The squeaking of the wheel was most insistent, and Rogi counted himself lucky that his journey to the castle was a short one lest the constant, grating noise drive him to distraction.
Reaching the summit, he arrived at the imposing wooden doors set with black ironwork into the huge, towering Gothic stone arch, and dismounted. Propping his bicycle neatly to one side of the wall, he looked down on it with a bemused smile and found himself thinking once again on just what a marvelous invention it was.
The commute to and from work from his humble cottage at the bottom of the hill, to the dark, monstrous castle at the peak had used to take him half an hour, using only his taloned feet to walk upon. Now with the bicycle it was the effort of but ten minutes, and the ride home was even swifter and no effort at all!
Still, that wheel was starting to become a nuisance, and he would have to ask the griffon who'd sold it to him if he could do something about it. Maybe tomorrow morning after he finished work. Night shifts were all he worked in this job. If you could really call it work.
There was no need to lock the bike up. One of the benefits of living in such a tiny country with a population of only two, was that thieves were a non-concern. The country in question, barely even a square mile of lifeless, dead scrubland nestled on the southwestern border of Equestria, and shrouded permanently beneath thick, black everclouds, consisted only of his cottage, this imposing castle, and the hill on which it stood.
He raised a gangly forelimb—a hybrid caught between an arm and a wing, covered in black, ragged, scraggly feathers and punctuated with a three-clawed hand—and turned the black iron knob, allowing him access to the dark, foreboding palace.
The door opened with an earsplitting creak. One that Rogi had pleaded with his boss to let him fix, but no. He was resolute. He said it added an extra layer of intimidation to strike fear into the hearts of all unwary travellers to the fortress. Of which there were never any. All it really added was a headache.
The grand, grey-stone interior was lit only with torch sconces, the light dancing and flickering and seeming to make the shadows come alive. Rogi paid it all no mind, his talons click-clacking hollowly on the stone floor as he made his way along the drab, tall hallway towards the library, and the start of another night.
The castle library was a tall, wide circular room about twenty paces across, with shelves upon shelves of books around the circumference reaching up two floors to the ceiling. The lighting here was brighter and more inviting, lit softly by dozens of candles and candelabras scattered high and low on the walls. In the middle of the room, just off-centre, stood a small, round oak table. Opposite the entrance, the dark wooden bookshelves were broken up by a wide, ornate alabaster fireplace which crackled now with a warm, inviting flame. And in front of the fireplace, stood contemplatively with his back towards him, hands behind his back, gazing distantly and defiantly and moodily and stoically into the flames, was the castle's sole inhabitant.
"I see you've come, Rogi."
Rogi rolled his eyes. The fact that his boss put dramatic effect over technical accuracy—he hadn't seen him at all yet—always irked him. He shook it off this time and then immediately set to scanning for the most important thing on the agenda. In the little nook at just about the four o'clock position of the room: the drinks cabinet.
"Yes, my Lord," Rogi answered absently, making his way over to the glass-fronted cupboard. Same time as every night.
The boss stood nearly fourteen feet tall, towering and looming in the library. His grey body had never been grown, but instead sculpted entirely from rock, such that whenever he moved there was a subtle grinding noise from his joints. He bore two thick arms ending in five-fingered hands, and two powerful legs ending in cloven hooves. Upon his broad back, a pair of gargantuan, stone, bat-like wings were currently furled... though, stone wings coupled to a stone body did not make for effective flight. His head was round and ogre-ish, with pointed ears, an underbite with two protruding tusks and a snub, pug nose beneath a prominent brow. His deep-set eyes were simply circular red rubies that burned their way into you when he stared, and made you remember all of the stories of monsters you believed when you were a child.
A Gargoyle.
"I am glad you are here." His voice was like gravel being turned slowly in a cement mixer, and held an annoyingly optimistic, eager air that Rogi had long learned could cause him no small measure of exasperation in the coming minutes, if not hours. The fact that he was being extra broody and melodramatic tonight were also not good signs. A monologue was surely imminent.
"Uh huh?" said Rogi, picking up the crystal bottle of single malt and finding it disappointingly only a third full. He poured half the contents into a large, round glass. We're going to have one of those evenings, aren't we?
"Tonight is the night, Rogi..."
Oh, here we go already...
"Tonight, we strike against our enemies!"
Of course we do.
"Tonight, we demonstrate our full power in the conquest of our greatest foe..."
You're going to keep me awake all night with this.
"Tonight, Rogi, is the night we oversee the downfall..."
Yes, yes. Who is it this week?
"Of EQUESTRIA!" he boomed, throwing up his arms dramatically and rounding enthusiastically on Rogi, who was still facing the drinks cabinet.
