The Book of Water: The Marriage of the Slave King

A Story by TalonMach5

Chapter 9: The King, the Arch Duke, and the Fashionista

The first was a unicorn of unmeasured power, last apprentice of the great Starswirl.
Clever regent of the city of Londwhinium, his name was Clover.

The second was a pup whose home was taken, his soul demanded by the beast.
Last son of the cruel Gem Biters, his name was Shanks

The third was an errant knight of the Lawgiver, a minotaur of great strength.
Humbling the dreaded Fire Tyrant, his name was Stouthorn.

The fourth was a seapony of pure heart, inseparable companion to the third.
Never succumbing to Vendetta’s temptation, his name was Seafoam.

The fifth was a griffin full of rage and anger, he flew on rainbow hued wings.
Flying faster than even Lady Zephyr, his name was Shaw.

The sixth was a beautiful unicorn scoundrel, she took whatever she desired.
Stealing love from the fiery Suzaku, her name was Showboat.

The last was a greedy little dragon, he possessed a hunger he could never exhaust.
Honored friend of the great Slave King, his name was Slick.

These seven lights of Equestria, turned away the Slave King’s wrath.
Bringing peace to a divided Pantheon, even in death their memory shall not pass.

Pacing back and forth, he impatiently stared at the large clock on the far wall that was slowly ticking away. Unhappy with being made to wait, he dug his claws into the scarred stone floor beneath his feet. This place had once been a lively hive of activity. But even now, nearly half a millennium later, it was still desolate and deserted. Waiting for the one who still held his fate in his paws, he glanced once more at the clock with his tired green eyes, and sighed.

This clock was a rather unique invention of his master. Unlike most of the other mechanisms found in Equestria, this one was completely devoid of using any magic in its operation. He wasn’t quite sure how it worked, but when he inquired his master about the secret behind its movements, he’d been told it used a series of intricate gears and weights to keep the correct time. The clock had been designed to not only keep track of the time, but it also tracked the position of the sun, passing of the seasons, and even the phases of the moon. Even more incredible, even after nearly two centuries of continual operation, the clock still kept perfect time.

Time… Now there was something he never thought he’d have an excess of. As the years passed him by, he felt as if he was frozen in the past, forever trapped and unable to join the present. Feeling his flanks itch, he could tell his master was approaching. Looking down at the brand that marred his otherwise immaculate white fur and forever marked him as his master’s property, he sighed and waited for him to enter. Walking towards an open window, he gazed out at the city below while thoughtfully stroking his curled whiskers.

Time had not been kind to this place. Ever since his master’s ascension and the end of the world, the city felt as if it was locked in stasis forever frozen in the moment of its demise. This ruin, once recognized as the greatest city in Equestria, was now only a shadow of its former self. Though officially open to the public, most avoided coming here if they could help it. Almost as if they were afraid of disturbing the ghosts of the past. With the exception of the palace, the majority of the city was abandoned. Even now, he rarely came here anymore. His responsibilities in the Neo Vale kept him rather busy. And if not for the preparations for the Renewal of Earth ceremony, he wouldn’t have bothered coming either.

Hearing the door open behind him, he abandoned the vista of the ruined city and curtly bowed. “Master…” he said through clenched teeth, not even bothering to hide his annoyance at having been made to wait.

His master looked down at him with a slightly bemused expression at his impudence, before taking a seat on one of the larger stone chairs. Looking up, he saw his master’s eyes burning with a green balefire beneath his iron crown. They flickered as their owner contemplated what his punishment should be. Moments later, he received his answer as he felt his brand heating up. Biting his tongue, he held back his whimpers as he felt biting pain shooting through his body before it thankfully faded away.

“Arch Duke Fifi le Yipyap,” his master’s gravelly voice said, “a reminder, lest you forget who is the master here.”

“My apologies, Slave King,” he said, bowing low to his master, hoping to avoid receiving any additional reminders.

“Are the preparations complete?” he asked the arch duke, while adjusting his cloak.

“As well as can be made, given the condition of the old city,” he sarcastically said, gesturing towards the ruined city that lay beyond the window.

His master gave him a dark look, before flicking his eyes towards the brands adorning his flanks. Steeling himself for another dose of pain, he was surprised when he felt nothing. Looking apprehensively at his master, he saw that he was standing out on a nearby balcony and looking out at the ruined buildings surrounding the palace.

“Arch duke, will I be embarrassed tonight?” he pointedly asked, while looking thoughtfully out at the dead city.

When he heard the question, he didn’t know quite what to say. Back when he still served Lord Darkpaw, the city had been well maintained as a matter of pride. But now this place was a wreck, not fit for habitation let alone entertaining guests. It would be a different story if the inauguration was being held in the Neo Vale. But here, there was little that could be done, short of razing the ruins and rebuilding it to make it presentable.

His question, ‘Will I be embarrassed tonight?’ was an odd one. Not once, in nearly five centuries had he ever seemed to be concerned about what the rest of the Pantheon thought. But now, with less than twelve hours before his inauguration commenced, he was voicing his concerns.

“Slave King, is there something I should know about?” he asked, curious where this new found concern for the rest of the Pantheon was coming from.

“No, I just wanted to know if I made a mistake in accepting the Pantheon’s request to attend this year’s inauguration,” he said, running his metal hand along the cracked mural that adorned the wall.

“Slave King,” he said, “if you’re embarrassed at the deterioration of the city, it’s not too late to move things to the Neo Vale instead.”

The Slave King considered the arch duke’s offer momentarily, before shaking his head. “No,” he said. “The inauguration will proceed as planned. Now tell me how the preparations are progressing.”

“I’ve had the palace prepared to receive the Pantheon, and their mortal entourages,” he said, glossing over the logistics. “Though there’s been a slight kerfuffle with the pony that Princess Celestia sent to assist us with our preparations. Her name’s Ringing Bells, she’s a rather pushy unicorn mare.”

“Well about twenty actually,” the arch duke explained. “They’ve been busy all week building something out in the old gardens, and won’t let anyhound see what they’ve been up to.”

“That’s rather peculiar,” he mused, wondering why she would send them without mentioning it to him back at Bone’s Landing.

“Nohound has any idea what they’re up to,” Yipyap explained. “The most I could get out of Ringing Bells is that it’s a surprise for your inauguration. Should I demand she come explain herself to you?”

“Hmm…” he mused, mulling it over in his mind. While he didn’t really care what anyone did in the old city, the past twenty-four hours had been rather taxing to him. Something distracting him from his grief, would be a welcome relief. “Yes, I think I would like to hear what this pony has been up to.”

“Very well, Slave King,” he said with a bow. “I shall fetch the pony for you.”

While he waited for the arch duke’s return, he busied himself with reading the status report of his palace’s preparations. He was impressed, in only a month’s time they had managed to make a majority of the palace’s first floor ready to receive guests. And while things like the collapsed roofs and cracked walls were beyond repair, they had managed to remove all the remaining debris, and had cleaned it from top to bottom. Looking at the schedule, he noticed there were several banquets planned, with a large party planned for the third day surrounded by several question marks in red. Seeing Ringing Bells name underlined, only gave him more unanswered questions.

The sound of Arch Duke Fifi le Yipyap’s paws, followed closely by hoofsteps made him place the itinerary down as he looked up at them. Standing by the arch duke’s side, was a flirty unicorn mare wearing her blue mane up in a bun. Her purple eyes looked at him from behind a pair of spectacles, appraising him as if he were a piece of art. He found it unsettling and didn’t like it. Locking eyes with her, his eyes ran along her ivory coat, until he spied her cutie mark, that of a pair of interlocked rings in front of two ringing bells.

“Slave King, I have brought you Ringing Bells as requested,” the arch duke said, giving the mare an annoyed look.

“Your majesty,” she said with a slight lilt in her voice, as she respectfully bowed to him.

“Pony, there’s no need to bow to me,” he said, motioning her to come closer. “I’m not your master.”

“Of course, your majesty,” she said, walking towards him. “And might I say it’s been a real thrill working here in your palace this week. Oh, that’s not to say it’s been free of challenges.”

“And to what purpose has Celestia, the Radiant sent you to my domain?” he asked her, hoping to glean more knowledge from her.

“Well Princess Celestia asked that we not say anything,” she explained, giving him a warm smile. “It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

“Does it have something to do with the party scheduled for the third day?” he asked her, hoping to discover the true purpose behind her visit.

“Ah, yes it does your majesty,” she replied with a slight titter, while looking over a scroll she held aloft with her magic. “I see that you have some free time in your schedule before your guests arrive later today, might you spare me a few hours?”

“Whatever for?” he asked her, curious what she could possibly want with him.

“The princess asked me to make you something spectacular to wear for your inauguration,” she said, approaching him with a measuring tape around her neck. “Speaking of which, are you married to that pelt, or do you have a set of finery already available for formal occasions?”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” he asked, slightly offended that this pony thought to criticize his lack of fashion. Rising to his full height, he clenched his metal hand into a fist, daring her to continue her critique.

“Oh nothing your majesty, it certainly makes you appear fierce and intimidating,” she said, pulling out the measuring tape and eying Darkpaw’s pelt critically. “I’d be ever so grateful, if you’d allow me to make you something to wear. By the way have you ever considered wearing silk?”

When he saw his master’s consternation, Arch Duke Fifi le Yipyap chuckled inwardly at his lord’s predicament. The Slave King was somehound that didn’t do well when pressured by females, by either mortal or deity alike. And while he might normally glower intimidatingly at any mortal foolish enough to annoy him, Ringing Bells was sent by Celestia, and he wouldn’t risk offending the head of the Pantheon over something so petty. Hoping to curry some favor, he decided to rescue his master from the pushy unicorn’s demands.

“Madam Ringing Bells,” he told her. “The Slave King has to see to his returning army today.”

