//------------------------------// // Chapter 11. Knowledge is Magic. // Story: Skeletor, Master of The Empire. // by Hotel_Chicken //------------------------------// Skeletor’s left hand firmly grasped his knee to prevent it from bouncing as he sat on a throne overlooking the many crystal ponies who came to meet their lord. Dread brushed up his spine as he sat on his throne, looking at all of their silently pleading eyes and their weak bodies. Many of the crystal ponies who came to attend court were those who had taken up temporary residence in the medical wing of the castle, and were some of the most tormented ponies in the Empire. Unlike most of the ponies who were used as soldiers, a majority of the ponies who came to him during court were those that had been forced to work in the mines for the entire three years of Sombra’s rule. Several of the attendants were supporting each other both physically and emotionally, either needing someone to help them stand or needing someone to say their words to Skeletor for them. Skeletor’s own words either consisted of reassuring the crystal ponies that Sombra was dead and wouldn’t return, or parroting the words of his council as he heavily relied on them to ease the ponies who came to him. He had only asked for one break once a young mare, whom had lost touch with reality, asked where her daughter was. He knew where she was, he knew where they all were, and so did most of the citizens of the Crystal Empire. The mare's loose grasp on reality left her as one of the few blessed ponies who weren't burdened with the knowledge of what had happened to the foals. It was both a blessing and a curse, to be free of the painful memories that haunted her sleep and to be left without any answers to where her little Sunshine was. Once she was escorted back to the medical wing, Skeletor requested that she be put on suicide watch and had to briefly explain what the concept of suicide watch was. It was then that Crumb Catcher had informed him that dozens of parents had already died at their own hooves after being released from Sombra’s spell. Skeletor was left with his own thoughts as his council members debated the ethics of forcing those who wanted to die live, each of their arguments became background noise as Skeletor fought to focus on anything that wouldn’t add to his growing terrors. The only thing his council members had agreed on were that it was his order and, by all right, his final decision. If he were in a clearer state of mind, Skeletor may have thought about the ramifications of his decision and asked his council to do what they, as a majority, thought what was best, but his current state of mind prevented him from doing so. With a wave of his hand, Skeletor ended their meeting break and reluctantly returned to the throne room. He had lost count of how many ponies had come to see him, how many desperate and tearful eyes looked up at him, how many of them begged for their nightmare to really be over. A few of them had asked if he knew what happened to the solar and lunar princesses, hoping that he would be able to shed some light on their sudden disappearance. Unfortunately, he was just as, if not more, confused by it. Any time one of them asked if the princesses were still alive, he would tell them that he believed the princesses were alive and assured the crystal ponies that they would find out for certain soon, although he planned to postpone “soon” to “indefinitely.” The crystal ponies that arrived later in the day requested help rebuilding their homes, shops, and underground farms, tasks that were handled by Avid Value’s input on the cost of repairs and finding capable hooves for the job. A handful of guards had also gathered the courage to ask if they could resign, and a few of them appeared to be more than willing to jump on their own spears if Skeletor had refused their request. They were officially relieved from their duty by Skeletor’s royal decree and Cannon Fodder was tasked with handling the official process of their resignation. While Cannon Fodder tried to argue that the first few guards who asked couldn’t resign, his attempts to persuade Skeletor soon died out once over two dozen guards had come to be relieved of duty. Hours sluggishly trudged on as more ponies came to the throne room, Skeletor could have sworn that he saw the life in their eyes dying the more he spoke of empty promises to look for the diarchs of the sun and moon, to rebuild the Empire so that it could regain its former glory, and to essentially fix every problem in the Empire overnight. It was an exhausting experience for the human turned mythical villain, and one that he was barely prepared to handle on an emotional level as he tried to maintain his composure and fight against the bile that desperately crawled up his throat. After an entire day of listening to the crystal ponies, the sun finally began its slow descent outside the castle as last of the ponies were escorted out of the throne room. Skeletor pensively watched the throne room doors as he waited for another pony to trot in, hoping beyond hope that he wouldn’t have to hear any more stories of their suffering or give them any more