//------------------------------// // Blunt In All The Right Places // Story: Yaerfaerda // by Imploding Colon //------------------------------// “Noble Jurists, we are leaving!” Zaid hollered out the cockpit as he plopped into the Noble Jury's chair and flipped the console's switches on. He smirked and spoke above the hum of the warming engines. “So long, Bountiful! Next stop, green pew pew land!” “A little less grim, Zaidy Waidy,” Props said, climbing up the crawlspace and standing behind him. “We gotta make it to Dashie in one piece.” “Yeah. I think I can do that.” Zaid glanced over his shoulder. “Permission to disembark, Captain, my Captain?!” Silence. “... ... ...Hey! Funny girl!” Bellesmith jolted from where she stood on the top deck. She stuck her head into the cockpit. “Huh...?” “Are we going or aren't we?” “Oh. Right. Uhm. Full speed ahead.” “Belle, if we put the engines into full throttle, we might overload the magical tome!” Props exclaimed. “Then... take her out nice and slow.” Belle smiled nervously. “Really, everypony. Do I have to give such an obligatory command for everything?” “Figured you'd have fun doing it,” Zaid said, gripping the controls. Belle exhaled out her nostrils. “I'm not all too fond of the circumstances that have led me to this place of... command.” Pilate strolled up to her. “It's quite alright, beloved.” He smirked. “You were always fit to be Rainbow Dash's Number One.” “You think so?” “Yeah, listen to your hubby,” Zaid said. “He's used to you being on top.” Pilate twitched. “Erm... uhhh...” “Zaid,” Belle droned. “Take us out before I cast you out as anchor.” “Alrighty then!” Sweating, the stallion ascended the vessel, flying it over the dense treetops and the valley beyond. “Perimeter or bust!” He glanced back at Props. “Say goodbye to the nice zebras, Props!” “'Goodbye to the nice zebras, Props!'” The denizens of Bountiful collectively gathered and waved below. Not long after, with a rumble of skystone engines, the ship rocketed its way east, on an intercept course for the western edge of the Val Roan mountains. In a completely different place altogether... Metal doors slid open with a loud rattling. Floydien glared ahead down a long concrete corridor. He was flanked by a large moose and a not-so-large pony. As soon as Jake and Midnite began moving, Floydien shuffled his hooves to keep up with their pace. Together, the three of them shuffled down a long corridor flanked by supply crates, weapons lockers, and doors that led to a myriad of unseen dead-ends. From the exterior, the building they had entered resembled a simple barracks. On the inside, it turned out to be something else entirely. The concrete corridor they navigated descended with a shallow grade, leading them gradually underground. It was soon obvious to Floydien that the majority of Saikano's compound was a subterranean facility, far larger on the inside than the surface buildings had suggested. Down here, the might and majesty of the Val Roan economy was put towards a different use, with rigidly geometric corridors of blandly efficient design instead of the bronze grandeur that marked the surface kingdom above. It was a long trot towards the brig, and Floydien's manacles rattled and clinked the entire way. No one said a word, which made the stroll all the more frigidly awkward. Midnite was calm and collected the entire time. It was obvious she was used to navigating these corridors. Jake, on the other hoof, was constantly glancing around with beady eyes. Floydien couldn't tell through his peripheral vision whether Jake was nervous or simply curious, not that it mattered. He was quite distracted as it was. The elk's breaths were growing shallower and shallower. He looked left and right, spotting several guards trotting past them. The eyes of reindeer glared his way, emotionless and cold. He heard strange echoes from the far ends of the labyrinthine corridor. Five minutes in, his heart rate had picked up to an intense degree. He glanced into several of the doorways to his side. In the dim shadows, he spotted stacks of crates and supplies and other random miscellany. Then, in one foggy corridor, he saw several unicorns strapping a