//------------------------------// // Chapter 35 // Story: H A Z E // by Bandy //------------------------------// Giesu woke before dawn with the mother of all hangovers kicking in his head. Just get it over with, he thought as he lurched out of bed. One miserable day for a lifetime of power. Just do it. He staggered through the dark estate, his joints sticking like doors with bent hinges. The few guards he passed paused to salute him. He didn’t bother returning the gesture. He needed all four hooves firmly underneath him, or he would fall over for sure. Outside, he moved silently through the elaborate gardens, to the wall on the outermost edge of the periphery. Derecho glowed beyond the wall, a flame on a million wicks. It would all be his soon. At the predetermined hour, a mare dressed in black leapt over the wall. A mask concealed her face. Her mane and tail were both completely shaved. Her cutie mark was covered. “Good morning,” she said. Giesu took out a rolled-up piece of parchment and stuffed it into her hooves. “I need them all gone by sundown.” The mare paused. A pair of expressive green eyes flickered from the senator to the list. “There’s forty names on here.” “Forty two. Can you get it done or not?” “That wasn’t the agreement.” “I’ll pay double. Times are changing.” She paused. “Give me until tomorrow morning.” “That’s fine. Now go.” “Senator.” She paused on the verge of speaking. “What?” “It’s, uh.” She pointed to her face. “Your nose.” He touched his face and was surprised to find it wet. A small torrent of blood gushed out. “Oh.” He touched it again and flicked the blood onto the clouds. “That’s nothing.” The mare in black shrugged. Then she hopped back over the wall. With one hoof plugging his bleeding nose, Giesu couldn’t keep his balance. He made it about ten wavering steps before falling facefirst into a flowerbed. Perennial sweetness mingled with the smells of copper and pesticides. If the blood hadn’t already ruined his robe, the dirt definitely did. But that didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered. Plenty more blood would flow today. On the list he’d given the mare in black were the names of the forty two senators currently serving . In public, he derided these senators as, “menaces to freedom and decent society. In private, he had less restraint. They were dumb dirt-licking impediments to progress, and they had to die. In his haste, Giesu had to forgo cleaning his face for the moment. He made his way to the upper levels of Romulus’s complex, to a spacious conference hall where his assistant LeBaine was waiting for him. The last of LeBaine’s mane went grey when he saw Giesu. He leapt out of his seat. “Holy gods, senator—” “I’m fine, it’s just a nosebleed. Now—” “Are you sure? That’s so much blood.” “Are you my doctor?” LeBaine settled back into his seat. “No, senator.” There was still a look of worry in his eyes, but LeBaine was a smart pony. He knew better than to argue. “Are you ready?” Giesu asked. LeBaine pulled out a quill and readied a piece of parchment on the desk. “Ready.” Their draft of Giesu’s speech, cut in a meager fifteen minutes and sealed to the page in LeBaine’s elegant unicorn script, went something like this: Citizens of Derecho, Tragedy paves a path for change. Three days ago, we watched in horror as the flower of Derechan pride and prosperity was scorched by a cowardly attempt on my life. Today, we have a silver lining: a path to justice. We have received damning new evidence of treachery within the ranks of Derecho’s honored political elite. Facts have come to light incriminating certain elements within the esteemed senatorial ranks. These senators paid a criminal party to start a fire in General Romulus’s terrarium using alchemical magic and lasers, which they shined through the room’s windowed sunroof. As you are all painfully aware of, the fire and subsequent collapse of the terrarium led to the untimely deaths of over a hundred creatures on the ground, many of whom were Derechan citizens. Their blood is on these senators’ hooves. I will not stand idly by while my fellow citizens are murdered like animals. This gross act of deceit was no doubt inspired by the success of Romulus’s armies abroad. Perhaps they grew jealous. Perhaps they were scared. In any case, they acted rashly. I am here to punish them for those rash actions. As I am speaking to you know, general Romulus and his loyal legionnaires have secured the capital and arrested those who so ignobly attempted to shirk the powers of justice from you, the citizens of Derecho. I, and by extension general Romulus, are merely loyal citizens of Derecho performing