//------------------------------// // CH 66 The Big Chair // Story: Twilight's Nightmare // by Nightsclaw //------------------------------// To Paper Pusher, the walk to work was normally a non-event, and it was merely something that happened exactly the same, each and every day. The precursor to the chaos that was trying to bring order to the understaffed RGIS records.   Today was not the old normal. All the reports he had read strongly implied normality would be a rather rare resource for quite some time. This time, every step had a metal-plated reminder that things had changed. Just the sound of his armoured shoes on the stone was enough of a distraction, let alone the fact that it had taken three fewer steps to reach the first corner on his journey.  Other than Celestia's sun in the sky, it could have been the middle of the night if judged by the level of activity alone. With the armour's cooling effect, he could close his eyes, and the illusion would be complete. Restaurants, normally so busy, were closed. In the most active parts, four in five shops were closed, and less than a dozen restaurants were even open in the entire city.  His metal-covered hooves echoed through the empty streets. Parts of the great city were reduced to a ghost town.  Even the normal scents were muted. The lack of most of the shop’s tempting fragrances and the noble’s perfumed trails allowed other scents to win through. Fresh bread from two streets over mixed with the bitter forge smoke from further afield. The high notes of metal on metal clearly rang out over the city without the everyday clamour of the capital around. So far, he had only crossed paths with five ponies instead of the hundreds that would have been typical. None of them had anything that was worthy to record in his report, and none had any obvious sign of being a dark cultist. As he approached the end of a long street, the hushed sound of gossiping old ponies reached his ears. He sighed internally and double-checked his armour hung on his frame just right.  “Civilians," he mumbled. Each and every one of them was different. Each and every one an unsolved enigma. At least masquerading as a normal guard meant his part in social interactions came with a manual.  As he had an audience, he turned onto the next street, his motions crisp and professional as the guard guidebook demanded.  Up ahead, only a single guard pony stood at attention outside the single open shop. An orderly line of ponies waited, six mothers with their foals and four geriatric ponies.  It looked somehow wrong without the symmetry the regulation pair brought to door duty.  His helmet's magic showed the officer's name, rank and number, along with another detail. A crossed-out wing next to a stylised cross with hoofprints marked the pony as walking wounded that had lost the ability to fly.  “Sir, nothing to report.” The guard pony offered a crisp salute without a single hint of the depression that claimed so many in their position.  Paper Pusher returned it by the book, but he lacked the exacting precision that endless repetition brought. “Very good, carry on.”  Thanks to the uniform enchantment on the armour, the guard would appear to be a standard earthpony, but to one who can see past the illusion, there stood a one-winged pegasus. He was the ninth crippled pony that a simple mark of ink reactivated to full duty. The little formalised exchange repeated. The second was another pegasus, this one missing a rear leg, again simply concealed by the enchanted armour.  The third and fourth were so aged that they had well and truly passed the average life expectancy, yet they were here. They did not exactly follow regulations. Instead of the perfect stance required by the guidebook, they both allowed the wall to support them.   “Lovely day for a walk, Sir.”  Paper Pusher paused. The off-script comment was an unexpected variable the guidebook gave no advice for. He took a moment to consider.  The blue sky had not a single trace of clouds. Celestia's sun warmed him and brought a small smile to his muzzle. Past the gate the married couple guarded, Earthponies toiled as they converted three-quarters of the public park from a place of leisure to a farm. The last quarter was full of colts and fillies. A pair of school teachers and a single guard tried to guide the crowd through a much-simplified guard drill.  “They’re coming along nicely.” The kind and grandmotherly voice said, completely out of place from the apparent form of a young athletic guard pony.  Paper Pusher turned his full attention back to the speaker, and the illusion retreated under his gaze.   “Any chance you can get an extra assigned here so we can help with their training? We might not be as young as we once were, but we can show them a thing or two.” The three ponies looked definitively outnumbered and perhaps outmatched by so many young ponies. One of them glared at their instructor and stomped their small hoof. Clearly, they were not used to accepting instructions. Seven of them stood out immediately, each part of a noble house. Not a single one of them a firstborn or heir. So this is how they are meeting their obligations. Paper Pusher thought as he made a mental note of what families would need to be quietly investigated, if he ever had the ponypower to spare again.  A hollowness, an emptiness that was still very much unfamiliar, opened up in his chest. His first choice to look into this would have been Candice or Revealing Light. Candice was off playing Batmare with Princess Luna, and Revealing Light was no longer alive.  “Sir?” Paper Pusher shook his head and snapped back to the moment. He mentally pushed away the image of that small line of text, a simple name and a status update. “I’ll need to check the rota.” “Are you alright, Deary?” “Yes, I am well.” Paper Pusher said as the old mare looked at him. Something about her kind maternal expression coached more words out of him. “A… colleague. I learned a pony I know died from a daily status update. I know I have the report on my desk.” Paper Pusher looked down. White unicorn number three it was accurate, it was useful, but now that she was gone, it felt strangely impersonal, like a disservice to her memory. A metal-clad hoof rested on his shoulder. The impersonal contact of metal against metal brought no comfort. Still, the attempt had been made at least, so Paper Pusher uttered the automatic politeness. “Thank you.”  “It's never easy losing a pony, especially if they're under your command.” Ice gripped his heart as realisation sunk in. For two breaths, it was as if the air held no oxygen. Under my command? Pages and pages of deployment orders flipped past in his mind's eye. The few little movements of a quill it had taken to reorganise the pony power. Those necessary optimisations had most likely placed Revealing Light in the situation that cost her her life. The urge to get to his office rose inside him. The report he knew would be waiting for him called. He had to know the details. He had to know exactly what happened to Revealing Light, and he had to know if it was his fault.  “Go, continue on your rounds, sir. We have everything under control.” “Then carry on.” Paper Pusher nodded firmly, then performed a crisp turn, and marched off, only half paying attention to the outside world. His mind drifted to all the ponies that used to crowd the RGIS offices, all the other ponies that used to help with paperwork and backroom intelligence work. How many of them would actually return? How many of them were even now dead?  A long slow breath pushed out between his teeth. He was no tactician, no expert general. All he was good at was paperwork and organisation. Everything he did since his responsibilities had expanded had been apparently optimal actions, assigning the right level of force to deal with each suspected threat.  Logically, I made the right choice. He told himself. Every other course of action open to him would have only cost more lives. He was going to lose hours ploughing through all the reports and double-checking every bit of analysis to see if he had made any mistakes. Each and every guard that died was a tragedy. So few ponies had what it took to become a guard, so each one lost was a resource forever gone from the nation, and the world was poorer for it. His hooves almost took him to his old office. Instead of the much grander one he now had as the current acting captain and a position he only held by default.  He lit his horn, his aura eagerly embraced the helm. No matter how well it was fitted, it still caused his ears to ache if he wore it for too long.  A shuddering sound came from up ahead. I don't have any appointments scheduled. He almost groused. The last thing he needed was even more unexpected news. His aura hesitantly retreated from his helmet, and in a single stride, Paper Pusher straightened up. Just as he rounded the corner, he once more looked like the poster of what a guard should be.  Outside the captain's office, a pony leaned against the wall, eyes closed and shivering. His leg twitched as visible cramps rippled through the limb.  Paper Pusher did not need to get the guidebook out to know what to do. There was only one right answer. "Sir, do you need medical aid and or any assistance?" The stallion took a long shuddering breath and visibly forced themselves under control. "I will be fine, thank you…Captain." The stallion looked up, and his features resolved into a name in Paper Pusher’s mind. This was Noble Guide, one of the witnesses to the attack on Princess Twilight that ended up burning a hole in the council chamber.  “I am afraid I was not informed I had any appointments today, Lord Noble Guide.” The noble took a slow breath as if testing to see if it hurt. “This is more an unplanned visit, I wish to make my organisational skills available, and it seemed that you would be best informed as to where my talents will be of most use.” Paper Pusher’s mind turned through already shuffling mental sheets of paper. He headed towards the door to his borrowed office. “Then please, come in.” Noble Guide nodded and followed. A huge stack of paperwork and a pile of scrolls that overflowed his inbox greeted him. Despite the size of the office, it was never meant for the sheer volume of paperwork that now flowed through it each and every day. It was as Revealing Light used to say, ‘The reward for a job well done was just a harder one.’  He lit his horn, and his aura reached out, ensuring anything, and everything confidential was at least covered. He kept his stride even as he made his way around the desk towards the captain's chair. “Please, take a seat.” He offered as he took his own. Despite the size of the chair being standard, somehow it felt too large now he had a noble sat opposite him.  Noble Guide sat with all the stiff decorum that the etiquette the nobles held themselves to demanded, despite the small grimace of pain. The default polite request as to his health crossed through Paper Pusher’s mind and was rejected. He had already refused help and apparently was doing everything he could to maintain the pretence he was well. “My apologies for getting straight to business, but as you must know, the current situation has us all saddled with drastically increased duties.” Noble Guide nodded. “I quite understand. That is exactly the reason I am here, to offer my services.” The map on the wall painted a bleak picture. So many small settlements had a red pin that denoted they needed immediate assistance or the depressingly common black pin that meant it no longer existed, either evacuated or destroyed. Roads and rail lines crossed the map, but not enough of them. Too many of the needed supplies were still forced to travel by road, and that directly led to many of the daily casualty reports. Paper Pusher's eyes glanced over the black pin that sat atop Manehatten and then settled on Vanhoover. “You organised and arranged building, in essence, what is a small city in short order. Are you up to upscaling the train yards and directing the laying of new tracks?”  “I believe I can be of service with that,” Noble Guide said as his own attention turned to the map. “I assume the plan is to have a line to each town and village we still hold?”  “It's a large project and a logistical nightmare.” “That is without the local bureaucracy interfering.” “Are they going to be obstructionist in this?” Paper Pusher asked. It made no sense why a pony would resist the necessary efforts to safeguard Equestria. It was illogical, but then again, so were most ponies. “Not deliberately,” Noble Guide said with a grimace. “Do you mind if I take my medication?” “Go ahead.”  