The waning sun of the late afternoon enhanced the red glow of the streets of Stalliongrad as Daring walked by. She had arrived earlier in the day by plane, and had to check in with customs for a considerable amount of time. She hadn't even reached her hotel yet.
She glanced at the posters lining every corner with disdain. They were propaganda, meant to advance the patriotism of the loyal Hoofiet citizens that read them. She could read and speak the language, and was appalled by the message. It was basically an encouragement to spy on one's neighbor, and report any anti-government sentiment. The reddish poster was illustrated with the white outline of a large mare with extended ears, while raising a hoof to her mouth in a silencing motion.
Daring had little respect for the Hoofiets and their totalitarian government, but realized her need to put a straight face on and pretend to be a happy visitor. She had acquired tickets to the gala through the goodness of Dusty's heart, and because he knew a pony in these parts that was a nut on the subject of the palace itself, and of the Imperial era.
"Daring," Dusty had said to her, "Had it been any other pony that approached me about getting tickets to a gala on the other side of the planet, I would have told them to forget it. However, having had you as a colleague and friend for several years, I'm confident that you have a very good reason." She had then explained what was going on to Dusty, who had been intrigued at the possibility of discovering the King's lost tomb. It had interrupted his fascination with the reports of raptors to the south, at any rate. He had made the arrangements, and had even helped to finance the cost of the plane trip over.
But that was more than a day ago. Now Daring was approaching her hotel, an elegant building done up with beautiful railings on the edges of each room's balcony. As Daring passed into the interior, she found the inside to be elegant as well, which was odd considering the whole "everypony shares the same wealth" mentality that was the Hoofiets. One wouldn't find many ponies of upper class at all who could afford such a place.
But maybe it was older, and retained it's use as a hotel for travelers or Hoofiet government officials. That made sense to her, and she felt a bit of confirmation after she got in line behind a very official-looking stallion dressed with a shirt and tie and a pin representing the logo of his party. Daring's turn came next.
"Комната тридцать три," said Daring, which translated to "Room thirty three." The mare sitting at the clerk's desk was surprised, and replied to her in heavily accented equestrish.
"Not bad for an Equestrian," she remarked, "Daring Do, is it?"
"The same."
"Your key-" said the clerk, handing Daring a metal loop to stick over her hoof, from which dangled a little key marked "Room 33". Daring thanked her, and proceeded up to her hotel room, dragging her suitcase with her gala dress and bullwhip behind her. She hadn’t brought her pith helmet or her adventuring shirt this time, but had left them at her home on her bed.
She didn't notice the pony with the graying beard watching her from behind the newspaper's edge, or the yellow-maned mare that wore a shawl over the top of her head and turned sharply to glance at the stallion.
****
The smooth sound of a harp being played by an older stallion contrasted with the reverberating voices of chatting ponies in the great hall of the palace. Daring stared at the view wide-eyed, reveling in the grandiose appearance and architecture. Around each doorway was a set of golden curls embossed around the edges, a style that Canterlot buildings had emulated during the Imperial period when this region was more culturally vibrant. While Canterlot buildings looked great, this was something much different. Great wasn’t adequate, the palace was simply marvelous, no, magnificent.
For her part, Daring’s appearance was much more grand than one might expect. The down-to-earth mare whom most ponies might expect to see drenched in sweat and smeared with caked mud was done up with makeup. Her eyelashes were heightened, her eyelids colored, and her complexion softened by powders. Her mane had been washed, combed, and neatly separated into different shades of grayish black all the way up to a steel color. The back of her mane was scrunched and wrapped in a ponytail, while her front mane was simply combed. It looked neat. Her dress was a light green, and was done up with whitish frills and lace around the edges, culminating in an ornate wrapping around her chest. She wore a pearl band around the top of her head, which had flowers placed on the side
As Daring noticed the other ponies, she could recognize the type. Here were the rich, the powerful and upper class (if an upper class can exist in a supposedly “classless” society) whose power and influence had been able to earn them favors with the corrupt Hoofiet government. Indeed, while the ideologies practiced by the Hoofiets were supposed to create an order that was based on common ownership and free of class rivalries, yet here was a group of the socially elite.
