//------------------------------// // Part the First // Story: No Heroes: Hot Chocolate at the Isekai // by PaulAsaran //------------------------------// The Nocturnal Wing of Canterlot Castle had an invader. It was of the most unwelcome, unwholesome variety, the kind that threatened Verity Fine Crime’s peace and tranquility, that most wicked of villains. Pain shot through his eyes, in spite of them being closed, and he promptly turned in order to thwart the foulness that was Celestia’s loathsome sun. “Ah, it’s going to be a good day!” And Pinkie Pie. But she was an invader who, by some miracle only known in the mythical caverns and cubbies of her mind, had managed to snuggle her way into his heart and resist any attempts to vacate from his presence. Truly, she was a nefarious foe. “Come on, sleepyhead. Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for some big get-together with the princess?” She poked him in the small of his back through the sheets, the contact making him flinch and hiss through his teeth. “Such a jumpy pony.” She poked him again, producing similar results. “Jumpy, jumpy, jumpy.” Poke, poke, poke. “Pinkie!” Fine rolled off the bed, landing on all four hooves with a single loud clop. Ignoring the sting in his left shoulder, he allowed the shiver to run up and down his spine. “You know I don’t like it when you do that.” “That’s what you get for not paying attention to me.” Pinkie giggled from across the bed, brushing her curls from her face. Fine was going to argue her point, but became distracted by the light of the window playing off her features. The laugh lines on her cheeks, the streak of grey in her mane – above her left ear this time – and the lovely blue sparkling beneath those eyelids. Every day he was reminded of just how well she’d aged. She grinned, smile as sparkling as ever, before turning and marching for the vanity in the corner of his chambers. Already into her thirties, she hadn’t lost an ounce of energy, even with the way she favored that rear leg. His thoughts lingered on that limp for but a second, his lips threatening to fall into a frown, but he beat it back with happier realities. He walked up behind her as she brushed her mane and gave her a quick nuzzle on the neck. “Ponies are supposed to sleep in on their birthdays.” He took a thick wire brush and began grooming her side. She giggled, then let out a pleased hum at his ministrations. “It’s my birthday, I’ll spend it how I want. Although I do enjoy the pampering.” “It’s only what you deserve, Sugarflanks.” It didn’t take him long to get her side looking pristine, so he moved to the other. He felt along her body with a hoof, noting the slight ridges and bumps that were by now so familiar despite being hidden beneath the fur. Another pang, but those were easier to ignore these days. He began brushing. “So what’s on the agenda for you today?” “Rarity,” she replied pleasantly. She set her brush down and began her typical morning routine of alternating frowny faces and smiling faces. “Rarity, Rarity, and more Rarity. The two of us haven’t gotten to do much together since she opened that tenth boutique in Vanhoover, and she wanted to treat me today.” “Ah, so that’s why you came all the way to Canterlot and snuck into my room in the middle of the night.” “It’s one reason.” She cracked her neck in a couple quick motions as he finished grooming her other side, then turned to smile at him. Not one of her bright, toothy smiles, but the little, warm kind that he loved so much. “Plus, birthday snuggles with my favorite stud.” He raised an eyebrow, lips parting in a smarmy grin. “So there are other studs? Do I need to gather all my power to hunt down some rivals?” Pinkie eyed him up and down with faux-skepticism, the tiniest upturn of her lips giving it away. “Aren’t you, like, a hundred years old? Can you handle going after those young bucks?” He huffed, turning his muzzle up and away. “Excuse you! I’m not even fifty yet, I can handle them. Just give me a pen, paper, and a bottle of potion!” “Hiding behind your shadow army. Of course.” She reached up to tap on his horn playfully. “Can’t even fight for your mare yourself.” He grinned, catching her hoof in his and closing in. “Shall I drag you back into bed and show you how much ‘fight’ I have left?” He punctuated the threat with a peck on the tip of her muzzle, making her squeak and wriggle it. He put extra sauce on his next words, “Fleur can handle the meeting while I handle you.” Pinkie put on her best damsel-in-distress pose, which by now was most certainly Rarity Approved. “Always so eager! But I don’t think Luna will appreciate being stood up just so you can have fun with your marefriend.” She closed the distance between them, chin resting on his withers. Fine couldn’t argue the point, no matter how much he wanted to. Which was a lot. He couldn’t stop the frown. He really didn’t want to bother with this coming meeting. He could be out there, enjoying Pinkie’s birthday with