Hope

by TwilightSnarkle

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

His tea had long grown cold, but despite the fire that roared behind him, the room seemed even colder. The chill emanated from the expressions of the mares across the table. Avoiding their gaze, Worker studied his mug, contemplating his next attempt to make headway, and wondering if it would even be worth it to try.

To his right sat Holly. The rose-colored mare was always respectful, even deferential in manner. She was the youngest of the four who had first met him, which may have been why she always addressed him as her senior. Today, her usual warm formality had taken on a tone of disdain. Every time Worker opened his mouth to defend himself, she would raise a slender scarlet eyebrow, and he would find it difficult to continue.

Did they teach mares this art as foals? He’d barely gotten twelve words out in the past half-hour, and for some reason felt grateful that he had been permitted that many. Sparring with Skyshine was a game they both enjoyed from time to time, but this? This was tantamount to torture!

To his left was Bulwark. As imposing as her namesake, she seemed to fill that side of the room. She could loom menacingly like no other, and was now staring down at him as his mother had when he came in late, or was impolite to adults. She was not about to allow him a reprieve. “Have you forgotten you’re among friends?” She addressed him as if he had just been caught stealing corncakes. “We help each other here.”

Holly laid a hoof against her arm. “Maybe,” she suggested, “Mr. Worker has decided he doesn’t need friends.” It was a plea-bargain, a benevolent explanation for someone too slow-witted to speak for himself.

Bulwark nodded assent. “I suppose that’s possible, Holly.” She turned to him, then, and spoke at a measured pace. “Well, Worker? Are you through with friends?”

“No, I—” Worker tried to reply, only to be trampled beneath Holly’s too-light conversational tone.

“Interesting designs here, Bulwark,” she interrupted. She had pulled a few sheets out of the binder open before her and laid them on the table, tracing part of the design with a hoof. “What do you suppose this is? Some sort of weapon?”

“It certainly appears so,” she replied gravely. “It looks like one of those water-sprayers on his fire-wagons, but much larger.” She tapped her hoof on the design, pointing at a domed cannon with heavy hoses and a tank. “Maybe it sprays something else?”

Holly frowned, trying to make out the row upon row of careful lettering. “It is a shame he never taught us to read this script. But that’s Mr. Worker for you. Full of secrets.” She might have been discussing a pony who never remembered to wipe his hooves on entering the house.

Bulwark nodded patiently. “Too many secrets, I think. And not enough sense. Ah, to be as smart as he, and too dull-witted to understand. Quite the puzzle.” At once, she was a long-suffering but patient matron, wishing a wayward child could see the truth.

Worker could only gape. The white pony paid him no mind.

“I do believe he’s too close to the problem. He’s re-acting, not acting. Nopony can survive like that, but he seems intent to try.”

Holly snorted disapprovingly and tossed her mane. She pushed her chair back from the table and stood, flicking her tail in irritation. “Well,” she declared, “if Mr. Worker won’t see sense, I don’t know why we’re trying to help at all.”

“No,” Worker began anxiously, moving to stand before Bulwark fixed him with a stare. He found himself back in his seat and holding his mug  before he knew it.

Bulwark raised a hoof in supplication. “Do sit, dear. Even someone as stubborn as Worker here can be shown the truth of things.”

Holly considered her options for a moment. “I suppose Skyshine would be grateful. Sisters alone know how she manages him on her own.”

 “I really do want your help.” He did? When had that changed? “I just...” He searched for the words. “Uh... didn’t know how to ask.”

Holly smiled at him faintly, but returned to her seat. For some reason, Worker found this was a huge relief. He glanced over at Bulwark who wore a mysteriously satisfied expression.

“Fine, Worker,” she replied in a comforting tone. “We’ll help, but only because it’s the right thing to do.”

Worker nodded his assent. In the back of his mind, something roared with frustration. He was sure, given enough time, he could piece together what it was. For the time being, he had some planning to do with his friends.

It was dawn, and the princesses had just finished their royal duties. As was habit, the two met for a morning meal and a family meeting. Lentils had outdone herself. Even with Winter Wrap-Up barely complete, she had somehow found enough fresh fruits, vegetables, and pastries to cover the small table. On a side cart waited pots and urns of tea, coffee, and juice. 