Daring recognized one of the older stallions from a picture she had been shown by Dusty Shelves. He beckoned her over with a wave of his hoof, and so Daring strolled up. The stallion wore a top hat and a monacle over his steel eyes, and had a stubbly white goatee protruding from his chin. The pony’s coat was of a creamy green color, but it had faded over the years.
“Здравствуйте, как дела ?” asked Daring, which translated to “Hello, how are you?” The stallion looked surprised, and nodded his head.
“I wasn’t aware you spoke my language, Miss Do,” he said, adjusting his monocle.
“Doctor, actually,” Daring corrected him, “I received my degree back in 1932, so I haven’t really gone by Miss Do for some time. You can call me Daring, though.”
“Ah, excuse me then Daring,” replied the stallion, “I’m Pavel, a friend of your very own Dusty Shelves from Canterlot.”
“Yes, Dusty did mention your name.”
“And how is old Dusty? Still in the books, still kicking around the museum rather than out and about? He usually prefers that.”
“Dusty’s been fine,” said Daring, blowing a strand of her hair out of her face after it had drooped down over her eye, “He’s still the curator, and what a great job he does at that, too. I can’t say that he’s been to the field that much, I’m usually his go-to mare for that sort of thing.”
“So what is it you’re in charge of, then?” asked Pavel, raising an eyebrow. He offered Daring a glass of vodka off from a platter that was passing by. She accepted the glass, taking a small sip before replying to his question.
“I’m the head of the Equine History division, as well as the research coordinator for field operations that fall under my domain. So when I’m not out on a field assignment to retrieve something or to go with an expedition and study an area I’m usually at the museum doing research and writing papers. That or grading papers.”
“Grading papers?”
“Yeah, I teach history at the local University. Almost everypony who attends as a freshman takes that class, and then there’s an Archeology class for the more advanced level students who have that as their major. I usually have them come to the museum’s conference room for that, so I can display objects or take them to see something. It’s only right down the street from the main classroom I’m given.”
“Well, your reputation precedes you, at any rate. I’ve heard all about your exploits.”
“Have you?”
“Yes, retrieving the Sapphire Statue, your back and forth conflicts with the Gryphons down with the underground cities and the goblet, that incident that almost caused an international crisis about a year or so ago...”
“That was.... that was a misunderstanding,” Daring said sheepishly, “Ahuizotl built a false site within their borders, and they didn’t realize I was there to remove the sphere -he took that from another site, mind you- and so I got pegged with false charges. It all got resolved, of course, they dropped each one of them.”
“So you usually go and take the artifacts out?” asked the stallion, “Excuse me if I seem like I’m barraging you with questions, it’s just that I’ve heard quite a bit...”
“No, no problem,” Daring said, “And as for your question, yes and no. According to the International Treaty for the Preservation of Archeological Artifacts, it is only ethical to remove items when the area is decayed to the point of near collapse, or if the area is unsafe. Believe it or not, a lot of civilizations used to booby-trap chambers so that nopony could take their valuables.”
“So you sell them... or do you put them in the museum?”
“Sell them? Heavens no, that’s against the law. The only exception is Historical Institutions, which is what the museum is. They fund the acquisitions, and they receive any artifacts I recover. They usually research or archive them, perhaps display them if they’re of high importance.”
“Ooooooh, who is this?” came a light and airy female voice thick with the accent typical of Hoofiet ponies trying to speak english. She was a heavyset mare who seemed to be trying too hard to look glamourous. She wore an elegant dress of course, but her garments had reached the point of “too many frills”. She wore a white feathery boa around her neck, which matched the ivory sheen of her coat. Daring couldn’t see her cutie mark, for it was obscured by the fabric of the mare’s frilly dress.
“Honey, this is Daring Do, an archeologist from Equestria,” Pavel answered the female, “Daring, this is my wife.”
“How do you do?” Daring offered politely, extending a hoof. The pony seemed reluctant to shake it, but did so anyways.
“So how are things in the land of capitalist Equestria?” she asked, and Daring nearly choked on her sip of vodka, as did Pavel.
