Tales of Canterlot Castle

by The Ponopticon

The Game (part 2)

“I understand you’re looking for a new cart,” said Smarmy McHooves, owner and operator of Smarmy’s Quality Cart & Wagon Emporium, as he approached the oddly attired blue mare who was currently looking at his wares far too closely for his liking.  He gave her a quick once-over, hoping to see signs that she might be a big spender; she was a unicorn, which was often a good sign, but her strange star-patterned purple hat and cape was confusing his money radar.  Smarmy decided to soldier on and hope for the best.
“Well, you’ve come to the right place, if I do say so myself,” he continued, putting on his most winning smile.  “I don’t call this a ‘Quality Cart & Wagon Emporium’ for nothing.  Is there anything in particular you’re looking for, Miss…?”
The mare turned and assumed one of the most melodramatic poses Smarmy had ever seen outside of a theatre, her head held high, eyebrows arched, and a hoof held up to her chest.
“You may call me the Great and Powerful Trixie,” the mare declared haughtily.  “And the Great and Powerful Trixie is not looking for a ‘cart’—Trixie requires something with class and sophistication.  Trixie requires a caravan.”
“Uh huh…”
“However, due to forces beyond even her control, Trixie is also on something of a budget right now,” the Great and Powerful Trixie went on.  Her superior air faltered for a moment.  “Strictly temporary, of course—nothing to worry about.  Barely worth mentioning, really.”
“Riiiiight,” said Smarmy.  Penniless but prideful—I can work with that.
“Class and sophistication on a budget, you say?  A caravan, you say?” Smarmy rambled, stalling for time as he thought quickly.  “Why, my dear, you really have come to the right place!  I have just what you’re looking for right over here!”
Smarmy directed Trixie to one of his cheapest carts.  With a feat of legerdehoof that would have made even a seasoned performer like Trixie jealous had she actually seen it, he quickly knocked off the sign that said “cart” and added an extra zero to the end of the price tag with the marker he always kept around, just in case of marker emergencies.  Hiding all this with a quick flourish, he turned back to his prospective customer.
“My dear lady, I am proud to present to you one of the finest examples of the cartwright’s craft and my flagship model, the Ambassador LE sport utility caravan!” Smarmy announced with a deep bow, raising one hoof to sweep across the cart.  Trixie scrunched up her face as she stared at it.
“It looks no different from the others to Trixie,” she said in a hesitant tone that kicked Smarmy’s salespony instincts into overdrive, and he pounced like a lion on a sickly, near-sighted gazelle with only three legs.
“Don’t let looks deceive you, my dear Trixie…” Smarmy began.
“Great and Powerful Trixie.”
“My dear Great and Powerful Trixie,” the salespony corrected without skipping a beat.  “It’s all the extra features that make the Ambassador LE truly world-class.  Little differences that some ponies might not notice but which I’m sure will make it more than worthwhile for a knowledgeable and sophisticated mare such as yourself.”
“Well, yes, naturally,” Trixie agreed, some of her earlier haughtiness returning.  “And Trixie cannot complain about the price.”
“Uh…  Really?” Smarmy asked, his grin faltering for the merest instant.  Maybe I should’ve added another zero…
“Oh yes, quite reasonable,” Trixie replied.  “Does it come in yellow and red?”
“We can certainly do that for you, Miss Great and Powerful Trixie, as long as you don’t mind giving some time to let the paint dry,” Smarmy recovered with a smile.  If this customer was willing to pay ten times what the cart was worth, he was more than willing to slap some paint on it to seal the deal.
“Excellent.  Trixie will take it,” Trixie declared.  “Just one more question—has Equestria changed its currency so that there are now a thousand pennies to the bit?”
“Um… no…”  Smarmy turned to look at the price tag.  The extra zero he had added was still fresh, the ink only beginning to dry—right after the other two zeroes in the cents columns.
Aw, dangit.
Only a few minutes of painting and grumbling later, and the Great and Powerful Trixie was on her way with her brand new caravan.  She turned to wave at the salespony, who was having some difficulty maintaining his smile now.
There was a flash of black and brass in Trixie’s peripheral vision as a massive sphere fell out of the sky and bounced off the dirt road, just barely clipping the caravan on the rebound.  Her eyes widened as the cart tilted ominously.  It balanced on two wheels for a sickening moment before settling back down.  Trixie breathed a sigh of relief…
…just as two large alicorns—one just on the pink side of white and the other a deep night blue—barrelled through, smashing the caravan to splinters before bouncing off haphazardly, cursing and squabbling the whole time.
As the Great and Powerful Trixie stood next to her ruined caravan, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open in shock, Smarmy McHooves sidled up next to her.
“So, miss, I understand you may be in the market for a new caravan,” he said.