“Oh really?” she said, laying her ears back in disappointment and giving both of them wide pleading eyes.

“Yes,” he said, giving the Slave King a knowing smile. “The Slave King’s schedule is rather full today.”

“Perhaps I might convince you to give me just a tiny bit of your time your highness,” she pleaded to the Slave King. “Your shoulders and back look like they’ve been carrying the entire weight of your domain for ages, I’d be happy to volunteer the services of the princess’s private masseuse as I measure you for your clothing.”

The Slave King considered her tempting offer. While diamond dog paws were more dexterous then the flat hooves of ponies, their claws left much to be desired and often made any type of massage more trouble than it was worth. “Perhaps I could spare a little time for you today,” he said, giving her a wary look. “But I can’t guarantee that I’ll agree to wear the clothing you’ll make.”

“Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!” she exclaimed, overjoyed that she would get an opportunity to make him a set of clothing for this auspicious occasion. “I’m sure once you’ve seen what I have in mind, that you’ll be absolutely delighted!”

“Arch Duke Fifi le Yipyap,” he said, “Provide Ringing Bells with a set of my clothing so she might acquaint herself with my form.

“Of course Slave King,” he said, bowing curtly before leaving his master to the unicorn’s most assuredly fashionable machinations.

“So your majesty, let’s get a look at you beneath your cloak,” she said, holding the measuring tape at the ready.

Reluctantly, he removed his cloak and stood stock still, while she flittered the measuring tape around him and took his measurements. While working, she was humming happily to herself. While he couldn’t quite recognize the tune, it had an airy, joyous quality to it, like something one might listen to during a celebration. Within fifteen minutes, she had finished taking his measurements, and was now looking up at him thoughtfully.

“Your beard and mane,” she said, using her magic to lightly examine their length and texture.

“What about them?” he hesitantly replied, worried she wanted to do something drastic.

“Tell me, have you ever considered getting them trimmed?” she asked, with a hopeful look in her eye.

“Ugh…” he groaned, looking to the door in the hopes that Yipyap would rescue him from this mare and her fashion. When he didn’t appear, he knew this was going to be a rather long day.

She was riding the land wurm in silence. Though she had once again taken the prize for her skill in archery, she didn’t feel much like celebrating. The Slave King hadn’t even bothered attending the awards ceremony this time. Though she’d been told by Scourge that he’d needed to return to the Grotto of Memories, it didn’t make the fact that he’d missed giving her, her award any less bitter. Looking over her shoulder at Melody, who was chatting glibly away without a care in the world with a few of the Slave King’s advisers, she wondered how she managed to keep doing it. Her sister continued to cheerfully serve him, even though he steadfastly refused to return the love and affection she held for him.

“Aria, you seem to be rather quiet,” Harmony said, approaching her from behind.

She didn’t answer, instead, leaning back into her seat she watched in silence as the dim magical lamps lining the tunnel walls whizzed past her head.

“What boon are you planning to redeem with your prize?” she asked her sister, trying to pry a response from her tightbeaked sibling.

Reaching into the leather pouch attached to her belt, she pulled out a large golden coin that glowed with the same green ethereal light as the Slave King’s burning eyes. Flipping the coin over in her hands, she saw their father’s oft spoken motto: ‘The strong rule. The weak serve. The Earth is generous,’ on its back. Turning it over, she saw his stern face on the reverse. His visages burning eyes seemed to stare back at her, boring into her soul. Unable to bear looking at them any longer, she looked away. Her father’s eyes offered her no comfort, but only rejection.

Closing her eyes, she thought back to that fateful day, when she’d finally met him for the first time. She’d been a bit afraid of course, but remembered Scourge’s words of encouragement, and took heart in the belief that he’d finally claim her as his daughter. Expectantly, she’d approached his throne, offered him a slight curtsey, and looked up at him with hope reflected in her yellow eyes. She’d counted the number of fingers on his left hand, and looked down at her own tiny hands. Five, she’d always had five fingers, just like him.

Looking down at the child standing before him, the Slave King shifted uncomfortably in his throne. Almost as if he’d been wrestling with some unseen foe. Releasing a heavy sigh, he’d narrowed his eyes at her and thrummed his fingers rhythmically against his hard stone throne. “Why have you come here?” he’d demanded of her, making the entire palace rumble with his displeasure.

She’d felt a bit frightened by his question, and her small wings extended in fear. Looking down at her right hand, she counted her fingers once more. Even though she’d felt frightened, she took courage and looked back at him. “My mother once told me that my father has hands like mine,” she’d said, raising up her right hand for him to inspect.

The Slave King lifted up his left hand in response, and had looked down at the hand she held out. Gingerly, she’d approached him with her outstretched hand, until her tiny hand was resting against his open palm. She’d felt his hand gently closing around hers, as she felt his beating pulse. “Are you my father?” she’d asked him in a small whisper, already knowing they both knew the answer.

Once she’d asked him her question, she saw his eyes darting back and forth like a caged beast’s. She’d felt his pulse quicken, while his hand slightly shook, as if some great battle waged inside him. Slowly, he’d removed his hand from hers and looked away. “I have no children, no daughter. Not anymore. Return to your mother,” he’d told her, refusing to look at her anymore.

With tears in her eyes, she’d walked away from him. Giving him a solitary forlorn look of heartbreak, she’d ran crying from his throne room. Racing through the labyrinth of rubble filled passages of the palace until she collapsed to the ground in exhaustion, she’d brought her knees to her chest and began crying in earnest. She’d looked down at her hands and counted her fingers once more. Five, just like his. Feeling lost and utterly alone, she’d wished her mother was there to hold her, singing a gentle lullaby, and promising her that everything would be all right.

“Little pup…” said somefeather, whose voice was as fierce as the rending of the Earth, yet possessed all the peace found in the solitude of the desert. “Why do you weep?”

“I’m all alone and have nofeather to hold me,” she’d said, through her choking sobs. Looking up, she saw Scourge looking down at her with a hint of sorrow in his translucent eyes.

“Aria, as long as I’m here, you’ll never be alone,” he’d promised, laying down beside her and placing his head in her lap.

“Thank you, Scourge,” she’d said, wiping her eyes and embracing him tightly.

“You may stay here if you wish little pup,” he’d told her, looking up at her with his ethereal blue eyes.

“You mean it?” she’d asked him. “But what about my father, he hates me.”

“The Slave King has offered to take you in if you wish it,” he’d said, getting up from his haunches.

“Yes, little pup, if that’s your desire, you may stay with me,” he’d told her.

Opening her eyes, she looked down at the coin and scowled. Clenching it tightly in her fist, she raised her arm to throw it away. Before she could open her hand, and discard the hated coin into depths of the earth to be forever lost. She felt a hand clasping hers, stopping her from her intended task. “Melody, why do you care what I do with my boon?” she darkly said, feeling the resentment she felt for their father threatening to escape the dark place she normally kept it bound.

Saying nothing, Melody tightly embraced her elder sister, refusing to let her lose herself to the darkness she struggled against. Aria disliked public displays of affection, and was about to push her sister away. But looking down, she saw the hand resting on top of hers, and counted the fingers. Counting five, the dam that guarded her sorrow burst, and she broke down into tears.

Consoling her weeping sister, Melody wrapped her wings around her, and softly sang the lullaby their mother used to put them to sleep when they were children.

Little child of mine, the sun has gone to the deep…
Rest a rest, safely in my arms…
Lay down your weary head, and gently go to sleep…

Little child of mine, close your sleepy eyes…
Dream a dream, of happier times…
Slip into the veil of night, and frolic with the stars above…

Little child of mine, the sunshine of my soul…
Sleep a sleep, and the night will quickly pass…
Gently slumber beneath the moon, but know that I’ll always love you…

Aria tilted her head up at her younger sister and offered her a weak smile of gratitude, before wiping her eyes against the sleeves of her blouse. “Melody, I have five fingers,” she said, looking down thoughtfully at her calloused hand.

“What a coincidence, so do I!” Melody replied, giving her sister a teasing smile and wiggling her fingers in front of her face.

“Do you think he’ll ever love us?” she wistfully asked, releasing the sigh of child who longed for her parent’s love.

“Hopefully one day, he’ll finally be able to…” she replied, echoing her sister’s longing with her own. Guiding her sister’s hand towards the empty leather pouch, she offered her an imploring smile. “Aria, will you wait with me until then?”

Aria felt the weight of the token bearing their father’s likeness clutched in her hand, she wanted to toss it aside, abandoning it like he’d done with her. But when she looked at her sister, she reluctantly nodded her assent, before slipping it back inside her pouch.

Melody gave her sister another hug, and sat down beside her. Gently plucking the strings of her lute, she played a gentle tune as the land wurm carried them through the dark tunnels of the Slave King’s highway.

Melody didn’t answer her immediately, instead choosing to continue plucking away at the strings of her instrument. The faint light from the lamps lining the tunnel walls provided them little illumination, leaving their faces in shadow. “I don’t know,” she said, pausing mid-chord to answer her. Aria’s question, much like her interrupted song, left a sour note in the air. Eager to move onto more pleasant thoughts, she resumed strumming her lute and turned to her sister. “So what did you think of Dawson?”

“He’s a resourceful warrior, both he and the seapony mare managed to deftly avoid all my attacks,” she said, thinking back to last night’s fight. Of course she hadn’t really been trying to harm them, but wanted to know what sort of feather he truly was.

“Is that all you think of him?” Melody teased, giving her sister a playful shove with her lute.

“I’m nearly a decade older than him,” she protested, giving her sister a disapproving look. “Besides, he’s our brother.”

“I’m not saying anything,” Harmony replied, mid-chord. “But unless some wayfarers pop out of the aether anytime soon, the pickings in the Enclave are rather slim. Besides, don’t you think his plumage is quite alluring?”

