"Knowledge… Knowledge is power.
Who’s the stupid pony who ever dared telling such bullshit? You really want my opinion, ignorance is the true power. Keep ponies ignorant or perverted, and the evil-minded teacher’s power will end limitless. Hence, I hate school. You’ll never learn anything interesting there. Or at least you’ll learn nothing but what others want you to. Others… a vague word for monsters who trample the most basic rights of my kind, education. And thus, freedom.
I always dreamt about knowing what the old world was looking like.
What was the Pony country’s name? Equestrus? Equestra? I don’t really know. What was the minotaur’s appearance? How was the world before? Now, everything is locked away from our reach. And I keep dreaming so much… I dream about endless green meadows, fully grown trees, pure air and of course, stars and night. But once I’ve awoken and understood my plight, I see my hope being shattered like a mirror falling on the ground. Why is everything this way? What series of events led us to such dead-end?
At school, we only learn about rocks, gems, rocks, rocks and, you guessed it, rocks. We’re colliers, not literary-minded ponies. For the pegasi, we’re meant to be ignorant, and the only books I read were the ones I successfully managed to save from the recurrent books auto-da-fé all across Murmanesk.
And by being ignorant, we gave away our right to exist, to live and to think. We are Earthbounds, stupidity bound, all blind, all deaf, and all controlled. Forever...
Who knows how many secrets are kept hidden from us? Who knows how much knowledge has been erased and is now forgotten by Ponykind?
Sometimes, I find myself dreaming for a change. I hope that somepony will rise for us. For I’m too weak. I’m just a coward. And yet, the hatred remains, grows and blossoms.
I keep rambling... Good job Candel’, next time you’ll talk about originality… not your stupid despair.
Candelabra"
“Is everything ready?” somepony intoned, unassured.
“I definitely hope so,” a mare’s voice retorted.
“Silence you two. Tis not time to fret!” a last one shouted sternly. “We’re damn too close from da objective to be allowed to fail. We’ve got an openin’. We must take it before tis too late.”
Plunged into darkness, the trio crawled within a narrow tunnel made of concrete. The walls were blackened with dust and covered with lichens. All together, they pulled a bag with a rudimentary assembly of lashes. The satchel was incredibly heavy, and each time its content rattled on the ground, the echoes reverberated into the trio’s ears.
The bag rolled on the side and screeched on the floor. They ground their teeth.
“Be careful with dat!” the most assertive of the three berated. “Ah don’t want da contraptions to trigger before we’re done with dem.”
“Two stallions and a mare walk into a pipe. It’s like the beginning of a bad joke,” the mare muttered audibly, trying to ease the ambience.
A harsh silence welcomed her. She shut up.
In the tunnel, the air reeked and the humidity stained the ponies’ furs. Droplets of water fell on their foreheads, melting with the sweat dripping on them.
“I think we’re getting closer. I’m hearing whispers,” the mare asserted.
They all looked right into the bag. Blue light blasted their faces when they opened the central pocket. They gasped at the sudden blinding burst of light. They spent a long time doing a final check of the inside.
“We’re going to make history today. Finally,” the second stallion, the most careless of the three, bragged.
“Nah! Not history,” his serious peer foretold. “We’re going to pour some change into dat city. Tis fully suffice to me.”
The stallion with a strange accent glared at his friends. His two companions nodded in silence.
Argen swept off the dust glued to his feathers as he walked casually down the vast boulevards shaping the South of Murmanesk. This part, the wealthiest of the city, was called the Upper City by its inhabitants. Contrasting with the colliers’ blocks, the buildings and streets here had been cleaned of trash and dirt. The sidewalks were spacious compared to the overcrowded Lower City. Yet, the most blatant distinction between both sides of the industrial town was the pegasi. Nopony but them lived there. And it was with shooting stares that they glared at Argen. Here, pegasi were not used to strangeness, and thus, foreigners.
Everypony withdrew quickly from Argen’s way, giving him ten times the space he would usually need. Fear was easily readable on everypony’s features, and Argen could see up in the sky a couple of guards eyeing him, weapons tightened between their hooves. It was obvious he was not welcome. Each parcel of this district was a reminder of this truth. It would have been painful if Argen had not been used to such discrimination. The emissary sighed and resumed walking. Even his noble title was of no use in that place. He had a destination in mind and nopony, even the Direction’s watchdogs, would slow him down.
Lined up like toy soldiers, the shops shined under the dusk’s light. Dress, jewels and goods from all across the Federation were exposed behind the window displays. Argen was stricken with awe. Murmanesk was one of the most secluded places in the country. Such demonstration of wealth was rare even on the shards close to the capital. Murmanesk was immensely rich, no doubt about it. Argen even saw a heraldic carved in a blue dragon’s scale. Should not those creatures be all extinct now? Argen found himself looking at a shop selling quills and... Argen laughed. It was just an office supplies store. The stale name and symbol were written on an old plaque of ebony. An old red sofa had been erased from the frame with a plane a long time ago. It was a scrap and finding it in the Upper City was amusing. Everything was so shiny and artificial that the store plaque was slightly out of context.
Argen smirked and passed his way. In spite of the freezing looks he received, today was a good day. The sky was filled with yellowish clouds. Only the sun and the black and scary hurricanes reared their head in their respective place; the West and the East. As always; the forever lost blue sky was out of reach, hidden behind the curtain blanketing the world. Yet, today, no northern wind was here to freeze ponies to the bones. No flooding rains from the West and no signs of chaos from the population were noticeable. The city was strangely peaceful.
Argen finally reached his destination. It was a monstrous building. Eight stories high, the old architecture was impressive. Showing off majestic colonnades, the front square bordered two gates of silver. And exposed before them, four statutes of bronze beamed under the low sun’s light. Four massive, metallic pegasi in flying stance crossed their hooves forever at the centre of the square. Argen felt minuscule when he passed under the quartet. He could now feel that fear everypony had when they were passing by his side. A blend of scariness and respect filled the emissary’s heart and he stopped. Argen chose to take time getting a closer look to the statutes. They have been undoubtedly created by the same sculptor.