Rogi breathed a sigh of relief. Oh, thank God. He took a grateful sip of whiskey, carefully composing his vulture-like features into an expression approaching dastardly awe and evil excitement. He turned back towards the boss.
"My Lord, that is excellent news! Equestria will surely fall into your cold, dead hands!" Rogi drained his glass and set it down. Making no effort to hurry, he walked to the library ladder almost opposite and began to climb about halfway up. Selecting a very familiar book, he brought it down and put it on the round table.
"Yes, Rogi! Finally, I shall... my cold dead hands?"
The book, one of several of Rogi's own making, contained every piece of information known about the Kingdom of Equestria. They had one such book for each of their immediate neighbours. The griffons. The dragons. The minotaurs. The diamond dogs.
"Sorry, my Lord. You rather caught me off guard is all. The next epithet will be more flattering."
Working for the boss was one of the easiest jobs going. Gargoyles didn't need to eat or drink, and, most of the time, he just sat and brooded quietly. But every so often, like every villain, he felt he had to justify his villainy with some grand scheme to conquer or destroy. After all, that's what evil villains were supposed to do wasn't it? But evil villains were also supposed to be defeated, and that wasn't conducive to long-term employment. And sometimes—the last time the boss had planned to conquer the diamond dogs for instance—Rogi had to work very hard indeed. Luckily though, tonight he'd picked Equestria again.
He could see why he liked Equestria. To the untrained eye the native ponies appeared weak and meek and, on the face of it, an easy target, ripe for conquest.
Rogi put on a pair of thin, circular reading glasses, and made a show of opening the book and reading a little. In truth he needed do no such thing. After years of this, he knew the relevant points almost by heart. The book was supposed to be a careful analysis of Equestria's strategic weaknesses. Really, it just listed their strengths. The most effectively trained armed forces around, with mastery over the weather and magic. Protected by the Elements of Harmony and their bearers. And ruled over by a pair of protective and exceptionally powerful magic-users who literally commanded the day and night. Rogi had to hide another smile.
Equestria was impregnable. This would be easy. He'd be done within minutes, and happily drunk within the hour.
"Well, my Lord. How do you plan to proceed?"
"Patience, Rogi. You will see... in good time," the gargoyle said oddly smoothly.
His melodrama this evening was really starting to grate. Rogi took off his glasses and looked up at him, slightly annoyed already, raising a white, bushy eyebrow.
Where was the diabolical plan? The evil scheme? The villainous plot? 'Wait and see,' was no good. He needed something to work with.
You really are going to keep me awake all night with this, aren't you?
Presently there was a loud, booming racket from the main entrance to the castle. The doors themselves held some form of enchantment that amplified a simple knock to something ridiculous that could be heard from every room at once. Another one of the boss's great ideas.
"Ooh, it's here!" the gargoyle practically yelled with glee, tenting his fingers in excitement. Then, checking himself, continued, "Ahem. Rogi, please see to the door?"
Rogi would have ground his teeth, had he any. Instead he settled for clenching his beak shut as tight as he could and rolling his eyes angrily. He was going to need the rest of that bottle in short order.
The put-upon vulture-creature left the library and returned to the main castle entrance. Opening it—there was that damned awful screech again—he allowed the caller inside.
The new arrival was a welcome, familiar face. They never received visitors as such, but even their tiny country, with only two buildings and two inhabitants, still got the mail.
"Ah, hello Ms. Hooves. Please, come in."
"Hiya!" said the perpetually cheery pegasus, her slightly skewed eyes ever curious and bright. "You gotta package!" She craned her neck and fished around in her large, brown saddlebags, which appeared otherwise empty, Rogi noted. Then she produced a shoe-box sized parcel wrapped neatly with brown paper and tied with simple string, which she placed carefully on the floor.
To: Evil Lord Baron Dral'thor;
The Castle;
The Kingdom of Stone
"Please sign?" said the mail-pony, now with a clipboard and quill proffered towards him in her teeth. Rogi could only stare at the package. What was this? A book of dark spellcraft? Secret plans of the castle from a Canterlot turncoat? Magic beans? Whatever it was, the boss clearly believed it was the key to his latest scheme, and that with it he'd be conquering Equestria. Even in the face of all experience, the fact that Rogi didn't know what it was, was enough to put a little irrational worry in the back of his mind.
Presently, he became aware that the happy pegasus in front of him was still patiently awaiting his signature.
"Ms. Hooves? Are we your last delivery?" he asked as he inscribed his name on the receipt.
"Yep!"
