Honey and Spike sat in Honey's living room, Spike, now full, stated, "They're gonna start wondering what's taking me so long."
The drake looked outside while seated on the couch. All in all, he was having a pretty good time, Honey never talked much about anything, but he was always glad to have Spike over, and was okay with Spike eating his food, and relaxing. He just wished Honey had more friends than just himself. A hermit by definition, Honey rarely left his farm, and nopony had ever seen him around town except for the mayor, who couldn't quite recall the event in full.
"Why don't you want to see to see them? Spike asked, never rising from his leaned-back position on the couch.
"I told ya, It's late." Honey reasoned swiftly.
Spike looked at Honey with a soft expression of sadness, "I know you're nervous about meeting them, but you really shouldn't be. Applejack may be upset about you opening a farm in Ponyville, but once she gets to know you, I know they'd all be happy to have you as a friend."
"I think I'd prefer, to stay, inside." Honey half-sang robotically.
"You don't have to go out to them, I can bring them in here to you." Spike said with a small smile.
"I-I just can't." Honey said, shaking his lowered head.
The two sat in silence for a minute, Honey, hoping that Spike would leave the subject, and Spike, wanting to integrate Honey into his immediate friend group and get him out of his shell.
"What about other ponies in general? There's gotta be somepony in Ponyville you could hang out with."
"Growing tired of me already?" Honey said jokingly.
"No!" He said, a bit louder than he meant, "I just don't want you to only have one friend."
Honey had never had real 'friends' before Spike. In truth, he still might not. When he was human, he was either admired for his skill, or feared for his skill. Here on Equss, he had one, Gilded Spear, who was under the effects of harmony magic, and left as soon as Honey had lost that same magic. Honey never revealed much to Spike, but he assumed that Spike just hung out with him because of the free food.
"How about..." Honey's mind raced with possibilities, "Tomorrow evening, you and the elements come over here for a... dinner party... I'll whip up plenty for ya'll to eat, and we can... get to know each other proper."
"You're sure your ready for all that?" Spike asked, glad Honey was making an effort, but afraid he might try to bail.
"Positive, I'll make the best dinner in all of Equestria!" Honey proclaimed, clearly nervous.
"And you'll be actually talking to them." Spike reminded.
Honey smiled nervously and answered with an agreeable grunt.
"Alright, I'll let them know..." Spike said, sliding off the couch and walking over to the kitchen, "Around seven?"
Honey stopped and thought, "Eight? Eight would be better."
"Perfect, eight o' clock, we'll be there."
Spike left the house, Honey was filled with relief that he wouldn't have to meet them tonight, but knew that tomorrow, he'd either have to throw a dinner party for the people who are likely to know who he was, or... leave town. Thinking for a second, he reasoned that moving to Las Pegasus wouldn't be so bad.
He considered it, but shook his head, and put that idea on a shelf for later. Now though, he had an idol to study and test.
Behind the staircase in his living room, there was a very small alcove, only big enough to hold a bookshelf. It was filled with books that to an outside observer, were all different. Honey, however, knew that they were all blank. Out of sight, out of the way, and locked away with a glass door, it wouldn't be difficult to break into it, but who would? Even if someone did break into it, who knew the passcode?
Five shelves of books, a dozen books on each. Honey unlocked the glass door and pushed a few books further into the shelf in the order from top to bottom, 2-2-4-7-5.
An audible click was heard, and Honey pushed on the bookshelf to reveal a secret passageway leading to a basement that nobody knew about.
Laboratory, sweet laboratory, Honey thought as he entered and closed the bookshelf door behind him.
Another click was heard, as the door reset itself right, pushing the books back up in line with the others, closing the door, and locking itself back up automatically.
Research Notes on Item:
Local Name: The Idol of Boreas
Artificer Name: Idol of Order
Level: Grand-Master
The Idol of Order is one of the most treasured artifacts of Griffonstone, responsible for the unification of the Griffon Kingdom. It's a golden statue forming a wing and a base shaped like a griffon talon with an orange spherical gemstone in the center.
After scanning the artifact, traces of order magic were discovered, one of the most powerful forms of magic in recorded history, a magic that has unfortunately been lost to time. Were these traces any bigger, I'd put the threat level higher, the years have not been kind to it however. As I have no capacity for order magic, I've no ability to truly repair the idol to it's full strength. For fear of breaking the artifact, I have decided not to siphon the order magic out for studying until tests are concluded.
Scribbling away on some parchment, Honey wrote down the complex and foreign magic that allowed the idol to work and how to recreate it.