promises of false hope. He released a loud sigh of relief once the throne room doors were shut, leaving only Skeletor, his council, and a large amount of stoic guards in the throne room. Skeletor then proceeded to slump into the cushions of his throne, throwing away his masquerade or power and poise as he sunk into his seat. His skull rested in his left hand for a few brief moments as the memories of court replayed in his mind. “Is everything alright, Lord Skeletor?” Crumb Catcher asked from his seat. Four pillows were placed on either side of the dais with one placed directly next to Skeletor’s throne. Emerald Secret sat on the pillow next to Skeletor, using her position to whisper relevant information to him whenever he couldn’t understand their terminology or failed to understand what they were asking for. Crumb Catcher and Cannon Fodder were sat to the right of the dais while Copper Plate and Avid Value sat to the left of it, allowing a senior council member to sit next to one of the newer members and keep an eye on them. “I’m fine… I won’t have to meet with anyone else, will I?” He asked no-one in particular. “That was the last one, my lord. I didn’t think so many ponies would hear about court so soon,” Emerald Secret told Skeletor. Crumb Catcher’s posture slightly straightened as he wore a prideful smile on his muzzle. “Of course, it was Lord Skeletor’s wishes and I executed them to the best of my abilities,” he bragged. “You mean the maids executed them,” Avid Value stated from his side of the dais. “I’ve accomplished more than you, wandought,” Crumb Catcher shot back bitterly. A fierce glare from Cannon Fodder and Copper Plate prematurely stopped either of them from continuing their argument. While Avid Value brooded over his inability to get another word in, Crumb Catcher was immensely proud that he was able to get in the last word. Neither of their attempts to insult each other managed to catch Skeletor’s attention since his mind was too preoccupied thinking about the many crystal ponies who came to court in seek of help. Several guards shifted nervously as Skeletor sat sill with his head in his hand as the silence inside the room became deafening while everyone waited for him or someone else to speak up. The silence soon became too much even for Skeletor, prompting the new lord of the Crystal Empire to take his head out of his hands before he fell asleep on his throne. As he raised his head, he noticed that all of the room’s occupants were staring directly at him. Skeletor was able to catch a few eyes that were quickly torn away from him when he raised his head and he saw the nervous tension dance across their faces as they tried to not gawk at Skeletor. Skeletor slightly tensed up when he noticed how much attention was pointed towards him and attempted to redirect it to the other council members. “Avid, how are the alchemists doing?” He asked. Avid Value noticeably perked up at his question before he turned to Skeletor. “Wonderfully, your highness! I’m proud to say that they made leaps in progress so far, and we believe that it will only take a day or so to perfect the process. The alchemists and blacksmiths were able to make a few ounces of steel and we believe it won’t be long until we can start molding them for coins.” “Excellent, but we can’t use the steel as direct currency,” Skeletor stated without hesitation. “I’m… I’m sorry, your highness? Wasn’t this endeavor started to help our financial situation?” “And it will. It’s a resource that we can control and make as much of as we want. Making too much steel will make it worth less than gold and not making enough will cause its value to be too high for anyone to actually use. So, if we flood the Empire with steel coins…” Skeletor led, rolling his wrist to prompt Avid Value to finish for him. “Then… We’d still have a financial crisis on our hooves… So, what do we do?” Avid Value asked. “We need something that can also be made and give it an arbitrary value, using the worth and cost of steel to give the new currency value. My government had paper currency that was given worth by a place called the Federal Reserve Bank, which held all of our country’s real value. We can afford to make a few coins of steel, but there needs to be a more accessible currency that can equate to steel,” he rattled off as he tapped his fingers against the staff of his scepter. “You use paper as currency?!” Copper Plate shouted as if it was the most blasphemous thing she had ever heard. Noticing the many shocked stares that the council members and Skeletor threw at her, she nervously coughed into her hoof. “Apologies, Lord Skeletor. It’s just… Paper is really scarce in the Empire.” “How scarce?” “Well… I think the only paper in the Empire is in the Royal Archives.” “But what about books? Shouldn’t there be dozens of books in the Empire?” “Books are a rare commodity among ponies of all races. Very few ponies even know how to read, so the texts aren’t designed to be available to the public. The only books in the Empire should be in the castle,” she informed him. “Sooooo… How bad would it be if someone say, completely hypothetically, destroyed some books?” Skeletor hesitantly asked. “It