"How much do the four of you know about our organization?" Rosco asked softly as he padded over towards a door on the western side of the church.
The group of four exchanged confused glances.
"Well, we fight for the rights of non-pony races" Akua started hesitantly.
"We do, though there is a little more to it than that." Rosco agreed. "But I was speaking in less general terms. What is it, exactly, you think we do?"
"My folks smuggle gems into the city..." Rafe started. "But I don't actually know where they go or what they're used for..." He trailed off, scratching his head, slightly embarrassed.
"And we like to keep it that way." The older dog nodded amiably as he pulled open the door. Before stepping through the doorway though, he turned to address the group of friends, his voice turning to steel in the blink of an eye. "Now, nothing you see or hear from here on out is mentioned to, or in front of anyone I do not give you permission to talk to. So that we are clear, if any one of you causes our operations to become compromised, I will kill you myself. Do I make myself understood?"
After a round of affirmation, he nodded slowly and turned away again. "Follow me."
Slipping through the small doorway, they followed the Rosco into the Chapel. The smaller room was occupied by a single row of pews set in front of an altar. In comparison to the main hall of the church, the chapel was well kept. There was no dust accumulating on the furniture, and the altar, upon which sat a well read religious text, was immaculate. A small door, similar to the one they had entered from, and locked with a small silver padlock was the only other object of interest.
In modern Equestrian society, for the most part, religion was a non issue. Ponies grew up believing in nothing of higher power than the benevolence and grace of their ruler. After all, when your princess raises the sun each morning and lays it to rest in the evening, there is precious little reason to turn to a higher power for guidance.
Non-equines too recognized the power in Celestia's hooves, though you would be hard pressed to find a griffin or zebra who would willingly prostrate themselves before her as her little ponies did. Perhaps if one were to travel several centuries back in time, one could find an aerie of griffins who worshiped the wind goddess Zephara, or a tribe of zebra who practiced hoodoo. These ways of life though lay well in the past, a casualty to modernization.
The Diamond Dogs though were a proud people who took great pride in their religious beliefs. Attempts by the Monarchy to stamp out the Church of Stone had been met with a flurry of violence, and a backlash against the government that continued to this day. The Church was the single largest financial backer of the SUF, and its network was the sole reason that the movement remained in existence.
Chief amongst their beliefs was their acceptance of the earth as a living force. The Stone Mother was not an entity to be taken lightly. A martially minded religion that considered strength of body and character the ultimate tenet, the Church of Stone remained a very real presence in the surrounding countryside.
Here in Canterlot though, this small chapel was a final bastion of the earth in a city of the sun.
As the group entered and took stock of the small room, Rosco cleared his throat. "Got some new blood here Finch."
Dart frowned slightly. The room was empty, so who was the old dog talking to? A sudden movement caused the griffin to take a step back in surprise as a pile of cloth in the corner shifted. From what the young griffin had taken at first glance to be a stack of habits, a muzzle emerged. Then the pile of cloth stood up.
An enormous Diamond Dog, all of six feet tall and rippling with muscles rose to his feet, towering over each of them. An easy grin on his face clashed with steely eyes as he regarded the four newcomers. "New blood, huh?" he stretched, popping his back several times with a sigh. "Any excuse to give the old legs a workout. Name's Finch."
After giving them a moment to introduce themselves to the monstrous dog, Rosco turned to the group. "Finch here is one of our enforcers. But, after he pissed off one of the higher ups..."
"The bitch was drop dead gorgeous." Finch rolled his eyes. "How was I meant to know who her father was?"
"Uh huh..." Rosco intoned. "Since then he's been relegated to security work."
"Which is far more boring than it sounds." The larger dog grumbled as he withdrew a small silver key from within his bundle of clothes. Fumbling for a moment, Finch slid the key into the padlock. Leaving it there for several seconds without turning it, he withdrew it from the lock as a quiet click echoed through the small room.