Celestia sipped her coffee—she had decided that tea was too weak for the day’s work—and regarded her sister over the mug’s rim. “It would seem, Luna...” She paused for a sip, then continued. “...That they know each other.”

Luna nodded in response around a bite of pancakes. “It would.” She swallowed, then continued, “And they’re not on friendly terms.”

The elder sister set down her mug and busied herself slicing a melon. “You say this blue creature’s dreams are full of anger and hate.” She looked up from her work with a curious eye. “Since they’ve met, how have Worker’s been?”

“I...” She sipped her tea, and studied the finery on the table. Her cheeks reddened, and she mumbled in reply, “I’ve not been able to tell.”

Celestia’s mouth dropped open a fraction in surprise. “He’s blocking his dreams?” she whispered. From any other pony, that would have been a cry of alarm. “From you?”

“No,” she grumbled, shaking her head, “but something is. There’s a cloud on his mind, whirling like a dust-devil. I can get glimpses from time to time, but it’s... unpleasant to do so.”

“One of his machines, perhaps?” the eldest offered.

“No.” She shredded her remaining pancakes with a flurry of agitation. “I don’t know how but I know it’s not him.”

“That makes it all the more worrisome.” Celestia poured herself and her sister each a glass of water, and floated the offering across the table.
 
Luna accepted it with an inelegant grunt.

The white alicorn continued as she speared another slice. “Our visitor seems to be fixated on Worker. From what I’ve heard from my observers, he’s destroyed a few machines, destroyed a shop, and it seems he’s done something to Worker himself. The doctor’s been up to his home, recently.”

“I doubt it was anything serious. His wife would insist on him being brought in for care at the hospital.”

“That much is true. They truly do care for each other.”

“You sound surprised.” Luna finished her water and set the glass into a slow descent to the table. “But that brings up a good question.” 

“Oh?” Celestia managed, swallowing the last of her melon.

Luna brought her hooves together, and rested her chin atop them as she leaned on the table. “Why don’t you care for him?”

Celestia blinked, affronted. “Pardon?”

“More than most ponies, I understand the need for observation. But this? You know this creature is a danger. And yet, you order your pegasi to observe and report, never to interfere." She regarded her with cool curiosity.

Finding herself on the defensive, Celestia replied, “I note you keep your observers well-hidden.”

Luna brushed it away. “That is my nature, and my role. You operate more in the open, although you too have adopted some secrets over the centuries. Indeed, according to the terms of the Accord, you must act to preserve the Sovereignty and the peace of its peoples, against all threats, even if you have cut the definition of ‘act’ finely from time to time.”

Celestia frowned, murmuring noncommittally.

“You do not deny it, sister.”

“No, I don’t.” She studied the tines of the melon fork, then set it down. “I must admit I am curious.”

“Curious?”

She nodded, the barest motion of her head. “About how he will react.”

A level gaze replaced her sister’s usual regal air, and her voice fell to a whisper. “Worker. You’re curious about how Worker, a pony smarter than the pair of us combined, with knowledge beyond our epoch-spanning ken, will react...” Luna took a calming breath, but her expression grew darker. “...To being hunted.”

Celestia’s serene expression twisted into a grimace. “Well,” she began. Then, more quietly, “Yes.” A faint blush rose in her cheeks, and she stared intently at her empty mug.

Luna stood and placed her forehooves upon the table. Her wings fluttered wildly, and she seethed, hissing with anger across the banquet. “Art thou mad? Hath thou taken leave of thine senses? Of thy morality?” The hissing graduated to a growl. “My sister, Master Worker deserves our compassion, and we must strive to be deserving of his trust!”

Celestia’s eyes widened with shock. “Sister, I understand, but—”

However, Luna was not yet finished. She flared her wings to their full span and stood upon her hind legs. Her eyes went white with fury, and her horn sparked dangerously. “Hath thou no restraint? Common ponies need naught but your respect and care, not your jest and sport! Doth thou not recollect the lessons uncounted of Twilight’s own teaching? Hath thou forgotten the unpleasantness with the Empire?”

