//------------------------------// // CH 70 Noble Guidance // Story: Twilight's Nightmare // by Nightsclaw //------------------------------// The carriage shook and the new armour plates rattled. Noble Guide’s hoof secured his wine glass just in time. The whole train lurched forward and the overtaxed engine huffed loudly as it built up its head of steam.  To all appearances, he merely turned his attention from the slowly disappearing view of the Canterlot train station to his accommodations for this trip. He did take in everything his senses told him, but most of his attention was on his horn. By the time he had settled his personal belongings, he was reasonably convinced there were no listening or scrying spells observing him. He settled down in his seat, letting the cushion support his weary body. Well, it's not first class, but at least l have my own room if you can call this cupboard a room. It did not have its own bathroom, but at least it had a bed, even if said bed was infested with paperwork.  The train's motion fell into a predictable pattern, and he quickly downed the rest of his medicated beverage. His face twisted in disgust. The fine wine was no longer enough to blunt the foulness at his increased dosage. He scraped his tongue across his teeth, trying to banish the remnants of the taste that definitely resisted his attempts to ignore it. He tossed an expensive hard candy in his mouth and settled in to at least make use of the allocated time. He had gotten through the first few pages when, as expected, the world tilted downwards just a bit. The train picked up speed, which was expected, and then kept accelerating, which was definitely not what was not meant to happen.   His stomach lurched as the gentle downhill ride became anything but. I did not do all this just to die in a train crash. Apparently, somepony else agreed as, like a hundred banshees, the brakes began to scream.  Then even with the brakes locked, the downhill pace still increased.  It was then that the cries of panicked ponies tried to outdo the protesting brakes.  Noble Guide cradled his aching head, waiting for the soothing tea's sedative to take effect. At least his body had stopped shaking. The tea’s exquisite taste still lingered on his tongue. Normally, he would have savoured it, but he could not. Even an hour after they had stopped, his ears still rang. He lifted his head enough to take in the rest of the food car.  None of the others even had a clue that what they drank was none other than one of Celestia’s personal blends. Each cup was worth more than a year's wages for most of them, and none of them were in a state to enjoy it.  He sighed. The fact he owed Celestia for his survival was galling. If it was not for the golden glow that enveloped the whole train, they would have all died at the first turn in the tack. He had plans for many different contingencies, but never once had he considered anything so mundane as a train crash. The irony of being saved by his rival stayed with him for the rest of his journey.  The room shook as yet another overloaded train rumbled past. At least here the land was flat, so there could be no repeat of his near-death experience. A slight tremble went through his body at the stirred memory, but he ignored it. Noble Guide held the sigh in. His current office was a far cry from his Canterlot study. "The sacrifices I make..." He breathed out as he righted the fortunately stoppered bottle of ink that had taken a drive.  Day in, day out, this toil had become his new life. At least this time the different piles of paperwork were properly secured, and so remained ordered. Now, where was I? He thought through the now ever-present headache. His hoof came up to rub his temple. Only forty-eight days. He breathed out. The timer that slowly ticked down stirred anticipation in his chest as much as it promised release from his body's torment.  His weak aura dragged his new companion over. Sloshing sounds came from the oversized flask on its unsteady journey.  The disgusting brew was the finest ambrosia as its thick, cloying liquid crawled past his tongue. A shudder rippled through his flesh as he sighed contentedly. The simple lessening of the hundreds of small discomforts was almost the sweetest bliss.  Idly, his mind catalogued the ingredients, dosages, and side effects of what he had just imbibed. A mortal would be dead in a mere year or two. A wide grin settled on his face as he paged through the logistics report.   His quill left slashes of ink through whole sections of it as he scribbled corrections, comments and orders in the margins. One thousand years of tradition and bureaucracy, blended with the self-interested meddling of the nobility, made what should be simplicity itself, a nightmare.  You did not need a dozen ponies with different priorities standing on each other’s tails. No, you have one or two that are aware of all the issues and can ensure the right resources got to the right places on time and were not misappropriated by those with no true need.  His quill lifted one final time and paused. A small chuckle escaped him. How would they react if I left a grade... It might warrant a D minus, if I was being generous. The harsh scream of a steam whistle announced another train ready to depart. By reflex, he stoppered his ink pot and quickly double-checked everything that was fragile.  