“Oh, wow.  Wow.  This is… this is gold,” Jimmy breathed as he snapped photo after photo of the two regal rulers of Equestria walloping each other in a desperate bid to get to the ball first.  “Front page news, here I come!  I just need to get a little closeraaaAAAAAUUGH!”
Jimmy screamed and recoiled from his camera as his viewfinder filled first with a flash of purplish-pink magic and then a very large and very angry blue eye.  The young photographer stumbled and landed on his rump; adding insult to injury, his camera swung down on its strap and smacked him hard in the chest, momentarily knocking the wind out of him.
“Well, if it isn’t my little pal Jimmy Coltsen,” Shining Armor said as he loomed over the fallen colt.  Jimmy looked up at the Guard captain with a sheepish grin.
“Uh, hey, Captain Armor.  Good to see you!” the photographer said as he rubbed his bruised sternum, silently cursing both his luck and his clunky old camera.  “I was just, uh, out for a bit of a walk.  Yeah!  A walk.  With my camera.  Walking’s good for your health, you know, so…”
“Do you actually expect me to buy that load of horseapples?” Shining interjected.
“No, but it was worth a shot,” Jimmy admitted.  He brushed a lock of his ginger mane out of his eyes and tried a grin again, but Shining Armor simply glowered at him, unmoved.
“Jimmy, for your own safety I’m going to have to ask you to…”
“Oh, no you don’t, Shining Armor!” shouted a mare’s voice in a slight Manehattan accent.
“Oh, crud,” Shining and Jimmy muttered in unison as a pale purple mare with a dark mane walked right up to the captain and jabbed a hoof into his chestplate.
“You can’t just show up and start bossing Jimmy around!” the mare said.  “That’s my job!”
“Memory Lane, always a pleasure,” said Shining Armor dryly.  “Has Perry Winkle finally let you handle something other than fluff nostalgia stories?”
Memory Lane waved a hoof in Shining’s face dismissively and turned to Jimmy.
“Jimmy, have you got pictures?” she asked.
“Yes, Miss Lane.”
“Of the princesses?”
“Yes, Miss Lane.”
“Good pictures?”
“I’ve got some great wide action shots, Miss Lane, but for close-ups I’ll need to get, well, closer,” Jimmy said.
“Well, then what are you still doing here?” Memory Lane demanded with a withering glare.  “Get over there and get me some pictures!”
“Um…”
“Actually, Miss Lane, I can’t allow him to do that,” Shining Armor interrupted.
“Oh?  And why not, Shiny?”
Shining frowned.  “Is there anypony who hasn’t heard about that?” he mused.
“There won’t be when I’m done with this story!” Memory crowed.
Shining Armor sighed and ran a hoof over his face.  “Look, Miss Lane, as I was just saying to Jimmy when you arrived, for your own safety I’m going to have to ask both of you to leave,” he said.
“You can’t censor me!  I’m a representative of the free press!” Memory shouted.  “This is a story that the citizens of Equestria deserve to have me win a Ponylitzer for!  I mean, to know about!”
“I’m not going to stop you writing your article, Miss Lane.  I doubt I could even if I tried,” Shining explained.  “But although the princesses haven’t injured anypony so far, I’d rather play it safe than risk having the casualty count be anything other than zero.  You can still observe, but you’ll have to pull back to a safe distance.”
“HA!  So you admit you have no authority here!” Memory gloated, once again jabbing a hoof into Shining Armor’s chestplate.  “You can’t do anything to make us leave, so I’m going to…”
With a shrill whistle, a fir tree streaked towards them like a giant arrow and embedded itself point-first in the ground with a “thud-ud-ud-ud” sound that might have been hilarious had it not been caused by several dozen feet of conifer burying itself halfway into the dirt not ten feet away.
“…I’m going to move to a safe distance right now, and you can’t stop me!” Memory Lane finished.
“Oh, heavens forbid,” Shining said amiably.
“Safe distance sounds good to me, Miss Lane,” Jimmy added.
“Shut up, Jimmy!” Memory snapped, grabbing the colt by his camera strap and dragging him away.  Shining Armor waved.
“Always a pleasure, Miss Lane!” he called after them before turning at the sound of galloping hooves to see Lieutenant Sunbeam finally catch up.
The unicorn mare tottered to a halt and collapsed in a heap at Shining’s hooves.  Her orange mane was matted with sweat under her helmet and a froth had built up around her chestplate.
“Don’t… don’t like… running…” Sunbeam gasped between breaths.  “Gotta… learn to… teleport… like you…”
“Come along, Lieutenant,” Shining said as he trotted away.  “We should get back to safety ourselves.”
“What?  But I just got here!”
Before Lieutenant Sunbeam could protest any further, inspiration struck her.  Or rather, it struck the ground about fifty feet away, and instead of inspiration it was really more like one of the old abandoned stone farmhouses that were a common sight in the fields around Canter Mountain.  If a building made of seventy-pound stone blocks could splash, this one did so, sending said seventy-pound stone blocks splattering all over the countryside.
“Right!  Safety!  Yes!  Good idea!  Wait for me, Cap!” Sunbeam called as she found her second wind and galloped after her commanding officer.

