This is the herald. Four signs come.
One who resolveth the conflict of centuries.
One who taketh from those with nothing.
One who cureth the incurable.
One who cheats death.
The four will answer the call.
And the apocalypse will begin.
Misty lowered the otherwise innocent-looking parchment and aimed her best 'are you kidding me' look at her buzzing partner, sat opposite.
"Really?"
"What?"
"You do realise this is a joke right? You must get prank letters like this sent in all the time to your office," Misty said, sliding the parchment back across the table.
"Sure we do, but nothing like this." Breaker jabbed at the paper again with his hoof, eyes wide with glee. "Look at the language. I don't think it was written recently; or from around here."
Misty sighed and looked again at the wording. About to comment, she abruptly found her train of thought interrupted by a disturbance from across the room. A dark grey unicorn -- sitting at the bar and wearing some sort of cape -- began spouting off about being lost and "finding his hat". Late afternoon in the Nag's Head could sometimes be a weird place, but it was still relatively early for the alcoholic oddballs to be showing up already. Breaker looked up too, craning his neck to get a decent view above the ponies between them and the bar.
Though by no means the largest pub in Equestria, the Nag’s Head could still easily fit over thirty ponies in the seating area alone. Typically at the weekend one would find the place packed with various ruffians, ne'er-do-wells and lecherous slimeballs. And that was just the ponies. Griffins occasionally frequented (especially on Poker Night); bringing their notorious firebrand tempers along for the ride. On the very rare occasions that zebras or diamond dogs showed up, the locals would immediately chant “New blood! New blood!” and intimidate the visitors into getting a round in for everyone. Breaker had been present for four such events in total, and always awoke the following morning with a head full of pounding hammers and thoughts of great regret.
Thankfully -- it being midweek -- the famous pub was a far more family-friendly place. Just about. Usually...
"Heh. Can you imagine me turning out like that?" Breaker asked, turning back to face over the table.
"Yes." Misty quipped back. "You'd be there right now if it weren't for me."
"Harsh."
"But true." she smiled. Her eyes fell again on the second line. "So if you really think this means something, tell me what these things mean. The conflict of centuries?"
"There's been no war that I know of lasting over a hundred years." Breaker replied, shrugging. "And I actually paid attention in history class. Something involving the dragons maybe?"
"I thought we'd been at peace with them for ages."
"Oh we have, but you can never tell with that lot. So secretive aren't they?"
"Mm...I guess," Misty slunk back into her seat, noticing the approach of Bar Keep -- owner and ever-friendly bartender of the Nag's Head. In his mouth he gripped a tray supporting two drinks and a couple of cheese toasties, which he carefully lowered onto their table.
"Sorry fer the wait guys. That bloody unicorn's been doin' my 'ed in all afternoon, chatting all sorts of nonsense he is."
"No worries," Breaker replied, casting another eye over to the bar, where the drunk in question lurched dangerously close to toppling off his perch; the drink in his hoof spilling beer onto the counter. "He new in town?"
"Must be. Not seen 'im before. An' I tell you what, I only went an' found 'im in the cellar earlier today. How the daft beggar got in there I'll never know." The stocky brown pony shook his black mane slightly. "I would kick him out, truth be told, but..."
The hesitation told Breaker everything.
"But you're charging him twenty bits for every beer, right?" he said, unable to resist holding back an evil smile.
"That, lad, is a ludicrous claim. I've always said I do not approve of any shady business practices in my premises." Bar Keep turned and moved away a few feet, then looked back. "Jus' don't tell 'im that," he said winking, before striding firmly back to the bar.
"Remind me why you haven't written an expose on this place?" Misty's expression to Breaker toted one of pure unamusement.
"Every Saturday, I get two bits off of every drink. It's our deal," Breaker said, beaming.
"Urgh." Misty tapped her hoof to her forehead. "Whatever. What's next...taking from those with nothing..." she said, looking again at the ink. If Bar Keep had noticed the parchment, he sure hadn't shown it.
"Yeah, I have no clue what that means," Breaker said, also glancing it over. "Maybe these are...what's the word...metaphorical?"