The Idol of Order is a union of Griffonian craftsmanship, and enchanted by a vastly powerful order mage, perhaps even a master of order magic. Since nobody has interrupted this research, I can assume that either they don't know I have it, they don't care that I have it, or that they're dead, there is truly no way of knowing.
Magical Effects
A. The Idol's true form is to unite, to bring order where there is chaos, to bring divided people together in a common goal. Despite the many years it has been lost, and the small amount of remaining order magic, it would still find this a relatively easy goal.
B. The Idol, with a bit of tampering, could also be used to control another being, some form of 'happy slavery' if done properly. It would likely have mixed results, and would find it difficult to control those experiencing strong emotions, such as hatred or rage. If the idol is to be used for mind control, it is recommended to use it in small doses, one creature at a time, and repeated use on one person to ensure the control sticks.
Uses for the Magical Effects
A. In the event I must flee from Equestria and leave the kingdom, Griffonstone may make a good place to lay low, with the idol, I can unite the griffons to my cause, and ensure that they keep me hidden from Celestia and Luna.
B. Using the idol to control will have mixed results and I wouldn't outright recommend it, but in the odd case where a single individual needs to be 'convinced' that my way is best, the idol will do in a pinch.
Artifact is ready for experimentation.
End of Notes
In the Golden Oaks Library, Twilight was doing some late night reading, while Spike was half-focused on assisting her. The young drake seemed to move a bit slower, like his mind was somewhere else.
"Are you okay, Spike?" Twilight asked, looking away from her book.
Spike held his hands together, "Yeah... I just um..." The fins on the side of his head were hanging low, Twilight understood this as a sign that Spike was sad about something.
Thinking she knew what was going on, Twilight said, "I'm sorry Rarity didn't notice your scales were polished. She was just focused on this whole Honey Bun debacle."
Spike faked a smile, "Yeah..." He said.
In truth, Spike was looking back on all the times he went to Honey Bun's farm. He would be welcomed in, Honey would have something cooking, and Spike would eat, sometimes Honey would join in, and he would ask Spike questions.
How'd your day go?
What's been going on with you?
How ya feelin, bud?
Spike would answer, eat some more, answer another question, eat some more, he'd talk about himself, Twilight, Canterlot, and his adopted family. For some reason, Honey paid much closer attention when Spike talked about his fire breath, though.
But Honey never talked about where he was from, if he had any family, even how his day went... and he always wore that outfit that covered most of his body.
Spike was cut off from his thoughts when he felt grape juice going down his throat. Looking around, he found himself standing in front of the cupboard, with a bottle of Honey Bun's grape juice in his hand. There was something about it, he couldn't quite understand. The sweet smell of the grapes did little to aid his sour mood, he had first hand experience when it came to hermits who never leave their house.
Spike looked over to Twilight, who went back to reading her book. If it wasn't for Princess Celestia outright ordering Twilight to make friends, she may still be a hermit today.
I wonder If I could convince Princess Celestia to send Honey Bun a letter?
Gulping down the remainder of his grape juice, Spike walked back over to Twilight, who decided at that point to start speaking.
"It sure was nice of Honey Bun to invite us all over for dinner. Especially since he's already done so much for us." Twilight said, reading her book.
While Honey never talked about himself, he made sure Spike never left hungry or empty-clawed. He would insist on Spike bringing cheese, butter, honey, milk, sugar, flour, or whatever else Honey had at the time home with him. Spike was surprised when he found out that Honey didn't really sell his food though.
Maybe he gives his food to me for free so it doesn't go bad, Spike thought. Thinking back on it though, the food always tasted fresh and very delicious. It was as if Honey sprinkled goodness on everything he made.
"Yeah, I guess I'm just realizing how little I really know about him." Spike said, sitting down on the stairs.
"Oh?" The unicorn mare said, turning away from her book for the second time in one night, a new world record.
"I realize that I've never actually asked him about himself, here I've told him a lot about my own life, but I know next to nothing about his." Spike was conflicted, he wanted to learn more about his friend, but also didn't want to pry too much and risk Honey Bun not wanting to be his friend anymore.
"Well, tomorrow night, we'll all ask him a few questions, you know Applejack will be thorough."
Spike would like for Twilight and Honey Bun to get along with each other, after all, if Honey was friends with him, why wouldn't he be friends with Twilight?
"You say that now, but once you taste some of his cooking, you might not be able to think of much else." Spike warned, which Twilight easily dismissed.
"I know his food is good, but I have eaten the food you bring home many times, and my brain still functioned normally afterwards."
"The food he makes himself is a lot better than the food he gives away, I can say that from experience." Spike warned again.