Pausing solely for a breath, she added, “Hath thou forgotten the beginning? Thy first ‘faithful and true’ student,” she roared, “and the fall of Sombra?” The name hung in the air, echoing faintly from the high ceilings, and Luna fell silent. She dropped to her hooves, but neither lowered her wings nor broke her gaze.

Celestia sat stone-still, silhouetted by the sun that rose behind her, as the name of her protegé faded into nothingness. Despite the rays that illuminated her mane, there was no warmth in her voice. “There is no need to take that tone with me, little sister. I admit my lack of forethought.”

Luna seethed, folding her wings with crisp motions. “Thou doth appear content to lie about upon thy backside, working eyes and ears where thy hooves once stirred. Well, then, if thou art reticent, We shall act.” She clipped her hooves against the floor, as if freeing them of dust. “With or without thy support."

“Little sister,” came her whispered reply, “if you think you can dress me down and take the high road here, you are mistaken. I agree with you, in that I have been unwise. Foolish. But you delve too far, and speak of times clouded by your own shadow. Do not think you impress me. For all your art and artifice, I am still your equal.”

The princesses glared at one another, motionless save for the flowing of their manes. After a moment, the elder of the pair glanced down, then away.

“I said, Luna, that you are right. I have been too reluctant to act, solely to satisfy my curiosity. I suppose, over the years, I have lost sight of the hearts of my ponies. I am sorry.”

Luna’s expression softened, and she nodded, trying to smooth her features. “We... I apologize for my outburst. You did not deserve the brunt of my anger. I, too, am at fault for not expressing my concerns earlier.” She was surprised to hear the sound of her sister giggling, like crystal chimes.

“Look at us, sister.” Celestia shook with laughter, tears streaming down her face. “As old as anything, and still arguing like schoolfillies. We truly are night and day.” She hooted with laughter, then took a breath. “Let us make this right. We’ll move up our holiday this month, and visit Pasofino as friends. If there is a problem, we will be sure to address it when we arrive.”

Luna just shook her head, and a hint of a smile sparkled in her eyes. “I agree. Let’s go tonight? I have a few things I need to set right. Besides...”

Celestia wiped her eyes. “Mm?”

“I am concerned. After all, if this creature is a threat, we do not know his capabilities. We do not know his drive. If this is the same foe from Worker’s past, then keep this in mind: Our own limitless, fathomless friend finds him implacable.”

“A fair point, Luna. I shall keep that in mind today. Now it is my turn to bid you sleep well.”

Luna nodded, and turned to leave. “Sister,” she began, pausing at the door, “I am sorry. Truly.”

“I am as well. We’ll talk more, later. Especially how you knew about Sombra. We were barely on speaking terms, then.”

Luna rolled her eyes, and strode for the door. “Really, Celestia. You’re impossible. Yes, we’ll talk later. Be safe today.”

“Dream peacefully, little sister.”

Skyshine grimaced and looked across the Meeting Hall. She stood behind a podium atop the central dais. Worker and Bulwark sat behind her, to her left, and Holly and Saber Dance were on her right.

Knots of ponies, most in deep conversation, ignored the five on the dais and paid no heed to her or her husband’s attempts to bring order to the assembly. They seemed content to guess at the reason they were gathered, rather than pay attention to their surroundings.

Trying once more, Skyshine rapped an insistent hoof against the podium, and was stunned to find it boomed with every strike.

The room fell silent, and every eye rested on her. She tried to regain her bearings quickly enough to take advantage. “Uh... Friends,” she managed before a chuckle interrupted her thoughts. She glanced towards the floor to find Whisper winking at her, poking a hoof towards her horn. Of course.

“As I was saying,” she continued, trying to pick up momentum. “Friends, we are here to report and to request input. As you are all aware, recently, Worker’s Toy Shop has burned to the ground.”

A few mutters of displeasure rumbled through the room, but otherwise the ponies remained quiet. So far, so good.

“What many of you might not know, however...” She gripped the podium in expectation of an uproar. “...is that the building was intentionally destroyed by a trespasser.”

As predicted, the crowd exploded in shouts of anger and concern. Skyshine raised a hoof in an effort to control the tumult. To her surprise, the gathered ponies quieted almost immediately. She marveled for a moment, then proceeded.