"I wonder... would it be too much of an imposition to ask you to remain here a moment? No more than twenty minutes, I promise. It's just I may need to send a message to Princess Celestia, and if so, it is probably better that it goes tonight."
"Okay!"
"Thank you," he said, picking up the package and showing Derpy to a comfortable waiting-couch just inside the doors. "Can I get you anything to drink?"
"No thanks," she smiled, her lopsided gaze never settling as she looked eagerly around the drab, foreboding hallway, and up at the impressive oil-paintings of black-feathered, birdlike creatures on the walls.
Rogi took the package under his wing and made his way back through the myriad corridors of the castle to the library. Now he had a time limit and an unknown variable in the form of the package to contend with. The game was really on.
Entering the library, he placed the package on top of the open book of Equestria on the table and looked deliberately from it to the boss, whose ruby eyes were already lighting up with obvious glee.
"When did you add the apostrophe?" asked Rogi in a voice that definitely did not sound vaguely accusing.
"A couple of weeks ago. It makes my name more... foreboding, don't you think?"
Rogi raised an eyebrow. "And, 'Baron'?"
"Do you like it?"
"No."
"You don't think it exudes an air of, evil wickedness?"
No. Just like 'Count' didn't last month, or the month before that when you tried to combine 'Dralthor the Bloody,' and 'Dralthor the Terrible,' and became 'Dralthor the Bloody Terrible.'
"What's in the package, my Lord?"
"This, Rogi..." said Dral'thor, "Is the tool we will use to conquer Equestria!"
"Yes, my Lord," said Rogi patiently. "And... what is it?"
At this, Dral'thor unwrapped the package. Inside was a cardboard box which he opened. From it, he lifted a purple pouch tied closed with thin cord, and which writhed softly as though it seemed to contain... something... which was neither liquid nor solid, and which could even possibly be alive.
Rogi had to stifle a momentary twinge of nervousness at the mysterious thing. He forced logic to the fore. Powerful, ancient magical artifacts possessing the ability to overthrow an entire kingdom were only ever discovered in ancient, far flung caves and dungeons with unpronounceable names. They weren't sold in shops. They did not arrive in shoeboxes, and certainly not through the post!
"What is it, my Lord?" he asked... for the third bloody time.
"This, Rogi, is the Rainbow of Darkness!" Dral'thor cackled evilly. For several long, agonising moments. It was a shame a lightning bolt didn't strike too, but you couldn't have everything.
While the cackling continued, Rogi impatiently lifted a piece of folded paper from within the shoebox—a booklet really—and began to read.
Congratulations on your purchase of the Rainbow of Darkness, the ultimate tool for all your hero-defeating needs! Simply open the pouch towards your light-wielding foes* to deploy the Rainbow and watch as it renders them helpless, powerless, immobile and any of a dozen other random, fun effects!
Warning: ages three and up. Contains small parts. Do not ingest. Avoid contact with eyes.
*While the visual effect of the Rainbow being deployed is sure to startle even the most hardened of heroes, for added drama we suggest accompanying its use with a loud cackle or one-liner for extra terror. We like, "Behold: the power of Darkness!" but feel free to experiment with your own!
Rogi went from annoyed to bewildered. He flipped the booklet over, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the logo on the front cover.
"Acme: Great products. In theory."
Well, that was one worry thoroughly allayed.
"Impressive, my Lord," he lied. "You intend us to invade Equestria using this?"
"Indeed, Rogi. Together, and with the power of Darkness, we will conquer Equestria! They will stand no chance against us!"
"Us, my Lord..."
"Yes!" Another overdone, evil cackle.
"Against an army numbering in the thousands?"
"Not just us, Rogi! We'll use my Army of Stone!" Dral'thor clenched his fist and raised it dramatically. Then he lowered it. "After all, it's been a while since we gave them a run out, hasn't it? I think the last time we used them was for the stone-lympics, remember? Ah, a good night that was." Then he drew himself up into an imposing, broad-shouldered pose. "Equestria will tremble before the might of two thousand of my impervious granite warriors!"
Rogi raised a claw to his head and massaged his brow. "My Lord, we have been over this before." Several times. "Using an army that becomes petrified in the sunlight to invade a kingdom that can literally command the sun is... not the most effective use of our resources," he finished kindly.
"Ah, no, I knew you would say that. But you see, the Rainbow of Darkness can act as a Darkness-shield, shrouding our warriors in a, 'cloak of shadow', and allowing them to move in daylight. Here, I'll show you..." said Dral'thor, scooping up the leaflet in his large fingers. He flipped through it, and then back again, a confused frown appearing. "Hmm, where is it? Oh, I really hope they haven't sent me the wrong model. The catalogue specifically said it could... ah, there!" he said triumphantly. "Page four."
