"Excuse me! Excuse me... Sorry, just passing through! Err... excuse me? Sorry! I'm sorry, but I'm- ah, I'm supposed to be performing at this festival..."
Lyra wasn't even sure who she had just apologized to; she was wading through the crowd and bumped into ponies left and right. She had given up on keeping up with the chaos and used a cop-out instead, muttering a constant stream of apologies. That was the only way she could make sure she didn't leave anypony scorned. Of course a hastily mumbled 'excuse me' wouldn't really offset shoving somepony to the side - but she really had to be on the stage soon-ish. She couldn't afford to look for a detour around the crowd.
If there was one to begin with, that is.
The whole plaza in front of the Major's office was chock-full of ponies, turning the empty area into a mass of colours and excited chatter. Lyra would have felt pretty good about that - it may have been a third-rate job she had only accepted because of the Major asking her personally, but she did enjoy having a bigger audience.
Only this time she was about to replace the whole performance with a scam.
Her stomach turned at the mere thought, and not just out of respect for her former trade. There were a million ways her stunt could go wrong. In all honesty, she felt like backing out - but telling the Major minutes ahead of the festival that she was declining to show up...
That would have been easy to misinterpret as intentional sabotage. Scorning the Major was one of the things smart ponies didn't do, either.
I really need to think up a solid reason to cancel all my booked shows though. Lyra pushed another pony out of the way, all the while spouting her excuses in auto-pilot mode. This simple feint may get me through this joke of a festival, but it sure won't hold up in a serious test of skill. I- EEEP?!
A blade appeared in front of her - dropping from skywards and landing at her hooves, barely missing her nose in the process. The sharp piece of metal did its job; Lyra halted right away, even backing off a single step. Which was all she could take before she backed into somepony.
Wha- wha- wha- wha-! Her mind sputtered to a stop as she eyed the blade.
"I'm sorry miss, but the rest of the plaza is off-grounds. The podium is for performers only."
Turning to the source of that noise, Lyra realized that the blade actually belonged to the Guard trooper that was addressing her.
"More sword-toting militia?" Snowy appeared from among the crowd, then waltzed into the open area. "Is there another noble living around here, too? Do they also want Master dead?"
Not quite just yet, Lyra smirked, then gave a cringing giggle as she explored that line of thought. Though should anypony learn of the things I did, I'm pretty sure I'll have a LOT of these... sword-toting militias after me, heh.
None of those thoughts left her mouth.
"I'm one of those performers, you know!" She declared, hints of the suppressed giggle still lurking in her voice. "I'm Lyra Heartstrings, and I'm going to be playing here!"
Judging by how the crowd around her fell silent, that explanation wasn't the smartest move on her part. Everypony around her tried to get closer to her all of a sudden. She had no idea what to make of the scene at first; but she soon realized that this chaos was of a different breed than the one before. The nonsense of overlapping idle chats had been replaced by endless, overlapping cries for autographs.
Oi, that's like, really insulting! Seriously, do the lot of you only know me from newspapers?! Did you really have no idea who I was until I introduced myself? Lyra cringed and did her best to dodge the many pieces of papers, sharp pencils and waving hooves coming her way.
The mayhem didn't last long. A force of five troopers rushed to the scene and held the crazy mob at bay, while another sword-wielding colt reached to Lyra and pulled her out, into the open. She was being dragged by her nose, but she didn't feel like complaining. She simply rose back to her hooves and coughed - the rescue manoeuvre put a lot of dirt into her nose and mouth.
That was like... I don't even know what that was like, but I don't want to repeat it! Ever! ...and to think I've always complained that ponies didn't know who I was.
"Thanks. You're a real life-saver." She compressed all her thankfulness into a curt nod. "Sure am glad you didn't feel like asking for an autograph as well..."
Immediately after having uttered those words, Lyra found the piece of mind to slap herself on the face. Of all the possible things to say, she had again found the most tactless one.
"Think nothing of it." The Guard trooper smirked at her. "I already have your signature anyway - no need to ask for another one. Not now. Wouldn't want you to go all creepy again and ask me if I needed one written in blood either."
"Aren't you the funny one." Lyra rolled her eyes and no longer felt bad about having had shown so little gratitude. The Guard's sentence stuck in her mind, though. She moved the hoof on her face upwards, reaching to scratch the top of her head.
An autograph in blood, huh?
She felt pretty weird about that idea. Not only that an ordinary soldier would propose it; but because it seemed familiar somehow. The gears in her mind spun up, but try as she might, she couldn't recall where she had heard of it before. It was a fairly popular trope in theatre dramas, but she was certain the Opera wasn't the answer she was looking for.
Where....
The soldier next to her didn't elaborate either. He seemed ready to sheathe his drawn sword - but stopped midway, admiring the polished steel as it glittered in the sunlight. Maybe it was just because of her distanced mind, but the strange sight caught Lyra's attention as well. She watched as the soldier's unicorn magic rotated the weapon. It was evidently of high quality; the edges looked as even as a razor blade and intricate patterns covered the rest of the surface. The seemingly disjointed lines formed a tall tree, running down the full length, even continuing on the cross-guard.