Luna trotted up next to her sister, who was staring straight ahead with her lips pursed and a hoof tapping her cheek pensively.  Luna followed Celestia’s eyes.
“Hmm…  Mud pit,” the night princess said as she appraised the large and apparently quite deep patch of brown muck that currently occupied Celestia’s attention.
“Eeyup,” the elder princess concurred laconically.
Luna frowned.  The ball was stuck right in the middle of the mud and was sinking rapidly.
“Um…  Should I perhaps…?” she began.
“Nope.  My play,” Celestia interrupted.
“But the ball is sinking.”
“Eeyup.”
“Into the mud.”
“It sure is.”
“But shouldn’t thou be… Ah!” Luna cried out as the ball was finally sucked below the surface of the mud with an audible “gloop.”
Celestia grinned.  “Perfect,” she said, then closed her eyes.  Her horn glowed as she reached out with her magic.
“What art thou…?” Luna started asking, but stopped in shock as a huge mass of water rushed up out of the mud, leaving the surface of the pit cracked and dry as a bone before exploding outward and drenching everything nearby—except Celestia, naturally.
“Aagh!  Cold!” Luna shrieked, but Celestia was so deep in concentration she could not even hear her sister’s complaints.  Her ethereal mane began to roil, changing colour from its usual calming dawn tones to the bright reds and oranges of a vibrant sunrise.  Finally, the sun princess’s eyes snapped open, glowing pure white, and her mane burst into a rippling sheet of flame.  The intense blast of heat nearly knocked Luna over, drying her instantly, but then stopped as suddenly as it started.  Celestia’s mane returned to normal, but her eyes still glowed white as she swung her horn to point straight up at the sky.  Following her motion, the parched surface of the mud pit lurched upward a few feet with a rumble before the whole thing pulled loose from the earth.  As the solidified mud drifted up out of its erstwhile home, the dry, cracked outer layer sloughed off, leaving only an immense and semi-transparent vitreous mass, the iron ball clearly visible deep inside.
Beginning to tremble from the effort of lifting several tons of fused silicate, Celestia gritted her teeth.   “Magic… not… touching… the ball… directly…” she managed to grunt through the strain.
Luna’s mouth gaped open.  “Aww!  No fair!”