pained squirrel to the wall with electrodes. Shrieks echoed with each flash of manafeedback. Hissing into a surgical mask, one Ledomaritan's head swiveled towards him with Nightshade's piercing eyes. “Spit!” Floydien bucked and seethed, manacles tugging to the breaking point. He flinched in the middle of the hallway, gritting his teeth. “Ashes to the shimmer glimmer! Floydien has had enough, stabby stabs!” “H-hey!” Midnite stumbled as Floydien's shoulder rammed into her. “Ooof!” “Grannngh!” Floydien's dim red eyes pulsed. The points on his skull where antlers belonged crackled with electrical energy, sending errant sparks into the cold air as he panted and writhed. “You will not take Floydien's tongue! No no no! You've taken everything else! Choke on the damn damn!” “Hey!” Jake barked in an authortative voice. “Piss inwards, homeboy!” A group of guards who had been trailing them the whole time suddenly rushed up. “Is there a problem with the prisoner?” “Uhhh... uhm...” Midnite Bastion fidgeted. “I mean it!” Jake growled, forcing Floydien's body still with his meaty weight. “Knock it off!” When Floydien still continued the struggle, the moose leaned in and whispered in the elk's ear. “Duko Puko... Calm your crotchtits, buddy. Whatever horrible place you think this is, it ain't. The only monster here is Saikano. Nothing here's gonna stab you, okay?” Floydien panted and seethed. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and just as quickly evaporated. Midnite stared, eyes narrow as her muzzle quivered. At last, with a tightening of his jaw, Floydien stood up tall. He cleared his throat, stretched his hooves even, and began shuffling forward again. Jake walked with him. Midnite—still a bit stunned—struggled to keep up. “We... uh...” She glanced behind her shoulder. “We got it under control.” The guards kept their distance, exchanging blank expressions as they nevertheless followed in a dull march. Ebon Mane's eyes looked up... up... up. All around him, tall marble columns stretched, blanked by tall granite statues and even taller tapestries—all depicting various forbearers of the Evo Family lineage. A plush red carpet stretched down the immensely long hallway before them. In the distance, ornate family portraits hung under manalight, with brushstrokes so exquisite that it looked like the families depicted could come to life at any moment. With a ruffle of her skirts, Kera leaned in to whisper to the changeling. “If you're not going to say it, I will...” “Whoah...” Ebon wheezed. Kera nodded. “Darn fartin'...” “What you're looking at...” Nilla spoke as she trotted alongside the two “delegates.” Despite her proud grin, she was nevertheless trembling. “...is hundreds of years of Royal Family Tradition, all exemplified through the most elegant forms of art that the Val Roan populace has ever devised, all to honor the future King as he proceeds with the ruling of his majestic country.” “Mela'dremn dulien se'blammas rezukken,” Kera ritualistically stammered. “She says she's quite impressed,” Ebon droned... almost drooled. “And so am I.” He gulped. “Eagle Eye would love this place,” he whispered to himself. “I must say, it's more than I ever dreamed,” Nilla said. Ebon gave her a double-take. “You mean to say...” He furrowed his tattooed brow. “That you've never been here before?” Nilla bore a tearful grin. “I've never had a chance to until now. It is an absolute honor. Oh, what I wouldn't do to simply lay eyes one time on the most majestic and honorable—” She looked ahead, and suddenly her pupils shrank. With a nervous squeak, the gazelle fell to her knees, bowing low... low. “Your Majesty!” Ebon jolted. “Right here? N-now?!” Nilla poked her head back up only to nod-nod-nod before bowing once again. Ebon coughed in Kera's direction. The filly was already curtseying. Ebon bowed alongside her. “Prince Eine of the House of Evo, future King of Val Roa,” Ebon chanted in as firm a voice he could muster. “The Royal Xonan Family is blessed and honored by your invitation. I present to you Princess Kera Tin Mehjj of the Xonan Empire.” Kera put on a delicate smile and purred, “Seludraat m'niulsaan thriul bleen, Eine Xon-Nagu'n.” “I am blessed by