The strange ritual didn't go unnoticed as Dart's eyebrows raised in curiosity. Rosco gave the griffin an approving glance.
"An added security measure in case someone overpowers the doordog, as unlikely as that may be" he explained.
"What happens if they turn the key?" Elora asked, edging away from the door.
"We lose our last place of worship in this city." Rosco replied solemnly. "Better blown to bits than desecrated by Her guards." He paused, silent for a moment. "Follow me please."
With a last nod to Fitch, the grizzled dog shepherded them through the doorway and into an even smaller room, this one piled high with disused furniture. A neat stack of pews sat in one corner next to the grand old organ that dominated the room. Occupying almost the entire northern wall, the instrument was truly an impressive specimen. Like the altar in the previous room, it was pristine, and appeared to be in full working order.
Taking a seat upon the short stool that stood before the keys, Rosco grinned at them. "Another security measure. If the wrong key is pressed twice in a row, the same trap is triggered and the roof comes down on us. Let's see if I can't remember how this goes."
Cracking his knuckles, he laid his paws gently down on the keys and began to play. A jarring sound cut through the air, causing all five to flatten their ears against their heads. Rosco scratched his head sheepishly. "Well, I never was good with the chords" he said, chortling. "Let's try that again."
As the diamond dog brought his paws back up for another go, the door behind them swung open, and a manic Fitch stepped into the room. "Wait, Rosco, stop!" he bellowed, paw outstretched in desparation.
"Huh?" The older dog turned. As he did so though, his paw continued its movement, now widely off-mark due to his sudden movement. As it came down on a large number of keys, the four young ones screamed in panic.
An eruption of noise escaped the organ, a harsh, jarring scream. Then nothing.
Dart, Elora, Akua and Rafe's screams died down as laughter filled the room. Rosco wheezed and spluttered as their sheer terror turned into dumbfounded disbelief.
"That one never gets old." He panted, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye as his merriment subsided. Seeing their bewilderment quickly turning to anger, he scoffed at them. "If that old thing was booby trapped, we'd be losing new recruits faster than a dropped gold bit in the marketplace."
Fitch rolled his eyes at his old friend's antics. "I can't believe you convinced me to help you with this, look at the poor newbies, I think you nearly gave that zebra a heart attack."
The young ones anger quickly faded as they began to see the funny side of the prank. Extracting himself from Elora's deathgrip, Dart couldn't help but chuckle at Rafe and Akua, as the pair tried to untangle themselves for the second time that day. As Rosco's paw had come down on the organ, a purely subconscious reflex on the part of Rafe had seen him throwing himself across the room in an attempt to shield Akua from harm. Now, blushing furiously, the young dog was helping the zebra to his hooves, where he received a nuzzle for his trouble.
Placing his paws back onto the keys, Rosco played a short sequence of notes. With a grating sound, a section of wall beside the organ swung back, revealing a concealed room. A little bigger than a wardrobe, the room's only purpose seemed to be as concealment for the trapdoor that took up most of the floorspace.
"You carry on with your guard duties Fitch, I'll show these young ones the ropes." He remarked over his shoulder. With a grunt of acknowledgement and a grin, the enormous dog sidled back out into the chapel, closing the door behind him.
"One moment." Rosco stated, reaching behind the stack of pews and retrieving an oil lantern. Pulling a matchbox from a pocket, he struck a match and lit the lantern. "The road ahead is somewhat dark."
Pulling the trapdoor open, the elderly dog clutched the lantern in one paw and started down the ladder, the light of the flame illuminating the darkness below him. "The ladder is short, but those with hooves should be careful." With that, the old dog disappeared from sight.
Swallowing dryly, Dart glanced at the others. Each of them gave him the same look of nervous excitement back. Today, six years of running errands and petty crime would finally pay off. Today marked the start of something great, he was sure of it.
"To new beginnings." The griffin muttered as he stepped towards the trap door.