Radu Goldwing, Voivode of Greystone, tapped a claw impatiently as he surveyed his clan’s preparations from the side of a cliff high above the rest of the fortress-like aerie.  Weapons and supplies of all kinds passed below him, carried by his griffon warriors, but Radu knew that they alone would not sway the invasion of Equestria in Greystone’s favour.  His warriors were brave and he was proud of each and every one of them, but Radu knew that in order to outdo the slinking cowards of Helmspire in honourable battle and erase the millennium-old stain upon Greystone’s honour they would need an edge—an edge that had been sealed away in the deepest vaults of his ancestors.  Until now.
Radu turned, letting his long cape swirl behind him as he stalked back into his Great Hall, where a trio of crones, attended to by a young apprentice witch, chanted as they circled the stone vessel that now lay in the middle of the hall.
“Vitch!” Radu shouted, causing the apprentice to start and scurry towards him.  “Vhy is eet takink zo lohng?”
“Forgiff me, Voivode,” the young witch said, cowering before the massive old warlord.  “De zeremony, eet cannot be rushed, or else de spells dat seal de vessel vill stay locked foreffer.  Hyu must be patient.”
“Do not presume to tell me vhat to do!” roared Radu, looming over the griffon witch.  “Hy vill tear out hyou’re…!”
Radu was interrupted by a small pouch of aromatic herbs that sailed through the air and bounced unceremoniously off his head.  The warlord turned to glare at the crone who threw it.
“Bah!” the crone said with a scowl.  “Dun’t go scarink de new gorl, leetle Radu.”
“Auntie!  Hyu promised hyu vouldn’t call me dat!” the immense griffon lord complained, his anger completely drained away.  “Hy haff an image to keep up!”
“Bah!” the crone said again, and beckoned the apprentice witch towards her.  “Dun’t vorry about heem, schveethott, hee’s a puzzycat vhen hyu get to know heem.”
“But only in de back!” the other two crones piped up in unison before collapsing into fits of snorting, wheezing laughter.
“Uhm… vhat about de zeremony?” asked the young witch.
“Yes!  Vhat about de zeremony?” echoed Radu, glad for the change in subject.
“Vhat, dat?” the first crone replied with a dismissive wave of a claw.  “All de important schtuff vas done an hour ago.  Ve just had to vait for de spells to unravel.”
“But… but de chanting!  And de dancing in de circle!”
“Hoh, dat vasn’t de zeremony—dat vas just to keep ourselves hoccupied.”  The other two crones nodded.  “In fact, de vessel should be openink up any second now.”
A crack and the hiss of ancient air escaping confirmed the crone’s words, and the lid of the stone container visibly loosened.
“Hoh!  Zee!  Vhat did hy tell hyu?” the crone said, but Radu had already approached the vessel and was wrenching off the heavy lid.  The deep violet glow that emanated from the opened vessel underlit his beaked face eerily as he gazed upon the relics of his ancestors that lay within.
“Dese are dem?” he asked, his voice hushed in awe.  “Dese are… de Claws of Primacy?”
“Indeed dey are, Voivode,” the first crone said, seriousness returning to her voice as the other crones gathered behind her.  “Arm hyou’re varriors vith dese hancient relics and hyu vill be unstoppable.”
Radu Goldwing felt a grin tug at the edges of his beak.  “Dey’re perfect,” he whispered.  “Neither de ponies nor de fools of Helmspire vill know vhat hit dem.”
The Voivode began to laugh, the crones joining him with a throaty cackle.  The apprentice witch joined as well, but rather more self-consciously.

