The mayor’s office was very bare. Grey walls, a single file cabinet in the corner , a single soil-filled plant pot that lay away from the window, starved of sunlight, a chair at a table and a cuckoo clock placed higher that Dirtwielder, the old land pony who sat in the chair could reach.
He sat glumly in his office as the day reached noon. The cuckoo clock on the wall chimed, as if breaking him from a trance. He gazed at the mad wooden bird who was thrusted in and out of the door. Dirtwielder chuckled as relevant thoughts unveiled themselves slowly in his mind... However as the cuckoo stopped thrusting the old pony snapped back into reality, gazing at the mound of paper work that lied before him. Loud voices came from down the beyond the door. Dirtwielder softly sighed, knowing exactly who it was.
As if the day wasn’t bad enough, Simian stormed into Dirtwielder’s office, Cheeks red with rage. The old wrinkly grey pony nudged his glasses up and stared into the young lad’s eyes, remembering the... passion of his youth.
“She’s gone! The Tosser’s gone up and left!” Good old passion.
“Now now, dear boy.” He said, “Who are you talking about?
“Keckla and her slave boy. They’ve vanished!” Simian’s body seemed to move forward on his own, his hoof smashing and breaking the lonely flower pot. He stood still and looked at the mound of soil on the floor, then at his own, bleeding hoof. He smiled.
“Well what do you want me to do about it?” He said, eager to end the conversation. Simian turned and gave him an icy glare. Only this pony could get away with talking to him like that. He had power. You don’t mess with ponies in power until you have more power than them.
“I want Blade.” Simian said, cooly
“The assassin? I’m afraid he’s on a job. A long one. He said he’ll need two months.” As he finished the sentence he suddenly remembered that Simian’s temper was as big as his brain...
“2 MONTHS!” He roared, heavily sighing afterwards. Blade Rippon was the best assassin who had ever lived. He could kill someone and frame Celestia for it if you paid him enough. But he had his ways. He would sometimes disappear or take an abnormally long time on a job. Still, a 100% success rate was hard to criticize, even for someone like Simian.
“I’ll send him to you as soon as he gets back. I can’t do anything more than that.”
“That’s because you’re weak.” Simian said, before marching angrily out of the office doors and past a nervous male Pegasus with a saddlebag full of letters. A mail pony. Funny, Dirtwielder thought. They only came on Mondays and Thursdays, today was a tuesday. It had to be something important. He scuttled nervously into the office. Dirtweilder’s old face remained the same.
“Sir” His voice was young and shaky. He spoke every word with a broken voice.
“I-I bring an important message from P-Princess Celestia.” He said, before grabbing one of the letters from his bag with his teeth and chucking it Dirtwielder’s way. Fearing the worst, Dirtwielder hastily ripped it open with his teeth. The letter read:
Dear Dirtwielder
There is an upcoming coronation of one of my student in 9 weeks today. You need to be ready for your towns welcoming Ceremony. As you know, she will ride through the town on a chariot where she will meet and greet the people. If anything happens... well, you fully understand the consequences for your town and yourself.
From Celestia.
He sighed, and looked up to the now empty office. He hated this job.