was punishable by death during Princess Amore’s rule, your highness.” A sudden spike of fear pierced Skeletor’s soul as he remembered the partially destroyed bookshelf in his bedroom. “Ah… W-Well, we should definitely fix the book problem then.” “What problem?” Copper Plate asked. “The book problem,” he repeated. “Books are a treasure that outlives and outweighs any monetary value, for they hold the keys to the most important thing in existence. They possess knowledge, history, and lessons that are passed down from those who were brave enough to fail so that those in the future could succeed,” Skeletor rattled off, as a flood of words that just so happened to sound inspirational fell out of his mouth. “First, we’ll have the alchemists find a way to make paper,” he stated as he hopped out of his throne and began pacing the floor. "I know that there are methods that can use animal skin or plant fibers, but I don’t know much about them. It’ll be trial and error to make paper, but with it we can use it to make more books and use it as paper currency. The Empire doesn’t have any cattle, so we can’t use animal skin or cotton, unless we can use a few blankets and pillows, but that would hurt the citizens... And there are barely any plants either. Wait… Who knows the most about agriculture here? How are the subterranean farms doing?” He asked his council. “That would technically fall under my title, my lord,” Emerald Secret answered. “As I told you earlier, the farmers were able to cut through the overgrown vines to get to the crops.” “Excellent. Once the alchemists have completed perfecting the process of making steel, have them focus their efforts on making paper. Tell them to use any of the rotten foods or any dead vines and leaves to try and make something with them.” “Paper made of plants? That’s ludicrous,” Cannon Fodder stated firmly. “You’re asking the alchemists to turn water into wine without magic.” “Without magic… Wait, the alchemists don’t use magic?” He asked his council. Each of them shared worrying looks for a few quick moments before Emerald Secret cleared her throat. “There were a great number of ruvas who were part of the alchemist’s guild, but once Sombra rose to power…” She trailed off as the memories of Sombra’s many atrocities, the ghosts of her many friends lingered inside her mind as she suppressed the memories of their demise. A look of realization washed over Skeletor’s skull as his posture suddenly tensed up. “Right. Right, I uh… Okay…” He quietly said. A brief silence befell the throne room as many ponies sent silent prayers to the all-loving weaver, Faust, and Skeletor sent a silent prayer to his own god. Skeletor let out a breath as he resolved to focus on the incoming economic crisis at hand rather than the recent tragedies of yesterday. As much as he wanted to take a few moments to mourn the dead, he had to worry about one life: his own. “Are there spells for making paper?” He asked Copper Plate after letting the silence hang in the air for a few more short seconds. “There are a few conjuring spells, but they need physical matter to transmogrify.” “Alright, do we have any books that have chapters dedicated to the process of making paper or any spell books that have spells for making paper?” “There are a few that might be helpful. Should I go find them?” “Yes. Making paper is one of our top priorities right now. With paper currency we can solve out financial situation, not to mention we’ll have more books so it won’t be a death sentence if someone say, accidentally destroyed a few books,” Skeletor stated as he stared at the ram skull on his scepter. “The only concern is my magic, I’m… I'm Sooooo powerful that doing something as menial as creating paper may be a laborious task, like asking the sun to warm a cup of tea,” he lied. “We’ll need the alchemists to work on making more paper with their own methods in case I can’t refine my immense power enough to do it. Who is in charge of the alchemist guild?” “That would be Purity Flame, my lord, the mare you met with earlier today,” Emerald Secret answered. “Would you like one of us to deliver your orders to her?” “Do it tomorrow. The sun has already set and she’s probably worked all day. Tomorrow when she wakes up, tell her my orders and ask her to meet with me. An issue we need to deal with now would be the medical ward. How are the doctors doing on supplies?” “The medical cabinets are almost fully stocked, my lord, but the main issue afflicting the ponies isn’t physical, it’s mental,” Emerald explained. “The doctor’s aren’t ruvas, so they can’t use any spells to ease the minds of the patients.” “What about anti-depressants for the suicidal patients? Do we have any of those?” Skeletor asked. “ ‘Anti-depressants’? Is that a spell?” Emerald asked in-turn. “No, it’s…” He paused for a moment as he mulled his response over in his mind. A deceptive plan formed in his mind that, while morally apprehensible, would also prove beneficial to the ponies suffering from mental trauma. “… Do any of you know what a placebo is?” “I’ve never heard of that term,” Emerald stated as she looked at her other council members. Each one shook their head at the