"Oh great. Peachy. So it's not a joke, it's some dang poet trying to be far too clever for himself?" Misty dug into her toastie angrily.
"I don't know, I just know that whatever this is is special." Breaker also tucked in, having almost forgotten about the still warm food. "It's ike I omphos av 'is fee-"
"Ugh! Don't talk with your mouth full! For Celestia's sake, what's wrong with you?" Misty shot back venomously. A small chunk of projectile bread had just grazed one of her ears and ended up in a nearby patron’s drink.
Nervously, Breaker took the time to swallow.
"Sorry. Bad habit. I said that it's like I have this feeling about this, but I don't know what exactly."
“That’s just vague. I mean look at this stuff. It just gets dumb. The “incurable”? “Cheating death?””.
“Hey now, at least we know what those bits mean.” Breaker washed down the cheesy snack with his drink. All the guilt he would’ve felt from drinking this early was quite handily suppressed by the desire to know exactly what he was dealing with. Plus it was Strongpone -- a personal favourite beverage that went well with...everything.
“Eh?” Misty looked dumbfounded.
“Erm...something that can’t be cured and something that didn’t die...right?” he said with a sheepish grin.
“Mm.” Misty took the time to down the rest of her lemonade before shooting a quick glance to the clock on the wall. “Y’know Breaker, I haven’t really got the time for this crap. As it is I’m gonna be late with helping out for the festival tomorrow,” she said, flicking her head back to shift her pale red mane from her vision. Breaker briefly wondered if she was growing it out again.
“Pfft. It can’t be that important. The Apples don’t get here til tomorrow, and you know how eager they are with helping out.”
“It’s different this year! Applejack’s coming.” Misty’s hooves clopped together in glee.
“So?”
“She’s one of the Elements you dingbat-”
“Oh come on…” Breaker interrupted. “That ‘Elements’ thing is as much media hype as anything else. I’m in the business, I know how this stuff works. “Saving the world three times?” They did it once with stopping Nightmare Moon, and then every few months later when the Canterlot Press gets bored with their usual guff, they’ll print an overblown crisis story just to get the six back in the public eye again.”
“Wait, is that why you’ve never written a story on them?” Misty asked.
“Yeah. It’s bad enough that Brian writes one at least once a week. I think him and the boss are secret fans.”
Misty narrowed her eyes.
“I still don’t believe that’s his real name.”
“It is!”
“Fine. Next you’ll be telling me Princess Celestia is behind this whole conspiracy.”
An awkward pause blossomed forth like a forest floor in spring.
“You knew about that?” Breaker shuffled in his seat and took another swig.
“What,” Misty said, facehoofing. It wasn’t the most impressive or effective facehoof Breaker had ever seen, but he mentally gave her top marks for effort.
“Well...that’s exactly what I think. I’ve got a thirty bit bet going with Dodgy Dave. He pays up if I can prove the princess is behind it all. Listen, she advises the media to print these stories, her personal student and her friends get to be heroes again, and they all share the credit while the presses sell out. Everypony wins, right?”
Misty gave him the blankest of blank looks for a second.
“Urgh. There’s been so many rumours going around since Twilight got coronated. I don’t need you going all ‘tin-foil hat nutter’ on me too.”
“Fine. I won’t bring it up again. But it is true though,” Breaker said confidently, downing the rest of his beer.
“Crap,” Misty caught sight of the time again and rose from the chair. “I have to go. You get all your weirdness out of your system now, okay? I want normal Breaker Fold back later.”
“Sure thing dear,” he replied, smiling. “I hate seeing you go but I looovve watching you walk away-”
“Get stuffed.”
Breaker tried not to laugh as his marefriend made a very deliberate action of walking carefully to the exit backwards, giving him glaring evils the whole way. It was fun to tease her, but only fair as she’d started it way back when they’d first started seeing each other.
“Eeer lad, I couldn’t help but overhear your little tale there.”
The croaky voice came from the next table over -- it’s owner being one could quite accurately describe as being a ‘salty sailor’ type character, complete with the hat. The anchor cutie mark made it obvious to anyone not with sludge for brains.
