//------------------------------// // Chapter 05 // Story: The Forbidden // by CMDR Kovacs //------------------------------// “Agent Nikhilus of the Gryphon Empire, you have been found guilty of all charges. Your sentence is imprisonment by stone, for one thousand years or until Royal Pardon, whichever comes first.” Celestia wanted to say “whichever came last,” but that would have been both defeating the purpose, and unfeasible. One thousand years as a great garden gnome would automatically revert him back, as that’s the way the spell works. Deep down, she was unsure whether or not she did the right thing in exiling the human to the recesses of his mind for company, but the rest of her felt the judgment was wholly justified. As Nikhilus rose to his feet, he allowed the guards to take him by the manacles into the statue garden outside. The throne room was almost empty, as she was forced to leave a witnessing audience outside. Suffice it to say that the nobles that the human had crossed were thirsting for his blood. When the doors were hauled open by the magic of her trusted guardsponies, the clamoring and shouting of the Bluebloods rose in volume when they laid eyes on the prisoner. Guards had to fight to protect him from the mob of vile threats and journalists. The ponies were pushed out of the way by the shield generated by Captain Steel Blockade, the best shield caster in 137 years. Never in a thousand years had Celestia thought her ponies would become so brutal. But, then again, her own attitude towards the human was far less than friendly. Too many times, Celestia thought, too many times have I forgotten how impressionable my little ponies can be. “Princess Celestia?” She was brought out of her thoughts by one of her most trusted guards, Lieutenant Dewdrop. She was a pale blue pegasus with misty white hair beneath the enchanted armor. “You have a message from Ambassador O’Gill of the Deer,” she said while giving the monarch a small metal disk with a glowing green emerald in the center. Celestia took it in her gilded hoof. “Thank you, Lieutenant. I will see what it is O’Gill wants after Agent Nikhilus’ sentence is carried out,” she waved off the guard as she turned to leave. “Actually, ma’am,” Dewdrop regained the Princess’ attention respectfully. “The transponder the Deer gave us marked it as important, your hooves only.” Celestia sighed, “Very well then. I will answer the message after Nikhilus is encased in stone. Not sooner, Lieutenant, not later.” Dewdrop felt rising anger at the Princess’ flippant inflection of her rank, but stifled it. “Yes, your Highness,” she grit her teeth as she bowed. Celestia left the guardsmare without returning the bow, sending another wave of anger through her heart. Dewdrop soon found herself doubting whether or not the stories of Nikhilus were true, and she strode off towards her brother Joe’s donut shop, which, while very popular, had opened only a few months ago in downtown Canterlot. [/HR] “Oh, would you look at that brute! It’s attire is simply atrocious! It serves no purpose in fashion other than coming across as evil, pure evil! Such a vile creature it must be, if it dresses like that,” Simply Gorgeous was the mare’s name. Eoin Reese’s life was awkward enough, having a Deer’s name. He didn’t need it worse just be related to Simply Gorgeous, even if he was his half-sister. “Would you stow it, Gee?” he sighed exasperatedly. The alabaster white unicorn with dark pink, er, salmon, hair and baby blue eyes was always on his last nerves. Eoin himself had a charcoal coat with violet hair and blue eyes. He was taller than the average stallion due to his Deer heritage, but that was about as far as it went, aside from the knobby and gangly legs of a Deer. No cloven hooves, though, so it made him look like an awkwardly tall pony that had trouble moving in crowds. The advantage of such long legs were him being the fastest pony in the Lunar Underground, allowing him to smuggle supplies to the needy much more quickly than others in the ‘Ground. Simply Gorgeous, who had no clue of her half-brother’s past-times, deigned herself to look up at Eoin and give a retort, “No, I will not ‘stow it,’ as you have so crudely said. I am a noble, and I have the right, nay, the privilege, to speak freely!” Eoin had to fight hard to resist the urge to facehoof then and there. “Yep, because Celestia can make you shut up with but a word. Wow, such stupid, quite foolish.” She gasped, “How dare you call me a fool! If you were not my half-brother, I would petition Princess Celestia,” she emphasized correctively, “to have you thrown in the dungeon with the rest of the rabble! Or, or! Imprisoned in stone, just like that poorly dressed creature there!” “Meh, whatever. I’m going home, there’s no reason why I’m here, anyway.” That was a lie, of course. Eoin was here for a very special reason concerning Mr. N. The cervine smuggler trotted through the crowd of roaring ponies, excusing and pardoning himself along the way. When he got to the entrance to the royal gardens, a pair of guards were standing on either side of the large wrought iron gate. Deciding that he couldn’t go that way, he began to search for another entrance, finding on in a stack of boxes set against a connected tower. How convenient. Of course, the mere fact that the wooden crates were arranged in a stepway formation sent up quite a few red flags for Eoin, but who was he to leave an opportunity unmolested? Jumping up the stack would have been what ordinary ponies, but for Eoin, it was more like a stairway, and that’s exactly how he climbed them. He reached the top of the bird crapper known as a wall no sooner than a gaggle of nobles passed by, gobbling amongst themselves like sentient turkeys. Safely on the other side of the wall, just barely hidden by a hedge, Eoin crawled on his belly to make sure that the area was safe for him to sneak along. He loved these conditions, ponies all around him, armed guards with the threat of arresting him for trespassing in a restricted part of the Royal Gardens. The feel of adrenaline-laced blood pumping