//------------------------------// // Chapter One // Story: Tartarus Raiser // by Moosetasm //------------------------------// The present…  The midday sun illuminated Canterlot with warm, comforting rays. Ponies young and old went cheerfully about their business, including a team of construction workers who were busy repairing the infrastructural damage to Canterlot’s train station caused by the monster-of-the-week that Princess Twilight had vaporized the day before. They worked efficiently but quickly, knowing that they must not only put things back to normal before the next inevitable threat reared its ugly head(s), but that the damage had left Equestria’s transportation system running at less than half-capacity. Fleur de Lis stood watching the workers from her vantage point amid an oversized and impatient crowd waiting on the arrivals platform. She used a hoof to poof out her mane a little bit, wanting to look her very best for when Fancy returned. After all, his most recent letter to her had said that he was bringing a surprise. Fleur trotted in place and giggled a little. She loved when Fancy went out of his way to find things that would interest her. Just the thought had her jittery with excitement. She heard the telltale chugga-chugga of the Friendship Express not long before it exited a tunnel cut deep into Canterlot mountain. But as she caught sight of the locomotive, something about it seemed… different. When Fleur tried to put her hoof on just what might have changed, all she could conjure in her head were images of a landscape of food that she frequently denied herself in order to keep her trim figure. Mountains of scrumptious pancakes flanked by rivers of sweet syrup. Trees of cinnamon and mint growing from mounds of ground-up chocolate and cream sandwich cookies. Entire fields of flowers sprouting open to reveal hard candy centers. Cotton candy clouds— “Fleur dear?” Fleur shook herself from her sweet reverie. Fancy was standing right in front of her. “I say,” he said. “It looked as if you were miles away.” “I’m sorry, sweetie; I was just daydreaming about your return.” She smiled and wrapped her forelegs around Fancy’s neck. “You’ve been gone for so long. I missed you!” “And I too missed you,” Fancy said as the two separated. “But rest assured that while business must be attended to, I have indeed brought you back a most exquisite present.” Fleur gasped. “What is it, my love?” “I believe it’s a puzzle-box of sorts.” The corners of his mouth lowered into a frown. “But I must admit that I—” Fancy turned his attention to a burly porter who approached, dragging the heavy trunk he’d borrowed from Fleur for the trip. He briefly lit his horn and gave the porter a large tip. “Sorry, dear. I was just saying, I haven’t been able to open it.” “I’m sure I’ll enjoy figuring it out,” Fleur said. She cocked her head. “I’m curious, though: why a puzzle-box? Not that I’m not intrigued, but usually I think of you bringing me jewelry, or exotic wine.” “That,” Fancy said as he grasped the large wheeled steamer trunk in his magic, “is an interesting story.” Two weeks ago… Fancy Pants was dragged into the bustling restaurant by a spindly red dragon who had neglected to share his name. He was unceremoniously sat down across the table from what looked more like three ponies in a costume than a proper dragon. “Why hello, madam,” Fancy said, trying to not appear too confused. “Yeah,” the red dragon said flippantly, making circular motions in the air with one of his claws. “So, like… she’s gonna ask ‘what’s your pleasure’—OW!” The green, gem-encrusted dragon canted her head precariously to one side and let out an unholy sound that was somewhere between the sound of a clucking of a chicken, the honking of a clown horn, and the yakking of a dog on a bone. Fancy wasn’t sure how, but the green dragon had somehow used one of her absurdly tiny limbs to slap the red one upside the back of his head. Rubbing at the spot of improbable impact, the red one looked back to Fancy again. “I mean,” he said in a forced, detached, ominous sort of way, “what is your pleasure, Mister Fancy Pants?”  