“Thank you. Now, for some details.” She had been over this time and time again with Worker. Keep it simple and factual, she reminded herself, with no room for misunderstanding. “In short: There is a trespasser in or around Pasofino. This creature has assaulted my husband, threatened him, and destroyed his shop. He has come here for the sole purpose of taking Worker away. I, for one, do not intend to allow him to do so!”

A chorus of shouted assent met her declaration.

Worker watched with astonishment. His wife was indeed a dangerous mare—one who had honed her skills over the years since they first met. He glanced to his right to see Bulwark grinning at him.

“You don’t normally see her with the townsfolk do you?” she whispered.

Worker shook his head, and responded in kind. “How could you tell?”

“Your jaw was in your lap,” she replied with a satisfied nod.

Worker grunted. He turned his attention back to his wife and watched her manage the crowd with a growing admiration.

Bulwark murmured into his ear. “She’s going to be mayor, next. Whisper’s ready to retire, and she’s pretty much paved the way for Skyshine to assume the role.”

“But, the election,” he protested, his sense of civic duty stirring.

“Will be a landslide. Look, they love her.”

“I begin to—” He paused in his reply, having heard his name. He searched his memory to put the speech back together. Ah, yes. It must be my time to speak. 

Skyshine smiled back at him, moving from the lectern, and he stood to take her place. He stationed himself behind the podium, leaning forward to rest his hooves atop a stack of papers his wife had left behind. He glanced down and saw the top sheet: A hoof-drawn sketch of his wife, his daughter, and himself all taking a walk. His daughter had drawn it no more than a week ago. For a moment, he stood silent, examining the cartoonish crayon drawing, then placed his hooves firmly on the ground.

“I must thank you all for coming,” he croaked, his voice barely audible. “I...” he coughed into a forelimb, then regained some of his composure. “Well, enough about ‘I’.”

Worker turned and motioned for his wife to rejoin him, and she moved to his side. “We,” he corrected in a louder voice. “Skyshine and I. We greatly appreciate that you all, our friends, some new and many old, have taken the time today to hear us.” He looked through the room, pausing at the faces of some of his oldest friends.

“The fact is...” He rubbed his left forelimb against her right, hoping the touch would soothe. “The fact is that the creature who pursues me is the same that pursued me fifteen years ago, when I first arrived.”

Immediately, a low buzzing filled the hall. He could only imagine what was being discussed, but he could hear the name “Mobius” from a half-dozen muzzles.

“I do not know how he came here, but I can hazard a guess that he duplicated my work. This is unfortunate, and it greatly complicates things for a great many ponies who have no stake in the outcome.” He sighed, and leaned forward again—not to project, but for support.

“I was recently reminded, by some of my oldest and dearest friends, of the benefits of friendship. The esoteric qualities that make it up. Some are a bit more immediate than others. For example...” he turned to Bulwark and motioned her forward, then to Holly and Saber Dance as well.

“A friend will tell you when you’re being an idiot. And if she’s a very good friend, she will do so in such a way that brooks no argument.” He dropped his voice a moment, and mumbled to Bulwark. “Seriously. If you teach my daughter how to do that, I will never forgive you.”

Bulwark roared with laughter, and Holly fought to stifle giggles that were rapidly gaining ground. Worker turned his focus back to the crowd.

“A good friend gives you love, and understanding, and patience, and the occasional kick in the flank. And all they ask in return is one’s trust.” He smiled, standing shoulder to shoulder his four friends. “These four ponies are the first I met in this strange and wonderful world, and since that day, I have grown to trust them implicitly.”

He sighed, and continued. “But there’s more to this meeting than remembrance. Well, let me be plain. This creature is dangerous. He is obsessive, and he is relentless, but he is also focused. I do not think any of you are in any direct danger at the moment. For now, he is focused on me.

“However, this may change. If he decides that he can get to me through you, or through threatening the town at large, he will do so. Of that I am certain. And so, I would ask that you trust me, and allow me to help you defend yourselves. I do not know what has happened to my nemesis in my absence. I do not know what he is capable of. But, as I am responsible for him being here, I offer my help in securing the town so long as he remains.”

He looked to his four companions in turn, and then declared, “I hereby open the floor for discussion. My wife and my friends can answer any questions you may have about the basic plans. I will be available to discuss the fine details once the discussion, and if necessary, a vote, is complete. For now, I take my leave.”