Aria rolled her eyes at her sister’s antics. Half the time she didn’t know if she was being serious or not. Deciding to humor her sister’s need to gossip, she gave her a playful grin. “I rather think his talons are quite interesting,” she said, looking down at her hands. “They looked quite strong.”

“Oh they are,” Melody sighed, plucking a few notes slowly. “But you better watch out, he dreams of leading ‘The Order of the Shadow’ one day.”

“Oh he does, does he?” she said, narrowing her eyes at the news of her new found rival. It was no secret she was being groomed to replace Master Scourge when the time came. This was a fact she was quite proud of, and she’d be damned if she let some young kid from the north steal that away from her.

Seeing her sister’s displeasure at the news, Melody stopped playing momentarily and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t think you have much to worry about,” she said, hoping to assuage her sister’s foul mood. “He’s not even a member of the Slave King’s army.”

“It’s only a matter of time,” Aria murmured, thinking back to the contest and how well Dawson had performed. “Besides, he’s his son. Why wouldn’t he want him to lead the order?”

“Well for one, he's still a green kid, even if he’s eager to prove himself,” Melody reminded her. “Besides, Master Scourge would never allow some unknown to lead over his favorite disciple.”

Being reminded of how much Scourge cared for her, brought a smile to her face. “Perhaps worrying about that is a bit silly,” she said, feeling reassured that her position was still secure. “Master Scourge isn’t retiring anytime soon.”

“Neo Vale approaching!” the booming voice of their land wurm echoed through the tunnel, interrupting their conversation.

“Well, Melody, I guess I’ll see you during the inauguration tonight,” Aria said, gathering her things in preparations of disembarking the land wurm.

“It was good, being able to talk to you like this,” she replied, giving her another hug for the road.

Aria returned her sister’s loving embrace and warmly smiled. “Yes, I’m glad we had this chance to speak,” she said, grateful she had helped her through her anger. “Thank you.”

“Don’t be a stranger!” Melody said with a wink, slinging her lute across her back. “Hopefully tonight we can all spend some time with mother.”

“I look forward to it,” she replied, as the land wurm exited the tunnel into the city of Neo Vale.

Flexing her wings, Aria gave her sister a wave farewell, before taking flight. Soaring above the crowded streets below her, she flew between the large buildings that made up the central district of the large city. Though construction had been in place nearly three centuries, construction had been slow due to the Slave King’s unusual demands for its construction. Unlike the mainly stone and coral structures that made up the other two great Equestrian cities of Marelantis and Londwhinium, the Neo Vale was being constructed completely of metal and crystals. Specifically arcanum, the rarest material in existence. Though she’d lived here for more than half her life, she still found the great city breathtaking each time she returned home.

Unlike the dead ruins of the Diamond Vale, the Neo Vale was a bustling hive of activity. The buildings lining the wide stone streets were all built at right angles, while thousands of the various Equestrian races went about their business, along the city’s wide streets and avenues. Unceasing construction in the city was the order of the day, though the required arcanum meant that a majority of the buildings were still being built decades, and sometimes even centuries since their inception. She couldn’t fathom why the Slave King decided to build the city with such a rare material, especially when he could command and shape stone as if it were clay. Looking down to gain her bearings, she saw the slave market and banked left to meet up with her master.

Landing lightly on her feet, she walked between the mostly empty holding pens of the slave processing center on the way to her destination. Even though by her actions as a member of the order’s auxiliary, she had pressed hundreds into bondage for the Slave King, she still found the entire practice distasteful. Thinking back to the numerous scars and brands she’d seen on her father’s body, she couldn’t comprehend what slavery must have been like before his many reforms. Though it no longer meant a life sentence of back breaking labor, cruel treatment, and guaranteed to end in a shallow grave in the city’s refuse pile; it was still no picnic, and many slaves often visited the temples of harmony in the city, in hopes that their prayers for freedom might be answered.

Spying the minotaur taskmaster who ran this place, she waved him over. “Taskmaster Hardhoof,” she said, looking around the mostly deserted pens. “Have you seen Master Scourge yet?”

The minotaur cast a sour look towards her, before snorting once and grinding his hoof forcefully into the hard stone floor. He was out of sorts, with the news of the successful campaign against Bone’s Landing, he’d anticipated receiving at least five thousand new slaves to process, and had just now discovered that no new slaves would be incoming. He was sometaurus that valued a structured life above all else, and without the expected slaves to process, he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Aria, what an unexpected pleasure,” he sarcastically said, feeling resentful towards the order, and by extension her, for failing to provide him with the expected slaves. His hand rested lightly against his whip, and he could feel the urge to use it against a disobedient slave rising. “I haven’t yet seen your master today, so go bother sometaurus else.”

“Taskmaster Hardhoof, he was scheduled to meet with you today, to discuss with you your planned slave conditioning regimen for this quarter,” she said, reminding him of the appointment.

“I don’t see why he’d even bother showing up,” he replied, growling with surly displeasure. “Without slaves to condition, discussing the conditioning process is rather pointless wouldn’t you say? So get out of my hair, runt!”

She was about to respond to his outburst when she heard a familiar voice rumbling from behind them.

“Taskmaster Hardhoof,” Scourge said, moving between them and fixing one of his large ethereal blue eyes squarely on the minotaur. “If you find your lack of work distressing, I’m sure the Slave King would welcome your induction into his service as his newest acquisition.”

Taskmaster Hardhoof looked down at the doomhound with contempt in his yellow eyes, before pointing to the brands nearly hidden beneath the light green fur on his shoulders. “Scourge, this marks me as a citizen, and the Slave King’s equal,” he said, folding his arms in front of him defensively. “Notaurus may command me against my will, so save your threats for sometaurus else.”

Scourge laid back his ethereal ears, and lowered his head submissively. “My apologies, Taskmaster Hardhoof, for my breach of decorum,” he said, sighing deep with regret.

“Yeah, well I’m sorry for being a bit of a pony there,” he apologized, sheepishly running his fingers through his green mane. “I just don’t know what to do with myself with all this free time. Also, the arch duke is going to be all over my hide when the available workers start running thin.”

“The Slave King is prepared for some disruptions in construction,” Scourge replied, sitting down on his haunches. “Additionally, I’ve discussed with him the possibility of allowing free labor to help alleviate any disruptions.”

“Free labor!” the minotaur bellowed, unable to believe what he’d just heard. “Are you mad? Mingle slaves and free labor together, and you’ll have open dissent within a fortnight, followed by riots before the year is up.”

“As I said,” he replied, trying to calm the minotaur down. “We’ll be discussing the anticipated labor shortages during next week’s council meeting.”

“What rubbish!” he shouted, twisting his heavy whip with his powerful hands. “There’s over a score of pony settlements on our side of the border. Take your knights, and relieve the ponies of their excess population.”

“The Slave King has decreed a prohibition on raiding pony settlements,” Scourge said, reminding the taskmaster that doing so was a violation of the law. “The Slave King feels that it’s prudent to maintain a good relationship with our neighbors to the north.”

“And to what end?” Hardhoof replied, pulling out a coin to show Scourge. “Here in the south the strong rule, and the weak serve.”

“Taskmaster, I’ll be sure to pass on your concerns to the Slave King when I speak with him later today,” he said, tiring of the conversation. “In the meantime, why not enjoy this week’s holiday. The renewal only happens once a year after all.”

“Bah!” Hardhoof grunted, walking away and flicking his whip threateningly at the few remaining slaves in the processing center as he passed their pens.

“Aria, I fear we might have a mutiny on our paws soon,” Scourge said, as they walked away from the slave processing center. “If his attitude about free labor is any indication of the general population’s.”

“Master, he did make several valid points,” she said, walking besides him as they passed by several merchants hawking their various wares.

Pausing to smell one of the merchant’s meat stuffed roasted apples, he turned to his disciple. “It’s not often I envy the living,” he said, looking mournfully at the mouthwatering treats that were forever denied to him.

Handing a few coins to the diamond dog vendor, Aria grabbed a stuffed apple and began eating it. “Master, the fruit bears a smoky flavor from the smoked meat,” she said describing the various flavors she could taste. “The apple itself, is moist and tender. And the meat’s falling apart in my mouth.”

“Thank you for sharing that with me Aria,” he said, gazing longingly once more at the vendor wares, before resuming their journey to the palace.

“I think introducing free labor alongside slaves is a mistake master,” she said, echoing her earlier sentiment. “The slaves will resent the free laborers freedom, and the free laborers will surely sow dissent among the slave population.”

“Aria,” he replied, looking up at her with a slight smile. “We’ll worry about that next week. For now, let’s just enjoy our walk through the city.”

Smiling down at her master, she rested her hand against his armor as they walked alongside each other in silence.

“You two, have been granted a great honor by the Slave King,” Harmony, the Black said, guiding her two charges through the twisting passages of the Slave King’s ruined palace. “Serve him well, and you’ll be rewarded. Fail him, and you’ll join the others in the Cavern of Torment.”

“Yes, Lady Harmony,” Gunhilde reservedly said, remembering what she’d seen here earlier, and grateful the Slave King hadn’t inflicted some great punishment upon her for her transgression.

“Gunhilde, there’s no need to call me Lady Harmony,” she said, gently correcting the doe. “We’re all servants of the Slave King, and equals in his service.”

“This is so boring!” Chrysalis complained, looking critically at the cracked and damaged walls of the palace. Currently, she was still in her diamond dog disguise, and though she had enjoyed a large helping of lust for breakfast from some of the Slave King’s willing soldiers, she still felt a bit peckish.

“Boring or not,” Harmony said, biting her tongue. “You need this orientation, your lives might depend on it.”

“What possible dangers could lurk in the Slave King’s home?” Chrysalis dismissively asked, having difficulty believing that anything dangerous could exist in such a powerful deity’s own house. “The Earth bends to his whim, only a fool would dare oppose him here!”

