//------------------------------// // Vivace // Story: Story Shuffle 2: Double Masters // by FanOfMostEverything //------------------------------// Deep beneath the surface of Castle Canterlot, where the castle’s catacombs and the abandoned crystal mines blur together, there is an office. Officially, there is nothing of interest, but the office is there regardless. Officially, its occupants are either in Ponyville or at the gates of Elysium, yet they sit within. When your organization officially doesn’t exist, you learn not to bother with with the adverb, nor be bothered by it. “And that concludes the briefing,” said one. “On you go.” The other fidgeted and didn’t rise from her seat. “Your Highness…” The alicorn gave her a look scrubbed of any and all emotional cues beyond the faintest hint of concern. “Do you have any concerns, Agent Philharmonica?” “This is certainly an… unusual assignment, wouldn’t you say?” “Oh, certainly, but no less necessary than any other. And you will find that this task is in our charter.” “As you say," the agent said in wary tones. "But—“ Aloud, the alicorn said, “I have every faith in you, Agent.” She implied volumes more. “Understood, Your Highness.” Officially, the room didn’t exist, and was thus unoccupied by definition. In reality, it came a little closer to matching that. As a rule, the Royal Assassinorum of Equestria does not take any being’s life. This is distinct from its official stance of nonexistence. Granted, not existing does generally help with nonlethality, but Equestrian assassins' lack of concern regarding “official” matters is already on the record, whereas they take not taking lives very seriously. To those with similar disregard for official data, this seeming contradiction is often dismissed as typical Equestrian sentimentality, how even the ponies whose literal job is to eliminate targets don’t have the stomach for it. These beings fail to understand how Equestria defends itself. Beings who cannot be reasoned with, whether because of mindlessness or mercilessness, are met with the Royal Guard, monster hunters, or even the Bearers of the Elements. But elimination does not require death. A life is a precious, nearly irreplaceable thing, one that should not and, as far as the assassins are concerned, will not be discarded so recklessly. However, that life is composed of smaller components that are less precious, more replaceable, and easily survivable in the event of their loss. Ambitions, memories, beliefs, all the little bits that make up a mind are targeted and quietly extracted, removing the threat they represent while leaving their host physically unharmed. More than a few assassinated threats to Equestria have even gone on to become assets to it. In short, Equestrian assassins are not hired killers, but psychic surgeons. Roseluck sighed. Another slow market day. At least she’d gotten back on her hooves after Tracy helped her figure out the accounting… and helped her in other ways… but he could only do so much to drum up demand. At least it was a nice day. She didn't notice the approaching customer until she cleared her throat. “I’m going to need a special rose.” “Oh!" Rose took a moment to register who'd spoken, then broke into a wide grin. "Finally proposing?” That got a flat look. “We’re roommates.” “So were Tracy and me.” Any puffing out of the chest and flaunting of certain rings on certain necklaces was pure coincidence. That was Rose's story and she was sticking with it. “And I’m very happy for you. But I need a long-stemmed Necrobunda.” Rose's ears flattened fast enough to ache. “Oh. Oh my. We, uh…" She swallowed under the customer's intensifying glare. "You have to understand, there’s usually not a lot of demand for those, so…” “Yes?” “I…" Rose bit her lip as she considered everything she'd need to do. Then she weighed how much she could ask for a genuine Necrobunda. "I can get it to you by next week?” “Hmm… Any chance I could help?” “Help? You?" Rose blushed. "Sorry, it’s just… I didn’t think you had any interest in growing flowers.” “Not my usual skill set," the customer conceded, "but every little bit helps, as the saying goes.” “Well, I have to admit, it will be… interesting to grow one." Rose knew how in theory, but putting into practice... Her cutie mark practically tingled at the thought. Her expression hardened as she looked at the amateur, already considering the necessary steps to grow the highly magical blossom. "You’ll have to follow my instructions very carefully if you want the best results.” The customer dipped her head. “Of course. I defer to the master.” A thought broke Rose out of her pre-planting preparation. “You know, Daisy and Lily have mentioned some of the purchases you’ve made over the years. What do you even use them for?” “Oh, this and that." The customer waved a hoof dismissively. "I’m sure I’ve told you before.” “Alright, alright. I know better than to pry too deep. Last thing I need is another Thanos Incident…” “Who?” Rose smirked. “Hey, I can be mysterious too.” Based on their more detailed job descriptions, one might think that assassins are a unicorn-dominated occupation. This is both understandable and not at all the case. Unicorn magic often lacks the finesse needed to prune individual bits of the psyche without taking off large chunks of the surrounding area. Those with the talent for such precision work are scouted and eagerly adopted into the Assassinorum’s ranks—assuming they pass the psychological profiling first, of course—but most assassins are actually earth ponies, trained in arts more subtle than the other tribes can imagine. (Pegasi are the rarest tribe among the assassins for more cultural reasons. Scouting for secret agents in Cloudsdale, a city where one is expected to all but literally shout one’s accomplishments from the rooftops, doesn’t yield many viable recruits. Looking for anything subtle around Las Pegasus is about as easy as finding a slot machine where the foals can see one. And ground-born pegasi generally find themselves snapped up by the other parts of Equestria’s shadow government, especially the ones with archeology degrees.) Still, even with rites both ancient and modern that most unicorns wouldn’t be able to fathom with a roomful of chalkboards, most earth pony assassins find it easier and more effective to combine those rituals with alchemical supplements. Most plants in Equestria contain some degree of magic, and virtually everything is useful in some compound or another. But a few require some truly specialized ingredients. Sometimes, the most precious ingredient of all is patience. Thirty years later... The planets aligned, and dark power flooded the leylines of the world. A shudder went down the spine of every thinking being. Princess Twilight gasped in pain on her throne, her starry mane going still for a moment as magic itself recoiled. And in the ruins of Tambelon, a dark presence stirred, restored to a mockery of life that hungered for the genuine article to perpetuate itself. Ancient limbs creaked as they were forced into motion for the first time in more than a millennium. Vast, curving horns coruscated with fell power and purpose. A nightmarish death bleat echoed from the darkest tomb in the crumbling keep's deepest crypt. And then nothing much else happened. Oh, there was a lot of straining and grumbling and a few curses that made the walls bleed, but dread Grogar who had lain dreaming never actually left fallen Tambelon. Every possible exit was covered in a vast, overgrown thicket of rose bushes. Even as the Black Goat of the Tomb rammed the walls of his city-tomb, the briars only flourished further as they fed on the rich necromantic energy, opening blossoms of deep, perfect black. Eventually, Grogar broke through the walls and directly into the thorns. Something as minor as plants wouldn't normally harm the Father of Monsters... but that was where the alchemical treatments of that first rose planted at the center of Tambelon came in. Once he made direct contact with the bushes, they entangled him in an unbreakable hold, lancing into his withered and wasted flesh and doing what all Necrobunda roses did: They took the energy of death and, far faster than most plants, converted it to the energy of life. And so Grogar, the first lich, felt his heart beat for the first time in millennia. Then the detachment of Royal Guards who'd been dispatched to the ruins several days earlier moved in to finish the job. The next day, a not-inconsiderable sum was discreetly deposited in the savings account of a happily retired cellist. As a rule, Equestrian assassins do not take any being’s life. However, they do occasionally give one back.