//------------------------------// // 12- Praetorian of Rhodes // Story: Approaching Apotheosis // by KKSlider //------------------------------// “Thorax says the nymph clutches are being settled into the Crystal Caves,” Lacewing announced. “That’s… good,” I said. “You really need to schedule more visits to the Fifth Hive proper,” Lace told me. “Your presence is desperately needed– for a million different reasons. We’d all prefer it if you spent all of your time down there. You could at least move your office into the Crystal Caves; since everyling else is down there, it’d really speed things up.” I stopped and groaned as loud as I could. Lace rolled her eyes as she stopped to address my temper tantrum. “Grow a pair. You can see your marefriend in the mornings and afternoons. Do you at least understand the benefits of working inside the Hive? Actually being with your changelings every day, rather than hiding out in the pony Palace?” I stomped a hoof, “But I don’ wanna!” “A couple hours a day. That’s it.” “..... Fine,” I sighed. “But damn it, my office is going to have to be so damn luxurious! I want poor people for footstools! Gold-encrusted finger sandwiches! Everything!” “What the hell is a finger sandwich?” Lace frowned. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I’ll have a plate of them, all covered in literal gold shavings! Ugh… Yeah, fine. Since you’re in charge of the Crystal Cave retrofitting, Lace, make sure the royal wing has all the bells and whistles. I’ll move my workspace into there for the workday soon enough, probably after this Nightmare stuff. I'll work there for a few days of the week and spend the rest from an office in the Palace. I can spin it as closely tying our future with the Equestrians'. How are my changelings, by the way?” “Find out yourself.” “Okay… how are the nymphs? Are they getting accustomed to the Caves and being close to ponies?” “Find out yourself.” “I’d ask Thorax, but he’s been avoiding me,” I said, rubbing the back of a foreleg awkwardly. “He’s avoiding us,” Lace corrected, feeling just as guilty as I did. “Guess going behind his back like that really pissed him off.” “Yeah….” “Oh well,” Lace shrugged and started back down the hallway. “Let him stew in his anger. He’s not going to get any happier when we go back for round two and gut that fucking traitor.” “Not a good idea,” I told Lace after catching up. “We need to take several steps back and let that whole situation cool down. Capturing…. Tarsus again is one thing, but killing him is another thing entirely. One the ponies really don’t like. And it’s, like, the wrong thing to do.” “It’s the smart thing to do,” Lace insisted. I nodded, “Definitely. But we live with our food now. If we go around killing people when we feel like it, they’re going to take every excuse they can get to make life difficult– if not impossible. We’re already staring down the barrel of a food crisis, Lace.” Lace glanced at me, “... Can we just kill him a little bit? Just slightly?” “We can lock him in a box and throw away the key,” I offered. “It’s a start.” “But we’ll have to do that after things calm down in Griffonia,” I scratched my chin. We turned the corner and a quartet of Royal Guards came into view. They stood sentry on either side of a rather plain wooden door. They saluted as I approached, surprising both Lace and me. “Seems they’re starting to appreciate having a King in their midst,” Lace elbowed me. Ignoring her, I stepped between the guards and opened the door and walked through. The room I entered, a rather spartan storage room half-filled with various boxes, was today’s destination. Princess Celestia and Cadance were both waiting inside, going over several clipboards and examining gold and metal boxes that had been set aside from the rest. “Phasma,” Celestia greeted me. “Celestia, Cadance,” I returned. “Remarkable weather we’re having.” “Is it?” Cadance asked. “I’ve been stuck inside all day.” “No,” I said honestly. “Oh,” Cadance grunted. “Hello there. You’re…. C– no, Lacewing?” “Right you are!” Lace smiled. Cadance smiled for a second, before it fell from her face, “.... Right. You’re the one who carried out Phasma’s order a few days ago.” “We have some good news, finally,” Celestia butted in, gesturing to the contents of the room. “With the capture of the deserters in Trottingham, our recovery of Division-P artifacts and equipment is looking…. Far from complete, if I must be honest, but it’s seen rapid progress. This artifact in particular should hold special interest to you,” she said, nudging one of the gold boxes towards me. Gently, I picked up the box, lifted the lid, and peered inside. “It’s… jewelry?” I asked. “More than just the edgy necklace it appears to