Harmony gave her a hard look. Though she knew that the Slave King had entrusted this diamond dog in Gunhilde’s care, she had no idea why. “While it’s true nothing here might pose a risk to the Slave King, your safety is quite a different matter.”

Gunhilde shivered slightly, she could still feel the hot breath of whatever had chased her up the stairs breathing down her neck, and wondered if there were similar horrors to be found elsewhere inside the palace. “Harmony, thank you for your warning,” she said, looking down a side passage that had caught her attention. As they passed it, she thought she noticed something dark moving in the shadows with her peripheral vision. Looking once more, all she saw was a ruined fresco depicting Lord Darkpaw, the former Lord of Earth.

Harmony gave the doe a kind smile. “Gunhilde, follow my instructions, and your safety in assured,” she said, before turning towards Chrysalis and pointing a finger at her. “However if you ignore what I say, you do so at your own peril.”

Chrysalis rolled her eyes, confident in the ‘gifts’ that the Slave King had given her, would protect her from any dangers the palace contained.

“Now remember,” Harmony said, continuing with their orientation. “The Slave King’s brand marks you as his property. As such, nofeather in the domain will question you if you make demands of them on his behalf.”

“You mean I could order anyhound to do whatever I say?” Chrysalis asked, surprised she had been granted so much authority.

“Only up to a point,” Harmony said, frowning at the question. If she wasn’t sure of it before, she knew now that this Chrysalis was going to be nothing but trouble. “Anyfeather is free to refuse what they consider an impossible request, additionally abusing your mark’s authority will have dire consequences.”

Hearing her mention dire consequences, made Chrysalis blanche. Remembering how it had made her flesh burn when the Slave King activated her brand briefly, she shuddered when she tried contemplating how badly it might hurt if should she ever be punished for misconduct. Hoping to discover the bounds of her brand’s power, she pressed further. “So who administers the punishments should we ever misbehave,” she asked.

“Ordinarily only the Slave King himself has the power to punish you via your brand,” Harmony said, giving her a dark look. “But in your particular case, Gunhilde has been granted power over your mark.”

“Yes, Gunhilde could at any time she chooses send you into agony,” Harmony said, pointing to a small mark above Chrysalis’s slave brand. “Those marked as the Slave King’s personal property, have a unique marking separate from their brand. Beyond its use as a personal identification, it can be used to link slaves to each other like you are, and it even allows you access to the Slave King’s power in limited ways if he so wills it.”

“So it’s like one of Lord Triton’s tokens of the Lawgiver?” Gunhilde asked, looking behind her as she caught something moving in the corner of her eye.

“That would be an apt comparison,” Harmony agreed. “But with some notable differences. Unlike the Lawgiver’s tokens, that demanded perfect obedience to his laws in order to function, your brand’s power will never fade unless he removes it from you.”

“Unlike you slave,” she replied, pointing to the brand adorning her flank. “I serve the Slave King of my own free will, and nofeather may command me.”

“Humph,” Chrysalis replied, slightly miffed at being reminded of her status as mere property.

“So what dangers should we watch out for?” Gunhilde asked, hoping to direct the conversation towards something else.

“Well for one, don’t ever leave the palace unaccompanied by somefeather,” Harmony replied. “When the city fell by the Slave King’s hand, most of the residents instantly perished. Unfortunately, many couldn’t enter the Summerlands, and now they exist as the hungry dead, forever cursed to wander the city until their bodies are destroyed or their souls purified.”

“Do you honestly expect us to believe something as ridiculous, as the dead coming back to life?” Chrysalis scoffed.

Harmony stopped walking, and pointed towards an open window. From their vantage point, they could easily see the silhouettes of hundreds of broken buildings. “If you don’t believe me,” she said, narrowing her eyes at Chrysalis in challenge. “Feel free to enter the city and loot its treasures.”

“I just might take you up on that offer,” she replied, looking out towards the city and wandering what untold riches it might still hold.

“All right, exploring the ruins of the Diamond Vale is a bad idea,” Gunhilde said, making a mental note to never enter the city if she could help it.

“Second, there are some places in the palace you should avoid if you can,” Harmony said, motioning for them to continue following her. “Specifically the Grotto of Memories, the manufactorium, and the vault to name a few.”

“I was in the Grotto of Memories yesterday,” Gunhilde said, thinking back to odd instance of its door disappearing after she exited it. “After I left, the door disappeared behind me.”

“As a general rule, unless the Slave King wishes you to enter the forbidden areas of the palace, you won’t even be able to find them,” she answered. “But on occasion, whether by luck or misfortune, you might come upon those places. If you do, immediately return the way you came.”

“What would happen to us if we managed to find ourselves in say the vault, and decided to look around?” Chrysalis asked, curious as to what treasures it might contain.

“Then pray that The Vendetta is still secured,” Harmony answered, shaking her head in disbelief that this slave could be so foolhardy. “The last feather that found their way into the vault, was consumed by it. It took us a week to clean up the mess.”

“Is there anything else we should watch out for?” Gunhilde asked, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck rising. She wasn’t quite positive, but she was almost certain they were being stalked by somedeer. “Or was that it?”

“The last danger to watch out for is Nightmare,” she answered, stopping briefly at an intersection before choosing the eastern corridor.

“Nightmare is the Slave King’s first creation,” she replied. “She’s equal parts rage and malice, with a bit of malevolence thrown in for good measure. She does as she wishes, and listens to nofeather. Not even the Slave King has complete control over her.”

“She sounds like a barrel of laughs,” Chrysalis sarcastically whispered to Gunhilde.

“Mock her at your own risk,” Harmony warned. “Nightmare’s been known to kill for even the smallest slight.”

“Hopefully she’ll eat you, and spare me the paperwork,” Harmony muttered under her breath.

“So where does she usually spend her time?” Gunhilde asked, hoping she would never have the misfortune of meeting such a terrible creature.

“Everywhere and anywhere, when she’s not standing watch besides the Slave King’s throne,” Harmony said, straightening her cloak and broach. “The best advice I can offer is to ignore her should you have the misfortune to ever meet her. She’s usually a solitary creature, but she’s quite fond of stalking the ruins for the hungry dead. And before you ask, yes, that’s another reason you want to avoid going into the city as well.”

“I wonder why the Slave King would keep such a beast in his employ, if she’s as terrible as you say.” Chrysalis said, looking at a nearby shadow.

“No sooner had she spoken, then a great beast, as black as night leapt out at her with its fangs bared. Deftly, Chrysalis dodged the creature’s assault, and prepared to defend herself. Staring into its red, rage filled eyes made her experience a terror she never knew was possible. Tapping into the power the Slave King had granted her, she focused on a nearby Earth ley line in hopes of stunning it. But before she could unleash her magic, she felt Harmony smacking her sharply on the snout, dissipating the built up magic.

Harmony gave both Chrysalis and the beast a look of exasperation. “Nightmare, the Slave King expressly said no killing anyfeather in the palace!” she snapped, scolding her for her breach of decorum.

Nightmare gave Harmony a venomous look, before focusing her burning eyes squarely on Chrysalis. Though Chrysalis couldn’t help feeling terrified, she absorbed the creature’s rage, and used it to strengthen herself. Feeling empowered by such strong emotions, she cast her own gaze at Nightmare, letting the beast know she was unafraid.

Never before had Nightmare experienced such cheek! Outraged that the insect refused to know her place, she poured all her rage and malevolence into her burning eyes in hopes of cowing her. I rule here! her gaze declared. Should I will it, your life will be short and suffering long.

Chrysalis, empowered by Nightmare’s previous glare, readily devoured all her anger and felt herself getting stronger. Releasing her changeling magic, she reached out into the beast’s heart and was surprised by what she found. She discovered Nightmare loved the Slave King, of all creatures! Enlightened by her discovery, she reached out with her magic and whispered her discovery into Nightmare’s ear.

When she learned that this diamond dog bitch knew her most closely guarded secret, and was even taunting her with it, Nightmare nearly flew into a murderous rage. If not for Slave King’s brand protecting them, she would have slain Chrysalis, Gunhilde, and even Harmony where they stood.

Sensing Nightmare’s agitation, Harmony released her own magic, encasing herself in the power of flame and shadow. “Nightmare, leave us at once!” her voice rumbled in reprimand, nearly a match for her father’s commanding tone. Her eye’s burned green and red with the combined might of the Earth’s and Fire’s elemental power. “You might rule the darkness, but I command the light. Go, before we discover which of us is the stronger.”

Nightmare whined under Harmony’s withering glare. Shaking with rage at being denied her vengeance against the one who so foolishly defied her, she gave Chrysalis one last hate filled look before skulking off into the darkness.

Once they were safe from Nightmare’s retribution, Harmony released the magic flowing through her and collapsed against a nearby wall. “Like I said before,” she said, giving Chrysalis a baleful look. “Don’t ever antagonize Nightmare, not if you value your lives.”

Gunhilde looked angrily at Chrysalis, realizing what she had just done. “You fool!” she hissed. “You nearly killed us all.”

“Give her, her punishment for endangering our lives,” Harmony said to Gunhilde. “It’ll be better for her if it comes from you, rather than from the Slave King.”

When she heard them discussing her punishment, Chrysalis’s eyes went wide with fear. “Please no!” she begged, desperate to escape the bite of her brand.

Gunhilde knew that unless she disciplined her now, Chrysalis might continue her willful behavior, and endanger their lives. “I’m sorry, but hopefully I won’t ever need to do this again,” she said, tapping into the magic linking their brands together. As the magic they shared flowed from her and into Chrysalis’s brand, she found she could direct the pain as she saw fit. Deciding to make it harsh and swift, she sent a torrent of suffering through Chrysalis’s bones. Almost as soon as it began, it was finished. Only the echoes of her scream’s and soft sobbing could be heard in the passageway.