You are really making me work hard for this, aren't you?
"Excellent, my Lord! A bold and daring plan! But, wait. What of Princess Twilight and her fellow protectors of Equestria? They will surely try and thwart your plans to reach Canterlot."
"Ah, yes. Princess Twilight Sparkle," he spat. "My most hated nemesis!"
Rogi quirked another eyebrow. That was new. "Um. 'Nemesis', Dral? Really?"
Dral'thor looked back at him with a slightly puzzled expression. "I need a nemesis, don't I? That's something that evil villains usually have, isn't it? One particular hero who always causes them grief?"
"Yes," Rogi admitted. "But I don't think you're just supposed to pick one at random. There usually has to be some history there to qualify as a nemesis."
"We have a history!" bellowed Dral'thor indignantly.
"Which is...?"
"We met once, at that charity banquet I got roped into last year. She asked me if I liked the punch. Therefore, she is my nemesis!"
Oh, for the love of...
"My Lord. The point I was trying to make is: will your Rainbow of Darkness not be vulnerable to the Elements of Harmony?" You know, since almost everything is?
"Ha! The Rainbow of Darkness is far more powerful than the Elements of Harmony!"
"This would be the, Acme Rainbow of Darkness, my Lord?"
"Besides, Rogi, didn't you say that the Elements of Harmony had been lost? Or... something?"
"Well, there is some debate over that, my Lord," admitted Rogi, mentally chastising himself for letting that slip in the first place. The Elements of Harmony were usually his trump card. "But Twilight and her friends are still formidable opponents, and in any event, there is still the matter of Celestia and Luna."
"Ha! Between the Rainbow of Darkness and the Army of Stone, Twilight Sparkle and her fellow bearers will stand no chance, Elements or not. And with Princess Twilight and friends in my clutches, Celestia will be forced to surrender and bow to me! Once she does, the rest of Equestria will follow!"
Rogi briefly stared in mild disbelief. He couldn't tell if the boss was being hopelessly optimistic, or genuinely delusional. Broad strokes were one thing, but were there no specifics to this plan?! Slowly, he walked back over to the drinks cabinet and poured the rest of the bottle into his glass, taking a long, slow sip while he thought for several quiet moments. Then, he had a flash of slightly-wicked inspiration, and carefully set the glass down. He turned with a little flourish.
"Fiendishly, diabolically clever, my Lord. So: Equestria has fallen and your victory is certain. Celestia, Luna and Twilight Sparkle, as well as her friends, have fought valiantly and failed. And now, they are all before you, beaten and at your mercy, contemplating their certain fate. What next for them, I wonder? I suppose you will want their executions to be public, as examples of how you deal with those who oppose you?"
Dral'thor did a quick, immensely gratifying double-take. "Executions?" He absently raised a stone hand to his mouth, nervously fingering his teeth with a fingernail. "You mean as in... kill them?"
"Yes, my Lord?" Rogi took another, satisfying sip.
"Well... I wasn't really planning to... I mean, that's not strictly a requirement is it? I can still be evil without...?" He stopped chewing on his finger long enough to draw it across his throat. "Can't I?"
Rogi sighed. He just couldn't be that cruel. "Yes, my Lord. Of course you can."
"It's just... that's a bit final, isn't it?"
"Yes indeed. But, my Lord?" Rogi asked, genuinely curious now, "What would you do with them?" Their schemes had never got this far before. He was dying to know.
"I will throw them into the dungeon! Forever!" Another evil, sustained, boring cackle. Then, "That's very evil too, isn't it? I mean, villains are constantly throwing heroes into dungeons aren't they?"
Yes, and that usually ends with... oh, now wait just a minute! Rogi's eyes went wide. He surely didn't mean... "Uh... heh. We... we don't have a dungeon, my Lord..."
"We do now," boasted Dral'thor, beaming to himself. "I've converted the basement," he said proudly.
"What?!" cried Rogi before he could stop himself. "Dra— my Lord... I... I had six cases of vintage Thesian wine down there! I had two barrels of Sweet Apple Acres' cider! They only sell it once a year! It's very hard to get!"
"Calm down, Rogi. You still have six cases of Thesian wine and two barrels of Sweet Apple Cider. Only now you have them in the attic."
Rogi fumed. The attic was seven flights of stairs up! The basement was one flight down. Whoever heard of a wine attic? When this was over...
"So..." said Rogi, annoyed onced more. "I assume you have at least invested significant funds into furnishing the... 'dungeon'... with all manner of manacles, shackles, cages, restraints and equipment with which to secure your new captives, my Lord?"
"Um... n—not exactly..."