be,” Cadance said. “It’s a puzzle that has left Celestia confused for centuries. Now, it seems, we have an answer.” “Confused is an overstatement,” Celestia interrupted. “It was merely an unsolved mystery. I wasn’t losing any sleep at night or anything like that.” “So what is it?” I asked, lifting the charm out. It was a red diamond-shaped gem set in a gray and black triangle pendant, with the silhouette of an alicorn rising above the triangle. “The Alicorn Amulet,” Celestia told me. “The source of several headaches in ages past. Division-P had recovered it while scouring the kingdom for changelings. I was originally planning on simply locking it back up, but Lace revealed something interesting…” “There was a team of changelings helping in the Trottingham operation,” Lace quickly explained. “One of them reported this artifact’s existence to me, and on a hunch, I checked in with Sting. She’s going to confirm it when they arrive in the First Hive, but according to our notes, the Alicorn Amulet matches one of the empty plinths in the First Hive’s vault.” My eyebrows raised in surprise, “It’s a changeling artifact?” “Makes me wonder what other magical trinkets come from your species,” Celestia muttered. “Several ponies with delusions of grandeur had used this artifact in the past to try to usurp power. I imagine your ancestors created the Alicorn Amulet in their attempts to emulate the power of an alicorn.” I placed it back in the box, “Can it? Emulate the power of an alicorn, I mean.” “Hardly,” Celestia laughed. “Though, it does give the user quite the boost in power. The cost for this power and knowledge is the gradual corruption of the user. I had assumed that it came from one of the mage towers in Canterlot. Those nobles would do anything to achieve ascension…” “Little do they know what’s associated with that word. Let’s go with your plan of sealing it up for now,” I said, closing the box. “Dealing with a magical artifact that corrupts its users is a bit too much to take on right now. We can look into researching it safely after the Umbrum and King Sombra have been dealt with. No point creating turncoats before that point.” “I agree,” Cadance chimed in. “Less so about the studying part.” “It’s an ancient changeling artifact. At the very least, we can learn more about who we once were,” I said. “Let’s address that when the time comes,” Celestia said diplomatically. “For now, I’ll secure it in the Palace’s vaults. The rest of the contents of this room are… less important. The Amulet was the most notable item. Still, they belong to the Fifth Hive.” “Actually, there’s one more thing you should see,” Lace said. “In that box over there, in the center of the room.” The box she gestured to was a wooden crate marked with ‘UC11’ across the side. Curious, the pair of ponies followed me as I trotted over. I pried open the wooden lid and set it aside. The contents of the crate were hidden under paper wrapping, but a good two-thirds of the box was occupied by bulky objects. “The one in the middle,” Lace pointed out from over my shoulder. At her suggestion, I gently lifted up the middle package. It was sizable yet light. Presumably, it was hollow on the inside. I pried away the brown paper that the object was wrapped in, discarding it without care. When I saw a glint of orange, my pace quickened and I tore away the rest with feverish intent. Soon enough, I found myself clutching an orange helmet. It was a Praetorian design, one of two ever created. One set of the orange Praetorian armor was sitting unused somewhere in the Fourth Hive. The second had been lost with its bearer; the lost member of the First Fang, who had died during the First Invasion of Canterlot. Praetorian Oestridae, shadow and loyal bodyguard of Prince Phasma. The friend I had sent to his death. I fell to my haunches and lifted the empty helmet to look into its empty eyes. When I spoke, my voice was quiet and gravely, like I had swallowed sandpaper. “A changeling who gives everything to the hive ascends above The Great Tapestry, to the realm of The Six Halls,” I recited. “Those were his words. Who the hell knows what’s in those halls, but that’s where he’s supposed to be…” The pair of Princesses kept respectfully silent as I continued, “According to one Human belief, warriors fallen in battle are taken to the afterlife by Valkyries, the warrior-angels of Valhalla. They would drink and fight and be merry for the rest of eternity up there.” “Sounds… touching,” Cadance offered. “I can taste your disgust, pony,” I said quietly. “Funny thing is, if that’s the afterlife that awaited Oest, he’d probably hate me for getting him killed. He hated being a guard, after all. Only signed up to be my Praetorian since I personally