question, confirming that none of them had ever heard of a placebo before. “Well, it’s… A magical medicine,” Skeletor lied, as he began concocting a plan that could possibly help the crystal ponies. “It’s a medicine for the mind that uses hope and belief to strengthen a creature’s vitality. It can’t magically cure all problems, like severed limbs or deadly diseases, but with enough time and effort it can help with problems plaguing the mind, and we-er-I could create an elixir that could possibly help them. It’s not a guarantee, but it’s better than nothing so it’s worth a shot.” “Fascinating, your highness,” Crumb Catcher praised before he asked one simple question that could have derailed all of Skeletor’s plans. “How do we make it?” “… The first main ingredients in a placebo are faith and trust; all the other ingredients are secret,” Skeletor continued to lie. “Should the other ingredients ever be explained, then it can lead to disastrous consequences. Where I come from, a man fighting off a deadly disease that caused hiss blood to rapidly multiply was given a placebo to help. Even though they were never designed to fight against such a deadly disease, they worked, but once he found out the other ingredients in his placebo medicine, it stopped working. So, to assure that the medicine won’t lose its magic, I and I alone will make it and give it to the doctors to use on the patients. I’ll need to use the kitchens early tomorrow, they should have everything else I need to make it. Now, is there anything else we need to do for what little remains of the day?” Skeletor asked as he glanced out of one of the windows. The sun slowly fell beyond the horizon with the moon beginning its ascent from the same horizon. Skeletor quickly did a double take as he realized that he was watching the sun set and the moon rise at the same time towards the east of the Empire, the two celestial bodies moving uncomfortably close to each other as the day ended and the night begun. Skeletor silently watched the twilight sky become engulfed in darkness as it slowly swallowed everything above the clouds. Tentacles of shadows crawled over the horizon to complexly obscure the sky, causing Skeletor to slightly recoil at the unnatural process of turning day into night. He swallowed thickly before he tore his gaze away from the sky, deciding not to question the rules of his new reality for fear of losing what little remained of his sanity. “I think it’s time we all retire for the night, unless there are any other pressing matters I should know about,” Skeletor said calmly as he turned towards his council. Out of the corner of his eye-socket, Skeletor noticed that a few weary eyed guards stifled their yawns. Many of them had stayed for the entire court session, only leaving for the allotted bathroom break and lunch break, standing at attention even as Skeletor and his council took an impromptu break after the childless mother came in asking to see her daughter again. Skeletor’s council perked up at the mention of retiring for the night, hopping off of their cushions as Skeletor walked towards the large throne room doors. The guards at either side of the door moved quickly to open it for him, allowing him to leave the room and head towards his only slice of sanctuary in the fantasy land from hell, his bedchambers. After a few helpful directions from the two guards that flanked Skeletor’s side, one of which being Cannon Fodder, Skeletor was led back to his bedroom. Once he was confided to his room, Skeletor released a deep sigh of relief as he tried to relax on his bed. Moonlight trickled through the open hole in his wall that was left by the smashed glass mosaic of Sombra, offering a small amount of light to illuminate his pitch-black room. Skeletor placed his scepter on the floor and laid in bed for a handful of restless minutes. Flashes of pleading voices and tearful gaze appeared in Skeletor’s mind before he fumbled blindly on his nightstand for a small candle. Holding the candle in his hand, he picked up his scepter and placed the wick of the candle against one of its golden horns and closed his eyes. Focusing on the image of fire inside his mind, Skeletor concentrated on the candle in front of him and tried to force magic to flow through his scepter. After a minute of imagining fire erupting from his scepter, and subtly rubbing the candle against the horns of the ram skull as if the slow friction could miraculously light it, Skeletor opened his eyes to look at his failure. He saw a spark of energy fly off of the horns and ignite the wick of the candle, causing a small emerald colored blaze to spring to life and dance on top of the cold wax. Skeletor flinched in surprise at the now lit candle, watching the green flame move with a chaotic life that refused to bend to the whims of existence. As if the candle existed to solely spit in the face of reality, the small fire managed to illuminate the entire room as if it burned with the wrath of a small sun. Using the surprisingly bright light from the relatively small flame, Skeletor took several books off of his shelf to skim through their pages, blindly searching for anything that looked like the most basic