He moved on to the next item in the endless horde of paperwork. It had all the appearance of just being an unremarkable scroll. That was if you were not personally familiar with royal stationery. He broke the seal. Celestia's hundreds, if not thousands, of years of practice had left her skill with a quill unmatched by even those who had marks in calligraphy.  The first royal directive was as simple to arrange as it was confusing. Why do you want a track laid there? He looked to the map on the wall. The graffiti that marred the once beautiful painted illustration of the nation blotted out almost everything of interest in that area. Only two villages were unmarred. Was it an oversight? Had the ponies there managed to fend off the blighted that his miscalculations had unleashed?  Well, it did not truly matter. A train connection there would help with the needed redevelopment of the area. It would prove to be an asset to his nation.  As for the second order, he read it once, twice, three times and still, it was hard to believe. What possible purpose do you have for them? Noble Guide mused to himself even as his mind started going through the logistics of it.  Henceforth, all criminals of any severity are to be rendered pacified by spell or sedatives and dispatched to the capital at the earliest opportunity. Noble Guide's eyes narrowed. There were plenty of reasons he would use ponies for like that, puppets, brainwashed cultists, redirecting his injuries to, or a simple blood sacrifice.  Whether or not he would comply was not the question. Of course he would follow any instructions his beloved princess sent his way. He was a good and loyal servant of both her and the nation, at least for now.  It could simply be a logical move, a way to centralise the containment of undesirables so it could be done with less pony power.   “What are you up to?” He asked the air. It would not be too long before he had his answer.  The next day the rumbling of trains and the harsh cry of their steam whistles were joined by the oh so peaceful addition of blacksmith hammers as they brought yet more rolling stock up to the new standard.  He would have given one of his legs to be able to cast any of a dozen sound suppression spells that were on the CSGU syllabus right now. Amend reports, write letters, pause as the armoured trains tried to shake his teeth out, and repeat. Half the day passed in that well-worn routine.  The first thing that let him know something was amiss was the slowing and the complete cessation of the endless clanging. That on its own would have been a relief, but it was an hour until the day shift’s brake, and there was no way the upgrades would be finished tomorrow, let alone today.  The second sign turned up just as his conscious mind noticed a reduction in the background noise, and he looked up. Rapid hoof falls rushed towards his office door. Moments later, a rapid series of knocks hammered on the thin wooden door.  "Come in." Noble Guide said.  The door pushed open. A harried-looking guard pony's head poked in. "Sir, we have a situation." What now? He thought as his headache threatened to become a migraine. "How bad?" "I don't know." It was hard, so very hard, to stay in character and not give the underaged guard pony a piece of his mind. Mentally he counted to ten before he spoke. "Then what do you know?" "There's some strange ponies disembarking from the latest train." "Define ‘strange’." "They’re glowing." "Glowing?" "Yes, you said you wanted to know immediately if anything strange happened." "I did." Noble Guide admitted even as he tried to remember when he did that. He did his best not to show any hint of his pain as he pushed himself away from his desk and headed to the door. If you want anything done right... The first thing that stood out was the soft golden glow that radiated past the gathered crowd of ponies.  Noble Guide stretched his gait to as regal of a trot as he could. The guard pony that followed him parted the crowd with but a few commanding words.  As the obstructions to his view moved aside, he slowed and then came to a complete stop and stared. There before him was a pair of glowing ponies, or more accurately ponies whose manes, tails and eyes glowed with a golden radiance. Their manes and tails shifted as if caught in a non-existent breeze.  The pair of ponies stood at perfect parade rest. Almost every detail made them look like the idealised solar Knight or Paladin. The only thing missing was the hardened bodies the two year long basic training enforced on even a guard cadet.  Slow waves of power radiated from them and brushed against his horn. After spending so long close to the solar princess, there was no way he could mistake her magic for anything else. Somehow these ponies were shrouded with a lesser version of her impressive presence.  Even as his mind tried to puzzle out what he looked at, how what he was sensing was even possible. The part of him that could always find any hint of plagiarism nagged at him. There was something familiar about one of them. The coat was unnaturally pale, as if bleached, and the professional expression did not fit the face it sat upon at all. He looked past the unnatural effects to the pony below. Height, bone structure, ear shape and length, all the things most ponies ignored in favour of only seeing base colours and cutiemarks. Yes… that’s Hammer Hoof, the violent bank robber of the Appleloosa gang.  Just what had Celestia done to these ponies?