The green one’s tongue lolled out of her long mouth and into one of the teacups set out upon the table. A single claw snaked up and fumbled at the pile of sugar cubes. Finally grasping one and dropping it unceremoniously onto her tongue, she seemed to pay no mind as the cube bounced down to clink against the rim of the cup. Her unfocused eyes were busy looking to either side of Fancy. Squinting at the glaring contrast between the duo, Fancy adjusted his monocle. “I say,” he said. “Your red friend here said that you might have a possible gift for my beloved.” The red dragon slammed a golden filigreed pastry box upon the table. Raising an eyebrow in confusion, Fancy visually inspected the ornate carton. “I do apologize,” Fancy said, “but… what is this?” “That puzzle-box,” the red one said, pointing, “has all you will ever need.” “Pardon me,” Fancy said. “I am afraid I don’t quite understand the situation.” He tapped a hoof on the table next to the needlessly elegant container. “Is it full of recipes? Or is it a magical device that is larger on the inside?” The red one looked confused. “It is whatever you need it to be,” ululated the cone-horned green monstrosity. “But I sense that it will make a much more appropriate gift to one who is close to you.” “Well,” Fancy said. “Color me intrigued. What is the price of this mystery box?” “Take it.” One red-dot eye focused on Fancy while the other spun like a washing machine. “No charge.” “Pardon me again,” Fancy said. “But why are you just giving—” “Ugh,” the red one grunted. “Just take it already, would you?” He grabbed the remaining pile of sugar cubes, crushed them in one of his claws, then blew the powdered dust into Fancy’s face. Covering his eyes with one foreleg, Fancy coughed as his airways were assaulted by crystallized sweetness. When he lowered his foreleg, the two had vanished. Only the decorative box remained. It was as if they had never been there at all. Though as he turned to leave, he caught a glimpse of the red dragon struggling to hurriedly push the green one out the rear of the restaurant. “Most peculiar creatures,” Fancy Pants said as he hoofed the box into his saddle bags. Brilliant and expensive architecture flanked Fleur and Fancy as they approached their gleaming mansion in the city suburbs. Gone were the inner city’s tall buildings; instead, immaculately manicured lawns and landscaping were the norm. Yet of all the homes on their block, Fancy Pants took pride in theirs being the most… fancy.  Ornate gates in brushed-brass both added to the property value and kept passersby at a comfortable distance from their home’s sprawling, marble-wrapped edifice. “Most peculiar indeed,” Fleur said, following Fancy through the gates. “One usually thinks of dragons as hoarding their treasures, not eagerly giving them away to handsome patrons of a public-house.” “My thoughts as well,” Fancy replied. “But the old green girl was really quite insistent that I take it. Said there was somepony in my life who might appreciate what lies within.” The two walked up the flagstone path to their front door, and Fleur opened it with a pulse of her magic. “It’s been an age since I last played with a puzzle-box.” Fleur giggled. “It sounds absolutely diverting!” “I hope it will be,” Fancy said, magically dragging his trunk across the threshold, with only a small hint of mirth in his voice. “I did check, by the way, to make sure it wasn’t cursed. Not that I wish to alarm you by saying it, but the sheer peculiarity of the situation put me on my guard. Yet, there are no observable hexes or enchantments; just an incredibly complicated box, with only the barest of residual magics upon it. And, despite my best efforts, no observable mechanism to open it.” Fleur huffed. “Did you spend the entire train-ride back working to open my gift?” “Not during the train-ride,” Fancy said. “I do, however, confess to spending a great deal of time trying to solve the puzzle while staying in my New Asbestos hotel room. I have not laid hooves on it since I packed it away for my return trip.” He magically levitated his steamer trunk to one side of the foyer. “Well,” Fleur said with a wink, “I’m sure you would enjoy watching me take a turn at it. Perhaps… while we cuddle in our boudoir?” “My dear, that sounds heavenly! Though I absolutely must have a shower before you so much as lay a hoof on me. I fear that my undercoat is full of Dragonland dust and ash.” “If you must,” Fleur said with a pout. “But I’ve been waiting weeks for your return.” “I shall cleanse myself as quickly as possible,” Fancy said with a wink.