Respecting parity, two mares faced two stallions. The first mare was holding a curved sword under her hoof. Complete plate armour covered her carnal body, only giving to see her face. The tip of her wings showed sharp metallic extensions, razor edges. Argen had heard about such tools. It was a deadly and horrific weapon only a few pegasi had mastered. The mare’s stare was imperious, filled with violence and unforgiveness. The visitors had to pass under her mighty eyes to enter the gate, strengthening the ill-feeling in every heart.
The second mare was dressed in a long and folding toga. A majestic golden branch of laurel circled her head like an empress’s crown. She had a foal in her left hoof, wrapped in swaddling clothes. The foal was silently crying. She beamed kindness. Yet, stillness was readable on the statue mare’s face.
Argen swivelled on his talons.
The first stallion was bulky. His features were filled with satisfaction. In his left hoof was held a complex brass compass. From his saddlebag hung on his bag sprouted hundreds of scrolls displaying runes and writings of a language that was now dead. He showed no weapons but a purse of ingot and a gear at his side. The last pegasus, as well as the second stallion contrasted with his three peers, as the statue showed an unsettlingly common appearance. It was slender and adorned with a few scars. Its bare stiffs showed a space emptied of cutie mark. In the end, the statute pictured a simple and anonymous pegasus closing the circle with his fellow peers. Argen tried to find words to describe the scene.
Each sculpture tended a hoof to the centre of the circle. Together, they held a scroll onto which was carved ‘Nation’. Together, they shaped a gargantuan play forcing respect into any witness’s mind. Argen lowered his eyes. Each pedestal was engraved with a single word.
“Power, Family, Industry and Unity,” Argen whispered.
“Eeyup.”
Argen tilted his head to the side. An old pegasus trembled on his hooves next to the investigator. He was looking at the sculptures with admiring eyes.
“You carved them?” Argen asked.
“Nope. My father did, a long time ago,” he replied. “I’m just the clean-up pony; I make sure that my father’s work keeps doing good impression on foreigners.”
“You do a good job,” Argen stated.
“Thanks.”
“But I don’t like the sculpture,” Argen added, vexing the pegasus. “You said truth; I’m a foreigner, an outsider. I can respect this sculpture but I can’t like it.”
Argen looked away from the statutes and fixed his eyes on the monstrous building. Constructed like a hemicycle, it overwhelmed anypony standing on the entrance square with its heavy shadow. Behind the windows Argen saw crimson velvet curtains and hundreds of blue lights cast from arcs hung on the walls. Such display of technological wealth was a waste from Argen’s point of view. But as was the government’s will to impress any commoner.
Argen pushed the gate inward and was welcomed by a pair of guards. He showed a pass and went up the marble stairs.
“Welcome to the Duma,” warned the clean-up pegasus from his position.
Argen sniggered and passed through the wooden doors of the Duma. The vestibule was massive and arrayed with the same red velvets he had seen from the outside. Mirrors and gold embellished the place that was so large Argen felt at ease. He could move freely without the fear of bumping a million bits worth jar of dirt. After a moment of amazement, the emissary walked past the vestibule toward a mare attending the reception. She was sitting behind a desk of varnished wood; and she was an earth pony. Argen fixed the space where the missing wings of the pony should have been for too long as the mare cleared her throat, calling the bird back to reality.
“How can I help you?” she asked with a fawning accent.
She was not pleased about Argen pointing out she was an earth pony and was not hiding it. She had a notebook in front of her eyes. Rows of names were written with a beautiful scripture and few drops of ink were scattered on the bottom of the sheet. Argen remarked the quill to blame in the nearest trash can.
“Yes,” Argen initiated. “I’m here to request an audience to the Parliament.”
“You have a pass?” she nearly spat.
Argen sighed and checked his ventral pack. He drew a tiny briefcase and gave it to the mare. She found several sealed and stamped documents inside. A photo identified the bird easily.
“I’m Argen Tavis. I was delegated by the Direction to investigate on the shardfall,” he explained.
The mare looked at him with doubting eyes.
“I need to talk to the Duma right now,” Argen brought forward. “It implicates the war protocol.”
Argen got the response he expected. He always got this reaction once he had mentioned this obscure law. The mare hesitated, looked at the clock hung high on the opposite wall, lowered her eyes and gave up. She took a deep breath and put out of a drawer a small stamp. She took out one sheet of Argen’s case and hammered it with the seal.
“Have a nice day,” she admonished, faking gentleness.
The mare showed a path with her hoof, indicating the way to the chamber of the Duma. Argen walked pass the reception after a brief thanks. The building was a maze. Hundreds of empty rooms aligned endlessly through hallways devoid of ponies. The silent would have been oppressing if a distant buzz had not been audible. The noise intensified when he went around a corner.
The walls were decorated with paintings and pictograms of current and previous representatives of the Duma. Over the past one hundred years, the place had seen more than a hoof full of politicians. The paintings were large and their eyes seemed to watch upon the bird with unblinking stares. Argen wanted to rip them off the walls and tear them down. He hated being watched, even by paintings.
Cacophony was slithering from under a massive door of oak wood. Grating on their hinges, the gate swung open under Argen’s strength. Raising his head, Argen scanned the parliament. Half of the seats were occupied by nothing but emptiness and the rest showed scared pegasi. They had been interrupted in the midst of a hot debate.
Built as a levelled hemicycle, rows of seats circled a stage. A single pegasus sat there behind a granite desk. He was old and slender, and his tanned fur had turned white. His eyes were burning with an inner flame. He looked at Argen in silence. The assembly on the other hoof was shouting threats and queries that turned inaudible in the ambient din. The chairpony at the center of the room raised his voice, stern and deep. Everypony shut up and dug their sides in their respective chairs.
“You’re the investigator?” the head of the chamber asked.
Argen nodded in silence.
“Well, you’re late,” the pony berated.
Argen hid his laugh. It was comic. The small pegasus was yelling at a black monster who could swallow him in a bite.
“I’m sorry Chairpony, but some unexpected events slowed my pace,” Argen deadpanned.
“Well, I’m impatient to hear about your discoveries.” The president of the Duma glared daggers at his peers. “The Direction has pressed us like apples to get the pit reopened as fast as possible.”