Noble Guide retrieved a fine glass vial covered with silver decoration and the fine marks of one of the top Alchemists in Canterlot. When he unstoppered it, a strong medicinal scent mixed with citrus and mint wafted into the air. With one swift motion, he drained it to the last drop.  Paper Pusher breathed in. The flavourings did a good job confusing things, but a deep earthy and musty odour with a hint of rotten garlic defeated the ruse. Northern bitter root… That's no common pick-me-up or a noble excess trying to keep a youthful appearance. While not illegal, that particular ingredient was on several watchlists and several that it was generally combined with were flatly illegal. Mentally, auditing the Apothecary's house got added to the end of a very long list of things to do once Equestria was safe again. “That's much better.” Noble Guide said as most of the tension and concealed pain lifted from his features. “As I was saying, I doubt any will be trying to interfere. But there are many very capable individuals who will insist only they know best. They will end up working cross purposes without a  strong hoof to guide them and the right words to allow them to save face as they set their ego aside.” Nobles… Paper Pusher thought as his mind went back to each and every official request to remove Candice from her position from the logical to the outright implausible. Each and every one of them was a mix of purely personal outrage and impassioned dissertation on why it would be for the good of Equestria. “I understand… can you do it?” Noble Guide nodded. “There will be many more sleepless nights for me, but I will get it done. If anything, it will be simpler than a normal day in court here. If not for the time pressure, it would be a delightful vacation.” He smiled. There was something about that smile that Paper Pusher did not trust. No matter how much he thought about it after Noble Guide had left, he could not place what was wrong with it. It was almost as if it belonged to a different pony. He sighed And this is why I prefer paperwork over ponies. Hours, hundreds of pages and two inkwells later, Paper Pusher still preferred his paperwork to the complexities of pony interactions. He stared at the highest priority scroll open before him. The one that should have been on the top of the stack, not buried halfway down under a request for additional armour cleaning equipment. He reread the scroll for the third time. The deployment order sat on the desk and no matter how long he looked at it, nothing even hinted at the possibility it was an illusion or hallucination.  He placed the talisman next to the seal. A soft golden light radiated from it. “So not a forgery then.” A little bit of hope died inside him. It would have been so much simpler if this was simply a fake an enemy agent had planted.  For a heartbeat he considered sending a message confirming the order, but nothing about it could have been a mistake or a scribing error. Not being this consistent. The beautiful horn writing was almost definitely Celestia’s own, not a single mistake nor hint of hasty quill work. His eyes ignored all the boilerplate niceties and settled on his orders. Gather the needed forces to escort the eighteen magically strongest ponies currently incarcerated in the nation, and transport them to Canterlot.  Why? With all the current demands on the pool of pony power. Demands that Celestia knew as well, if not better than he did himself. His eyes narrowed for a moment. He wouldn't dare?  He sorted through the drawer and withdrew a jar of multi-hue oil. He gingerly set it down upon the scroll. He slowly counted down from ten, and nothing happened. The liquid sat still without even a single ripple.  So this is not one of ‘his’ pranks. Even now, in the privacy of his office, he was unwilling to tempt fate by mentioning that name. So, I have to conclude this is real. With that decided, he set to work pulling out dozens of prisoner reports and a pair of procedural manuals.  They would need a three-to-one advantage against the convicts. So for eighteen prisoners they would need fifty-four guard ponies. It looked like the old couple would not get their extra pony anytime soon. Three firm knocks sounded from the door. Paper Pusher yawned and looked up from the last report he had to deal with today. The sky outside was dark, the moon’s light shading the world in silvers. The knocks sounded again.  “Enter.” The door opened to reveal the predatory gaze of one of Luna’s thestral guards. “Acting Captain Paper Pusher?” Paper Pusher nodded.  The mare reached under her wing and pulled out a scroll. “I have a dispatch for you.” “I take it this is urgent?” “It will help you save lives.” His aura accepted the offered scroll and quickly broke the seal, he looked over it. His eyes narrowed and snapped to the mare. “How?” It was such a simple question but asked so much, and he had to know. The mare offered a kind smile. “The Night Sovereign was able to converse with her before the end, and hear any final messages she had.” She nodded to the open scroll. “That is for you as Acting Captain.” She pulled out a simple folded bit of paper. “And this is for you, the pony.” With far more reverence than she had offered the scroll, she laid the plan piece of paper on Paper Pusher’s desk almost as if it were some religious offering. She wrote to me? The image of her twisted and dying form using some of her final breaths in this life to dictate a letter to him, personally. He almost could not believe it. There were so many others that she had deeper and closer relationships with.  Why me? The folded paper held his gaze. He had to know what it contained. Still, any personal missive save from the Princess herself would have to be examined after the official communication to him in his role as Acting Captain. He looked up with a question on his lips, but the mare was gone. The door had not reopened, the window was closed, and yet, she simply was not there. “Night Guards.” He sighed again and turned his attention to his friend's final report. “Blighted methods and tactics…”