your humble words, but we both know there is no reason for unnecessary pretense.” “Huh?” Kera glanced up. She stood in a blink, her tattooed muzzle scrunched. “You?!” Eine stood calmly beneath a statue of his mother and father. The fawn looked like a dinky, anorexic cat in the shadow of the two enormous busts. “Indeed.” He grinned, standing tall and proud with his silk threads and red bandolier. “Me!” “But... I don't get it!” Kera frowned. “What's the stupid caterer's son doing here in the halls of the Royal Palace?” “Eep!” Kera and Ebon looked over. Nilla was pale as a sheet, her panicked eyes darting back and forth between them and Eine. Her teeth clenched tightly. “I... I don't understand...” Ebon murmured. “Kera, have you met this deer before?” he whispered. “Uhhhhh...” Kera's ears twitched, then folded back as she exhaled wheezingly. “Awwwww crapinsky...” Eine simply smiled and nodded. There were three knocks on the Chancellor's door. “Mrmmmff...” She sat slumped at her desk, rubbing her temple with a cloven hoof while pouring over piles of sheets and letters. “...you may enter.” With a slight creak, the door opened. A reindeer guard entered, clearing his throat. “Chancellor... it's one o'clock. Your guest has arrived.” “Be specific,” Fishberry muttered. “I'm a busy doe. I have many guests.” At the sound of graceful cloven hoofsteps, she looked up. Arcanista stood in the front of the room. Smiling. Fishberry's nostrils flared. “Hang me out to dry,” she muttered to nobody in particular. Standing straight up, she gestured with a hoof. “You may leave us, guards.” The reindeer drew back, shutting the door behind Arcanista. Slowly, with regal grace, the Duchess strolled across the dimly-lit room. “Somehow, I expected something more lavish.” “You're always expecting more than there actually is,” Fishberry droned in response. “I imagine you exercise quite the imagination out of Bountiful.” “Not necessarily. Juggling a lone economy in the wake of crushing sanctions after all these years has wrung whatever mirth I once had dry. But, I suppose one could be dealing with worse.” She shuffled to a stop, staring at a pile of splinters and debris that had been roped off in the dusty corner of the place. The remnants of mana-charred furniture lingered under bands of sunlight squeezing through the office blinds. Arcanista turned and smiled stupidly at the Chancellor. “Redecorating?” Fishberry only glared. “You seem a busy politician these days,” Arcanista said. She trotted over towards the desk. “Here we are, less than twenty-four hours from crowning a new King, and you have your muzzle deep in paperwork. Quite the odd timing, wouldn't you agree?” “I've been busy, Duchess,” Fishberry droned. “On top of having to oversee this Council, I've just recently had to deal with the aftermath a foreign delegate whose words have created civil unrest in my very own kingdom.” “Well, we can't very well be having that, now can we?” Arcanista smirked. “I mean, it's not as though Val Roa has anything to truly be panicked about.” “Arcanista, why are you here?!” Fishberry blurted. “Simple.” Arcanista's lips curved. “I wish to discuss a few matters of political importance with you before the Coronation occupies all our time and interest.” “Is that so?” Fishberry frowned. “Because, from the way I see it, you've flown in from Bountiful like a bat out of Hell, determined to make a cowardly assault on my authority and the stability of the Council at large. This is nothing short of blatant political sabotage. You knew from the very start that with the Coronation on the horizon, there would be very little I could accomplish to undo the damage these... these seditious statements on 'metamorphic intrusion' and—” “Enough,” Arcanista growled, the whites of her eyes showing in a flash of anger. Her gaze pierced into the doe across the desk. “No more pretense. No more illusions. No more of this insulting facade, Fishberry. You're doing something very... very wrong here and it has to stop.” Fishberry glared back at the Duchess. “You can accuse me until your face is blue, Arcanista.” She fumed. “I had nothing to do with your fool of a brother or whatever led to the Duke's