Dark rings plagued the chairpony’s eyes. He was tired and obviously angry. And at the moment, everypony was a convenient stock for his temper tantrum.
“Indeed, I’ve done quite a job since my arrival. I was given to see some evidence from Hoofston’s fallen shard.”
“So it was Hoofston’s,” some voices whispered.
“Yes, it was,” Argen pushed forth. “Within the smoke and debris I found the last remains of the shard’s lighthouse. Inside was a pictograph record.”
Every pegasus jumped on their hooves, willing to hear the following development. Argen snickered. Being this taken into consideration after being nearly thrown away by all of them was somehow rewarding.
“Do you know anything about the pegasi sent into the East?” Argen cackled.
A wave of whispers welcomed the emissary. Members of the Duma were bluntly scared. Some hooves trembled, kicking the parquet loudly.
“You’re speaking of the penal legion, aren’t you?” somepony asked.
“I guess so. But I’m here because I have questions, not to answer yours.”
“Damn, I knew that idea of the Direction was going to backfire on our arses,” the same pony growled.
“It’s not something we usually speak about with civilian pegasi,” Another politician added. “We avoided any reference to it to be honest.”
The pegasus’s nearest neighbour cut him off.
“It’s a good way to get rid of the unwanted pegasi. Those traitors are bad examples for earth-frees and earthbounds.”
“A pegasus returned,” Argen revealed, stopping the beginning agitation right away.
The silence was numbing.
“Is that some kind of joke?” the chairpony finally had the courage to say.
Argen shook his head.
“No. A pegasus came back from the hurricanes… and apparently, he was not alone.”
Argen was making things worse to stand for anypony. He was not even over yet.
“He came with something that may have brought down Hoofston’s shard. But of such threat, I’ve found no evidence.”
Argen paused and caught his breath. He disliked what he was going to say.
“I can’t tell you what happen there. But I can tell you what did not happen. Magic Erosion, that bane, is to be put aside. Second, we’re too distant from the Republic for it to be the origin of an attack. And it is not an uprising, Hoofston had a research purpose. It was to study the East weather’s outbursts, thus only scientific and militaries were present. Of course it was the last ground before the great nothingness of the hurricanes.” Argen paused.
“And now that Hoofston’s shard is lost for ever, Murmanesk has become his replacement.”
Argen clattered his talons on the wooden floor. Nopony wanted to hear that truth, but the inspector continued.
“Murmanesk is now the most remote land of the Federation, good job and good luck.”
The statement was harsh and stressful.
“You won’t let us down now, will you?” a fat pegasi asked with anger.
“No I won’t,” Argen replied with a twisted smile, dunking the ugly pony in his chair. “I’m here to talk about the war protocol.”
Argen’s grin of cynicism unsettled more than one.
“You know that the war against the Republic is a long-lasting, bloody and merciless show of power,” Argen stated. “In my role of emissary and investigator, I have to report any trouble within the nation to the capital. And this means I will have to report the recent events here.”
“So go forth, mister,” the chairpony replied, unhappy about it.
“There is only one tiny issue right now,” Argen purred. “I have been signified that you had to take upon an uprising after the shardfall and that you perform a… quick cleanse of the Lower City. You clearly know that the Federation is currently lacking of workforce…”
“Like the Republic,” a pegasus cut him off. “It’s a war to death, remember? And the renegades aren’t helping. At least we know that the enemy also has its own inner troubles. But it still means that we have to crack down on every earthbounds’ revolts… while it’s still in the womb.”
Argen frowned with disgust.
“Welcome to reality, mister Argen.” The chairpony grinned. “We are stuck into an endless war with the Republic. The total annihilation of our common enemy is the last resort we have. To bring back peace is what we’re fighting for. And if we need to sacrifice the well-being of this generation for the future of those yet-to-be born, I’ll do it. Twice.”
The assembly approved loudly.
“If we need to wipe out Murmanesk’s earthbound population to keep the Federation moving on ideologically, economically and of course, militarily, we’ll do it,” the chairpony concluded. “I think there are plenty of unemployed ponies in the country who would be glad to take upon the traitors’ jobs and make the trip to our shard.”
“Well this is not the topic of the discussion. Do not deride,” Argen bashed. “I’m talking about the war protocol. This means that currently, I can overthrow you for going against the capital’s will.”
The chairpony gulped.
“However, it is not my intention” Argen reconsidered. “I am preoccupied by the reason behind Hoofston’s shard downfall. And I have to clear the fallout zone to find evidence. Yet, I can’t do it all alone; the area is too vast for me to clear. In virtue of the war protocol, to protect the Federation, I am requisitioning one hundred ponies to check the whole area.”
Whispers spread like wildfire between the pegasi.
“You can’t do that. We need to keep the industries going on. For the secret project…”
The anonymous politician covered his mouth with both of his hooves. Stares riveted on him as he had done the biggest mistake ever. Argen could not stop himself from smiling. Since he had landed on Murmanesk’s shard, he knew something was off. This was the confirmation.
“Yes, thanks for confirming my suspicions. Following the war protocol and as an emissary, I command you to tell me what’s really going on here. Murmanesk’s seems to be a pearl in an ocean of mud. You’re too rich, too powerful and influential within the Federation for the geographical position you’re occupying. I would like to know the story behind that wealth.”
Every pegasus shouted in disbelief, anger and angst. The cacophony rose violently and echoed in the room.
“Silence!” Argen roared before lowering his voice to a brisk tone, “I need to know. If the Hoofston’s fall was an attack, I need to know why Murmanesk is so worthy of interest. You can’t build such an isolated city, from where no news and information go out, with only coal as a source of revenue. I repeat: there is something off happening here.”
The silence was hard to take, and only a clatter was audible. The chairpony broke it with hesitation.
“You’re right, mister Argen. We can’t go against the law and even more against the war protocol. But in fact, the secrecy about Murmanesk is something well known from the Capital as it is somehow an order from the senior level of the Federation’s power.”
Argen arched a brow. The clatter was clicking in his ears, annoying.
“So?” he asked.
“Murmanesk is the last shard providing gems for the Federation,” the chairpony stated with grief. “Every shard left except ours has gone out of stock. We’re the last shard and city mining useful gems for the war. It is our benediction and curse as well.”