her. That’s where he should be. Yet, as he considered that possibility, other things intruded. Plans in motion. Updates to the training regimen for new agents. Brainstorming how to get certain “items” out of public circulation. A rash of rumors from Grypha. Employee evaluations. The list kept growing. So much to do. So many responsibilities. Ten years ago, he’d already be at it. He squeezed Pinkie a little closer, not wanting to let go. “Fine?” “Hmm?” “We, um, need to talk about something later.” Sniffing her mane and enjoying the blessed fragrance of strawberries, he asked, “About what?” “W-well…” She pulled back, depriving him of her wonderful scent. Settling on her haunches, she tapped her hooves together with a sheepish expression. “I’m thirty-five now. There are… ‘things’ I want, and I’ve only got so much time to get them. So, um, I think we need to… discuss it.” Her eyes remained on the marble floor, uncertain and maybe even a little scared. It didn’t take much for Fine to catch her meaning. The idea sent shivers up and down his body, but he didn’t know if they were of pleasure or terror. This wasn’t the first time the subject had come up. It was the first time she hinted at wanting to act. But there was so much to do. Criminals in need of apprehending, cartels to infiltrate, ponies to manage. He couldn’t leave her alone with such a responsibility, yet he also couldn’t just abandon his own. “I…” “I know.” She set a hoof to his shoulder and smiled for him. It was a fragile thing. He hated it when she smiled like that. “We’ll talk about it later, okay? Just… think about it.” There was a brief pause, like she wanted to say more. He could practically see the words on her tongue. But then she turned away and started for the door. Before she could get away, he called out, “Gustave’s. Eight o’clock?” At her curious glance, he smiled and added, “Got to treat the birthday girl.” This time there was warmth in her smile. Not quite enough to fix the chill her body left behind, but it would do. “I won’t say ‘no’ to being wined and dined by a handsome rogue. Until then, Peepee.” He offered a flamboyant bow. His knees strongly disapproved. “Have fun with Rarity, Sugarflanks.” He accepted her blown kiss with a grin. It faded as soon as the door closed. With a sigh, he looked in the mirror. He looked so… old. The red in his mane was faded, no longer the bright torch it once was. He still possessed that lanky, muscular look, but it all seemed reduced somehow. “Not a young buck anymore,” he muttered to himself. “Fine? You alive in there?” He blinked away the little daydream of visiting with Pinkie and Rarity. The sight of Princess Luna staring at him from across her desk, open folders cluttering the limited space, made him horribly aware of what he’d been doing. He turned to look at Fleur de Lis beside him, attempting to not appear as embarrassed as he felt. Cool and commanding. Yes, that’s what he was. “I beg your pardon?” One of Fleur’s ears lowered while the other remained perked, her manner unamused. “You were daydreaming.” And caught red-hooved, at that. But, as he well knew, truth was for those who lacked imagination. “I was just… thinking about the plan to deal with Cartmane’s organization.” A light cough brought his attention to Luna, who stared down at him with clear concern. “We moved past that topic of discussion twenty minutes ago.” He shrugged. “It held my attention.” “Riiight.” Fleur used her magic to neatly stack the folders, still appearing entirely unamused. “I know you were once the master of trickery, but you can’t lie to me. I’ve been tailing you for far too long, old fart.” “I’m only eight years older than you, you know.” “Exactly. An old fart.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m reminding you of this in eight years.” Fleur did a remarkable job ignoring the threat, her attention going to Luna once more. “I think we have everything we need, Princess. Well, I do. I’ll catch Fine up on what he missed afterwards.” Fine let out a snort, wondering if he shouldn’t remind her of who the boss was in their organization. Said boss turned her blue head to Fine once more. “Very well, but I’d like a moment to speak with Fine alone, if you please.” There was no aggression or danger in her words, but Fine still felt his ears fold back at the potential implications. Recognizing the dismissal, Fleur stood with the folders levitating in her magical aura. “Alright. I’ll be in my office.” She gave Fine a pointed look, one that spoke of both sympathy and annoyance in equal measure. Not that he blamed her; he had just blanked out on perhaps a quarter of their weekly meeting with the only pony who he could effectively call his boss. “Tea?” Luna asked as the door closed. “No, thank you, Princess.” She nodded, her horn shining brightly. “Indigo, I’d like some chamomile, please. Thank you.” The aura faded, and she refocused her attention on Fine. “This isn’t the first time you’ve had trouble focusing on the job. Is