"I highly doubt it could be that good, Spike. Princess Celestia has some of the best chefs in Equestria working under her, remember, and none of them could produce anything that could mentally impair somepony."
Spike had to admit, Twilight had a point. If he had not eaten Honey's cooking himself, he may have started thinking that he was overexaggerating. But, he had eaten Honey's food, and knew the dangers, he hoped that the food made for tomorrow wouldn't have the same effect on them as it did on him.
Honey looked at himself in the mirror, his cloak covered his body from the neck down, and only a small section at the bottom revealed his hooves, so he didn't trip while walking. He didn't like his look or his name, and wished he had chosen something else, but it was too late, he had settled into this unfortunate role. The stallion looked around and listened for any noise that might even suggest that someone was watching him. Though he knew he was probably safe, his doors locked, his curtains pulled, and his lights dimmed.
His heart lit, and he returned his horn to his head before looking it over. It was no different than when he was a unicorn, spiraled for easy conducting, pointed, and of average length. He gripped his cloak with his magic and untied it before folding it neatly and setting it into his light yellow wardrobe.
The wings he had woken up with a few months ago shook for a second, glad to be out from under his cloak. Honey had never flown before, and since getting his new wings, had still never tried. Being in the air put him at a severe disadvantage, since he was a theurgist, and he would find it more difficult to cast complex spells in the air.
His light brown leather-esque armor held onto his frame, it's many pockets still full of travelling gear for his journey this morning. The armor was collared at his neck and went down to his hind legs, covering his thighs, specifically to hide his cutie mark. Although it looked leather in nature, it was in truth crafted from plant fibers there were heavily enchanted to help him avoid detection in regards to his magic. He grasped the zipper of his armor, and took it off before tossing it on top of his wardrobe.
His disguise was near perfect, his dull blue eyes and brown fur made him nearly impossible to place his true identity, the only thing his magic would not work on however, was his cutie mark. A leaf, burned on one end and rotted on the other, with a crackle of lightning shooting through it. No spell or illusion would change or cover it, so he had to make due. He cast off his disguise and stared at the past.
The dull blue eyes he had carefully picked to give him a dumber look, were replaced with the vibrant and experienced eyes of a wizard, eyes that had seen more than what they initially let on to any who'd look into them. His brown fur changed into a bright forest green, where his mane and tail turned changed into a slightly darker forest green.
Where once stood Honey Bun the farmer, a new pony now stood. Sugar Hoof, Prince of Equestria, King of Treants, The Foal of the Everfree, Slayer of the Storm King, looked at himself. Most of his thralls were dead, his 'kingdom' was destroyed, and he had gotten no closer to his goal: immortality.
He could feel it, inside of himself, that his aging process was slowed to a creep. It would take a thousand years for him to grow a single year, but he would age, if something more powerful came along and it wanted him dead, he would die.
A perk of becoming an alicorn, no doubt, he thought.
He had discovered plenty of ways to increase one's lifespan, magical fruits that would make you one day younger, the fountain of youth that would restore years to your life, flowers that could be traded past the veil of death for resurrection, an elixir that made you half a year younger. What he sought after, was a one-and-done, immortality effect, never aging, never dying, immune to all forms of ill.
He touched his chest and felt the muscles underneath. When he awoke underground after the Green Desert Incident, he found he was stronger, faster, more muscular. He was never an athletic person, his magic was his weapon of choice, but thanks to his alicornism, the strength inherent in every earth pony was similarly in him. He was not truly upset by this, if anything he wanted to take better care of himself, after all, he's now guaranteed to be 'in it for the long haul.'
Sugar Hoof looked at his clock, and was surprised by how late it had gotten. He had an unfortunately busy day tomorrow. Buying exercise equipment, enchanting his home to ensure nothing happened at the dinner party, cooking for the dinner party, and he also needed to see about testing the Idol of Boreas out, specifically the control aspect of it. He figured Spike would be a perfect candidate, assuming he could get him away from his friends after dinner, he knew better than to try and mind control them, but Spike, if he could set up the runes, get his stomach full, he might just be able to work it out.
The bed called for him, and Sugar had no intention of denying it. He unceremoniously fell into it, and wrapped himself up like a burrito, before slowly falling asleep, planning for tomorrow.
He was sure he could find someone in Ponyville who had some exercise equipment, he wondered if he could convince anyone to trade for it, he was a bit short on bits, if he couldn't, he may have to test the idol earlier. His very walls would need to be enchanted, and the food needed to be magnificent, for tomorrow. He knew that the element bearers must be left content and relaxed, to keep them off his trail, there are no enemies at the dinner table, after all.
His thoughts slowed and grew darker as the warm peacefulness of sleep eventually took hold.