The chairpony pierced Argen from side to side with his stare.
“This is a secret you’ll have to keep mister Argen. You may invoke the war protocol to get this information. But I use the same protocol to tell you now to shut the fuck up about it.”
The clatter, like the tick of the clock on the wall strengthened the tension in the hemicycle.
“But it’s not everything. We’ve discovered a new property of some gems. Something we didn’t expect… It’s…” The chairpony rose on his hindlegs. “That the one playing with his pen stop. That clicking is fucking pissing me off!”
Whispers…
“It’s not from anypony here,” a voice hesitated.
The chairpony looked around. Argen stared at his talons. He saw a pair of blue eyes looking at him from the opening of an ajar vent.
“G’d night Sir,” a voice with a strange accent toned from the pipe.
The pony a few hoof under fled in a wisp. Argen was stunned. The clatter came from there, stronger than ever. The clatter, the ticking… Argen looked at the chairpony, who had heard too. Argen burst open his wings, knocking out some pegasi with the blow. He jumped in the air, reaching the ceiling.
An explosion of blue and white followed, crackling in the hemicycle with arcs of electricity. The lights shattered and only screams rose before being silenced forever.
The harbour was agitated today. Pegasus were landing and taking off continuously, pulling their flying carts filled with goods. On the runaway stood an old pegasus. With a notebook he took the identity of each pony entering and leaving as well as their shipment content.
He did so for an hour and, tired, swapped with a colleague as he took a pause from his shift. Next to the harbour was the guards’ garrison. The pegasus entered and took a seat in one of the comfy chairs left empty in the living room. Coffee had been poured in cups and displayed on a table. He snatched one and drunk it slowly.
“Hey pony! What’s up?” a pegasus joined the empty circle of chair.
“Mmmh?” his counterpart replied, focused on drinking his cup.
“Well you’re not very talkative today…”
“I’m just concerned by the shardfall, my son is in the frontline guard and he was called this morning from his day-off to go into the pit. I’m afraid of what could happen to him,” the drinking guard sighed.
“Don’t worry bro’. Your son is going to do well. What do you think we are? We are Pegasi, not the vulgar crowd bound to the dirt.”
The pegasus father waved his hoof toward his friend, sweeping away his argument taken right from the propaganda.
“Nah! You don’t understand. My son is in the highest rank of the military. It’s not his role to go and baton the uprisings. Something really dangerous should have happened.”
They both shrugged.
“He’s gonna be fine!” the second pegasus assured. “Last time I’ve seen your little colt he was as bulky as a cart.”
“That’s not the matter. It’s just that it’s the first time he’s called for such trivial work. I’m worried. I…”
A flash burst through the windows. The earth growled and rumbled. A loud crack blasted the walls and the glasses in every frame shattered. The loudness deafened the ponies on the harbour. Within the garrison, the two ponies stood up, holding their ears with clumsy hooves. The torn apart curtains waved and clacked on their rods as the wind blew through the broken thresholds. A massive cloud of black smoke rose over the Upper City. They could see flames from their position, blue flames.
“This is bad,” The pegasus father’s friend gulped. “Where is your son, you said?”
“Near of the pit, in the North of the city… with nearly all of the guards.”
“This is really bad…”
A second explosion boomed, an aftershock.
Argen hauled himself from under the chunks of concrete burying him. He grunted and pushed on his talon to surface. Dust and remains of the Duma building dropped on his wings, torn and broken. He cried his rage and opened his eyes. He was bleeding.
The hemicycle had been blasted out, replaced by a massive hole in the construction. The wind, melting with aching smokes, slapped his face. The harshness of the air burned his lungs. The fire had lit the crimson velvet curtains of the chamber and flames consumed all around Argen.
“Nothing to brighten up my day, ain’t ya?” he whispered in pain with nopony to hear him.
A blue flame licked Argen’s leg. He fell on his side, feeling his feathers searing. Grumbling he violently preened the burning ones off. He coughed. The dust in the air slithered in his eyes. Argen crept away from this deadly place. Argen scanned the surroundings. Dead pegasi were strewn within the area, torn apart, broken, burnt, ugly and distorted. He heard a complaint and a hoof bumped his claw. Next to him, an emerging form trembled, lying under a lintel of wood.
“Help…”
Argen bent toward the body. It was the chairpony. Crawling, his hindlegs joints were reverted and bleeding. Two ribs jutted out of his thorax. He was hissing loudly. Gargling as blood drooled in his lungs, he was a limping-dead pony. Argen could do nothing for him. He put his talon on his neck ready to snap it and bring rest to the wreck of a pony facing him.
“You wanted to know why the gems are so important?” the chairpony gurgled. “Eh, eh, eh…”
Argen’s eyes narrowed.
“Spit it out! You’re dead anyway,” the bird warned, tightening the embrace of his claws on the rag-doll of bleeding meat.
“Dying with a look of disappointment on your face would be satisfying enough. You, sub-races, are always fucking everything up. We, pegasi, always have to sweep the dirt behind you all,” the chairpony smiled. “We did so for more than a hundred years.”
Argen grinned. He raised his talon, reaping the pony from the ground. And with his beak, the emissary cut the sinew off the pony’s hoof. The pegasus screamed.
“You’ll beg for death,” Argen stated. “Now tell me, you have a foal, a filly or a colt, haven’t you?”
The pony widened his eyes.
“You won’t?” he beseeched.
Argen smiled, this kind of bluff always worked. The fact he was an investigator helped, a lot.
“I will,” he sniggered. “Now tell me and your death will be fast.”
The pegasus quivered and slowly confessed.
“The gems, you know the pictographs… You think they are artificial products?” the pony crackled.
Argen screwed his pupils to the size of pinpricks.
“Spill…”
“It ain’t. They are magic,” the chairpony brought forth before Argen nearly squeezed his neck, unconvinced.
“Magic…” Argen hesitated. “True magic is dead one hundred and eleven years ago during the event, you liar.”
“No, you don’t understand. The gems… some of them… are medium to see the past and the present like recording devices.”
The pony started panting. Death was beckoning close to him.
“Nothing’s new here,” Argen deadpanned.
“They can also show you the future… Some of them… just a few.”