"Oh? Then what exactly have you done to, 'convert', the basement and ensure your prisoners do not escape and overthrow you?"
"I have bought... this!" said Dral'thor triumphantly, producing in his fingers a small, brass padlock. "For the door," he explained.
Rogi buried his forehead in his hands. "My Lord, that is brilliant. Truly. I can think of no possible way that a magical alicorn with a proven ability to apparate through solid objects could ever escape a wine-cellar secured by a cheap padlock."
"I had to buy two. The first one broke."
It doesn't stop getting worse!
Rogi took a deep, calming breath.
"So, my Lord, allow me to summarise. You intend that you and I, and your army of two thousand granite automatons armed with stone javelins, march into Equestria, engage in battle with the most effective military ever assembled, defeat the bearers of the Elements of Harmony, even if perhaps not the Elements themselves, and overthrow the two most powerful rulers in the known world..."
"Yes!" cackled Dral'thor. Evilly. Again.
"And the success of this plan rests in large part on a magical artifact that you ordered through a catalogue and that was delivered here in the mail by a member of the very race you plan to conquer?"
"I know!" said Dral'thor excitedly. "Using my enemy as a catalyst for their own conquest! Isn't that just diabolical?"
"Yes, my Lord. Considering the company it's keeping, that particular facet of your scheme does indeed have the ring of competence to it."
"How was Ms. Derpy Hooves by the way?"
"She's fine, my Lord. She is still here, in fact. I asked her to wait for a moment. In case by some miracle you actually wished me to formally send a declaration of war to Celestia this evening."
"Ah, good thinking. Did you offer her something to drink?"
"She declined, my Lord. The point is, that we essentially have no idea what your Rainbow of Darkness does, or even if it works. I note the instructions here say, 'best before 1984', and while I'm not overly familiar with the Equestrian calendar, I'm fairly certain that's a very long time ago."
Dral'thor looked quizzically at him. Then at the purple pouch in his hand. Then back to him. "You're saying I should... test the Rainbow?"
"I think that would be prudent, yes. Before we commit ourselves to a plan that relies solely on its effectiveness."
This, I have to see.
Looking once more at the pouch, the gargoyle gingerly, uncertainly grasped the top with his hands and prepared to open it. He paused an instant. Then, "Behold, the power of Rainbows!"
The pouch opened, and from it a kind of thick purple sludge oozed and trickled lazily to the floor with absolutely no dramatic effect at all. It attempted to swirl a little, and there was the vaguest sparkle—the merest hint of a magic long since departed. Ultimately the goop ended up pooled in an amorphous, gelatinous pile between them.
"Hmm," said Dral'thor. "It probably just needs a while to get going. I'm sure I can infuse it with some more magic or something." He looked up and put on a chipper grin. "It'll be ready for the invasion," he assured.
Yes... somehow, I don't think Celestia needs to worry too much.
Rogi, leaving aside his put-on evil grin for once, adopted a nonplussed expression. "So the disciplined Equestrian army has, against the run of play, fallen to a rabble of crumbling stone athletes and a puddle of purple ooze. And Twilight Sparkle—your greatest nemesis, apparently—her friends, and Celestia and Luna, having all simultaneously displayed complete, catastrophic ineptitude, are trapped and helpless in the most secure dungeon ever converted from a wine-cellar. Truly, my Lord, this plan is a work of evil genius. I can conceive of no possible way it could fail."
"Why thank you, Rogi." If Dral'thor could have patted himself on the back he surely would have.
A few silent, dumbfounded moments passed. Rogi turned back to the drinks nook and gulped the remainder of the whiskey in the glass. He still couldn't believe all of his booze had been carted upstairs! If it wasn't bad enough he was going to have to follow through with this, he was going to have to do it sober! Fine. Here we go then.
He turned back to the boss. "Congratulations, my Lord. You've done it! Canterlot has fallen. Your enemies are beaten. And after a hard-fought campaign, you finally claim your reward as you sit victoriously atop the royal throne, with the entire Equestrian kingdom at your whim."
Dral'thor gave himself another happy, beaming grin.
"Now what?" asked Rogi.
The boss's grin slowly disappeared into confusion. "Come again?"
"Now what?" Rogi persisted. "The story doesn't just end there, does it? Equestria is all yours. What are you going to do?"
"Rule it!" bellowed Dral'thor. "Obviously."
"Yes..." said Rogi patiently. "But what are you actually going to do?" Rogi surreptitiously donned his reading glasses again and meandered back to the still-open book on Equestria, flipping to the pages dealing with its government and populace.
"Well... I'll... uh... first I'll... oh, I know! I'll have them build a giant statue of me. Out of gold! Evil tyrants love oversize statues of themselves, don't they?"