“Woah, hey there. You some kind of carpenter?” Breaker asked. He’d certainly seen this fellow previously on other pub days, usually on his own but always with a mug of rum present.
“Close lad...close. I was thinking I had an answer for your little puzzle. I know who’s behind it.”
“You do?” Breaker said, amazed.
“Aye lad. It’s them darned sea-ponies!” he hissed, with real venom. “Ponies I know have seen them on their voyages...always watching beneath the waves...always hiding…”
Annndddd there went the amazement. Clearly this guy had forgot his meds somewhere.
Alright. Better wrap this up quick.
“You don’t say?” Breaker said, folding back up the parchment and pocketing it.
“Aye! I’ve seen them myself!” the regular spat, a line of drool falling slowly into his mug. “No-pony’s seen them lately, but we all know why! They’re preparing, conspiring, waiting to strike against us!”
“Woah, that’s awful. Listen, I gotta go warn my mare right away!” Breaker said, attempted his best ‘shocked’ face.
“Arrrr!”
“Ahahaha, yeah. See you!”
Dearly hoping he wouldn’t in fact see that pony again for a good few years, Breaker trotted briskly to the exit, flashing a waved hoof at Bar Keep on the way. At least that unicorn drunk appeared to have calmed down, what with the five drinks he’d apparently bought keeping the majority of his attention.
I guess Tuesday is now ‘Wacko Day’. Note to self: avoid Nag’s Head on Tuesdays.
Cold ocean air caressed Breaker’s fur as he left the building. He looked up instinctively to check for seagulls, but they’d all buggered off somewhere -- likely annoying tourists. Misty was going to be busy with her festival preparations for awhile, which meant he had a few hours to kill. Typically, that meant only one thing:
Investigation Time.
What do you have for me today, Hayward?
He hummed a generic tune to himself as he strode down the street. It was never too late in the day to pick up an interesting story.
Across the realms of eternity, a dark home floated in the cosmos. The home of a very important entity indeed.
WHAT ARE THESE BEINGS CALLED?
“I believe the book refers to them as “Ponies”, sir.”
Death tapped the edge of the hourglass with a bony finger as he walked down the dark hallway of his study. Or glode. It was really hard to tell just by looking, as the black robe covered everything bar his skull and skeletal hands. His manservant Alfred strode alongside, peering at the engraved symbol upon the glass.
ARE THEY NOT SIMPLY HORSES?
“Perhaps sir, but it’s hard to tell with parasite dimensions.”
INDEED.
Death knew all about parasite dimensions, which helped immensely as he and Albert resided in one. Unlike host dimensions, they often included bizarrely different laws of physics and reality completely unto their own. The creatures that evolved and thrived in them could be unimaginable horrors of doom or beings that defied all sense of reason. Thankfully, they all died eventually, which was all Death was interested in.
Except when they didn’t.
“If I might hazard a guess here sir, I suspect that the individual has been mucking around with the time-stream-”
OH, I HATE IT WHEN THEY DO THAT. IT ALL FLOWS SO NICELY UNTIL SOMEONE DECIDES TO RUIN IT FOR THE REST OF THEM.
“You mean…?”
YES. BY ALLOWING ONE DEATH TO FAIL, THE CHAIN OF UNDEATH WILL BEGIN AND SPREAD THROUGHOUT EXISTENCE UNTIL ALL IS UNDONE.
The ceiling overhead glittered with the lights of the cosmos. The shelves upon shelves of hourglasses that lined the space below could -- mathematically speaking -- be explored thoroughly, but only if one had an eternity or two to spare. Inside each hourglass, the gentle trickle of sand kept track over the lifetime of every being to have ever existed. The flow of time was immovable; the sand would never stop flowing.
Apart from the one in Death’s cold grip. It really shouldn’t have done that.
“I suppose you’ll be wanting to enter appropriately then?” Albert ventured, looking ahead towards the probable end of the hallway. It was hard to tell in a space that didn’t have limits in the conventional sense. Or even in the meta-physical.
YOU KNOW ME TOO WELL ALBERT. I SHALL PICK UP THE OTHER THREE ON THE WAY. IT’S BEEN A FAIR OLD WHILE SINCE WE RODE TOGETHER.