Argen dropped the pony, shocked.
“Repeat me that, you liar!” He shrieked.
It was too late. The pony’s neck had broken in the fall. Argen cursed himself and after a long moment chose to creep out of the ruins of the Duma.
The Upper City was strangely quiet. Every pegasus had locked himself behind their heavy doors, waiting for the Direction to come and clear out the situation. In the distance a zoom could be heard. The clamour of ponies, crying, shouting, screaming… dying? Argen fretted. He wondered where Little One was.
Revelation stuck him. They were at the pit. Did they go down, deeper in the mine? What if the chairpony was right? It was bad. Argen quickened his path and tried to fly. Pain burst in his wings. He could only bounce on his chicken’s legs. It was not comfortable at all. He had to move fast. Time was running out if he expected to find Little One alive. The Direction was probably ready to exterminate the witnesses of a secret that could kill ponies and reverse the outcome of the war.
Stench…
A horrid stench plagued the air; nothing but a smell of burnt flesh and drying blood. Fire threw up while Little One gave two steps back in the metallic staircase. The lights had been blown out with a rare violence. Only the glowing liquid of arc lamps splattered the walls. The last flames surviving on the hard-hats scattered around made the shadows flicker in the gallery. It was grim dark; gore and revolting. Miners’ body parts were strewn all over the place. The walls of the tunnels were covered with blood. Intermittently, chunks of coal fell off the ceiling.
“What happened?” Little One trembled.
“An AA,” Fire gulped.
Little One gave him a bemused look.
“An arc accident. Look.” Fire pointed with his hoof the glowing blue particles stippling the whole cavern and the bodies. “They used explosives to pierce tunnels. One exploded during the preparation. And Candel…”
Fire stopped and shivered in silence
“Candel!” he shouted, scared. “Where are you?”
He dashed forward with a horrible anxiousness harassing his mind. Little One did not even try to stop him, leaving Fire turning the cadavers over, searching for known faces. Grins of pained death welcomed him. Fire started crying as Candel was nowhere to be found. All around Mares, Stallions, fillies and colts that had just got their cutie marks were scattered, broken. It was revolting. Fire stopped on the corpse of a pony and wept. Little One came closer and saw the stallion whose burnt fur wet with Fire’s tears. The body’s white eyes had swelled and blistered.
“Who?” Little One asked shyly.
“Candel’s father,” Fire blabbered, distraught. “He… he’s dead. Candel’s father… is dead.”
The stallion had always been a great figure of the colliers’ union, and thus, of Murmanesk’s working class. He dedicated his life fighting for the well-being of the earthbounds. And now, he was dead. And more than anything else, it was a stupid death. Everypony would have bet he would finish on the pillory of the Duma and Direction for being a big mouth. But no… he was a damn good arc engineer, and he died stupidly in an arc explosion.
“It’s so… unfair.”
“Fire?” Little One hesitated.
The young pony replied with a grunt. Little One showed a missing wall. A whole side of the tunnel had crumbled down; blown away was a better description. The edges of the hole, ten times the size of a pony, opened on a dark place.
“Your friend doesn’t seem to be around,” Little One explained. “If she survived, she must have gone down there.”
Fire raised his eyes, wiping his tears, and stared in the obscurity beyond the threshold. He gulped.
“Well, I guess we have to go inside...” Little One squeaked. "Maybe she is in there."
Fire nodded hesitantly, the cavern was pitch-black.
Behind the two ponies, a corpse that had been flung against a spear of rock slid off its support. It fell in a loud thumb, startling Fire and Little One. By instinct, they jumped in the dark tunnel and stumbled. They hit the ground hard, head first.
“Are you okay,” Fire asked rubbing his forehead, wincing.
“Can’t see anything.” Little One struggled and bumped into something. “Oh sorry.”
“Wasn’t me!” Fire gasped.
They stopped and looked down. It was limp, squishy… pony-shaped. Fire and Little One craved for a light. From the opening the arcs had blown in the tunnel wall, the remaining and scarce light of the miners’ equipment casted a dull light in the cave. The weak beams lit up the form.
It was a pony, and a horrifying one. Lying on the side, the stallion had shrunk on itself. Wrinkled and dried as if all the fluids had been sucked out from within his skin. His eyes had withered into dust, leaving behind two deep and black holes. His mouth was distorted in a last scream of agony. Fire and Little One felt suddenly dizzy. The new found body was not alone. At least a hoof full of ponies was spread in the chamber. None of them were alive and all showed the same horrific aspect of the first stallion. All was petrified in the same expression of horror. Their death should have been atrociously painful. But something was afoot. In spite of their mummified state, they all presented a brand new miners’ equipment, unstained if it had not suffered from the arc explosion.
“Candel?!” Fire shouted in disbelief.
“What happened here?” Little One blabbered.
“They are just old rags.” Fire shrugged before taking a deep breath. “Candel?”
“No,” Little One countered. “They are colliers from your friend’s shift.”
Little One kneeled near a dead mare and triggered on her hard-hat, bursting a tiny flame from its mechanism. Now lit up, the colt could picture the cadaver. The mare’s metallic tag twinkled in Little One’s hoof, a name was punched on it.
“Let me see,” Fire deadpanned, unconvinced.
Hurried, Fire bumped Little One and took the tag. Argen’s assistant fell over loudly and pushed aside the mare’s hard hat. It rolled and clinked against a wall. A humming noise filled the atmosphere, scaring the two colts. Both young ponies raised their eyes as a slow blue wave spread on the wall, refracting the light coming from the hat. The surface was covered with hundreds of gems. All started pulsing with energy. Reflections of blue and green beamed in the antechamber. Fire and Little One screwed their eyes. The sound amplified up to an unbearable level. They covered their ears with their hooves and stared at the wall. A violent crack burst out in the cavern and echoed deep inside it. The light, glowing within the gems until now, converged in one big raw diamond. It focused and weaved out of the translucent rock.
As the glimmer snaked in the air and began to shape, a voice rose from the emptiness. A deep clamour of a stallion, wounded, angry, in disbelief.
“… can’t do that to me! Why did you send me there? I’ve sacrificed everything for this moment and now you’ve fooled me and ask me to throw my goal away! You sick goddess!”