"Yes, my Lord, they do. And depending on the size of the statue it will probably take a dozen of your new subjects about a month to complete. So, what else?"
Dral'thor looked confused. "I... don't follow. I've told them to do something and they're doing it, aren't they?"
Rogi raised his head slowly from the tome and fixed the boss with a very deliberate look. "My Lord, you now rule over a population numbering in the tens of thousands. A thriving, largely agriculture-based country filled with hard-working equines who are not best pleased with your hostile takeover, but whom you are, nevertheless, now responsible for. You alone need to see that they are provided for with food and shelter, that the young are educated, that the sick are treated, that the law is followed, that there is sufficient employment to allow the people to work and earn to keep themselves, that their trade with foreign lands remains steady..."
"That... seems like a lot of work..."
No. Really?
"Then there will be the protests, my Lord. The attempts at rebellion, peaceful and otherwise, against your rule by ponies unhappy with your regime..."
"Ha! I will crush them all!"
"Excellent, my Lord! How?"
"Um... by... well... I shall throw them all into the dungeon!"
"The basement is getting awfully full now, isn't it, my Lord? You already have eight or nine prisoners down there that you are not allowed to simply forget about. I mean... can I assume the reason you have put Celestia, Twilight, and so on, in the dungeon in the first place is because you would like to keep them alive and, in most respects, healthy?"
"Well... yes." Dral'thor once again began gnawing nervously on a fingernail. "I mean... I don't really need to hurt them do I? I... I can still be evil without actually... well... I just want to rule, really."
"Then they are going to need constant attention. Food, water, heat, light, physical exercise, intellectual stimulation... all of which you are going to have to provide."
"That's all... strictly necessary, is it?"
Rogi frowned. "Would you like to see Twilight Sparkle, for example, reduced from a vibrant, strong, fiercely intellectual nemesis, to a broken, hopeless, weak, starving, mentally defunct wreck?"
"N—no. Not really. I mean... bit of a waste, isn't it?"
"Right then. So, you have prisoners to care for. You also have laws to pass and enforce, an economy to manage, a budget to balance, disputes to hear and judgments to pronounce, foreign relations to keep up, and multitudes of disquieted ponies to placate. This is to say nothing so far of the non-trivial fact that, since Celestia and her sister are locked away, you are also responsible for managing the sun and the moon, day and night. How you go about that I've no idea, but there is even worse to come. Because Celestia has many friends and Equestria's allies in the Crystal Empire, Griffon Kingdom, Saddle Arabia and even the Dragon Lands are gearing for war against you, eager to come to her rescue, and your Army of Stone is suddenly vastly outmatched. So, my Lord, here we are, day one, you on the throne of Equestria and your gold statue already under construction. What now?"
There was a long silence.
"Rogi?" asked the gargoyle. "Are you sure all of this is right? I mean, I'm sure the other villains have never had to go through all of this when trying to conquer Equestria."
Rogi patiently, slowly, removed his glasses and looked up at the boss. They'd known each other for a long time. "My Lord. May I make an assumption?"
"Yes..." said Dral'thor, hesitantly.
"Can I suggest to you, that the reason you want to rule Equestria is because you... for want of a better expression... like the ponies? And that you would want them to thrive and flourish under your dominion in not-too-dissimilar a fashion as they are currently doing, as opposed to the alternative?"
"Well, yes, I suppose. I mean, I don't want to rule over a barren, scarred, empty ruin of a country do I?"
Had there been a window in the library Rogi would have looked pointedly at it, with an expression of deliberate irony, to the lifeless, blasted landscape beyond the castle.
"Of course not, my Lord. But... you see, most villains... they plan to conquer and dominate and enslave... and give no thought to what actually happens. They see something like another country and instinctively want it, with no thought given to what would happen if they got it. So on the rare occasion the villain does win, the result, intentional or not, is invariably destruction and ruin. No matter, since most villains would think that a success and call it a day while refusing to acknowledge how unsatisfied it has left them. It is a slippery slope from there..." said Rogi, looking seriously into the boss's eyes now. "It is easy to destroy a country with evil. But to rule one with evil and keep it thriving... is a monumental challenge, because people are generally good. Ponies especially. And unless you have the cooperation and support of the people... it is almost impossible to rule them."
There was a brief silence. Then, "I... don't suppose there's any way of getting them to like me, is there?"
Rogi rolled his eyes again. "Well, you could try constantly referring to yourself in the third person. Ponies in particular seem to find that endearing. But really, my Lord, you are the one who has invaded their country and imprisoned their well-loved leaders and friends. I think you are always going to be onto a loser in that respect."