everything alright?” He opened his mouth to respond, only to realize that he didn’t know the answer. For only an instant, he recalled the smell and taste of strawberries. Then he recalled the list of the dead from the massacre at the factory in lower Hoofington. The two elements warred for his attention, and Luna was still awaiting an answer. Swallowing to clear his throat, he replied, “I may be a little distracted.” He winced; that didn’t even sound like a good response in his head. Luna gave a slow nod, her eyes not leaving his. “I gathered. May I inquire as to what is bothering you?” “It’s…” Could he tell her? If there was anypony he could trust, surely it would be the princess. And yet, when he considered what the topic meant for him, the consequences of such thoughts… “It’s private.” “Ah.” Another nod, this one with the appearance of sagely awareness. “Related to Miss Pie, then.” Fine went stiff, alarm bells ringing in his head. She knew? How? Why? He’d not given anything away. He hadn’t said anything. Fleur didn’t know. Had she gone into his dreams? No, that didn’t make sense, he hadn’t any dreams that could be directly correlated to this. Or maybe he did. They said ponies didn’t remember every dream. But if Luna could see into— “Pinkie Pie is the only family you have.” Luna’s words shocked him out of his momentary panic. She took a sip of her tea. She had her tea. Had her assistant already come and gone? When? Willing his voice steady, he replied, “We’re not… technically family.” Princess Luna’s sour expression made clear what she thought of that response. “Technicalities are evil things. Would that I could be rid of them. Do not play word games with me, Mane Archon.” Flinching at her tone, he heaved a heavy sigh and focused on studying the saucer upon which her teacup now sat. “My apologies, Luna.” Things were quiet for a little while, save for the ticking clock on the wall and his steady breathing. He could feel her eyes boring into his skull. This was an unfamiliar feeling. For decades, he’d been able to look either of the princesses in the eye without flinching, for he was the Mane Archon. He had more important things to worry about than one pony’s anger, even if she was at the top of the metaphorical food chain. But today, for reasons he barely understood, he felt small and, perhaps, a little guilty. At last, Luna broke the lull with patient, comforting words. “I do not seek your apologies, dear friend. I am only concerned. You once possessed a drive for your job that could only be rivaled by Twilight Sparkle’s obsession with learning. That devotion appears to be fading in the past few months, like morning mist fades into the afternoon.” He smiled lightly at her word choice, casting a glance at her. “Stop plagiarizing my work.” “I’m a princess,” she replied with a similar smile. “Try and stop me.” They shared a light chuckle, the tension in the air loosened some. Fine allowed himself to relax a bit, though he still had trouble meeting the princess’s gaze. Luna went on, “It is alright if you do not wish to share the matter with me. I trust you to make the right decisions, as my sister and I have for more than a decade. But please, recall your responsibilities. You are the Mane Archon, and until such time as you retire there is nopony else who can do the things you do. Though the citizens may not know it, all of Equestria relies upon you.” What if it didn’t anymore? The question was on the tip of his tongue, but he caught himself just in time. Instead he asked an entirely different, if related, query: “Has a Mane Archon ever done that?” “Retired?” Luna frowned in thought, her gaze going distant. “I would imagine so. The Archons have been around for eight hundred years, surely some of their leaders retired. But you are the only one I’ve known, and there are no records kept on the fate of Mane Archons.” “For privacy purposes, right.” He resisted the urge to rub his forehooves together in imitation of Pinkie Pie that morning. “I thought that there might have been an exception for princesses.” “There is not, or if there is then Celestia has not thought to share it with me. Perhaps you could ask her.” Once more, the concern spread across Luna’s features. “Why the interest?” He knew what she was really asking, but he didn’t dare give the idea credit by voicing it aloud. “No reason. Well, I should probably go see Fleur. She’ll want to chew my head off, I’m sure. Sometimes it’s like she’s forgotten who was apprenticed to whom.” He stood, somehow managing to look Luna in the eye. He hoped he appeared nonchalant. “By your leave, Princess?” He waited for her nod before turning to leave the office. One weight off his back, only to be replaced by another. His statement about Fleur being upset with him was only half in jest. He’d been slacking, and she was invariably the one who ended up doing what was supposed to be beyond her purview. He walked the pale hallways with their resplendent décor, heading towards the