Little One and his counterpart looked up. In the depths of the cave an image was standing still. They went closer to the stageplay. The character of the image, an earth pony, was a bulky stallion covered with scars and filth. Similarly to the pictograph he had seen earlier, Fire could not distinguish the colour of the stallion. The light pouring out of the gems was bright blue, so was the pony playing in front of him. Little One was amazed. It was coming from a raw gem still stuck in the wall, untouched. The foal’s mind boggled as he could not figure how this was possible.
The stallion’s talking image had a massive contraption on his left hindleg, up to his knee, like armour. His cutie mark was blurred, maybe covered with dust… or blood. Apparently, he had several cuts and was bleeding from his eyes. On his side was attached few weapons. The first arm was a spear. Not the one the Direction’s soldiers usually used. It was a forged spear. Its tip was large and heavy, and the shaft was made of wood. He also displayed a strange mechanism neither Fire or Little One could identify, a series of flat disk hung on a strap.
The stallion had talked to somepony outside the frame the gem had recorded. But when the protagonist’s voice rose, there was no doubt it was a mare; or a goddess if the stallion was right.
“You went through this epoch, and you’re still asking why? You’ve always been so stupid. Open your eyes. Everything was written even before the beginning of your own existence. Everything sticks to the plan, my plan.”
The image of the stallion flickered. A clatter echoed and a knife bounced at his hooves. A second clatter followed outside of the frame. The stallion’s look was heart-breaking. His face was deformed with disbelief, fear and anger. When his eyes left the knife, he could not stand steadily on his hooves.
“No, you can’t force me to make this choice. It’s unfair,” the stallion stammered.
“ But you will,” she took time to spell. “ Because nopony else was meant to do it. There is no escape for you. Choose one of the two solutions I offer you. Prove to me that heroes… there are no more. ”
From her position the goddess laughed at the stallion cringing on his hooves. He wept from the weight of the heavy burden thrust on his shoulders. He could not do the right choice and the stallion knew it.
“Now son,” the so-called goddess ordered. “Go forth and seal the future of this world.”
“I- I can’t…”
The image vanished in a pop and the light filling the cavern exploded in thousands of scintillating particles. They fell slowly on the ground, losing in momentum and brightness until they definitely disappeared. Fire and Little One came closer to the massive gems and put their hooves on its shining surface, waiting for some kind of reaction. Nothing occurred to their disarray.
“What was that?” Fire found the strength to blabber.
“I don’t know,” Little One replied, as shaken as his friend. “But, that shouldn’t be possible. Gems aren’t magic, are they?”
A third voice rose behind them.
“What are you doing here?”
The voice was harsh, deep, and military-like. Fire and Little One pivoted abruptly and found themselves facing a pegasus soldier. He was holding an arc spear in their direction. How long had he been there? Fire and Little One could not tell. They both gulped. The soldier looked around at the dead bodies. A polished round-shaped gem glowed at the tip of his necklace, casting so much light in the cave the flame of the hard-hat looked pitiful in comparison. For the first time, Fire and Little One got a clear view on the surrounding. The cavern was gigantesque; the ceiling was thirty ponies high. A patient enough pony could stack up a dozen of colliers’ cottages there and still get some space for a flying carriage.
A pair of wings passed over the pegasus’s head, ruffling his mane a little. A creature flapped mechanically and landed few meters away from him. Fire recognized it. He had seen the same model in the sewer. The small automaton was a bird made of copper and shining metal. His two red eyes fixed both colts. It stretched its wings and flew toward Fire only to print the mark of its talon in his forehead when it passed by. Few drops of blood slipped in his eyes. Fire felt a chill running beneath his skin, melt with pain. Was it the same automaton he had met during his escape through the sewers? A drop of sweat ran off his neck. The bird cackled and came back to its former position, next to the guard. Then it bounced to the closest shadow and disappeared.
“Answer!” the soldier ordered; his spear crackled with a spark of electricity.
“Ye… Yes mister,” Little One berated.
He punched Fire in the flank and yelled.
“Run!”
For a second, Fire and the soldier looked at the colt running away deep in the bowels of the earth. They looked at each other and Fire dashed away in Little One’s tow. The soldier shot at him with his magic spear before leaping behind the duo going deeper in the cavern. As expected, the air compressed mechanism thrust the tip of the weapon in Fire’s direction. It missed and exploded against the ground a few meters from Fire. The blue-furred colt felt pushed aside by the kinetic and electric shockwave. However, he did not stop and kept running.
As he fled from the soldier and his mechanical bird, Fire remarked that the cave was shrinking to a narrow tunnel where a small underground river was streaming. Little One jumped in. Without a second thinking, Fire followed and yelped as he felt falling. He hit the bottom of the tunnel and slid inside as the stream carried him away. It was sickening.
Fire landed on Little One and both emerged from the water falling on them. Panting, they had ended their race in a natural pool. The waters were terribly cold and when they finally put their hooves on its edge, they felt the chilling bite of the air. They wiped the water off their eyes. The newly found cave was a cathedral of stalagmites and stalactites that outmatched the height of the highest buildings of Murmanesk. Water burst out of the dark ceiling.
Lost in chiaroscuro darkness, the only present light came from an object displayed in the middle of the chamber. Getting over the coldness of this frozen chamber, Fire and Little One walked to the bright landmark. It was a grave, built of finely chiselled red gems. The light was coming from square-shape gems riveted to the stone. It was green, steady and unharmed by the time that had passed by since the erection of the grave. The tombstone was engraved with a simple sentence, it contained typos.
“Here lies last alpha of the diamond dogs,” Fire read. “died defending own wealth deep within the earth.”
The nameless epitaph was followed with a quote.
“Better break than bend,” Fire continued.
The buried diamond dog should have been a leader of a few words when he was still alive. Little One took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to picture how a diamond dog should look like. He had never seen one. Of course, everypony said they were all dead now. The only thing he had read about them came from Argen’s personal library, kept safe from the ravage of time and Federation’s revengeful army. Little One imagined a monstrous quadruped creature with bulky limbs and a mouth armed with rows of teeth like sharks. Like monsters, they should have glowing red eyes and probably a bad hygiene. But the stone mentioned wealth. They were diamond dogs of course, diamonds meant richness.