"Oh," said Dral'thor, crestfallen. Then there was a moment of silence, during which Rogi swore he could hear hopes and dreams being crushed.
"There is a solution, my Lord," said Rogi, mentally entering the end-game.
"There is?" said Dral'thor eagerly, eyes lighting up again.
"To rule Equestria with evil? And keep it strong? By yourself? Impossible. But perhaps with assistance...? From someone who knows the inner workings of Equestria and its people. Someone with experience in building a thriving, working country...? Someone...? Someone like...?"
"Uh... you... Rogi?"
Rogi slapped his forehead in exasperation. "Try again, my Lord. Someone whom you have already had the wisdom and foresight not to execute on the spot. In fact, someone whom you have wisely decided is more useful to you alive and healthy than as a cruel, broken example of your tyranny. Someone who is, in theory at least, downstairs right now...?"
"Princess... Celestia?"
"Yes, my Lord," said Rogi soothingly, encouragingly. "But I don't think she will be best pleased with you for invading her country and capturing her friends. So, how could you gain her cooperation do you think?"
"I... could... um... I could threaten to hurt her friends if she doesn't do what I say!"
"Yeeesss... that is one option. A very evil option to be sure, and such threats are usually effective on heroes. But if she refuses—and she might—you will be left with little choice but to make good on your threat. And—I'm assuming again here, my Lord—I don't think you really want to hurt the ponies, do you?"
"No," Dral'thor admitted, head bowed.
Rogi paused for effect. Then, "There is... an alternative, my Lord. Instead of threatening them, you could... you could...?" he prompted.
Dral'thor's face was a picture of confused concentration as he worked the problem through. Then it lit up once more. "I could... let them go?"
"An excellent idea, my Lord. It rids you of two problems at once. Celestia would readily promise to assist you if it would mean the freedom of her friends, and you no longer have to constantly worry about the prisoners downstairs." And I can have my damn wine-cellar back. "So. Celestia is appointed as a puppet figurehead for the country. The original workings of the government come back to life. The economy thrives, ponies are happy, the country is healthy, and all without you having to lift a finger."
"Yes. Yes." said Dral'thor, with increasing approval. "You are very wise, Rogi. How did I ever come to acquire such a good counsellor? Most villains have to make do with goons and henchmen."
"I was here when you bought the la—" Rogi checked himself. "I mean, when you conquered the land... and moved in, my Lord. You hired me, remember?" Long-term memory had never been the boss's best attribute.
"Have you ever considered a career in villainy? I think you would be good at it."
Rogi looked at Dral'thor. Then at length, he sighed wearily. "I tried it a long time ago, my Lord. It didn't agree with me." And bad mistakes? I've made a few.
"But I like this plan. I can sit back while others do all of the work making the country thrive."
Rogi smiled a subtle, wry smile. "Why, my Lord, you realise of course that you needn't even stay in Equestria at all. You could move back here and be comfortable while Celestia carries on."
"I do like it here..."
"In fact, if you think about it..." Rogi's smile became a grin, "There's very little need to actually invade in the first place."
Dral'thor furrowed his brow and his face contorted into all kinds of thinking expressions as his mind slowly ground to a conclusion. "You know what, Rogi? I think you... you're right. I can rule Equestria without actually conquering it!"
Hallelujah!
That was it. Home safe. He could have stopped there, but... the boss had really made him work for this tonight. So if he was going to get it, he was getting both barrels.
"We are fortunate indeed that Celestia has no idea of your plans, my Lord. You know how protective she can be. Why, if she were to discover what you were intending before the Rainbow of Darkness was ready... the consequences could be... awful." He shuddered deliberately, his feathers amplifying the ripple-effect in a most eye-catching fashion.
Dral'thor nodded, but with slight uncertainty now. "Yes. I suppose they would."
"We are lucky that we can discuss things here in total privacy. Where no citizen of Equestria could ever possibly overhear..." suddenly he opened his eyes wide and gave a loud, theatrical gasp. "Oh, no, my Lord!"
Dral'thor was struggling to keep up now, but the penny finally dropped. "Ms. Hooves?" He gave his own gasp. "Do you think she is still here? Do you think she heard us?"
"Well, my Lord, the sound does carry in these large, empty corridors doesn't it? Especially what with all those enchantments you keep insisting on putting in," he said cynically.
"What... do we do?" asked Dral'thor, panicking quickly now. "If she tells Celestia... if Celestia finds out now... she'll—!" he drew his finger across his throat again.
"I'm afraid there's nothing we can do, my Lord," said Rogi with his own air of faux panic. "Celestia is almost certain to find out about your foolproof plan to conquer Equestria, and your Army of Stone isn't nearly ready to march!"