"Quite the tool, huh?" The soldier noted Lyra's curiosity and gave a sly wink. "I can't help but admire it myself. No subtlety in this thing. It's so simple... but to the point. An honest tool, you could say. If only I could afford to be... hey, you want a closer look?"
Lyra hesitated. She was running quite late at that point - the other hired musicians had already taken their spots on the podium and had started tuning their instruments. It was also the first time she had seen a sword close-up, however. She couldn't help but feel a little fascinated. Like a filly who had caught a glimpse of a new, previously unknown toy.
"I'll just take a peek!" She giggled and took the sword. She was bracing for a heavy object - and the force of her magic almost threw the sword away. The weapon was surprisingly light, weighing about as much as a bottle of water. "Whoa... so light!"
The weapon firmly in the grip of her magic, she tried to imitate a slashing motion, like she had seen in plays and movies. Swordplay wasn't quite as easy as she had imagined, however. The weapon didn't want to stay steady; it fluttered in the air, rippling and almost tumbling out of control. Lyra had no time to dwell on the unexpected hardships, though. Loud cheer and muffled laughter greeted her performance - and turning around, she realized that the entirety of the crowd was now watching her. Even the other Guard troopers were gawking, though they were more bewildered at how their comrade had so casually armed a civilian.
Whoa. Lyra shuddered at the sheer number of eyes focused on her. Did I just make myself the main attraction? But I... wanted to stay in the background. Or, rather, I should have. Which means... uh-oh.
"Everypony is shocked." Snowy popped up on Lyra's side to state the obvious. "I can't blame them, either! That move was absolutely lacking in style and technique. I suppose that is my fault, though - I have seen Old Maaas... I mean, I have seen a certain pony practice for years. I should have passed those lessons onto Master. Being good with a blade would keep Master safer than knowing how to fake our way through a musical performance, too."
"Sure thing! It's not like my whole life revolves around music, right?" Lyra snickered at the windigo, her voice packed with as much sarcasm as the hushed tone allowed. She then cleared her throat, held the sword upright and had it float back to the friendly trooper. "Thanks a lot, dude! I need to run now, though. Wouldn't want the show to start late because of me, haha!"
The Guard colt smirked under the cover of his helmet, and shook his head - much to Lyra's surprise.
"Just keep it for now. Think of it as a... I don't know, a temporary present!" He placed a hoof against the blade's flat surface, and gently pushed the whole thing back to the dumbstruck Lyra. "You might wind up needing it too! I mean, who knows?"
Lyra wanted to protest; she had no use for a sword, after all. Her words would have clearly fallen on deaf ears, though. The trooper turned his back at her and was walking away already, the thick crowd parting to allow him pass.
What a quirky colt. Lyra cocked her head to the side and drew the sword closer to her. She found the shiny surface really distracting... but then shook her head wildly and rushed to the podium.
"Am I too much of an optimist, thinking you're actually going to use that sword?"
The Source eyed the podium from the third story of a nearby building. It was a pretty good vantage point - not the best, obviously, but showing up on a rooftop was out of the question. Not while parading around in the guise of an ordinary Guard trooper, anyway.
It's not like the Source was interested in seeing the whole scene either. As long as it could keep its eyes on that musician... as long as it could do that, the Source could put up with any vantage point.
"This is all so troublesome."
The deep, rumbling voice made the Source turn around, facing the dragon that was at the other end of the room. The scaly creature had obvious problems with the accommodation - the dull red body reached from floor to ceiling, making full use of the limited space.
The Source was not alarmed by the presence the slightest. It knew that dragon - no, not just that.
The Source had created that dragon. Took a beast of no consequence and twisted it into something majestic. Turned it into a servant, an ascendant being that could serve higher purposes. All with a flick of magic - just like how it had assumed the looks of a Guard earlier.
"It should be fine. I make the rules. And even if I didn't... there are no rules that I can't interact with the game should the need arise." The Source shrugged, then adjusted the Guard helmet on its head. The helmet felt like a really poor fit, always threatening to fall off. The struggle with the annoying strap made the Source wonder if it had gone a step too far in the accurate portrayal of Guard equipment; but wasn't enough to interrupt its musing regarding the game, however.
"Besides, I'm free to move in such inconspicuous forms. It's not like any of those down there suspect me."
"So you say. But interfering with the game is precisely what irks me!" The dragon insisted, her lidless yellow eyes resting on her creator.
"Lyra's a newcomer - pitted against immortal monsters. Having something to even the field isn't much of an author fiat, wouldn't you say?" The Source reached to the side of its temporary shell, poking the empty scabbard on the side of its armour. "Besides, it's just a sword. As masterfully crafted as my imagination allowed, but still - let's not get overly dramatic over a piece of metal. It's not like I bestowed some great power on her."
"True that. Too bad I don't care about that Lyra, though. Nor about your stupid sword." The dragon snorted and wriggled around. Only because of her ghostly nature did her scales not rip holes in the walls - or outright demolish them. "However, using me to convey your ideas to my Master through my mouth... I didn't like that. That was really troublesome."
