//------------------------------// // Interlude 6: Pale Scepter // Story: And so I left // by CrimsonS4ge //------------------------------// Pale Scepter POV: The Lord-Duke of Fillydelphia knocked back his glass of whisky in a single gulp before slamming the tumbler down on his mahogany desk with a scowl on his face. The noble was not having a very good day. Not a good day at all. To be fair, he rarely ever had any good days. Between disobedient New Towns undermining his authority at every turn, disgruntled peasants refusing to pay taxes, and opportunistic minor nobles nipping at his heels, he found no end to his daily frustrations. However, today was a special kind of awful that went far beyond his usual minor irritations. The project that he had spent months planning was falling apart around him. He had invested so much into this venture, called in so many favours and made so many promises that if lost this gamble, he would lose everything. However, the rewards promised to him for success were so great that it was worth the risk… …or at least he thought that it was worth the risk. Now that he was staring down the barrel of complete an abject failure before the preparation phase of his plan had even concluded, he was starting to reconsider some of his recent life decisions. He was in too deep now though. He has promised too much to too many powerful parties. He should have been smarter, more diligent, planned more redundancies and had more viable candidates waiting in the wings for a situation like this but he never imagined that he would be so badly undone by such an unlikely run of foul luck. That storm. That fucking storm. A ‘once in a decade tropical cyclone’, the Harbour Master had told him. A ‘freak event’, had been assured by the Head Weather Director. Apparently, the ESS Sunrise had been one of six vessels that had been lost at sea that day off the coast of Trottingham. Sunk along with its entire crew, including his assembled crack team of leading experts, veterans and specialists that he had hoof-chosen and vetted over the course of months for his mission. Now the window of opportunity was rapidly closing and he had nothing to show for his efforts. It was as though the universe itself was plotting against him. With a snarl, he picked up the glass in his telekinesis and hurled it against the far wall of his large office. The shattered shards fell to the floor. He held his head in his hooves for a moment, resting his elbows on the desktop and let out an explosive sigh in an attempt to relieve some of his built-up stress. He tried to think logically about his situation. His plan could still work. He just needed the right team to get it done. He could try to recruit ponies locally, in hopes of salvaging the expedition but he was unlikely to acquire the expertise he needed to succeed in such a short timeframe. The door to his office crept open slowly. “Are you alright, sir?” A nervous voice asked with trepidation. “I'm fine, Vermilion.” The Lord-Duke replied in a terse tone, not lifting his head from his hooves and hoping that his young assistant would get the hint that he would like to be left alone to his brooding. However, instead of leaving him in peace, Vermilion opened the door fully and trotted inside. The noble was about to snap at the young stallion but his assistant spoke first. “I have the report that you requested, sir.” Vermilion spoke in a nervous, soft-spoken voice. “The one from Valley Dale.” Pale Scepter's attention peaked at that. He lifted his head and gave a small, wry chuckle. The Lord-Duke had laughed himself hysterical when he had heard the news about how the mighty Las Pegasus pegasi had gotten their muzzles bloodied by a plucky New Town in the backwaters of his province. Details about the failed raid were incredibly sparse, even for a pony such as himself, and he had been eagerly awaiting the full report to make its way to him. Ever since Las Pegasus had so ruthlessly plundered his family's summer manse in Silver Shoals a decade ago, he had despised the pegasi raiders with a burning hatred. He couldn't wait to indulge himself in all the finer details of their deserved humiliation. “Give it here, please.” The noble requested in a much more pleasant tone. This was exactly the balm to his bitter mood that he needed at the moment. Somewhat caught off-guard by the sudden whiplash of his employer's mood, Vermilion nonetheless complied and gave over the bound stack of parchment papers. Pale Scepter began to read through the papers. However, his catharsis soon gave way to deep fascination the more he read. His small, lighthearted smile turned into a contemplative neutrality as he sat straighter in his chair. Vermilion still stood across from his boss's desk. He quietly scuffed his hoof on the carpet in an involuntary, habitual tick as a result of his nervousness and discomfort. He hadn't been dismissed as usual and still needed the report back so that a copy could be made and sent to the Everfree Castle. So with no choice, he awkwardly stood and watched his employer wordlessly read through the lengthy report as the minutes ticked by. Sometime later, as Pale Scepter finished the last page of the report, he slowly set the stack of pages down on his desk and leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling with a pensive look, as though pondering a momentous choice. Eventually after looking to come to a decision, Pale Scepter met Vermilion's gaze with a serious expression. “Who else has read this report?” The noble asked, his voice deliberate and business-like. Vermilion, still somewhat perturbed at his Lord's complete change of tact, answered promptly regardless. “Commander Tungsten brought the report directly to me and I brought it directly to you. So the three of us, plus presumably some of the ponies under Tungsten's command who collected the information.” Pale Scepter merely nodded in understanding, taking a further moment to digest the words. He then picked up the report with his telekinesis and tossed it to the edge of his desk, directly in front of Vermilion. “Rewrite this report and burn the original.” The Lord-Duke of Fillydelphia ordered. “Remove any and all mention of Starry Night. Downplay the significance of the battle. Say that it was a small, splinter raiding party from Las Pegasus that got defeated by a particularly heroic defensive effort by the town's guards, not the actual cloud city itself and not by a single Mage. Tell the Commander to make similar edits to his reports and to swear his soldiers to silence.” Vermilion stood stunned at the barrage of commands that was directed at him, incredulous at the blatant fraudulence that he was being ordered to commit. However, the noble was not finished with his instructions. “Have all of the criers and newsreaders under our employ relay this new version of events to the populace. After that, pass the revised report on to Everfree.” “Sir!” Vermilion exclaimed, scandalised at the prospect of willfully lying to their Princesses. Pale Scepter didn't acknowledge his objection though and charged right ahead with the planning of his scheme. “This Mage is still at Valley Dale, correct?” The unicorn inquired seriously. Still not entirely certain how to react to the highly illegal plot proposed by his employer, Vermilion resorted to the mask of obedient professionalism that he had trained to wear when dealing with nobles. “Yes, she is still unconscious from her injuries and recovering at a local clinic.” The noble grinned at that. “Good. Dispatch a squadron of guards to Valley Dale. I want Starry Night brought to me as soon as she wakes, forcefully if necessary.” Vermilion's eyes widened at that. “Ummm, you want her… arrested, sir?” He asked in confusion, glancing down at the report that detailed the selfless heroics that the Mage had performed. “No, no. Certainly not!” Pale Scepter chuckled slyly. “I simply have a job opportunity for her.” Not knowing what to do with that piece of information, Vermilion simply walked slowly out of the room without another word to carry out his orders. As the door closed behind his assistant, the Lord-Duke leaned back into his chair and magically poured himself another glass of whisky. A toast of celebration this time, rather than an attempt to numb his misery. His plan might not be dead in the water after all. It was still a tremendous risk but he was feeling confident. The emergence of this Mage was exactly the windfall of good fortune that he badly needed. She was perfect in every way for his plan. From her power to her background. The written testimonial from one of Valley Dale's surviving gate guards was of particular interest to him. One way or another, he would have her on his leash. The stakes were too high for him to accept her refusal. Unlocking a hidden compartment in his desk, he retrieved a Trillium Crystal and set it delicately on the desk in front of him. He had to inform other interested parties that his part of the venture was proceeding as scheduled. His Benefactor had promised him a seat on the Council of Nobles upon completion of his given mission.