CLIK CLAK CLIK CLAK CLIK CLAK
The echo of heels on stone.
A hooded figure strode across an ethereal floor, one which filled the vast expanse. Littered all across it were doors of different shapes, sizes, colors and unique attributes. The lone figure stopped and paused for a moment, to look up at the otherworldly moon that hung in the rather insubstantial sky. Under its silvery light, a gentle gust of wind pushed their hood back, revealing a dark blue mare.
Princess Luna.
She was patrolling the Otherworld. The land of dreams, nightmares and visions; where all souls go to replenish their vigor. The drain of the waking world was plainly visible on the incorporeal beings, as if they had wandered a dry desert for many years. It was a place Luna took much pride in, being one of the few stewards of the oasis.
Though with it came a heavy responsibility and with it a cost. She could never influence someone. She could never forcefully dispel or change a dream, no matter how cruel. Nor would she be able to remember anything she does in detail from the Otherworld, no matter how important or dire.
Regardless, nary a nocturne went by without the vigil of the Night princess.
Currently, she surveyed the assortment of doors that happened to be within her vicinity. Everything was in order, until one door started to shoot off a few dark colored magical sparks and the aura took a similar darker hue. The aura of each door was very unique and any malcontents would quite obviously change it, causing the signature to feel off.
The night princess strolled towards it and crouched down to examine the door, it was a particularly small one. Probably belonged to a young foal. She gave a light touch of one finger to for a quick assessment. She smiled.
Worried about school, hm?
The other facet of this job, she had to conjure something that would hold a specific meaning and introduce it into the dream. This would in turn get the dream back on track. Which meant she rarely ever needed to enter all but the most dire ones.
Hm, I believe this should do.
She conjured a lunch box, inside was a very nice lunch with the dreamer's favorite dessert. She took it and gently opened the door, placing the object inside. After a few moments the door returned to normal, taking on much happier and lighter hue.
She nodded in satisfaction and continued on her patrol. It wasn't always that easy though, as there were times she was forced to introduce abstract concepts into a dream which required a bit of a mind game trying to find an appropriate object. Other times, even multiple objects or attempts due to her limitations.
CRACK
A sharp crack of energy whipped across the ethereal plane like lightning next to her ear. The sheer force of it almost knocking her aside, if she hadn't of braced in time.
What in the night's name was that!
She whipped her head in the direction the energy came from. The gash it left across the other world like a wound, leaving a vacuum of ether in it's wake. Using her powers, she skipped across the plane by immeasurable distances with giant leaps and bounds.
She soon saw the door and landed hard on the ground nearby. No time to dust herself, she quickly made her way towards the door while she examined it and the surrounding ether.
The door was, surprisingly, a beautiful oak door. It was engraved with symbols and caricatures she did not understand. Sadly, it was twisted by spiked wreaths of iron that slithered across it like snakes, marring its image. All the while a dark sickly crimson aura pulsed liked the heart of a tumor.
The princess stopped with her jaw agape, rarely did she ever see such a soul become so twisted. Though she knew it all too well, and what it would lead to.
I must directly intervene.
In a quick motion, she tossed aside her cloak and reached out a single hand toward the moon. Its silver light began to surround her and soon she was enveloped in a cocoon of bright tangible moon light.
A clocked ticked loudly in the otherwise deafening silence that filled the upstairs bedroom. Cliff laid in his bed wide awake from the earlier episode. Unblinking, he had stared at the rustic ceiling for hours without falling back asleep.
TICK... TOCK... TICK... TOCK...
He let out a groan and with a swing of his legs, headed over to the bathroom. His undergarments came off and he turned on the shower. Cranked to the hottest temperature he could handle, the large man stepped inside, resting his head on the wall which let the hot water run down his body as he basked in its comfort.
Cliff focused on the sound of running water, allowing his mind to be empty thought but a dull empty feeling remained.
After an hour of meditating in his bathroom turned sauna, he stalked over to his wardrobe and eyed his clothing. His normal array of fairly basic clothing greeted him but besides his suit from the date, there was one other outfit.
It's been awhile since I have worn this.
He grabbed the brown duster from its corner of the closet and felt the smooth texture of it in his hands, catching a whiff of faint leather. He eyed the rest of the outfit and it brought back memories. Memories of a place he hadn't visited in awhile, for good reason.
About time I gave that old geezer a visit.
Cliff stood outside his store in the brisk winter. The leather duster and a matching hat now rested on his body, scratching his chin where his unshaven stubble remained.