of beginners guides for magic users. From the small parts that Skeletor could somewhat grasp, magic worked off of taking a concept and dumbing it down to its most basic factors. Skeletor wanted fire, so the horns became hot enough to make it through heating the horns, he wanted to kill Sombra a second time, so his magic created an image for him to relive the memory. In the most basic of terms, magic could be theoretically considered a form of life that grows with its caster, meaning that the magic that obeys the whims of its caster ages and learns as the caster grows. Even though he was a grown adult, his magic was still in its infancy since he had never used it, so his magic would take any of his orders as literal while also dumbing them down to a point that could achieve some type of satisfaction. An example would have been the staircase that opened in the throne room a day or so ago. He had wanted whatever shroud that was used to obscure his memories removed, and his magic had dumbed it down to revealing or finding something hidden. And while his powers weren’t enough to remove the seal that hid some of his memories, they were strong enough to reveal the hidden path to the highest tower. His magic also couldn’t actually bring Sombra back to life for him to kill the evil stallion a second time, so it took the idea of, “I want to kill Sombra again.” and turned it into, “I want to experience killing him again.” The purpose of magic was to appease or satisfy the caster by either giving them what they wanted or doing something similar that could satisfy them. Skeletor wasn’t sure how it applied to his portal spell, since he definitely wasn’t satisfied with the end result. Perhaps it took his idea of “I want to get home” and turned it into, “I want to leave.” His powers weren’t strong enough to open a portal to Earth, so his magical essence was forced to dumb down his order into something more manageable. If a spell caster was powerful enough, they could circumvent the “dumbing down” phase of casting their spell so that they could achieve what they actually wanted. He was powerful enough to remove the basic lock spell from the vault, so there was no need to dumb his desire down from, “I want it unlocked.” Deciding to test out his spells once more, Skeletor picked up one of the more heavily damaged books from his shelf and placed it on the floor. After stepping back a few feet, Skeletor lowered his scepter to press the frontal bone of the ram skull against what remained of the book’s cover. Swirls of magic swarmed the remains of the old tome for a few moments before several tendrils of magic quickly darted between his legs to reach under his bed. Ashes and shreds of paper flew out from under his mattress to merge with the ins book, slowly repairing the damage caused from his accidental combustion spell. In a few brief moments, a patchwork of papers mended the cover of the book and repaired the burned and frayed pages. The pages inside the book were left mostly blank after the spell restored the book, with only a few lines of text and images that managed to survive the initial combustion spell. The parts of the book that were burned away were replaced blank sheets of paper that held fair images and faded words that were taken from the burned scraps that were hidden under Skeletor’s bed. Many of the pages were numbered incorrectly, and several of them used letters instead of numbers to mark the pages. While Skeletor was happy that the book was repaired, the fact that it was now mostly illegible and still badly damaged caused him to feel a stab of fear that cut through his cheerful spirits. Copper Plate had told him that damaging books were a death sentence in the Crystal Empire, and he wasn’t too sure how his status as king would protect him. King Henry was able to murder his wives and thousands of other people without any repercussions for his actions, but that was on Earth. Did the same rules apply in magical pony land? Skeletor wasn’t brave enough to find out that answer and did his best to repair the covers of the other books on his shelf, superficially fixing the exteriors instead of the interiors. Afterwards, Skeletor used the wooden remains of his cupboard to fix the shelf of his book case and used the cloaks to make a large curtain to cover his broken window. With nothing else to do, Skeletor returned to reading more of his limited collection to learn how to control his abilities and learn what else he could do with them. Copper Plate trotted along one of the many rows of books in the royal archives, her eyes roamed each of the shelves in search of anything that could help Lord Skeletor. Her gaze trailed from the title to its corresponding chain, making sure that each of the books were still securely chained to their locks. It was odd how she found comfort in the sight of chains, a symbol of repression and confinement that should have brought forth a hundred memories of Sombra’s reign. And yet, seeing her catalogue of knowledge safe on their shelves brought her a sense of silent relief. Even after Sombra’s takeover of the Empire, the history of the crystal ponies and their princess were still safe, their culture