banishment—” “This isn't about that,” Arcanista said, her tone suddenly cold and steady. She slowly shook her head as she spoke. “This isn't about the banal way your Council has marginalized Bountiful's influence. This isn't about the way you've whittled down the House of Sehlp into a flimsy shade of its former authority. This isn't about the hoof you did in fact play in the destruction of my dear brother's image at the hooves of Saikano.” She leaned forward, gaze intense. “This is about a seedy and underhoof coup... a coup that you and a few key figures are currently planning to undertake... tomorrow... when Prince Eine is slated to be crowned King of Val Roa.” Fishberry sat silent as stone. Arcanista's nostrils fumed. “Do I have your attention now...?” At last, Fishberry slurred, “I am deeply considering having your head.” To that, Arcanista smiled. “Perfect.” She crossed her forelimbs. “Then let us have a long... long talk...” She winked. “Like old friends...” At last, with a clatter of hooves, Midnite and Jake led Floydien to the brig, deep in the second subterranean layer of Saikano's base. There, a set of guards trotted up, rolling open a jail cell's barred gate. A lone manatorch flickered in the corner, and much dust and grime had settled inside the chamber. “Here, Commander,” one guard said, opening the gate wide enough for Jake and Midnite to guide the antler-less elk through. “You can keep the suspect here while we attempt to summon the General. Uhm...” The guard fidgeted. “As you can see, it h-hasn't seen or needed much use in a long time...” “It's sufficient,” Midnite said. She swiveled to her side. “Wouldn't you agree, Constable?” “Oh, peppermint!” Jake nod-nod-nodded. “Stirdy as a steel trap! He won't be rattling these bars off anytime soon!” the moose slobbered. “Especially without his zapper-nappers!” “Uh huh...” The guard cleared his throat. “I shall send a messenger as soon as the General is summoned, Commander.” “There will be need for that, soldier.” “Sir...?” Midnite looked up at him. “The suspect is still under my jurisdiction, not to mention my responsibility. I shall go summon the General myself.” “Sir, yes sir.” The guard bowed. “As you wish, sir.” “In the meantime, I... will stay here momentarily,” Midnite said. “The Constable and I wish to interrogate him further.” “Very well.” The guard hoofed her a set of keys. “These control this cell, as well as the rest of the chambers within the brig. Unless you expect there to be other suspects rounded up—” “I don't.” “Very well. We are at your beck and call, Commander.” With a lingering glance flung in the elk's direction, the guard and his associates swiftly marched out. Midnite and the Constable stood at the cell entrance, pretending to have their eyes trained on Floydien in the flickering room's corner. Once the hoofsteps were distant enough, Midnite cleared her voice... followed by a whistle. “Okay! All clear!” Floydien winced and fidgeted as a sky-blue shape darted out from beneath the folds of his robe. A wheezing and thoroughly sweaty Rainbow Dash hovered alongside the bars, wiping her brow. “Yeesh! It's like clinging to a jacket inside a closet full of wool!” “Floydien welcomes the color boomer,” the elk grumbled. Rainbow wiped the condensation off her ruby pendant. “The heck was that earlier?!” She glanced up, squinting. “What with all the thrashing and hyperventilating?” “Erm...” Midnite bit her lip, glancing Floydien's way. “Enough spit,” the elk grumbled. “Get with the anti-stabbing already...” He sighed, glaring at the walls of the place. “Floydien is not fond of tomb tomb.” “Just rest easy, Duke-o.” The moose swiveled towards the two mares. “If you wanted a window, this is friggin' it. Go do your magical sneaky girl thang.” He gave a slobbery smile. “I'll sit here with the Floyd and make sure it looks like I'm kicking the shit out of him if any guards should come look.” “Buh?” Floydien warbled. “Right...” Rainbow turned towards Midnite, hovering on fast feathers. “You know the way to your Pop's chop shop?” “And how...” Midnite Bastion galloped off, waving in mid sprint. “Follow me!” And the two mares slithered off down the dimly-lit corridor of concrete.