hidden places. There were parts of the castle even the staff weren’t aware of. Rooms like the offices of the Archons. He slipped into the unknown halls easy enough, trusting in the illusions and subtle manipulation enchantments to keep most regular ponies from seeing him “disappear” out of thin air. Those who did see it would forget within a minute or two, like the event never happened. The Archon offices were centrally located in the castle, in a place with many twists and turns so that even smarter ponies with good spacial awareness wouldn’t recognize the volume they took up. There weren’t many rooms, enough for him, a few lieutenants, and maybe a half-dozen agents that might be temporarily back in Canterlot on business. They didn’t need a lot of space as the vast majority of agents were out in the wider world doing their jobs. Most Archons were hooves-on types with no need for the traditional office. This, of course, meant there was nopony to greet Fine as he stepped into the austere, unadorned hall. Neither he nor his predecessor had seen any need for a secretary, though there was a desk set up for such a pony. The place was quiet. Once that would have comforted him. Today it felt disturbing, perhaps even morbid. Where was the noise, the laughter, the cheerful banter? He proceeded past the reception room and down the hall to the left, watching his shadows shift beneath the dim magilights. Fleur didn’t like those. She preferred something brighter. But she wasn’t the Mane Archon, and for Fine the darkness was soothing, so… He saw her office door, closed tight. No doubt hard at work, as usual. She was doing less modeling and more Archon work, to the point that she’d even converted one of the offices into a bedroom in case of late nights. Fine half-expected her to come out and harass him over his lack of attention at the meeting, but no appearances were made as he moved on to his own office. The room was small and dark. He didn’t need anything big, and the shadows suited him. Yet, as he stood in the door, he wondered about it. A lone desk to the left, facing the door, covered in sorted piles of letters. Even as he watched, two more popped into existence in a flash of light and smoke, landing neatly atop their individual piles. There weren’t too many. He could finish them in three or four hours, even with the steady influx. Fine made no move to start. His head turned, allowing him to take in the rest of the office. It was mostly bare. Not because he didn’t have any belongings, no. He’d merely moved everything to his manor near Ponyville a few years ago. That was where he lived and worked now, save brief visits to Canterlot like this one. The Mane Archon, not even doing his job in the headquarters. All that was left was a large cabinet in the corner that had come with the room and the door to a small, private bathroom behind his desk. He should be working. Or seeing Fleur. The rational, responsible side of him repeated it over and over again. There were orders to distribute, quality control to maintain, reports to review. He looked to the letters again, stared long and hard. No matter how much he willed himself to do the task, he couldn’t conjure any enthusiasm. Sighing, he turned to the cabinets. Opening the top door, he was disappointed to find it bare. Even knowing it was pointless, he tried another. And another. All eight doors were opened, and while there was some food and condiments and the like, the one thing he most desired wasn’t there. All the good stuff was back at home. Home… where he should be. Groaning, Fine rubbed his face with both hooves. “Just one cup to get my spirits up,” he muttered. Maybe he could go out and grab a servant to deliver him some— Halfway turned around, Fine froze. There, right next to the exit from his office, was a door. A new one he’d never seen before, tall and made from strong-looking oak with a vaguely familiar yellow and red sun symbol. It was lined by a stone arch that was certainly not the same marble as the palace walls. And… was that a bistro chalkboard? He peered at it, casting a quick cantrip to let him read the words in the darkness. His eyes widened when he saw a list of no less than five variants of his favorite drink in the world. Was this a… coffee shop? In his office? His first instinct was to cast a detection spell. Nope, not an illusion. Fleur wasn’t getting back at him with some elaborate prank, unless she’d really upped her game. He glanced all around the office, peering over his shoulders and into the shadows, but no matter how hard he tried he could find no grinning draconequii. Just a door. To a coffee shop. In his office. For a long time, he contemplated this. His gaze regularly shifted between the new door and the one leading to the rest of the castle. He knew what he should do. “Buck it.” It was either this, feel guilty talking to Fleur, or pretend to be interested in his job. The door was the least disturbing thing he could be dealing with right now.