Harmony nodded her approval at Gunhilde’s chosen punishment. It was quick, but hurt so badly as to leave a lasting impression on Chrysalis. Most only needed to experience such pain once, before permanently learning their lesson. “I need to go now,” she said, heading towards a nearby door. Before opening it, she directed their attention towards a pair of large ornate doors. “The Slave King’s personal quarters are that way. They connect to all the important parts of the palace. If you need further instructions, or are ever lost, speak with either myself or Melody, via one of the rune stones found throughout the palace.”

“You mean one of these?” Gunhilde asked, touching a large emerald on the wall carved with strange symbols.

Yes, harmony’s voice echoed in her mind, any of the Slave King’s servants may use them. I suggest seeing to the bitch and the Slave King’s luggage, before tonight’s inauguration.

Am I also expected to see to his guests needs? she asked, curious if her responsibilities were going to be expanded.

No, Harmony telepathically answered. Arrangements have already been made for the visiting members of the Pantheon. So feel free to enjoy tonight’s festivities.

Turning towards Chrysalis, Gunhilde gently lifted her up and onto her back. “I’m sorry for hurting you so badly,” she said, genuinely sorry she had caused anydeer such pain.

“No, it’s my own fault,” Chrysalis said between sobs, grateful the experience was over so quickly. “Next time I’ll be more careful.”

“Oh that feels wonderful,” he said, his voice rumbling with pleasure while he laid on the bed.

In truth, it’d literally been centuries since he felt this wonderful. Even all the times he’d spent with Lady Zephyr and Lady Suzaku had never left him in such a relaxed state. Unlike the flat hooves of the pink mare on top of him, their talons always raked his flesh, leaving scratches and sometimes even drawing his blood.

“Ah, your majesty, did you enjoy that?” the mare teased, bearing down on him.

He released another sigh in response. “Yes, if you keep this up, I might be tempted to steal you away from Celestia,” he said, closing his eyes and enjoying the exquisite sensations that her expert ministrations offered him.

“Your majesty,” she gasped, pressing her body into him deeply. “The princess might become cross with you should you do that.”

He groaned in delight as she worked him over. Lost in the thrall of the pleasure she offered him, he didn’t respond to the sharp knocking on his door. His companion, flattened her ears and shook her blue mane worriedly, concerned that he was needed by somepony important.

When he realized that she had stopped moving, he opened his eyes and looked at her crossly. “Why did you stop?” he asked, eager for her to continue servicing him.

“Your majesty,” she said, slightly worried. “Somepony’s at your chamber door. Should I leave you?”

“No, they can wait,” he replied, his body greedily desiring that the mare would continue pleasing him.

When the knocking resumed, it sounded even more urgent than before, Annoyed that they wouldn’t leave him be, he growled in frustration at the interruption. Sensing he was feeling agitated, the mare thought it best to move off of him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he growled, grabbing her flanks to prevent her from climbing off of him.

“Well, your majesty, I don’t want to cause a scandal,” she replied, slightly flustered by the situation. “If they see us like this, ponies might talk.”

“Then let them,” he darkly replied. “Being seen with a pony is hardly the most scandalous thing I’ve ever done.”

“Very well, your majesty,” she said, blushing furiously as the thoughts of being discovered by his servants rushed through her mind. Biting her lip, she bared down on him once more, and began pushing vigorously against him with all her earth pony strength.

“Thank you,” he sighed, enjoying the pleasure she continued giving him. Clenching his fist, he opened the door. “Enter, and be quick about it!”

Ringing Bells entered the spacious room, followed by Arch Duke Fifi le Yipyap, Second, and Shadow Knight Sombra. Seeing that they were the reason for the interruption, he scowled slightly before sinking into the mattress, hoping to enjoy his pony companion’s company for as long as possible.

“Slave King?” the arch duke asked, questioning why his normally reserved master was continuing unashamed in front of them with the mare.

“Yes, what is it?” the Slave King asked, annoyed that his time with this lovely mare was being interrupted.

“I’m pleased to tell you all the preparations have been completed,” he answered, with a slight bow, hoping to avoid angering his master once again. “Your first guests should be arriving within two hours.”

“Good,” he replied, pleased that nothing unexpected would happen tonight. “Is there anything else?”

“Your majesty,” Ringing Bells said, levitating some clothing towards him. “I’m almost done with your clothing, I just need to complete your final fitting.

Groaning with disappointment that he’d have to get out of the bed, he nodded once. “Very well, I’ll finish up here and then do the fitting as agreed,” he said. Turning to his pony companion, he offered her a smile of gratitude. “Thank you, I haven’t felt this rested in centuries.”

“Oh it was my pleasure, your majesty,” she said bowing to him, honored that she was able to make a member of the Pantheon feel so wonderful.

“Yes I did. Her hooves relieved me of centuries of pent up stress,” he replied, sighing in regret as the pony masseuse climbed off him. “I’ll have to see about borrowing her again sometime in the future.”

“Of course, your majesty,” she said, offering him a cheerful smile. “My spa in Londwhinium is always open to you. Just ask for Orchid.”

“The Earth won’t forget you in your time of need,” he said, before giving Second and Sombra a hard look. “Arch duke, why did you admit Second and Sombra in with you?”

“Slave King, that was my idea,” Second said, offering the Slave King a dark grin. “I want to send Sombra to the crystal ponies immediately.”

“Why is that?” the Slave King asked, curious as to what his true motives were.

“It’s rumored Lord Triton is bringing his entire honor guard with him,” he explained, giving Sombra a glare. “Each of them has sworn an oath to duel Sombra in order to avenge Sir Hurricane, the Gallant’s honor. Since an incident is almost guaranteed, I want him out of the palace before Lord Triton and his entourage arrives.”

“That’s a prudent course of action, Second,” he said, giving the doomhound a thoughtful look. “Are you sure you aren’t really a changeling in disguise?”

When he heard the Slave King’s accusation, he barked with laughter. “No, my king,” he chuckled. “Sometimes, I put aside my plots and schemes for the good of the Domain.”

“Very well,” he said, getting up off the bed and facing Sombra. Resting his burning gaze on the unicorn, he prepared to grant him his reward for winning the contest. “Shadow Knight Sombra, why have you come seeking an audience with me?”

Sombra, knowing the ritual, bowed deeply before the Slave King and presented him with a large golden coin baring his likeness. The coin was infused with the Slave King’s power, and emanated the green energy of the Earth. Levitating the token into his outstretched hand, he bowed once more. “Slave King,” he said, “I’m your faithful servant, Shadow Knight Sombra, and I’ve come to claim a boon granted to me for my loyal service to the Domain of Earth.”

“Do you know the price for offering me a false claim?” he asked, his burning green eyes flashing with power. “Have any coerced you in your claim?”

“Yes, I’m prepared to be slain for my deceit, if my claim is false,” he replied. “I make this claim of my own free will.”

The Slave King held the token in his hand, and absorbed its power until it crumbled into dust. “Very well,” he said, following the ritual. “Shadow Knight Sombra, I’ve verified the authenticity of your boon. As is your right, you may claim anything under or over the Earth, and it shall be granted to you.”

“I desire stewardship over the crystal ponies in the northern most reach of Equestria,” he said, holding his head low.

Reaching out with his finger, the Slave King touched Sombra’s head, granting him his request. As his liege’s divinity flowed through him, Sombra felt his brand changing to reflect his new status.

“It is done,” the Slave King rumbled. Pointing towards Sombra’s brand he gave the unicorn a hard look. “Your mark now grants you authority over the crystal ponies. Follow the arrangements I have with them to the letter. Abuse them, and you’ll share Arch Duke Fifi le Yipyap’s fate.”

When he heard the warning, Sombra shuddered. Everypony knew what torments the arch duke had once suffered at the Slave King’s hooves. Slightly shaken, he nodded once. “Slave King, I swear to serve you faithfully,” he swore, hoping that he wouldn’t be able to uncover his lies.

“Good, now that that’s out of the way,” Second said to Sombra, giving his subordinate a hardened look. “Head to Winter immediately, and see to your new responsibilities. Should you ever return here unbidden, I’ll slay you. I’ll send word to you later.”

“Of course, Master Second,” Sombra said, offering them a slight bow, before exiting the room.

“You seem rather displeased with him,” the Slave King remarked, surprised by Second’s hostility towards Sombra who was supposed to be his most favored lieutenant. “Has something transpired between the two of you that I should be made aware of?”

“It’s nothing Slave King,” Second said, turning to leave as well. “Sombra was disappointed that he’d be missing this week’s festivities, and was reluctant starting his punishment so soon.”

The Slave King gave the doomhound a malevolent smile. “See to it that he’s on a land wurm to Winter before the hour is up,” he said, stroking his beard. Ride with him there, and ensure he doesn’t alienate the crystal ponies.”

“But I have responsibilities here!” Second objected, trying to dissuade his king from making him go all the way to Winter for no reason.

“While you’re there, pick up my latest shipment of crystals,” he said, issuing the command in such a way that he had no way of weaseling out of the trip. Seeing his servant’s annoyance at being forced to go, he offered him a small consolation to take the bite off the lengthy trip. “Since you claim your responsibilities here are so urgent, you may ride on Nidhogg, the Devourer to get there. He’ll have you there and back before night is through.”

“Nidhogg, your majesty…” he said, not sure he wanted to ride the erratic land wurm all the way to Winter and back.

Nidhogg, the Devourer, patriarch of the land wurm race, was once one of Lord Ouroboros’s black dragons. However, due to a service he performed for the Slave King, he would’ve faced banishment or worse at the Fire Tyrant’s claws should he have ever returned to the Domain of Fire. Wishing to repay the dragon’s great service, the Slave King offered him a place at his side. The dragon, with few other options, readily agreed to receive the Slave King’s brand. Thus, he become the first of the land wurms, and one of the Slave King’s most faithful, if not most eccentric followers.