"I... I could throw the mail-pony into the dungeon!" cried Dral'thor desperately. "Celestia would never find out then!"
Yes... you haven't really thought that one through, have you boss?
"My Lord, that's... not possible for several reasons. Firstly: A pony goes missing while delivering a package to this evil-looking gothic castle? It wouldn't exactly take Celestia long to figure that one out. Secondly: do you not recall our discussion on, The Rules? There is one rule that, above all others, must not, under any circumstances, be broken, even by the most evil of evil villains," said Rogi deliberately. He fixed Dral'thor's gaze with severe, unwavering eyes. "You can conquer a country. You can plunder its riches. You can enslave its people. But you must never—ever—interfere with its postal service! Society would crumble. I am afraid we must allow Ms. Hooves to depart safely." You're not locking her in the basement. I am getting my wine cellar back!
Dral'thor put his hands to his mouth in horror. "But... what am I going to do?" he whispered frantically. "Celestia is going to find out! What do I do?"
"Well, my Lord, I can only think of one way out of this," said Rogi, walking to a small desk in a nook opposite the drinks-cabinet—a writing bureau—and producing a fresh piece of blank paper and a quill, handing them to Dral'thor who took them in his large stone fingers. "I'll tell you what to write," said Rogi with a new, satisfied grin.
"You're sure?" said Dral'thor, hesitantly.
"My Lord, it is infinitely better than the alternatives."
"Which are?"
"Well, the only two real outcomes for a villain these days are complete, unmitigated destruction..."
Dral'thor winced as though struck. "Or?"
"Or redemption." Dral'thor raised an uncertain eyebrow at him. "It's not pleasant, my Lord."
Dral'thor pursed his lips into a thoughtful pout. "Really? It doesn't sound too bad. What do you suppose it's like?"
"It's..." Rogi started, and then stopped. Then, with unusual sincerity and an odd, wistful smile, "I suppose it's like... waking up from a dark dream into a new, brighter, much more ordered world. But a world where, for the first time you see the consequences of your actions. A world where, what you once believed were your greatest moments of triumph have instead become your worst, most horrible mistakes, and one that burdens you with a constant, lingering guilt and a drive not to let others repeat your follies. My Lord," he added.
"Oh," said Dral'thor in not-quite-understanding. "But... this is better, is it?" He raised the quill a little.
Rogi found a smile. "If you wish to continue to be an evil villain my Lord, this is the only way. Now, write exactly what I say. And, Dral? Lose the stupid apostrophe." Then we'll see about putting my liquor back where it belongs.
* * *
"Thank you for waiting, Ms. Hooves. I apologise for the delay," said Rogi, handing the pegasus a shoebox-sized package wrapped in brown paper, tied neatly with string, and attached to which was a sealed envelope.
To: Princess Celestia,
Canterlot Castle,
Equestria.
"Please would you see that Princess Celestia receives this first-class?"
"Okey dokey!" chirped Derpy.
"And here... for your trouble," added Rogi, dropping five Equestrian bits into her vacant mail-pouch. "Have a safe journey home."
"'Kay. Thanks!"
Rogi showed Derpy to the door and opened it—argh! That damned creak!—and she departed northwards into the sky.
* * *
Dusk receded and dawn prepared to break over Canterlot.
"The moon is lowered, my sister. The day is ready to begin," said Luna, entering the throne room. She stopped when she saw her sister sat atop the throne and looking at a piece of paper with a most peculiar, puzzled expression. "Tia? Is something the matter?"
Celestia looked up, unsure. "Well... I don't think so." She magically turned the letter towards Luna, who approached her and began to read.
Dear Princess Celestia;
I, the evil gargoyle, Lord Dralthor of the Kingdom of Stone, do hereby declare war upon you and the Kingdom of Equestria, and give you notice that it is my intent to conquer your lands and assume mastery over your subjects.
That being said...
I surrender. Immediately and unconditionally. I demand no terms. I request no favourable treatment. I relinquish my claim upon Equestria and its citizens, and I'm really very, very, very, very sorry indeed that I said I wanted to throw you into a dungeon.
Please find enclosed the intended tool of your ultimate destruction, one Rainbow of Darkness. Kindly ensure it is locked away forever in whatever vault you have, just in case.
Yours, sincerely
Evil Lord Baron Dralthor.
"I believe that qualifies as the shortest war in history. I am glad we won," said Luna, looking up uncertainly. "Sister, who has sent you this? Who is this, 'Lord Dralthor'?"
Celestia stared back at Luna, still with a perplexed expression. "I have absolutely no idea."