“Dearest, must we engage in name calling? I know you don’t like the-”
“It’s fine,” Daring mumbled, “I’m not a politician, I’m not here to defend one economic policy over another.”
Actually, I’m here to try to find an underground chamber, thought Daring, Which these two are delaying... better find an excuse to go off by myself and scope things out.
****
A stallion stepped out from behind a street corner, observing the Imperial Palace from a distance. The sun had set by now, and with the descent of night the stars were now out and visible under the purplish haze of the sky.
For being in the middle of a street in the city of Stalliongrad, this pony stood out. For one, he wasn’t dressed in either dress clothes or common worker’s attire. He was clad in a leather vest, and wore a battered hat over his head. He had a light blue coat and a darkish brown mane that was a little longer in the front, but not quite enough to cover his piercing blue eyes. The week’s worth of stubble on his face added to his out-of placeness in the city of well-groomed individuals out for a night at the gala.
He didn’t mind the odd stares that he occasionally got. For him, his appearance was of little consequence. What mattered was the task at hand. This stallion was looking towards the gates and the outer stone walls that surrounded the perimeter of the Imperial Palace. They were tall, tall enough to prevent one pony from entering the property, unless they were a pegasus. He didn’t have that going for him, being a common earth pony.
“What do you think?” asked a second stallion, stepping out from around the corner and out into the full view of the moon’s light. This stallion was yellowish, and was thinner, clean cut, and much less burly than the other. He also had the unmistakable look of a young buck, a colt that had reached the age of maturity but lacked the years of experience. Stubble had not graced his chin, and despite the similarly shaped fedora he wore atop his head he could not achieve the same rugged look of his ally.
“Well Audacity, you sure got us into a hell of a place here,” grumbled the burly one. Indeed his name was Burly, Burly Withers. While not a true Archeologist, he was a self-professed treasure hunter and expert on rare items. He made his living working for other ponies, institutions, and occasionally governments.
A third pony came out into the light this time, a small filly with an orange coat and wearing a cap over her messy gray hair. She had a large grin on her face, as if she knew that they were going to be doing something awesome.
Scootaround regretted disobeying Daring the way she did, but at the moment all that was quickly melting away as she sized up the grand palace with its tall turrets and wide stained glass windows glowing in the night. Music drifted down from the palace to the streets, gala music played by stringed instruments and a harp.
“Ok, here’s the plan,” Burly began, pulling his battered old hat down over his forehead, “We’re gonna get over that there wall one at a time. I’ll be on bottom, then Audacity, then Scootaround. Kid, you’re gonna have a rope with you, tie it off to something so we can get up and over.”
“Got it,” Scootaround replied with a salute.
Audacity had been the one to come up with this crazy plan, and he smiled as things began to come together. Daring had specifically told him that she couldn’t force him to stay. In the week that had elapsed since their last conversation and her subsequent leaving, he had been busy making plans. He pushed the date for the performance of Gaitspeare’s Hooflet back a few weeks. He had gotten into contact with Burly Withers. Burly was in possession of a cargo plane and a load of “adventuring gear”. He was intrigued by the tale Audacity had told him in letter, and had agreed to help them help Daring Do, a pony that he respected. Of course, his assistance came with a price, but it was one Audacity had been able to field.
Scootaround had tagged along due to Daring’s inability to find a foalsitter at the last minute. As Audacity had told Daring he wasn’t going anywhere, she had placed Scootaround in his care for the weekend. And so she had come with them. Burly had assured them that they would be able to get in, and that he would be willing to work alongside Daring. Apparently the two knew each other, go figure.
With a jump, Scootaround pushed off from Audacity’s back, and somersaulted over the wall with a rope clenched in between sets of teeth. She was on the other side of the wall, inside the palace yards.
“I’m in,”
“Good,” instructed Burly, “Now tie it off...”
****
With a click of the wire-cutter’s blades meeting, the chain came undone in an instant. Three ponies entered through the now-unlocked gate, into a dimly lit greenhouse full of flowers. They wore black clothing that was befitting of burglars, which was essentially what they were doing.
The chief of this group sniffed the air, catching the scent of the flowers. He shuddered, and sneezed quickly into his hoof to dampen the sound. Pollen didn’t agree with him.