Second knew, if they misspoke in his presence, Nidhogg would immediately report their untoward behavior to the Slave King. However, his master’s plans required his presence here tonight. Knowing he had few options left to him, he reluctantly agreed. “Thank you for so graciously offering me the use of Nidhogg,” he said, with a slight bow.

“Second, enjoy your trip,” the Slave King replied with a dark chuckle, at his subordinate’s displeasure at having to go all the way to Winter on such short notice.

Leaving the room, Second angrily narrowed his eyes at having been so inconvenienced by the Slave King’s whim. Running towards Sombra, he angrily nipped at his flanks.

“Argh!” Sombra cried out in pain, confused why he was being so roughly treated.

“Head to the station!” Second impatiently snarled. “We’re leaving immediately.”

“But my things…” Sombra objected, hoping to grab his luggage before he went into what basically constituted exile.

“Are irrelevant,” Second growled. “Defy me again, and I’ll break your legs and leave you in the city for the ghouls to devour!”

As they ran through the empty halls of the ruined palace, they passed dozens of ponies, diamond dogs, griffins, and the various other races that were completing their final preparations for what promised to be a magnificent party. Sombra could feel the muscles in his legs burning, as they exited the palace and onto the main causeway that headed towards the Neo Vale. Though he wanted to slow his pace, one look from Second’s burning eyes made him push himself even harder.

The sounds of his hooves pounding against the hard stone highway that lead to the great city, echoed as they weaved past ponies and griffins pulling carts. By now his legs were screaming for a break, but he didn’t dare stop. He could only hope, that once he was in Winter and ruling over the crystal ponies, that he would finally be free of Second once and for all. While he had no great love for the Slave King, he knew serving him well would offer him great rewards.

The Neo Vale loomed ahead of them like a dark fortress, its dark metal buildings constructed of arcanum softly reflecting the shining sun overhead. While waiting to be admitted through the tunnel into the city proper, Sombra took the chance to rest his burning muscles and catch his breath. “What’s the rush master?” he asked, hoping to discover why he was being forced to leave with only the armor on his back and his hastily packed saddlebags.

“The Slave King, in his infinite wisdom, thought it would be entertaining if I were to escort you to your new position in the north,” he said, impatiently raking his claws against the pavement, and leaving deep gouges as they waited to be admitted into the city.

“What about…” Sombra asked, before being silenced by a death glare from the doomhound.

“Speak of it unbidden, and I will gut you and wear your skin as a cloak,” Second threatened, bringing a claw against Sombra’s neck. “But to answer your question, I was able to convince him of the urgency of my business tonight. So he granted us the use of Nidhogg’s services.”

“What if we’re discovered?” he asked, worried that the Slave King might discover his treachery.

“Keep your muzzle shut, and that won’t be a problem,” Second warned him. “But if you find not speaking to be too great a burden, I’ll happily remove your tongue.”

“That won’t be necessary master,” he mutedly replied, ashen faced when he thought about how the doomhound might follow through with his threats. “How should I report to you?”

“The usual method,” he replied, feeling his temper threatening to flare out of control.

“There’s a small problem then…” Sombra said, slightly afraid by how Second might react.

“What is it this time?” he demanded, his agitated voice now nearly a whisper.

“I left it behind, secured in a lock box in my luggage…” he explained, hoping that he wouldn’t bite him again.

When he heard his subordinate’s answer, Second’s coat began smoking, as small black flames emerged from beneath his armor. Taking a deep breath, he turned to the nearest guard and smiled. “Friend,” he said, showing off his razor sharp teeth. “We’re entering the city next.”

The guard was about to rebuff him, when he looked into the doomhounds eyes and shook with fright. It was as if he was looking into the black abyss of the Pit. The poor guard clutched at his heart, feeling his life threatening to slip away. Nodding weakly, he admitted them into the tunnel next, ignoring the incensed shouts of the others that were waiting for their turns to enter the city.

Sombra felt relieved, that Second had turned his wrath towards the guardsdog rather than him. Once they were well inside the poorly lit tunnel, he stopped when he saw the burning eyes staring back at him.

“You left it behind!” Second raged, verifying that Sombra had indeed vexed him once again.

“Yes, I felt it was reckless carrying it unsecured in my saddlebags. I wasn’t expecting to leave it behind” Sombra explained, hoping his master would accept his excuse.

Later that day, when their superiors asked the guardsdogs stationed outside the tunnel what had happened, they didn’t know what to tell them. All they could report, was the prolonged screams they heard echoing from inside the dark tunnel and the foul stench of pitch and brimstone permeating the air.

Nidhogg was enjoying the start of his vacation, and eating from an assortment of gourmet loams, stones, and metals. They were a personal gift from the Slave King for his quick work in completing the Ghastly Gorge and Howling Canyon lines ahead of schedule. He bit into a foamy loam accentuated with the gritty texture of sand, and garnished with a bit of chalk and shale for good measure. Reclining against his modest hoard, he relaxed as he read this week’s news, and enjoyed the good life.

“Oh the Slave King has outdone himself this time!” he shouted, crowing with delight at flavor the decadent delicacy offered. Looking longingly at the remainder of his gift, he was contemplating having another, when he heard the ringing of the bell outside the entrance to his lair. Placing the parchment he’d been reading to the side, he slithered off his moderate hoard and made his way towards the entrance, wondering who it could possibly be. Poking out his large head, he was ready to tell the salesscale at his door he wasn’t interested in buying. When he discovered just who it was that had interrupted his personal time he frowned. It was none other than Second, the Doomhound, and a rather sullen looking and bruised unicorn that had darkened his doorstep

Normally, Nidhogg would have nothing to do with Second. He considered the doomhound a vile beast, unworthy of wearing the Slave King’s brand. However, his personal feelings aside, he happily served the Slave King in all things, and decided to fulfill his duty no matter how distasteful he might find it.

“What an unexpected pleasure, Second,” he said, giving the doomhound a thoughtful look. Smelling them, he pulled back his head in revulsion as the scent of sulfur assaulted his delicate nostrils. “Looking for directions to the nearest bathhouse perhaps?”

Second was in no mood to deal with Nidhogg’s barbs, and gave him a flat look. “You’re to carry us to the Crystal Ponies up north. And then return with me and the latest shipment as quickly as possible,” he said as forcefully as he could.

“All the way to Winter!” Nidhogg shouted, annoyed that he was being made to work on a holiday. “Can’t you take somescale else? There’s a party happening tonight!”

“No,” Second replied, hoping to curtail his protests. “The Slave King was very specific about you taking us there. If we leave now, hopefully we can be back before the feasting begins.”

“Ah nuts,” he sighed, resigned himself to doing some overtime tonight. “Well, I suppose I can bring back a few crates of crystals to enjoy later.”

Nidhogg gave him a dismissive look. “Sorry, Second, that’s on a need to know basis, and you don’t need to know,” he haughtily replied, before sticking his tongue out at the doomhound. Looking at Sombra closely, he gave him a concerned look. “What’s with the pony? He looks and smells like he was drug through the Pit.”

“Oh, Sombra here was a bit clumsy,” he explained, giving his subordinate a malicious sneer. “He repeatedly fell down several flights of stairs. Didn’t you, Sombra?”

“Okay…” Nidhogg said, not entirely convinced he was being told the truth. “Let me slip into my saddle and we can be on our way.”

“Finally,” Second said, relieved that this phase of the plan was nearly complete.

Sombra said nothing, instead sobbed silently as he cursed Second with all the hate in his heart.

“Now be reasonable your highness,” Ringing Bells said, as the scissors, combs, and various other styling implements she levitated with her magic were being batted away by the unwilling deity. “We had an agreement after all.”

“I agreed to be measured for clothing, nothing more!” the Slave King said, feeling agitated by the stubborn mare’s refusal to back down.

“But it’s all the rage in Marelantis and Londwhinium!” Ringing Bells shouted, trying to convince him of the virtue of her cause. “Even in the Golden Eyrie, some of the nobility have taken to styling their plumage this way.”

“I’ll have no part in foppish buffoonery!” he declared, reaching for his iron crown. “Madam, I draw the line at ringlets and curls.”

“Arch duke, do something about your master,” she huffed, frustrated that the Slave King was refusing to accept her offered fabulosity.

The arch duke, desperately trying to refrain from laughing at his master’s predicament, decided it was time for a bit of payback. “Slave King, you did after all agree to at least try her fashion, before making your final decision,” he reminded him, hoping to push him into acceding to the fashionista’s demands.

“Traitor!” the Slave King growled, finally allowing Ringing Bell’s combs and scissors unfettered access to his beard and hair.

“Oh thank you so much!” she cried out, kissing the arch duke on the cheek. “I don’t how to thank you.”

“Perhaps styling his fur and whiskers, might be an appropriate reward,” the Slave King suggested, giving the arch duke an annoyed frown.

“Your majesty, what a fabulous idea!” she sung, excited with the possibility of influencing the future fashion trends of the Domain of Earth.

“As generous as that offer is…” Arch Duke Fifi le Yipyap stammered, trying to escape her combs and brushes. “I just remembered, I’m needed elsewhere.”

“Awww,” she pouted, disappointed that she couldn’t work her magic on the arch duke as well.

“Actually,” the Slave King said, tapping into his power and adhering the arch duke’s feet to the floor. “His schedule just opened up, didn’t it?”

“Oh my mistake,” he chuckled weakly, silently dreading what horrors the unicorn was about to unleash on his whiskers which he considered his pride and joy.

“Come, sit with me,” the Slave King offered, as his hair and beard were being shaped and styled by her magic.

Sitting down beside his liege, he weakly smiled. “Is this to be the extent of my punishment?” he asked, hopeful he wouldn’t be humiliated any further.