asked him. Knowing him, he’s probably up in the Six Halls doing something like starting a garden or taking up meditation, trying and failing to figure out how other people relax.” Lace shook her head, “More likely, he’s getting shit-faced drunk, wondering how long it’ll take for his friends to join him.” “Heh, yeah,” I muttered, turning the helmet over in my hooves. “It’s… never easy,” Celestia said. “Nor does it get any easier. If anything, the foresight of what’s going to happen just makes it worse. But… the pain fades with time. I’m sorry for your loss, Phasma.” “Didn’t you lose some guards, too?” I asked. “When Chrysalis attacked? What were their names?” “Moon Dust, Stitch ‘N Time, Rolfor Strength, and Green Hoof,” Celestia recited without hesitation. “Close?” “They were part of my personal guard rotation for the past four years,” Celestia explained. “Two of them were on my rotation for eight. Every year, I got their foals Hearth's Warming gifts. This year, I got them killed.” “It wasn’t your fault…” Cadance said. “Hardly the same thing as ordering someone to die,” I agreed, “but I get your point, Celestia. I’m sure there are a thousand more stories you’re holding in your heart. I’m sorry for your loss. All of them.” “Thank you,” Celestia sighed. “Both of you…” “I’m also sorry,” Lace added. Celestia snorted, “Thanks, Lacewing. Though now that I think about it… Ah, we’ll talk about it later. Now’s not the time.” I replaced the lid on the box slowly, “I should also say thank you, Lace. This means a lot to me.” “It means a lot to all of us,” Lace countered. “Coxa, Thorax, and I all agree: we want his armor on display, where his memory will be honored.” “... Get the second set from the old Hive when you get the chance, Lacewing. When we start decorating my office, we’ll have both sets standing next to each other.” With this meeting concluded, I had just one more important thing to do today. One more thing before the afternoon filled with my various meetings with the Fifth Hive’s leadership, at least. ‘Thorax. I’ve avoided him for too long.’ Tracking down Thorax turned out to be more difficult than I first thought. He was avoiding me as much as I was avoiding him. It took me until the late afternoon to manage to find him, since my efforts were constantly sidetracked by the necessary duties of ruling a species. Thorax wasn't in the Palace. He hadn't set hoof inside there since the night I ignored him and ordered the assassination. Instead, he had spent his time in the Crystal Caves and the daily sortie out into the city. Learning his current schedule from a pair of helpful lings, I managed to find him as he conducted one of his new operations in Canterlot. Which brought me to his…. Friendship Workshop. Despite the garish title, it was actually a pretty smart idea. Thorax managed to secure a weekly reservation at one of Canterlot's community centers and was hosting an array of activities, all aimed at helping changelings become accustomed to Equestrian society, as well as helping any pony brave or interested enough to stop by to understand changelings. I sat in the back, almost out of sight, and quietly chatted with a few drones as Thorax stood at the front of the large room, hosting his workshop. Today he was trying to get the changeling to understand consumer economics. 'And good luck to him with that.' The drones offered me an insight as to why they all bothered to show up: most were interested in the skills and opportunities that Thorax offered, but a few were just taking the excuse to try to meet ponies. Being in a relationship with one and providing love for the Hive came with many benefits, after all. I warned them to not creep out any ponies that stumbled into Thorax's newly found cult. They seemed to take my advice to heart… Then again, I am the King. They might be listening to my title more than anything else. As an afterthought, I told them to keep attending Thorax's workshops to get an understanding of when it's appropriate to ask someone out. I seemed to have arrived towards the tail-end of the workshop, as Thorax finished answering questions and gave a quick recap of what he covered today. Apparently, he was teaching the drones the basics of income, expenses, budgeting, stores, prices, taxes, and so on. As it turned out, the current strategy was to rely on changelings who actually knew about that stuff, in addition to pulling that information from my personal Weave. Given that I actually had some education in economics, that should have been less surprising than it was. When Thorax finally finished up his little class, I got up from my seat in the back and stalked over to him. Drones got out of my way, bowed, and offered greetings as I passed. I