“So where do we go from here?” asked the third pony, closing the gate that had allowed them to enter through the greenhouse. It was really a fluke that they had been able to do this at all; had the gardener been working that evening, there would be somepony present to stop them from entering the palace grounds. As it was, they were able to waltz on in like they owned the place, and then all that stood in their way would be the palace doors, conveniently open for the gala.
In short, Broken Bank’s plan had come together better than he had expected. The aging pony was convinced that they were close to gaining another link in a short chain- a chain that would lead them to immeasurable riches. Yes, despite their early hardships in the Badlands of Equestria, the Coalition was on it’s way to prosperity. Blue skies and lazy days, that’s what Broken Bank dreamed of. He saw himself swimming in his own wealth, and things were now looking as if they could pull it off.
“You know the plan,” he instructed his two assistants, “Get underground, and find the clues to the next location. If you find Daring Do, dispatch her however you see fit. And above all else, don’t get caught.”
This might actually work, he thought to himself with a grin.
****
Daring hiccuped as she stepped into the restroom, using it as an excuse to get away from the conversation. It wasn’t that she wasn’t interested in the small talk, but she had a job to do. not only that, but these ponies were buying her drinks left and right, and becoming intoxicated on vodka and fine wine would ruin her chances of being able to make use of the evening to find that underground chamber. She had imposed a limit on how many drinks she would take, and she had reached that limit. The time for social engagement was past. It was time to get cracking.
After a few moments had elapsed and she was sure that nopony was still watching the empty corridor that contained the mare’s restroom, she left. Darting down the hallway, Daring reached a section that split into two directions. The crossroads of the hall was was marked by a rather elaborate portrait of a past ruler, perhaps of the 18th century judging by his attire. To the left was an exit, on the side of the building and leading out to the courtyard containing the gardens and the fountain itself. That was where she needed to go.
Trotting quickly, Daring reached the end of the hall and pressed the large door open with her hooves, breathing in the cool air of the evening. The light of the moon illuminated part of the fountain itself, constructed in the form of a rearing war horse and spouting a trickle of water from its mouth. The floral gardens, which were comprised of rows of hedges and various flowers, was shrouded by the shadow of the building itself. Daring paid little attention to the garden, for it was the fountain that interested her. This was it, the last remnant of the old structure that had been built centuries prior to the palace that now sat atop it, and beneath there somewhere was a clue that would lead to the lost tomb of the first arabian empire’s final ruler. She was going to find it.
Just as soon as she could figure out how to open the damn thing.
****
Burly winced as he landed on his side on the hard cobblestone surface of the courtyard. He had slipped on the rope and toppled down the rest of the way, crashing onto the stone with a dull thump and groaning.
“You alright?” asked Audacity, looking genuinely concerned for the treasure hunter. Burly nodded through gritted teeth, and attempted to right himself. He pushed against the ground and got up onto all four hooves, shaking his head.
“That felt wonderful,” he said sarcastically. At least they were all in the courtyard by now. Burly coiled up the rope behind them as Audacity observed the courtyard a little more closely. There were on the side of the palace, near to a well and a few stone sculptures that had been erected as part of an art exhibition. They all depicted strong ponies, mare and stallion alike. Strong ponies dressed in the uniform of the Hoofiet Union, with stoic expressions. Audacity sighed.
“What is it, kid?”
“Even art is propaganda in this place,” Audacity noted, pointing at the statues. Burly tipped up the edge of his own cap, and squinted. He glanced over the statues and shook his head slowly.
“Yeah, that’s nice,” he said, “but we’ve got other things to worry about.”
Scootaround was near the well, peering down into the watery depths and seeing her reflection. Burly trotted over to the well and peered down it next to the filly.
“What’s so interesting?” he asked. Scootaround shrugged.
“Where’s Dr. Do?” was the filly’s question, to which Burly shrugged his wide shoulders. She could be anywhere at this point, inside at the gala, inside the palace looking for something they had overlooked, or perhaps she had already made her way underground.
Burly paused, hearing something moving at the edge of the flower garden. Audacity heard it as well, for he straightened up and raised his ears to listen more carefully. It was a rustling, somepony walking through the hedges. Not just through the garden, but through the hedges.