“I tell ya, Deadpan, this bleepin’ sucks.”
Two Royal Guards, both wearing the dull steel armour that denoted the lowest possible rank of Guardspony, stood flanking a small, unremarkable wooden door in the depths of Canterlot Castle.  The grey unicorn referred to as Deadpan rolled his eyes but said nothing in reply to his dark blue bat pony compatriot, Bluestreak.
“This bleepin’ sucks big bleepin’ Diamond Dog bleeps,” the bat pony continued, heedless of his partner’s disinterest.  “‘Join the Royal Guard,’ they said.  ‘Princess Luna’s back, so the Night Guard needs bat ponies to fill the ranks,’ they said.  ‘Do the bat ponies proud with glorious service,’ they said,” Bluestreak spat.  “But all that bleepin’ action out there, and what do we get stuck guarding?”  He waved a hoof at the door behind them.  “The bleeper bleepin’ staff privy.  It’s bleepin’ humiliating!”
Deadpan groaned and finally gave in.  “Bluestreak, you do realise it’s your fault we have to be here, right?” the unicorn said.  “You put snakes in the Sergeant’s bunk.  Again.”
“Only a few!”
“I counted thirty-five,” Deadpan retorted.  “And those were just the ones that didn’t slither away into the water pipes when Corporal Scrappy tried to flush them.”
“Oh, come on!  Most of them weren’t even bleepin’ poisonous!”
“The only mystery to me is how you managed to sneak three dozen snakes into the barracks in the first place,” Deadpan went on.  “That, and the reason why I always have to join you in these punishment details.”
“Oh, that’s easy,” Bluestreak said.  “I name you as my co-conspirator whenever Sarge questions me.”
Deadpan smacked a hoof to his face.  “You… you… ugh.”
“What?  You don’t want me down here by my bleepin’ self, do you?” Bluestreak protested.  “I’d get lonely.”
“If it’s loneliness you’re worried about, I think your sophisticated charm is more to blame for that,” Deadpan stated flatly.  “Speaking of which, I see you’ve still got that curse the Princess put on you.”
“Bleepin’ right I do!” the bat pony confirmed.  “I can’t bleepin’ swear at all!  I can’t even say bleep!”
“Actually, you say bleep all the time,” Deadpan said with a grin.
“But I’m not trying to say bleep, I’m trying to say bleep!  And bleep, and bleep, and bleep!”
“Well, I think the Censor Curse is an improvement,” the unicorn said.  “Not to mention the fact that—as usual—you only have yourself to blame for it.  You said the Q-word, right in front of Celestia.”
“Well, sure, but she still bleepin’ overreacted!”
“In the middle of court.”
“Yeah, but…”
“While the Prench ambassador was giving a speech.”
Bluestreak chuckled.  “Oh, yeah, I almost forgot.  The look on that old bleep’s face was priceless!”
Deadpan gave a long-suffering sigh.  “How in Celestia’s name did somepony like you manage to get into the Royal Guard?” he asked the world in general.
“Because I’m real bleepin’ good at what I do, that’s how!” Bluestreak replied, assuming his best action pose, hooves splayed, body lowered, and leathery wings spread.  “I am a genuine, honest-to-bleepness bad-bleep!  A trained, professional bleepbleeper!  Which brings me back to what I was saying earlier: babysitting bleepin’ toilets is a waste of my bleepin’ talent.  I should be out there, kicking bleep and bleepin’ bleep up!”
“Uh huh.”
“I am wasting away down here, bro!” Bluestreak continued, grabbing Deadpan by the shoulders and staring into his eyes from uncomfortably close.  “Bleepin’ wasting away!  I need the action!”  A yearning expression crossed the bat pony’s face.  “By Celestia’s perfect bleepies, what I wouldn’t give to be in on that sweet, sweet action.”

 “I repeat: the Princesses have breached the western perimeter!  All units fall back to pattern delta-nine!” Shining Armor shouted into the old magic-powered trottie-talkie as flaming debris rained down around him.  “They’ve hit the abandoned gravel quarry!  Evacuate all civilians within ten miles!”
“HA HA HA!  THY FEEBLE FLAME ELEMENTALS CANNOT STAND AGAINST MY MIGHTY STONE GOLEMS, SISTER!”  Luna’s voice bellowed in the distance.  “THE BALL SHALL BE MINE, AND VICTORY SOON THEREAFTER!”
“Can anypony hear me?” Shining screamed into the trottie-talkie, but his entreaties were met only with static.
Lieutenant Sunbeam cowered on the ground beside her captain with her front hooves clasped tightly over her head.  “Wanna go home, the rocks aren’t on fire at home,” she mumbled as a particularly large chunk of flaming and partially melted stone landed nearby with a deafening crash.
What I wouldn’t give to be out of here, Shining thought.