“Oh your punishment has only just begun,” he darkly whispered, before getting an idea. “Ringing Bells, I know it’s rather short notice, but do you think you might be able to whip something up, to go with the arch duke’s new style.”

“I’m not sure there’ll be enough time,” she said, tapping her hoof against her muzzle thoughtfully.

“Maybe improving his current clothing with a bit of your own flare,” he offered, giving the arch duke a smug look.

“If you don’t have the time to do it properly, I’ll understand,” the arch duke said, hoping to dissuade her from running his favorite doublet. “Don’t worry about it if you’re unable to do it in time.”

“No!” she declared, feeling the power of inspiration coursing through her horn. “Fashion demands that I do this!”

“Oh, what have I done…” the arch duke sighed, as he resigned himself to his fate, while the Slave King had a good laugh at his expense.

Nearly an hour had passed, and Ringing Bells had completed what she claimed was a fashion miracle. In her hooves, she held his doublet, accentuated with all matter of gemstones interlaced with gold and silver threads provided courtesy of the Slave King.

Sighing with resignation, he put on the doublet, and inspected himself in the mirror. His fur had been curled and piled as tall as possible on his head, while his once proud and fierce whiskers were now delicately curled around his muzzle in intricate shapes and patterns.

“So don’t you just think that you simply fabulous!” she beamed, inspecting her hoofwork.

“Fabulous isn’t how I’d describe it…” he muttered. [More like a disaster.

“You’ve done a marvelous job with the arch duke,” the Slave King said, offering her praise. “I’ll make sure you’re well compensated, for your time and effort.”

“Oh, it was no bother your majesty,” she dreamily said. “Being able to serve you has been the highlight of my career.”

Hearing how much this meant to her, made him pause. Originally, he’d planned on summarily rejecting her outfit and hairstyle in favor of his usual look. But now, he decided that he’d wear what she’d made for him, for at least the first day.

“So tell me what you think, your majesty” she nervously asked, praying to Celestia and the gods of fashion that he’d accept her offering.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he looked at the impeccably styled ringlets around his head and flared beard, and sighed thinking of all the gems weaved into them. This style definitely wouldn’t be his first choice, but they certainly didn’t make him look like a gaudy fool, which was his main concern.

“I shall wear it gladly,” he said, offering her a smile. “I shall bathe, and then prepare myself to receive my guests.

“Oh thank you so much!” she cheered, ecstatic that he’d accepted her designs.

He sat in his large bath and soaked in the bubbling mineral water, allowing its heat to wash over him. He wasn’t sure what to expect tonight, but all his instincts told him something big was going to happen. Wracking his mind, he tried deciphering who might be plotting against him tonight, but failed to figure it out. Slapping the water in frustration with his fist, he cursed his lack of clairvoyance in these matters. While he considered himself a capable strategist when it came to economic and military matters, he was still a floundering child, drowning in a sea of conspiracy where court intrigue and plots of a personal nature where concerned.

Annoyed at his inability to figure things out on his own, he almost regretting spurning Lady Zephyr’s and Lady Suzaku’s earlier heartfelt proposals of marriage. Lady Zephyr was a forceful creature, capable of coercing cooperation out of almost anyone, and Lady Suzaku was renowned for her skills at manipulating others to bend to her whims. With either of them at his side, his position would’ve been cemented. Securing his safety from almost any conceivable threat.

Then again, there was my ‘marriage’ to Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, he mused, chuckling at the sheer audacity of their claim over him. Originally, it had been simply a ruse to convince Lord Ouroboros, that peace was preferable to civil war. But thanks in no small part to some timely aid from his onetime ally Jormungandr, he’d managed to turn the tables on everyone. Even Princess Celestia had been helpless against their plan, and requested an annulment to their sham marriage as a result.

Perhaps Jormungandr will be feeling generous, he thought, hoping that the reclusive Winding One would make an appearance tonight. Though they’d had little contact in the ensuing centuries after their victory over Lord Ouroboros, he’d always felt grateful to the serpent for his part in elevating him to where he was today.

Getting out of the bath, he began drying himself off as he considered what he knew about the major players of the Pantheon. I know Lord Ouroboros still burns with rage over his defeat, but his pride won’t let him do anything less than fight me in single combat in front of the Pantheon in its entirety, he decided. No, Lord Ouroboros is not planning something overt against me tonight. Lady Zephyr desires me, but she has no wish to harm me. The most I have to fear from her, is that my new look will send her into fits of laughter. I should probably expect that she’ll offer herself to me to help alleviate my burning desires after tonight’s renewal. And as for Lord Triton, he’s still reeling over the Loss of Bone’s Landing. But he hopes to influence me and my Domain through the city’s politics. Any victory against me tonight would be phyric at best, and the Lawgiver doesn’t approve of hollow victories.

What of the others? he thought, reciting in his mind what he knew of the lesser members of the Pantheon. Lady Minoa depends too much on my good will to ever make a hostile move against me. Besides, I don’t think she knows the meaning of the word subtle, let alone have the patience to act on it. And while Lady Suzaku might be devious, her desire for me outweighs even Lady Zephyr’s. I think the most I should expect from her, is an attempt at seducing me into sharing my bed with her.

Now I’ve had little contact with Lord Raiden, he considered, thinking of the kirin sage. But by the way he’s railed against me to the rest of the Pantheon, you’d think I’d sacked his Ziggurat of Knowledge and burnt all the books inside for spite. Though he might oppose me philosophically, he considers himself above the petty squabbles and plotting of his peers. No, he’d accept nothing less than an ideological victory against me by hoisting me by my own petard.

And then there’s old Rimefrost himself, he thought. I can’t even begin fathoming the reasons for Lord Cerynitis’s irrational obsession with me. Beyond the few words we’ve exchanged at the moots and the various negotiations I’ve held with Lord Triton, I’ve had next to no contact with him. By rights, the Lawgiver has more valid reasons to despise me then he does. Yet the Lord of Winter makes petition after petition to the Pantheon for my impeachment. But he doesn’t strike me as someone clever enough to orchestrate a plot without my discovering it first.

Perhaps one of the great plotters and schemers of the Pantheon are the ones seeking my demise, he pondered, dressing in his new finery, courtesy of Ringing Bells. Chief of all is Discord, who poses little threat to me. Even if he managed to somehow escape his stone prison in time to interrupt my inauguration, the most I could expect to have happen, is for him to play a few harmless, yet malicious pranks at my expense. I might even welcome them, if this party is going to be as dull as I think it might be. Lord Ananse on the other hand I know very little about. Though he enjoys being even more cryptic and obtuse then myself, he unceasingly spins the threads of fate on his great web. I’ll bet he fancies himself a behind the scenes player, he’d most likely strike at me from the shadows by proxy. And he’s probably the only god on the Zebrakan continent with the means to reach me.

I’d have to say that Strix, Loki, and Lugh, are only bit players in the greater scheme of things, he thought, adjusting his ruffled silk shirt and satin pantaloons. Although they were once my allies, I can envision them striking out at me for what they consider ‘the greater good of Equestria’. Concerning all the rest of the minor members of the Pantheon, none that I know of would dare make a move against me. And as for Jormungandr, he’s been absent this past decade, and even if he wasn’t, I doubt he wishes me ill. After playing my part in his last great scheme, I think he fancies me a reliable pawn in his game. That leaves only the Unmentionable One, and since Equestria hasn’t been reduced to ashes yet, I think it’s safe to assume we’re still safe from him for the time being.

That leaves only Celestia then, he decided, trying to puzzle out her part in all this. What could she possibly gain by my elimination, beyond the temporary cessation of slavery in the south? There’s no guarantee that my successor would stop the practice, especially when the economic realities of managing the Domain become evident. And if she’s been plotting my downfall, why has Luna been blushing at me like some love struck adolescent? Certainly the plot would be well known to both of them. Why bother trying to romance the one you wish to eliminate. Something doesn’t add up here…

Feeling frustrated and vulnerable, he smashed his metal fist into his reflection, shattering the mirror in the process. Hearing the sounds of breaking glass, Ringing Bells ran into the room with concern for his well-being reflected in her lavender eyes.

“Your highness, is there a problem?” she worriedly asked, cleaning up the broken shards of the mirror with her magic. “It’s the outfit isn’t it? You must hate it!”

“No, it’s not that,” he said, trying to calm down the near hysterical mare. “I’m afraid, I merely lost my temper over something trivial.”

Looking up at him, she smiled, pleased he was wearing the clothing she’d made for him. “Your majesty, you look so handsome,” she dreamily said, fawning over him. “However, your old crown just won’t do.”

“Well a king without his crown is rather meaningless,” he replied, reaching for his iron crown. Without it on, he felt quite naked. While wearing it, he no longer had to be the man he once was, instead he was free to lose himself in the role of the god he’d become. But before he could grab it, she used her magic and held it out of his reach. Frowning at her, he angrily pointed a finger at her. “Return my crown to me this instant!”

“I’ve taken the liberty of having one your dragon-half smiths make a more appropriate crown to accompany you outfit,” she said, levitating a small box towards him. “I believe his name was Ignatius, a regular gentlestallion.”

Opening up the box, he pulled out a small crown made up of twisting gold and arcanum wires. Holding it up with his hand, he thought it looked more like a masquerade mask than a proper crown. “Do you actually expect me to wear this tiny thing?” he asked, giving her a hard look. “It looks like you could snap it in two, just by looking at it wrong.”

“Oh it’s quite sturdy I assure you, your majesty,” she said, encouraging him to put it on. “If at any time, you feel the need to wear your old crown, I’ll be standing by to assist you with a wardrobe change to return you to your old look.”

“Well with an offer like that, how could I possibly refuse,” he replied, placing the new crown on his head, and feeling absolutely silly. “So, Ringing Bells, how do I look?”