“Shhh...” Burly motioned to the others to keep quiet by holding a hoof to his mouth. He moved towards the noise slowly, not wanting to make a sound. There was a chance that whatever it was was not friendly, and he wanted to be able to see them before they could see him.
****
Daring was frustrated. She had tried many different ways of opening the passage that she knew was there, but she had yet to succeed. Pressing on parts of the water-spitting statue, parts of the ring around the outer edge of the fountain’s pool, even pressing down on the various pedestals closeby that had busts of unicorn heads wearing ornate helmets.
She decided to look closely at the statue, in hopes to find something amiss that might give her a clue. It was simple in its form, despite being reared back. The pony’s legs seemed fine, and were not chipped or oddly shaped. It’s head seemed fine to her, both ears stood tall and the snout was fixed in a circular spitting gesture (from which water trickled). The eyes were simply engraved in, though there were circular holes in each where the pupil would have been. That struck Daring as odd. Perhaps it was significant?
Daring kept the odd lack of pupils in mind as she surveyed each of the statues. They were of a darker tone, being made out of a different kind of rock. Each statue had different expressions, and all wore the same exact helmet. The helmet was squarish and looked rather crudely made, but considering the extreme old age of them, Daring wasn’t surprised. They looked like common helmets used by nomadic travelers to protect against rocks falling on them, which was a valid concern when ascending or descending mountain ranges.
The expressions were different on each statue, and Daring studied their faces closely. One had its eyes closed and mouth wide open in an expression of joyous laughter. Another had its eyes closed and teeth clenched, obviously angry. The eyes of the third...
The eyes of the third were wide open, and were lightly colored stone spheres. They could come loose, and matched the hue of the taller statue.
They were the taller statue’s eyes.
Working quickly, Daring cupped her hooves and tipped the small bust forwards so that the eyes came rolling out into her grasp. Stretching her wings, Daring floated up to the face of the fountain’s statue and thrust a sphere into each of the empty pupils. They didn’t stay lodged there, but merely sank into the statue and dropped out of sight.
Rats, thought Daring, it didn’t work.
But a moment later, she was awed as the statue began rumbling. The waters of the pool below it sank down into the ground, and the statue followed suit. It eased itself down slowly, creating a large circular hole where it had been before it disappeared into the darkness below.
The hole was wide enough for a pony to descend into it. Daring had found the opening to the underground structures. She happily smiled at her small success, and began to ease herself into the opening.
****
This is bad, Burly thought to himself as he watched a group of ponies sneak in through the garden, one at a time. There had to have been at least fifteen of them in all, three to lead and direct them and a whole bunch of others to follow orders. They were mostly dressed the same: black clothing with dark-lensed glasses and black fedoras with stingy brims. They had the air of spies, or possibly burglars. Whoever they were, their sneaking suggested an ulterior motive to Burly.
He knew of the Coalition for Archeological Procurement, that group that bastardized the name of all self-respecting archeologists. Like Daring, Burly was the kind of pony who wasn’t afraid to get their hooves dirty. He had spent years crawling around dangerous places in search for fortunes and fables, and in that time he had encountered this group before. He hated their guts.
“Hey, who’s that?” came a voice, a voice belonging to the naive little filly by the name of scootaround. Burly winced. They had heard her, and several heads had turned in the direction of the filly, now clearly seeing her and Audacity behind the well.
There were several voices chattering away, no doubt they were trying to figure out what to do. Even as the CAP agents tried to make up their minds, Burly was making his mind up. With a shout, one of the agents produced a pistol from inside his jacket. Scootaround gave a gasp as the weapon was leveled suddenly on her, and she had no opportunity to scream before a loud gunshot rang out through the air.
Audacity opened his eyes, expecting to see the filly lying in a pool of blood, struck down in brutal murder. He was both relieved and surprised to find her not in front of him but rather hiding behind his own back legs, shivering. Burly rushed back to see them, holding a gun of his own around his right hoof that was still smoking from the shot he had just fired.
“Alright guys, they know we’re here. Go around the building, find Daring, do something. Just get the hell out of this place, and fast.”