“Oh, bleep yeah.  Sweet, sweet action for me,” Bluestreak said wistfully.  “I’d be all like, ‘take that,’ and the griffons or whoever would be all, ‘oh bleep, it’s Bluestreak,’ and I’d be like, ‘aww yeah, suck it, ya bleepers!’”
He had finally released his grip on Deadpan’s shoulders, and the unicorn had retreated to a safe distance to brush off his uniform.  Deadpan groaned and rolled his eyes as Bluestreak swung his hooves wildly at imaginary opponents.
“That’s right!  I know bat fu, bleeperbleepers!  I will bleep you up!  Whachaaa!”

The two princesses lay on their backs in a puddle of cooling magma, staring up at the sky.
“Perhaps,” Celestia began, “the flame elementals were not a terribly good idea.”
Luna nodded.  “And methinks my golems were not amongst my better ideas, either.”
“Do you think we should institute a new rule against the use of armies of magically animated minions?”
“Mayhap it would be wise.”
Celestia sat up and wrung some molten rock out of her mane.  She stared thoughtfully at the piles of gravel that surrounded them, some of which were still on fire.
“Is gravel supposed to burn like that?” she asked.
Luna shrugged.  “Thou’rt the fire expert, sister, not I,” she replied.
“Hmm.”  Celestia rested her head on a forehoof.  “Do you remember whose play it is, Luna?”
“Neigh, Celestia,” the dark princess answered.  “’Twould seem we lost all semblance of ordered play amidst the roil of battle.”
Celestia and Luna looked at each other for a moment, then their eyes widened.
“SCRAMBLE!” they shouted simultaneously before they both began a mad dash for the ball, which sat nearby ticking and hissing as it cooled.
Celestia was the first to get to her hooves, aided in no small part by the shove she gave her sister, but before she could pull too far ahead Luna tackled her from behind, pinning the elder princess’s hind legs.  The larger alicorn tottered briefly before collapsing, but even then continued to pull herself forward with her front legs as Luna dragged behind her.
“Almost… there…”  Celestia reached out a trembling hoof, stretching the last few inches to give the ball a delicate tap.  “Ha!” she cried in triumph.  “My play now!”
“Curses,” grumbled Luna.

“Griffons inbound, sir,” intoned Lieutenant Sunbeam.  Although he could not see her face around her binoculars the tightness in her voice – not to mention his usually lighthearted subordinate’s use of precise military terms – was all Shining Armor needed to tell him how tense she was.  He put a hoof lightly on her shoulder to calm her.
“Force disposition?”
“I count somewhere around seven or eight hundred spread across six separate cohorts,” Sunbeam answered.  “I recognise the heraldry of Greystone, Helmspire, Clawsreach, and Whitecrest aeries, and what looks like a small group from Blackbeak’s raiders, but…”  Her professionalism faltered.  “Well, you should probably see this, sir.”
Shining Armor narrowed his eyes as he took the binoculars from his lieutenant and peered through them.  The advancing flights of griffons immediately loomed large in his vision, all decked out in deep purples and bright pinks…  Wait, what? Shining Armor thought as he rubbed his eyes and took a second look through the binoculars.
“Yeah, the colours are all wrong, aren’t they?” Sunbeam said.
“Have some of them painted themselves pink?”
“And purple, sir, yes.”
“And those ones on the left – are they wearing…?”
“Giant fake-fur hats?  It certainly appears so, Captain.”
“Are you sniggering, Lieutenant?”
“A little bit, sir.”
Shining Armor lowered the binoculars and rubbed the bridge of his nose with a forehoof, heaving the long-suffering sigh of a dedicated professional whose childhood dream job has turned out to entail dealing with ridiculousness on a daily basis.
“So, are we still thinking this is an armed invasion, sir?” Sunbeam chirped, all traces of professionalism long gone, drawing another long sigh from her captain.
“I’m not sure what to think about this anymore, Lieutenant, but I’ll be damned if I don’t get to the bottom of this,” Shining Armor replied, laying down the binoculars and setting off at a brisk trot towards the griffons with a determined expression on his face.