With that, Worker stepped away from the lectern and strode off the rear of the podium, then continued out a side door. Once it shut behind him, he fell against it, barely able to stand on legs that had become unruly.

He nearly collapsed with shock when a pale green head suddenly poked out of a window alongside the door. “That was well done,” Whisper commented in conspiratorial tones. “Very well done. Not only do you show your trust by letting your companions handle the arrangements, but you remove yourself as a distraction. I must say,” she mused, “I may have been grooming the wrong pony.”

“No,” Worker wheezed, holding a hoof to his chest. “You’ve got the right one. I don’t want any more responsibility than I already have.”

“A shame,” she replied airily. “That sort of outlook usually means I’ve got the right candidate. Your wife said nearly the same thing.” She looked the yellow pony over, and frowned. “Worker, once you catch your breath, why don’t you check on Snowdrop? I’m sure Tea Blossom could use the break, and I think you could use a hug from a certain filly.”

Worker nodded. He had already decided to go, but it warmed his heart to hear it suggested so casually by another. “That’s a good idea, Whisper. Thank you.”

“I’ve got to get back in there. I am still the mayor after all, and someone has to call the vote to order. Good luck, Worker. Everything will work out, somehow.”

Worker made no reply, but after she had been gone for a few minutes he felt stable enough to travel. He made good time across the nearly-empty town, and soon found himself approaching Saber’s and Amaranth’s home.

From beyond the fence, he spied a note pinned beneath a heavy brass knocker. He opened the gate and trotted up to the front door, then pulled the note free. It read, simply:

It was well past noon already.

Mild panic rose in his chest, and he peered through darkened windows. The house seemed tidy and well-kept, and there was no sign of anything amiss. Still...

He seized the knocker and let it fall, striving to keep himself collected. There was no answer. Maybe it’s naptime, he hoped with desperation.

Worker tried the lock, and found the door unsecured. He entered the home, peering left and right. “Tea Blossom?” he called, and finding his voice weak, tried again. “Tea Blossom? Snowdrop?”

There was no reply.

Desperate, he bolted through the house, checking every door and crevice, then threw open the back doors and searched the yard. Neither hide nor hair of any pony could be seen. Nor blood, or struggle, suggested an unwelcome voice.

His mind raced with options. Where could they have gone? Where should I look? The park was closest, so starting there made the most sense. He raced down the empty thoroughfares, shouting his daughter’s name.

“Snowdrop! Snowdrop!” he called, and turned the corner to the park. There, beneath a large oak, sat a checkered blanket and a picnic basket. He felt a momentary relief until he noticed there were no ponies anywhere in sight.

Tea Blossom would never have abandoned her charge, he reminded himself. This means they either took a walk, forgetting the danger, or...

He was unwilling to finish the thought.

“Worker?” someone asked behind him. He spun about to see Skean folding his wings. “I saw y’ runnin’. Y’ look puggled. Are—”

“No,” was Worker’s strangled reply.

Skean saw the basket, and the empty park, and the look on Worker’s face. “By th’ Sun...” he began, but his voice trailed off. He tried again. “Worker...”

The unicorn stepped to him, unsteady on his hooves, and clutched at his shoulders. “Skean,” he croaked. “She’s gone. My daughter is gone. I don’t know where, but she’s not here, and she should have been back at the house by noon. Tea Blossom is gone too.”

“I ken y’, Worker. Stay he—No. Get to th’ Hall. Tell everyone there what’s happened. I’m goin’ t’ do a lap o’ th’ town. If y’ see Sundown, tell ‘im t’ join me.”

Worker nodded, numb, and staggered as quickly as he could towards the hall. His mind was blank with fear, and soon he found himself running, ignoring the concerned look of the few ponies out-of-doors. Skyshine. Skyshine will know what to do.

He had to get to the Hall as quickly as possible. He vaulted fences, plowed through a pony’s flower garden, and knocked over bins, shaving seconds off his journey each time. The town clock was just chiming two o’clock when he crashed through the door he had exited twenty minutes prior.

“She’s gone!” he shouted, his voice breaking as he skid across the floor, scrabbling for footing on the planks. He stumbled towards his wife and friends. “My daughter is gone!”