smiled and returned the greeting when I could, but Thorax had quickly noticed my approach and had started to excuse himself from the few drones lingering around to talk to him. I caught up to the Prince as he trotted through an empty and dim hallway. "Thorax!" I called out. With a sigh, he stopped and turned to face me. "King Phasmatodea." "Thorax, I need to talk to… Look, can we talk?" He glared up at me, "We seem to be talking already, King Phasmatodea." I cringed, "Thorax, please. I came here to talk with you, heart to heart." "I know. I sensed your Weave and knew you were in this part of the city. What do you want, Phasmatodea?" "I'm sorry," I said. "Sorry for what?" "Thorax, can you please cut the crap? I ignored you and gave the order. I fucked up and I'm sorry." Thorax shook his head, "You walked all over me. What was my purpose in the First Fang? What did you tell me was the reason why you kept me close?" "... I wanted your counsel." "Yet you can just ignore me whenever what I'm saying is inconvenient?" He hissed. "You acted like it was pointless. That I was pointless. I tried so hard to help you, to steer you away from killing needlessly. But you ignored me. Discarded me. Well, sorry to tell you, Phasma," he spat my name with venom, "but now I have something more. Lings listen to me when I talk to them. I can actually help others. I have a purpose!" "I said I'm sorry, Thorax!" I insisted. "I was wrong to treat you that way! I broke my word and treated you as less than equal. That was wrong." "Sorry doesn't change the past," Thorax huffed. "You saw only your feelings and decided to take what you wanted. You and Lace both. At least she has the excuse of blaming Tarsus for being tortured! What do you have?!" "He tried to get me killed! He got Oest killed!" "Despite your reincarnation, you really are your mother's son. You promised us- you promised the drones that they wouldn't have to fear for their lives in your kingdom. Tarsus wasn't a threat. Not anymore. He wasn’t trying to kill you when you tried to have him assassinated. You just acted out on your feelings, ignoring me when I stood right in front of you and told you that you were making a mistake." "I'm sorry-" "You're not sorry!" He yelled, pushing against my chest. "You're not sorry that you broke your word! You're not sorry that you ordered an assassination! You're sorry that you're facing the consequences of your actions. Nothing more. I've tried reasoning with you. But I… I can't. Not anymore. Not right now. I'm sorry Phasma, but I need some space and time to think." "What can I do to fix this?" Thorax frowned, "... First, you can set in stone the rights of drones. You're on the right path, have been from the beginning, but this cannot happen again." "The constitution is being written," I nodded. "Second, you have to swear that you'll never go against a member of the First Fang again. Not for these group decisions." "I promise-" "Not good enough. Not anymore. You have to swear. Swear to Panar, to Luna, to whoever the hell you care about anymore." "... I swear to Panar, Luna, and the First Fang that we are equals, none above the other." That mollified Thorax a bit. He gave me a half-nod and cleared his throat. "Finally, you have to fix Tarsus's eyes and pardon him." "What?!" I gasped. "Thorax, are you insane?!" "I swear at times that I'm the only sane one in this Hive. No, Phasma, I'm serious. You have to heal and pardon the traitor." "Healing is one thing, but I will never give that scum a pardon!" I seethed. "The only thing I'll give him is a retrial! That's the best he's going to get, and he'd better be thankful!" "That won't work, Phas," Thorax sighed. "What won't work?!" "The retrial. You won't find any ling who will give him a proper judgment. Every single changeling will kill Tarsus now." I froze as I tried to understand his reasoning. My brain kept skipping at the 'pardon' part. "Think about it, Phas. You, the King, have passed judgment against Tarsus. Doesn't matter if you walk it back and task some drones to rejudge the trial, none of them would deliver a different verdict. None of them would go against the King. Even the former Fourth Hive loyalists would sacrifice Tarsus to pardon themselves and ingratiate themselves with you. He's burned. Noling will touch him, lest they face your wrath." "... Do they all know about the assassination order?" "If they don't yet, they will eventually. Not to mention the fact that you already banished him." I tried to think of a solution. Before I could come up with anything, Thorax turned away, "Those are my terms for… forgiving you. Until then, it's up to everyling else to help you. I need a break. Oh, and one more thing: Lace needs a therapist, too."