a necessary pruning of corrupt branches from this tree of liberty. Freedom is blood. It’s sacrifice. It’s the great burden we all must bear. I assure you that, when the dust settles, this city and its empire will be stronger than it has ever been before. Tragedy paves a path for change. Together with general Romulus, we will navigate Derecho through this difficult period of change. Never forget our strength. Derecho drinks the blood of those who wish to kill it, and grows stronger. Martial law will be instituted following the conclusion of this speech. Anypony out of their home past eight PM tonight will be summarily arrested for conspiracy to commit treason. The sun had just peaked over the horizon when Giesu said his goodbyes to LeBaine and moved downstairs to meet with Romulus’s second in command, a young pegasus general named Sparrowshot. When Sparrowshot saw him, he drew his sword and asked in a completely sincere voice, “Where’d they come from? Where did they get you?” Giesu suppressed a bitter laugh. “Nosebleed. It’s fine.” “Are you sure?” “Worry about your own objectives, general.” “Of course, senator. My apologies.” Sparrowshot put away his sword and took out a small map of the city. “Are we still on?” “We are. I need the senatorial forum cleared by 11 for my big speech. Lock it all down.” “Understood.” Sparrowshot faltered. “Are we...” “What?” “Should we expect resistance, senator?” “Resistance? Of course not.” Giesu thought of the assassin mare moving among the shadows, delivering poison to cups and knives to throats. The mare didn’t know about Sparrowshot’s plans, nor did Sparrowshot know about her. If they were to somehow meet, things could get hairy. But he didn’t say that out loud. He repeated, “Of course not,” then said, “This isn’t a warzone. Don’t go picking unnecessary fights.” “Understood.” Sparrowshot looked visibly relieved. “All glory to the republic. It’s an honor to participate in this operation.” Giesu paused, momentarily taken aback. Was Sparrowshot mocking him? The headache made it impossible to think clearly. In the end, he waved the words off and dismissed the general. He wiped the side of his face and felt all the dried blood caking his fur in little red tributaries. Next stop was the kitchen for a snack, and—sweet relief!—a sink to wash his face in. As the water warmed in the basin, he picked out a particularly large hunk of cheese from the larder and paired it with a generous cut of sourdough from the bread drawer. Just before he stuck his head underwater, he paused. He chuckled a little to himself. Then he picked up the serrated knife he’d used to cut his bread and chucked it across the kitchen as hard as he could. The blade thudded into something. A pony cried out in the darkness. Giesu grabbed another knife. “Show yourself,” he commanded. He heard the other pony stumble towards the door. A match scratched against stone. Soft candlelight flooded the room. It was Flannel, Hypha’s mushroom making assistant. His jaw hung open in shock. His eyes were bright pinpricks in the dark. In one hoof, he clutched a cold slice of quiche. “Uh,” Flannel said. “Senator.” The quiche fell to the floor with a wet plop. The knife Giesu had thrown, now embedded in the wall next to Flannel, caught the light as it wobbled. Giesu stared Flannel down. “What are you doing?” “I’m sorry.” Flannel dropped into a bow. Bits of the dropped quiche smeared his fur. “No one’s brought us anything to eat since the fire.” The fire. Flannel had been in the terrarium that night. He knew the truth. If he talked, it could throw everything off track. The calculus was grim, but simple. Flannel had to die. Giesu squeezed the knife in his hoof. Not here. Not yet. He set the knife down. For the moment, time was on his side. He had complete control of Flannel. When the time was right, he could simply summon Flannel to a private part of the estate, and he’d come running. The thought brought a smile to Giesu’s face. “I’m sorry,” Giesu said. “I seem to be high-strung as of late.” “Completely understandable, senator.” Flannel scooped up the destroyed quiche from the floor with a sad sort of resignation on his face. “I’ll clean this up. Sorry.” Giesu opened up the refrigerator and fished around until he’d found the rest of the quiche. He extended the tin to Flannel, who flashed a look of pure puppy dog gratitude. “Can you walk and eat?” Giesu asked. “I need you to take me somewhere.” “Of course, senator. I’ll take you wherever you need to go. Just say the word.” Giesu smiled. “Take me to Hypha.” A chunk of quiche shot out Flannel’s nose. The gratitude fled from his face. “Well, um.” He hacked up