and beliefs were untouched by sullied hooves and monstrous claws. A small smile crept onto her muzzle as she checked her list of books, happy to confirm that the archives still had most of their books with the only exception being those that Sombra stole for his private study. Her smile faltered slightly at that wandering memory, but the knowledge that Skeletor had promised to find a more efficient way to make paper reinforced her smile by two-fold. Any lingering worries about him were tossed away by his plans for the Empire, helping their economy crawl back from the brink of collapse and improving their production of literature and texts. Copper Plate’s eyes stayed firmly placed on the books as her ears moved towards the sound of hooves clopping in the isle next to her, briefly reminding herself that the pony in the next isle was somepony she could trust near her valuable collection of knowledge. “Oh, Copper, I think I found a book that might help us,” Emerald Secret called from the isle next to Copper Plate. Copper Plate trotted to the next isle to see Emerald marveling at a thick tome that was dedicated to agriculture and farming. “Do you think there’s anything in here about using plants to make items?” Emerald asked while she squinted at the title of the book as if she were interrogating it. “I doubt it,” Copper Plate answered. “That book doesn’t have anything that goes beyond the subterranean farms and what time of year the sun crystals glow brightest.” “Oh, that’s unfortunate,” Emerald said as her posture dropped slightly. “It’s fine, Emerald, we’ll find something down here to help Lord Skeletor and the Alchemists,” Copper Plate reassured her as she patted Emerald’s withers. Emerald initially flinched at the contact, but after a moment of consideration, she melted into Copper Plate’s embrace. “I’m fine, Copper.” “And I’m a stallion,” Copper Plate responded with a roll of her eyes. “I might be old, but I’m not blind, thank Faust. Something is eating at you, and the other council members have noticed too, not to mention Lord Skeletor has noticed as well.” “It… It’s nothing,” she lied. “I had a talk with Cannon Fodder and everything is settled now.” “Oh really? And what was settled?” “The… The Crystal Fair. I was worried that we might not have one this year,” she stated with a far too cheerful smile. “But Lord Skeletor assured me that we would be hosting the Fair this year in celebration of Sombra’s death and the Empire’s liberation.” “No offense, dear, but that’s codswallop. Look, Emerald, I want to help you, but I can’t help you unless you let me.” “I don’t need help, I can deal with it myself.” “A lot of ponies say that, but not many of them mean it,” Copper Plate told her. Emerald bit back a retort to let Copper Plate’s words sink in, possibly reminding her of how many times she had told other ponies that she was fine or that she could deal with it alone. Emerald had been an invaluable addition to the royal Archives for the past two days, giving Copper Plate a first-person account of Princess Amore’s death and the final moments of King Sombra. Many tears were shed over the memories of Princess Amore and solemn smiles were shared between the two as they fondly remembered Princess Amore for the pony she was behind her mask of regality. They provided each other a shoulder for her to cry on for their woes, gave an ear to listen to their problems, and openly discussed their greatest fears and worries. Emerald’s belief in Lord Skeletor was one of the few things that eased Copper Plate’s worries about what would happen to the Empire, and she was one of the few ponies Copper Plate considered a friend in the post-Sombra Empire. If there was even the slightest hint of a chance that Copper Plate could help Emerald in any way, she would take it. “Promise not to tell anypony? It’s… It’s stupid…” Emerald muttered. “Don’t worry, Emerald, nothing you say will leave these walls,” Copper Plate said as she gestured to the lifeless walls of the archives. Emerald took a deep breath as she found the courage to not only admit her fears go herself, but to share them with another pony. She shared her personal fears with Copper Plate, struggling to find the right wording that wouldn’t make her sound like a filly that was afraid of the dark. Copper Plate listened intently to her words, holding no judgment or ill-will towards Emerald as she spoke, only nodding her head and offering a shoulder to cry on whenever Emerald needed it. Emerald’s problems would not be fixed in a single night, no magical phrase or inspirational speech would be able to alleviate all of her fears in a single night. All she could do in a single night was take the first step on a long journey to recovery, one that no one should trot alone. No matter what, as long as she reached out, Emerald's friends would be there to help her along her expedition. It would take a long time, a time only marked by how many tears would fall from her eyes and how many nights she spent awake. And by the end of her journey, Emerald would overcome her fears with her strength and the power of her friends. No matter what, her friends would be there to help her down the path to healing.