Yet, after scanning the surroundings, Little One felt slightly betrayed. This place was remote and forgotten, nearly untouched. The grave should date from even before the event that messed the world upside down. Nopony never knew the truth, but everything started in Canterlot. Canterlot, another word that had been devoid from its meaning. Did this diamond dog see it with his own eyes? Was it a city? A region? Little One sighed at his own ignorance.
A rumble forced Little One to snap out of his dreaming. He looked around and found Fire being busy over the tomb.
“Are you crazy?” Little One gasped. “Don’t you know that it’s disrespectful to scavenge the graves?”
“He won’t need anything anymore. And you weren’t so considered earlier with the miners.”
Little One’s mouth swung wide, but he said nothing. He took a closer look to Fire’s machinations. He had pushed the thin cover of gems sealing the top of the grave. The odour was unpleasant but with time, the smell of rotting flesh had lost in strength. Within the gem coffin was the skeleton of a massive creature; a monster of teeth and claws that would easily erase anypony off the surface of a shard. His claws were impressive. Little One smiled; it was not so different from what he had imagined.
“Now, hope that there isn’t any curse on that one,” Fire grinned.
The grave contained nothing helpful but an old and dusty book. Opening it, the colt gave a glance at it and hesitated. He looked at Little One and hoofed the book.
“Can you read it to me?” Fire asked.
“You can’t read?”
“I can!” Fire replied quickly, too quickly.
With a look of disapproval, Little One snatched the book out of Fire’s hooves and looked at the writings. After a loud sneeze, as the book was covered with dust, Little One started reading a random page. It was a diary. And surprisingly it was quite well written compared with what ponies would have expected from a common diamond dog. But the grave said it all. The tomb dweller was the last alpha and Little One remembered that this meant he would have been bigger, stronger and of course, smarter.
‘It’s the Last-Decade of the Late Harvests, the whining queen has come back! I can’t believe it. She messed with us few years ago with my clan and now she comes back. I can’t believe it at all.
And worse than anything else, she comes to claim our gems. And not any kind of gems, she wants the magic ones. Just… why? It’s our wealth, our treasure. She said she only need sample… But I know better. Ponies are all same. First, they ask for small gift and once you give it to them, they become unsatisfied. And then, they ask for more, again and again until you’re naked as worm.
I can’t let this happen at all. The underground is not their territory. It’s ours… mine. And I only deal with dragons and changelings. At least they are frank and easy to deal with. You give them gems, they give you fire and food. You give them gems, they give you gold. You give them gems and they give you lands.
Since new purple princess’s got to throne with the goddesses Moon and Sun, things go pretty bad for my liegedogs. Equestria grows too much. They thrive on my lands and push us away, again and again. They said it was for the greater good. Their greater good! Not ours. Everything is changing outside. They call it the era of science. I call it the age of bigotry and zealotry of ponies. All hidden behind their twisted methods and laws. They are always searching for power, knowledge and prosperity. And others, Diamond Dogs, zebras, Dragons, Griffons… No, not griffons… they work talon in hoof with filthy ponies. What we going to be? I remember words of young princess.
“There is no place in this world for backward cranky peoples.”
Oh, that gods of Under are my witnesses! I make her pay for that offense.
But I’m worried. Ponies thrive today while own citizens are suffering and starving under empty ceilings. We can’t fall for jealousy because one should know that annoying alicorns is tickling sleeping dragons. Sometimes it better to keep buried some dark knowledge because no one smart enough to understand. And magic gems aren’t toys you can freely use without expecting major issues.
They never ever get sample. They can go lick their horns to Tartarus and dance on Cerberus’s arse for me.’
Fire and Little One looked at each other. Little One found the will to break the ice.
“This is really old.”
“Just…” Fire hesitated. “Already above, they talked about goddesses… What are goddesses? And… alicorns?”
Little One gave back the same troubled face Fire showed.
“I have no idea.” Little One shrugged. “You went to school, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, school,” Fire laughed.
Little One raised an eyebrow, not sure to understand his humour. Fire kept snickering and walked away, leaving Little One to his own thoughts. The foal snapped out of his pondering.
“Wait, what are you going to do?” Little One asked.
“Look.”
The ground was marked with hoofprints. They were recent and were not those of Fire and Little One.
“Candel came here,” Fire assured, trying to convince himself rather than his friend.
“What would you do for her?” Little One asked rhetorically.
Candel’s trail, if it was hers, was easily tracked down. The ground was murky and with the shadows the gem above the tombstone casted from his pedestal, the path was blatant. One of the walls of the gargantuan cave had an opening on its side and carved in the rock was a staircase. Each stair was polished by the water streaming off the wall.
The ascension seemed to last for hours. When Fire and Little One thought they had finally escaped from the depths of earth, they ended in a narrow tunnel… another one. The opposite side had collapsed. And through the stones, a minuscule breeze licked the colts’ faces. After a short investigation, they found that somepony had crawled inside a small crack of the subsiding. Shafts of light poured from it with fresh air.
The outside welcomed Fire and his friend. The collapsing was covered with moss, proving the underground passage was long forgotten. They were a mile south of Murmanesk, and even from there, they could see the black cloud rising from the city. The smell of burning buildings was noticeable even from such distance.
“Is Murmanesk always that messy?” Little One asked.
Fire shook his head. It was not usual and with a shivering hoof, he sighed. Candel was nowhere to be found. From his position to the border of the city no white shape was noticeable on the green and murky landscape. Disillusion was important in Fire’s heart and the colt started feeling Little One’s exasperation. Fire feared the foal was getting tired of the adventure. He was just following Fire without asking questions.
“Come with me,” Fire finally offered. “My father will know better.”
Little One lowered his head and walked in Fire’s stead. The procession went short-lived. Two pegasi, flying high, leaped and tackled Fire and Little One to the ground. One carried a long spear which tip was not a sharp pike, but an open hoop of brass. Its inner side was armed with small blades, leaving enough space to welcome the neck of an unfortunate pony. The two ends of the metallic circle folded in a way that anything trapped inside could not go out.
