organised groups, just like she does. A bit of her has rubbed off on him, methinks.” “Aye, Bertie, I see it too. A master is seen in their apprentice. Scratch’ll be happy to hear it.” Sumac ignored the distractions and his tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth while he applied direct force to the frozen custard, which had the consistency of near-dried cement. All the time spent with Big Mac using a hammer paid off, as Sumac had just enough telekinetic strength to carve through the solid yellow mass. As his mind calmed and his magic flowed, Sumac gained awareness of magic itself. He felt it all around him, but of particular interest were the unseen unicorns just outside the doors. How many of them were there? Quite a few. Guards, but kept out of sight. Sumac took comfort in their presence. This felt like a safe place, even if it was on high alert right now. These were capable, canny, courageous adults—adults like Tarnish who lived and breathed danger. “What is ‘Bertie’ short for?” asked Moon Rose. There was a sharp inhale from Pebble. “In fact, both of you have strange names. How did you get them?” Moon Rose held her head up as high as possible and studied the two siblings. “Are you from Trottingham?” “Uh…” Barnabus shifted his bulk left to right, right to left, and left to right again. “Bertie is short for Aberdeen, the place where we was born. My sister was named for the place where we lived. Aberdeen, berd, Bertie. Sometimes Bertie is short for Roberta, or Bertha, or Bethany, or Bertram… or—” “Those are some strange names,” said Moon Rose. “Well, they’re pretty normal for us.” Barnabus reached up and began scratching his neck with his hoof. “See, uh, me and my sister… we’re not from ‘round here. Livingstone… a bit of ‘elp ‘ere?” Livingstone made no reply, but stared at Barnabus. The purplish pegasus’ mustache drooped. Sumac, still working, was vaguely aware that something was going on, but he failed to notice everything happening around him. He placed not one, but two scoops of frozen custard into a bowl, and debated a third. Nopony seemed to have the presence of mind to tell him no, so he reckoned that he could get away with a bit of gluttony. The lights flickered. Bertie glanced around, one eye squinted, and her brother did the same. Livingstone too reacted, and cleared his throat. Sumac paused, mid-scoop, and waited to see if the lights might go out completely. They dimmed, grew bright, dimmed again, flickered a bit, grew dimmer, and seemed to be struggling. “What’s going on outside must be pretty bad.” Livingstone cleared his throat again. “Not to worry. We’re safe in here and if the power goes out, we have back up lights. Absolutely nothing to worry about.” “Berd could be Birdy.” Moon Rose seemed rather unconcerned about the flickering lights and her expressive, curious eyes remained on the siblings. “Where is Aberdeen?” The lights ceased flickering and Sumac continued scooping out custard. It had the stink of lemon, strong, and thinking of lemons, he could not help but think of Lemon Hearts. Was she okay? He did not allow his mind to wander, and focused on his work. This was good work, meaningful work, and at the end of it, there would be a reward. It was better to keep working than it was to worry. As it turned out though, Sumac scooped just a little too hard. A dollop of lemony yellow frozen custard was practically catapulted right into space, or would have been if it hadn’t splatted against the ceiling. Sumac paused in his efforts to look up, and the small, slight colt scowled at the evidence of his catastrophic failure. “It ‘appens to the best of us, lad. We go to please the ladies and leave a mess on the ceiling—” “Barnie!” Bertie slugged her brother hard enough to cause his teeth to clack together. “Bloody fu—” “No you don’t!” Bertie shouted as she slapped her brother’s muzzle. “Will you keep yer ‘ands to yerself, ye tart?” “Who you calling a tart, ye great titmouse!” Just as things were escalating into something interesting, the lights went out completely, and the only available illumination came from the tip of his horn. The green glow of his magic bathed the room in a witchy light that was, unfortunately, just a bit creepy, and Sumac was deeply disappointed with himself over the fact that his own magic gave him the shivers. It was too easy to remember other green magic, like that of Queen Chrysalis. He shivered so hard that he dropped the scoop, which fell to the table with a clatter. “Ach, crivens!” Bertie sounded thoroughly unnerved. “Green magic! Turn that off! ‘Tis a witching light in this darkness.” She waved her hoof in Sumac’s direction while shaking her head from side to side. “Now who’s lapsed back into a bit of the Old World?” Barnabus said to his sister. “Funny, the backup lights should be on by now.” Livingstone’s mustache quivered and he cast a sidelong glance at Bertie, who was still trying to ward away the green light by waving her hoof around. “There’s a ten second switch. How odd.” The whole of the building shuddered, rocked by some great unknown force. “Barnabus, Aberdeen… we need to go to the bunker, I do believe.” Livingstone’s voice almost sounded calm, but there was a distinct, discernable waver to it. “The both of you need to cease your bickering at once.” Just as the commanding pegasus was about to say something else, a door opened, and light came flooding into the darkened room, cast by a unicorn. Sumac turned his head and he heard the pony in the doorway say, “We have intruders. I don’t know how, but we do.” “Right then, to the bunker it is then.” Livingstone failed, utterly and completely, to sound calm.