through his system, into his ears and along his spine. Of course, any other pony from the illegal realm of skulduggery would have preferred to have the high ground and invisibility. Eoin crept through the gardens, the musty smell of fertile soil, plant life and gritty stone wafting into his nostrils. He slinked past one statue, a legitimate one, of a pony holding a scroll in its hooves as if it were making a proclamation. This particular path wasn’t restricted from the common pony, but for today? Better safe than sorry. The half-Deer found a slight hole in the hedge dividing the public zones of the garden from the more private ones, but it was just barely too small for him to squeeze through without making a noise. Well, not without having a flexibility normally attributed to the Deer. This ability had gotten the smuggler out of many a tight situation. This was no exception. Shrugging his shoulders and haunches, Eoin brought his profile even closer to the soft ground. A simple half-shuffle step with each hoof would find him through the gap in the topiary in but a few seconds. The synchronized hoofsteps of a guard pair went past the shrouded corner that Eoin was in, and he was grateful that he was already halfway through the hole, a small offshoot of the hedge keeping his hindquarters from view. Just as soon as he was through, his tail snagged on a protruding branch, a single strand of purple hair left behind. Of course, the smuggle was so full of adrenaline that he hadn’t noticed it at all, so he continued on his way undetected. “-and gentlecolts,” a melodic, motherly voice swam through the breeze, distorted by distance. He was getting closer, the shade cast by the hedges barely hiding a smirk on one of the other statues, one of a type of chimaera. Eoin’s tunnel vision, or as close to tunnel vision an equine can get, prevented him from noticing certain muddled shapes in the gardens. He pressed himself closer to one leafy wall, ears swiveled towards the circle of stone pedestals beyond… [/HR] “Hnnyeeaaugh!” The khaki pony’s jaws stretched in a massive yawn brought on by the lazy warmth of the midsummer day in Canterlot. Joseph Sprinkles, or Donut Joe, wasn’t getting very much business. Of course, it’s only been two months since he opened his little shop, but he did have customers, at least. The donut shop just across the street, the Pastry Emporium, held all of the dough-related business in Canterlot, the customers flocking there because of their speedy service, cheap food and fluffed up quantity. In fact, Joe used to work at the Emporium before he quit. He was the best donut fryer there, but when they started making him put all sorts of new additives to make the pastries cook faster, bigger and, arguably, tastier, he had objected. So, what do they say when the best fryer they have doesn’t like the recent change in operations? “Too bad, Joe. This is Canterlot, when the customers want more, we give them more, and get it to them faster!” Then they chopped his paycheck in half. That was when he’d had enough, threw his paper cap at the manager, and stormed off. He used his life’s savings to buy the empty shop across the street, and lucky for him, it already had the equipment needed for making donuts, even if it was obsolete. His sister, Dewdrop Sprinkles, even offered to pitch in for supplies, and Joe graciously accepted her offer. Now Joe had a nice little donut shop on the corner of Pony Plaza and Star-Swirl Boulevard, and was barely scraping by. The one thing he had over the Pastry Emporium was quality, even if only ponies from out of town preferred his wares. No, what truly matters to Joe was that he loved his work, making donuts by hoof with natural ingredients, as opposed to the machines and magically enhanced donuts from the Emporium. “Heya, Joe! How’s business?” Corporal White Socks walked up to the counter, helmet strapped to his flank. When a Royal Guardspony was without their helmet, the glamour enchantment on the armor deactivated, allowing their true colors to shine through. White Socks was a crimson Earth Pony with his hooves seeming like he was wearing white socks. His twin, Red Socks, was the exact opposite, being white with, well, red socks. Both of them had green eyes with bright orange hair cropped short. “Take a look for yourself,” Joe huffed, glaring daggers towards Ship Shape, the very store manager that inspired Joe to quit. “Pastry Emporium ain’t right usin’ magic and machines. Just don’t got the same soul, y’know?” White nodded slowly while Joe started to make a dozen of his delectable donuts. “Yeah. You know? I actually went there the day after you left, and when they gave me a box from Fryer 12? I just couldn’t believe it! That was your fryer, and it just weren’t right, tastin’ the way it did. I didn’t even know you were actually gone until that first donut, and now?” He shook his head as Joe began frosting the batch with strawberry cream, the Socks twin’s favorite. “I can’t believe it, how, how perverted their donuts are.” White pulled out his coin purse, jingling out ten bits for the donuts, which Joe popped into the register. “Wow,” Joe drew out, “I didn’t know you felt that way...You’re certainly gettin’ right smarter, though, usin’ them kinds of words.” White Socks stopped eating his fifth donut in order to glare at his caterer when Joe’s sister, Dewdrop trotted to the kiosk, brow knit in frustration. “Whuf yo’ prmblerm?” Dewdrop’s mood lightened somewhat when she heard White’s muffled question. “It’s this whole thing with that human. Something about it just rubs me the wrong way, if you know what I mean.” “Yeah, I do...here, Eltee. Have a doughy,” White slid the box towards Dewdrop, who gently picked one up in her hoof. “I bet that this’ll all blow over, and ponies will forget the truth. Heck, they might not even remember what’s happening today in the next forty years!” “Well, it’s only 957,” Joe pointed out. “A lot could change by the time that human’s forgotten by the nobles and us common folk.” After that was a somber silence that none of them could break, even if they tried.