“Like a million bits your majesty,” she cooed with excitement, delighted he had agreed to wear the complete ensemble she’d designed for him. Spying his rather scruffy looking false arm, she levitated a cloth and rubbed it vigorously, polishing it to a high sheen. “Your majesty, I’m sure every goddess in attendance tonight will be swooning, the moment they see you, and fighting each other for the chance to catch your eye!”

“Swooning at the mere sight of my glory, you say…” he said, while his mind finally started putting the pieces into place. Turning towards her, he gave her a slight smile. “Would you mind helping me with my cloak?”

“Of course your majesty,” she said, artfully draping Darkpaw’s freshly cleaned pelt across his shoulders.

“Walk with me,” he invited her, moving towards his throne room. “I want everyone to know who it was that made me these wonderful new clothes.”

“Cer… certainly, your majesty,” she said, honored that he would want her of all ponies to escort him to his throne.

Walking through the palace, he noticed the gaping mouths and bewildered faces of his servants and ground his teeth. If they weren’t gossiping about his strange behavior before, they would certainly would be after his new look. “So tell me, Ringing Bells,” he asked, trying to ignore the gawking stares of his slaves and servants. “In what capacity do you normally serve Celestia, the Radiant?”

“Oh, my main responsibility is planning celebrations for the nobility of Londwhinium,” she explained, trotting alongside him.

“Oh, mainly mar… er, I mean parties, galas, balls, and the like,” she said, offering him a sweet smile.

“I see,” he replied, finally understanding the significance behind her cutie mark. Entering his throne room from a side passage, he sat down and began mentally preparing himself to receive his guests. “Please stand by, in case I need to change back into my usual garb.”

“Certainly, your majesty,” she said, bowing respectfully to him before standing beside his throne.

Sitting in his throne, where everyone could look at him, he suddenly felt very self-conscious of his new appearance. Looking up at Darkpaw’s skull above him, he almost envied him. In his mind’s eye he envisioned that the old hound, like his skull, was grinning at him. “I wonder if you ever had to deal with such ridiculousness,” he muttered at him.

He sternly looked at the assembled stewards, porters, butlers, heralds, and the other assorted servants that would be serving the Slave King’s guests tonight. He was trying to look as intimidating as possible, and was failing miserably. Passing each of them, his sharp ears caught them trying their best not to laugh at him. Normally this sort of behavior would earn them a flogging, but he didn’t have the time to punish them for their transgressions, and decided to let it slide.

“This is the first major event the Slave King has ever hosted,” he said, pointing at each of them. “He expects nothing less than perfection, as you carry out your duties tonight. Remember this, personally serving the Slave King is a great honor. Do not embarrass him.”

The assembled servants, murmured their assent, and took their posts. Making his way back to the throne room, a feminine musical laugh and gravelly voice made him turn around.

“Yipyap, what the Hades happened to you?” a rumbling voice bemusedly asked. “You changing your fashion, to appeal to those urban Londwhinium fillies?”

“No, Scourge,” he sighed, annoyed that he would have to deal with the doomhound’s teasing. “I made the mistake of annoying the Slave King, in convincing him the virtue of trying out a new style.”

“Bawahaha,” Aria chuckled, at his clothes. “Oh, Melody is going to get a kick out of this!”

“Lady Aria,” he growled, annoyed with her for mocking him. “Your sister is much more interested in fawning over the Slave King’s new look.”

“Yipyap…” Scourge said, giving him an accusatory look. “You were supposed to be looking out for Slave King’s interests in these matters.”

“Hey, I had nothing to do with it!” he protested, pointing towards his ruined whiskers. “Celestia sent a pony to prepare the Slave King for tonight, and you know how he can be with bitches. No offense, Lady Aria.”

“None taken, arch duke,” she replied, well aware of the many times her own mother had successfully cajoled the Slave King into do things he normally wouldn’t. “But if the Slave King is embarrassed by this, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

“If Harmony had been here, this wouldn’t be an issue!” he snarled, angry at getting blamed for this situation. “Stewardship over the Slave King’s court is no longer my responsibility, it’s hers.”

“Harmony has been busy setting up wards against the hungry dead, and ensuring Nightmare is behaving herself,” she said, defending her sister’s absence. "But you served in that capacity for centuries, you should’ve known better!”

“This bickering is pointless,” Scourge said, giving each of them a stern look. “Look, what’s done is done. Aria, we simply need to look intimidating enough in the Slave King’s place. Reminding the other powers, that no matter how silly our whiskers look, we’re still strong and powerful.”

“Laugh it up, Scourge,” the arch duke bitterly said to the chuckling doomhound. “One day you’ll annoy him, and he’ll make you parade around in pink armor.”

“I’m sorry, Yipyap,” Scourge apologized, “but you just look so silly.”

“I suggest getting it out of your system now, before seeing the Slave King,” he said, walking towards the throne room.

“Why, is it really as bad as all that?” Scourge asked, wondering what horrors of fashion the unicorn had unleashed on his king.

“I’ll only say one word, and leave it at that... curls,” he said, before they entered the throne room.

It had been several weeks since he’d been here last, and was surprised by how good it looked. The rubble that once littered the ground had been removed, all the damaged murals had been repaired, and the entire room had been thoroughly cleaned from top to bottom. And though they couldn’t completely repair the cracked walls and collapsed ceilings, they’d fixed things enough to make the damage appear as part of the palace’s aesthetic. Had he still possessed eyes, he might have wept with joy. The restored palace, reminded him of the days before the world ended.

Looking towards the great stone throne that rested on a large raised dais, he saw the Slave King speaking with Melody and Harmony. When the arch duke had mentioned his new look, he hadn’t been exaggerating. Though his scent was the same, He nearly looked like a different hound altogether. Though he still wore the cloak of Darkpaw draped across his shoulders, everything else about him was different. Instead of the simple plain clothes he usually wore, he was covered in green silk and black satin accentuated with gems. His normally wild and unkempt mane had been styled with tight curls held together by a weave of gold wire and gemstones. His once wild beard had fared little better, noting it had been shaped and trimmed, and was styled heavily with gems as well. But what surprised him the most, was what had replaced his crown. His heavy iron crown, the symbol of his power and authority, had been replaced by a delicate looking gold and arcanum mask made of twisted wires that wreathed his head.

Scourge saw the changes, and didn’t like them. This brightly colored popinjay, wasn’t his king. Approaching the throne, he bowed low, and growled deeply, voicing his displeasure to the Slave King.

“I take it you don’t approve?” the Slave King said, wearing a bemused look on his face.

Looking at the bitches of the court that were fawning over him, Scourge narrowed his eyes. “Something about this doesn’t sit right with me,” he said, sitting beside his friend.

“So you noticed it too?” the Slave King asked, before giving Melody an annoyed look. “I said stop touching my beard!”

“But, king daddy, it looks so cute!” she pouted, longing to play with his beard some more.

“Harmony, see to it that your sister keeps her hands busy playing her lute,” he commanded.

“Slave King, as you wish,” she said, laying her hand affectionately on his shoulder, before dragging her sister off to play her instrument.

“You see what I’ve had to put up with?” he remarked. “Even levelheaded Harmony seems somewhat affected.

“Aria, stand with the ‘Order of the Shadow’,” Scourge said, noticing that his normally hardened disciple was looking at the Slave King with a softened expression of adoration on her face. “Perhaps you’ve been ensorcelled by the unicorn’s magic?”

“No,” he replied. “Beyond using her magic to levitate her tools, the rest of my fitting and styling sessions were of a mundane nature. Beyond using the soaps and oils she provided me, I have no idea what could possibly be possessing the ladies of my court.”

The Slave King’s eyes burned with power, and a short time later Nightmare entered the room, casting her malevolent gaze at everyone in the room. When she spied the Slave King, a change seemed to come over her. Tilting her head at him, her eyes softened as she sauntered over to his side. Completely ignoring everyone else, she affectionately rubbed up against her master, and placed her head beneath his hand so he could stroke her head.

“Well she certainly seems to be more affectionate than usual,” the Slave King said, stroking her behind the ears with his fingers, which made her purr in ecstasy.

“It’s worse than I realized,” Scourge said, looking the Slave King in the eyes.

“What is it my friend?” he asked, concerned he was in danger from an assassin’s blade.

“My king, you’re under the influence of the most dangerous kind of magic of all,” he said, “the female kind. A glamour designed to make their hearts swoon with desire.”

“It’s as I feared,” he replied. “Celestia, the Radiant is finally making her move against me.”

“Yes, we should expect a quarter of the Pantheon’s armies within two weeks,” he replied.

“You could just avoid it altogether,” Scourge suggested, hoping to strengthen their hand before facing such massive forces.

“No, I think teaching the Pantheon a lesson in humility is in order,” he said, giving the doomhound a grin. “I’ve made special preparations for a land invasion. We’ll only need to worry about those that can fly.”

“We have limited capacities in that regard,” Scourge said, trying to dissuade him from committing them to such a costly conflict.

“I’ve been developing a special surprise for any foolish enough to me attack by air,” he said.

“But master, how can we possibly hope repelling such a massive aerial invasion?” he asked, unable to think of a single stratagem that would have a ghost of a chance in succeeding.

“Through superior technology, thanks in part to my crystal ponies,” the Slave King said, feeling confident that everything would work out in the end. “If Celestia, the Radiant, thinks that I’ve lost my edge, she’s sorely mistaken.”

“Yes,” he replied, stroking Nightmare black fur once more, much to her pleasure. “Though the results so far have been rather crude, I think it’ll be sufficient enough to make any think twice, before flying unbidden over my Domain.”

“So that explains the incident last year,” Scourge said. “I was wondering what had happened.”

“One of my experiments went awry,” he explained, as Arch Duke Fifi le Yipyap stood at the ready to admit his first guest into his throne room. “So relax, Scourge, everything is well in hand.”

“Yes, Slave King,” he said, bowing before his master’s great wisdom and foresight.