The weapon clattered around Fire’s neck. A terrible pain spiked on his neck’s skin. The colt fell on the ground, giving up under the expert manoeuvres of the soldier and his vile tool. Crying, Fire bit the dust and jerked around. A kick in his flank shut him up. On his own, Little One had shrunk on his hooves, fearful. The second pegasus admonished him with dreadful eyes.
“My, my, my… Look what we’ve got here. Some younglings that fell from the nest,” both soldiers laughed raucously.
Whacked in the face, Little One put a foreleg on the ground, stunned.
“Earthbounds are ugly!” the soldier threatening Fire snickered.
Little One’s orange fur and blue mane indeed contrasted with Fire’s green mane and dark blue fur in an awkward way. But for both young colts, this insult was a direct shot to their hearts. The pegasi focused on Fire and his forehead. The flesh wound inflicted by the mechanic bird earlier had just coagulated, the blood melding with dirt.
“Where did you get this?” the armed soldier spat.
Fire refused to respond. The pegasus gave a turn to his weapon. The tips of the inner blades bit Fire’s neck, ripping off a loud scream from him. Fire bounced on the side trying to dampen the pain. From his position Little One jolted on his hooves, only to get his head smacked to the ground by the other soldier. Little One’s turban flew off and hit the dirt.
A grieving silence ensued.
“Just… how…” the soldiers whispered.
Fire raised his eyes and saw for the first Little One’s tip of his head. A large part of his forehead was marked with an atrocious scar. Where should have been his forelocks was replaced with a scarred piece of flesh. It was not a simple burn, it looked much more like somepony had carved and cut out a part of his skull only to fix the aftermath with a white-hot firebrand. Printed onto the legacy were the outlines of a crossed out diamond. Little One’s face was praying that this moment had never happened. He rubbed his disgusting mark and gave a pleading look at the soldiers, curled up and started weeping. The soldiers never gave him the rest he had silently asked for. Little One spat blood after several punches in his side. Anger and horror plagued the pegasi’s eyes, leaving Fire alone. They showed a blind hatred for the foal. Fire used this providential situation to get free from the weapon.
Little One cried, unable to give back the blows the soldier showered on his bruised body.
“Monster!” they shouted.
Anger rushing through his veins, Fire cried out and gave a buck to the first soldier, forcing the second one to swivel and face him. Quick to act, Fire shot a shingle in the surprised pegasus’s face. The soldier limped and fell, shaken.
“Run!” Fire ordered, pulling his young friend on his hooves.
They ran into the narrow streets of Murmanesk, but Little One was not in condition to run properly anymore. On the path, ponies eyed Little One with horrified eyes and backed from him like ponies from a leper. But something else was off; Fire could tell it from a greater fear casted on everypony’s faces.
After a glance back, Fire saw the pegasi flying low. Their intent to flee from the soldiers was desperate. The chase lasted for a dozen of minutes while Fire used as well as he could the maze Murmanesk was to dodge each attempt of the pegasi to get him. At some points, Fire even thought he had lost them. The two colts slowed down, hoping for a short rest to catch their breath.
“How did you get that scar and mark?” Fire panted.
Little One was still crying and his heavy tears fell off his cheeks. His lips were bruised and one of his eyelids had swelled, covering his eye. He refused to respond and his hooves failed him. Little One fell and seemed he would never move again. Leaving him for a second, Fire looked around. Everypony was numbed with fear and agitation. The noise filling the city was deafening and, a few streets from where they had stopped, he could hear explosions, arc weapons’ explosions… Fire turned around, trying to stand still as hundreds of earth ponies cavorted. A white shape caught his eyes.
“Candel?” Fire called. “Candel?!”
Nothing.
Little One glared with tired eyes at his friend.
“I’m a unicorn okay!” he blabbered. “A should-be-dead damn unicorn.”
Fire turned back and stared blankly at Little One.
“A what?”
A shout in their back echoed. The messy crowd jumped on the sides of the boulevard revealing the two pegasi and, at least, a hoof full of stooges. The shouted in Fire’s direction orders to get him dead or alive. Fire, back on track, pulled his friend up and jumped into the neighbouring street. The chase resumed and lasted until Little One and Fire dashed inside the latter’s home. They slammed the door on their hinges.
“Dad!” Fire cried out.
A loud bang smashed on the door which cracked. Still pulling Little One, Fire clambered up the staircase and burst into his family’s living room.
“Dad?!” Fire repeated. “Dad, we need help!”
His eyes lay upon the vestibule and his voice went hesitant.
“Dad?”
Fire’s father was busy manipulating a box of glowing explosive arcs with another Earth Pony the colt had never seen before. A second bang echoed from downstairs. A drop of sweat fell off Fire’s face. His father’s head rose. The large stallion’s stare stayed locked on Little One’s features for a dozen of seconds until a new bang made the walls tremble. Then, his eyes transfixed Fire.
“What have ya done?” his father breathed.
His voice was deprived of anger or rage. Only sadness and resignation was blatant in his tone. A third bang rumbled and the sound of a door shattering on the ground reached everypony’s ears. Fire saw his mother and sister entered the room. They were scared. Fire looked at his father, his lips quivering. He had made a huge mistake. Fire could only apologize.
“I… I’m sorry.”
“We are walking on the middle of the roads
Without seeing the gifts far beyond its sides
And we are following nothing but the codes
Rejecting this century’s greatest rising tides
Why do we keep hurtling along the empty line
While we are seeking just a kind of a guide
What we’ve asked is nothing but a shrine
Where our hopes won’t always have to collide
Today we do affirm our right for freedom
To be free from the hordes up in the sky
So we’ll keep singing this rhythmic anthem
Until our voices get to break the dull lie
We took a coach to the racks of the Death
Laughing our asses at its damn sorry face
We will sing till we’re all out of breath
Because this song is a motherfucking race
They will hear our cry from North to South
They will know that we ain’t wingers
And they won’t shut the darn mouth
That’ll keep carrying the spirit of singers
Of course the party will be getting hot
Boiling up with the buzz of the heathen
Sons go and sing what you’ve been taught
You know this fever, I know you’re bitten”
Scraps from a banned Earthbound song
Le Manes’s shard