another piece of crust. “I’m not really sure where he’s at right now. Probably out somewhere.” “He can’t leave the estate.” Giesu heard the harshness in his own voice and softened it. “Or so I heard. Perhaps that’s changed.” “Oh. Uh, no it hasn’t. I meant out, but inside.” Flannel’s sheepish smile gave him away. “Yup.” “Can you take me to the terrarium, then?” “No. I mean, I can take you, senator. But why would you want to go back there?” “Curiosity.” Flannel went pale. “I. Uh.” His quiche-crusted lips started to tremble. “Did you know you’re bleeding?” “It’s nothing. Now, the terrarium—” “I gotta tell you senator, he’s probably not even there. If’n we could try the other side of the estate, uh, if, that is—he likes to meditate in the gardens sometimes. Maybe—” Giesu strode over to the smaller earth pony and put a hoof on his shoulder. Flannel trembled like a leaf in a hurricane. “The terrarium, Flannel. Lead the way.” Just outside the terrarium entryway, Flannel and Giesu spotted Hypha. He had an empty bucket on his back, presumably to draw water from one of the estate’s central cloud wells. He froze when he saw Giesu. The bucket dropped from his back. “Hypha,” Flannel said, “it’s okay. It’s okay buddy. He’s not gonna hurt you. He’s not—” Hypha took off in the opposite direction. Giesu pushed Flannel aside and trotted after him. Soot from the fire had stained the terrarium a tornado shade of grey. Bleak light filtered in through the soot-stained cloudstone. What glass was left in the skylight was warped and blackened. Temporary clouds plugged the gaps. Dew dripped off the skeletal metal frame. Hypha scrambled over loose rigging and rubble, desperate to put distance between himself and Giesu. The senator planted himself firmly in the entryway, sealing off any chance of escape. A momentary standoff ensued. “Giesu,” came a voice from behind them. Giesu turned and saw General Romulus stride into the room. Romulus was kitted out in full parade attire, complete with gilded black and red armor polished to a shine and an ornate helmet plumed with red feathers. In one hoof, he cradled a spear. Giesu turned slowly to face Romulus. “General,” he said with a bow, “I’m honored.” “The honor is all mine,” Romulus said in a tone that made it clear it wasn’t. “What are you doing here?” “I could ask the same of you.” Giesu noticed he had a sword too, a short earth pony model strapped to his shoulder for easy access. “Are you going out for another parade today?” “Today just felt glorious,” Romulus said. “So I dressed the part.” “It does feel glorious, doesn’t it?” The glower on Romulus’s face grew deeper. “You ordered my legionaries to go on alert.” Anger flashed through Giesu’s mind, but he kept his face impassive. “I don’t order your ponies around. That’s not my place.” “It most certainly isn’t. Yet my generals are organizing columns in the street and marching towards the senatorial forum. I didn’t order that.” Giesu couldn’t even find the energy to deny it. He merely smirked. “You said it yourself. Today just feels glorious.” Romulus brought the spear up, resting it on his shoulder with the point facing away from Giesu. This was another one of the general’s tricks. Giesu had seen it before. The general would walk up to him, appearing to be peaceful, then at the last moment he’d drive the butt end of the spear into his forehead and knock him to the ground. By the time he could recover, Romulus could swing the spear around and get two or three good pokes in—more than enough to do an old pony like himself in. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. It’s happening, he thought. It’s really— From somewhere behind him came the sharp report of shattering glass. Something whizzed through the air and hit the floor next to Giesu, then skittered off into the shadows. Before he could get a good glimpse at the object, another flew in. This one hit him in the shoulder and spun him around. He saw a wooden knife hilt protruding just beneath his collarbone. His legs trembled. He fell softly to his haunches, staring dumbly at the knife. His lips moved, but the air in his lungs vanished like cloudstone in a fire. Something across the room caught his eye. The shadows languishing in the corners of the burnt-out terrarium coalesced into a blue-coated mare. She moved like a snow leopard, circling, searching for an opening. Then from above came a familiar war cry. A red mare burst through the shattered remains of the terrarium’s glass roof. Her hooves were wrapped in protective leather up to her knees. Black paint obscured her cutie mark. Fire crackled in her sunken eyes. She opened her mouth and roared.