He began a subdued walk down Elder Street, heading away from the busy main street. After thirty minutes of seemingly directionless walking, he cut an abrupt right into an alley, picking up the pace. The man tucked himself into his clothing and made a few more sudden turns in the maze of alleys until he finally reached his destination.
A cellar door laid in disrepair, the alley covered in filth and in a similar state of affairs. Not a single pony in sight.
He opened it with a loud creak and was smacked in the face with the smell of mildew. He gingerly stepped inside into a dark room and closed the door behind him. With a click, he turned a small magic lantern from inside his duster.
The room around was made of old cobblestones and rotten wood beams. He looked around until he spotted a smooth patch in the otherwise rough floor, taking two steps towards to examine. Inlaid in the floor was an inscription and a chiseled picture of a waxing moon. The writing being an ancient language that he wasn't fluent with, but he knew enough to find what he was looking for.
He bent over and felt the smooth ground with his bare hand, he glided across until a small indent. With a quick hiss and a click, the dark entryway gave way to dimly light stairs.
The thrum resonated from outside. It shook the foundation of the building and reverberated a small cup of black tea with a pitched clang. In the reflection, a stallion with gray hair, golden spectacles and a stony face.
Duke Willful L. Persona.
He engrossed himself in the symphony of tradition, the steady sounds of heritage.
The indulgence of nobility.
Oh how far he has come from being the small boy all those years ago. Now a respectable man whose noble family has grown from a single sole survivor to a far reaching dynasty.
The gray stallion wore a modest brown tweed jacket and comfy gray slacks. Upon his neck he donned his signature bow-tie that was a bright red. On his lapels he wore pins, one of the equestrian flag and the other, the crest of its Army. Both he was a proud servant of.
He exuded a neutral demeanor on the outside, and within there was a ponderous thought or two but a personal mantra filled his consciousness. His mind focused on what was to come.
Fulfill my true purpose.
"Your grace."
A mare called with a careful tone.
He turned toward the voice, it was his aide. A spry young mare with a pink jacket and golden hair, she had a very business professional look matched by a gray modest outfit of blouse and skirt.
"They are waiting, best not keep them too long."
He gave a single curt nod.
"Time is of the essence then."
He swallowed the rest of his tea, which was only warm at that point, and stood with a sudden energy. The trek towards the stage began with hallowed steps towards hanging curtains. The roar of the crowd only separated by the thick fabric.
Make history.
He parted the stage curtains like the a god parting the oceans, the weight feeling just as immense just as powerful. As impactful.
Then it came.
The roar.
RAAA RAAA RAAA
Like a tidal wave clashing against the cliffs of the celestial coast, the sound consumed your senses. The air was filled with raw emotion tempered by the frigid smell of a deep winter.
Duke Persona carefully walked toward the podium, each step carefully measured and deliberate. Once he arrived, the stallion lifted a single arm in the air, with a gesture for silence.
The crowd stilled.
He spoke.
"From the very first day I was born on Equestrian soil I have aimed at being something more. I have resolved to be the destroyer of all that stand in the way of our way of life. This I shall achieve and once I’ve achieved that, I should find the titles and positions I hold in that parliament ridiculous.
When I first stood in front of the grave of my fallen comrades, I looked toward the grave of my superior officer, my heart overflowed with pride that here lay a man who had forbidden any such inscription that set himself apart from his fellows. I was proud that this man and so many others in Equestrian history have been content to leave their names to posterity and not just their titles. It was not through modesty that I was willing to stand before you, it was purpose, duty and a call to service. For that is the highest task, the rest is nothing."
He paused for a moment and let the words hang heavily in the air.
"What is the State, the Diarchy, and those in parliament?"
"Today they are a truly political organization, an association of some, formed, it would seem, for the sole purpose that all should cooperate."
"However, this is not the case."
"The purpose, the aim of this government is to provide for the people and with the position of power in the world of which we are due."
"FOR IT IS OF EQUESTRIANS, BY EQUESTRIANS AND FOR ALL OF EQUESTRIANKIND!"
Now, Equestria occupies perhaps the most bitter situation of any kind due to this. Militarily disarmed, politically weak, and geographically deterred. Surrounded by none but rivals..."
The crowd reacted to every word, hung on to his hubris with every ounce of will.
"I call forth a rally at the winter solstice formal gala. To show the Diarchy, the nobility and the other species of the world what we desire."
"Control of our destiny."
After his final words the crowd stilled once again.
Then applause. Unrelenting, overjoyed and spirited.
A new era.