The Source stopped inspecting the scabbard and turned back to the dragon, a toothy grin on its face.
"Hoo, really? You would take offence to that?" The Source gave a brief cackle, then cocked its head to the side. "Going to Canterlot to meet her greatest foes head-on... your master was about to commit a ridiculous mistake. All I've done is allow her to rethink her next move."
The dragon remained unamused.
"Don't lie to me, please. It's troublesome, making me realise the truth for myself. You just wanted the battle to erupt here." She pointed out, punctuating - or rather, undermining - her point with a huge yawn. "That sword, getting my Master to come here... you're relocating the battleground so you can watch your newest toy soldier without interference. You went to bothersome lengths about that."
The Source stopped smiling. It turned around and drew the other blade - a shorter one, as befitting the standard equipment of every Royal Guard officer. The polished surface gleamed in a thin stripe, reflecting the little sunshine that managed to find its way through the window shades. The small blade balanced in the grasp of the Source's magical aura, turning left and right, the light dancing around as if it had a mind of its own.
"You do remember that you serve more than one masters, right? And as far as masters go, your creator... naye, your God precedes all."
"But of course." The dragon lowered her head. There was little reverence in the move, however; it was half-hearted and reeked of lip-service. "However, I can't help but note that you've gotten me into something really troublesome. You can't make me like that, can you?"
The Source closed its eyes and chuckled at the notion.
"Going by past experiences, I really doubt you will face a huge trial yourself. Your master couldn't care less about you... she's easily one of my biggest miscalculations." The Source sighed sombrely, then slid the small sword back into the scabbard.
"True. I doubt she even notices my absence." The dragon joined in on the sigh, though the tone was markedly different. "Thank the Sky Mother for that! It'd be really troublesome if I got caught. But, if she is made to fight... then she might call on me yet. Ugh."
"Then you will need to do what I've created you for... for the first time in so many centuries. My heart's bleeding for your plight." The Source rolled its violet-red eyes and returned to the window. It leaned softly against the wall - precise movements in the Guard armour required attention - and narrowed its eyes, its gaze resting on the plaza outside. "Still, I very much doubt she would do that. Your master is too picky to resort to the likes of my servants. Ugh... what a terrible player. Though that was my mistake, in the end. I was a fool to think that those with power would automatically crave for more, no matter the source."
Something glittered at the far end of the plaza, and the flicker of light drew the Source's attention. That was the sword it had gifted away. The blade was currently resting on the floor, next to the musician and her snow-demon. Neither of the two seemed to be pay any mind to the gift though. They were completely lost in preparing for the trivial festival.
How calm you two are, the Source noted as it observed the duo. Ignorance can truly be bliss, I suppose.
Had they known the dragon's master had just walked into the scene and was less than forty meters away from them...
You would be fleeing in panic. The Source pictured the most likely outcome, and clicked its tongue. Well, you do have a sword... but now that I think about it, you wouldn't pick it up and fight just yet. You still have things to return to, don't you? Like that pony by the name of Bon... hmm. You still hold her dear. Which means you would flee just so you could meet her again... but by the same logic, couldn't I use her to force you to stand your ground?
The Source gave that thought a sombre nod.
Seems I'll need to act this Guard officer a little longer... serves me right. I was a little careless in setting up this scene. How unusual of me... tsk. I must be getting hasty.
The Source gave that minuscule doubt a muffled groan, then discarded it right away. There was no place for doubts, only corrections and observations. Done with the internal dissent, the Source turned around and walked to the door; as slow as taking the stairs was, that part of the act couldn't be circumvented. Ordinary Guard officers couldn't be seen popping out of thin air.
"Get going, Sloth. You shouldn't disappear for long periods, whether your master needs you or not!" The Source barked from the doorway. "The show begins any moment now anyway. Your place is on the stage."
The door slammed shut right as the Source was done talking, leaving the brooding dragon alone.
"Show, she says... pfft. As if I cared for any of this nonsense." The dragon shook her head and shuffled around, trying to unwedge herself from the confines of the small room. "I begin to wish you had picked someone else, you know. Had I known this game of yours was so bothersome, I would have stayed being an ordinary dragon. Heck, I would be sleeping the Eternal Dream by now. How bothersome..."
"Can't believe he just gave his sword to you!" The mare with the blue coat and a huge violin shook her head. Her voice betrayed no irritation however - only a strong sense of longing.
"Oh, hush, you!" Lyra grimaced. It was rude, but she didn't turn to the other musician during the talk; she was all too busy getting the strings of her lyre right. She wasn't using her own instrument but the one provided by the Major. That was a particularly stupid decision on her part... she really should have studied the contract in detail before she had signed it.
She arched her head back and crackled her neck, taking a momentary break from the bothersome tuning process. That also allowed her to issue a proper reply to the pony bugging her about the sword.
"It's not like he proposed to me! I'm just... I don't know, I'm holding onto it? I mean, he'll be probably wanting it back."
The other pony sighed and slumped over her instrument, using the violin to prod her chin up.
"Haaa, true. Wouldn't have it been lyrical, though? Meeting your Chosen One in the most random spot, and bam! Instant love on first sight."
"Haha, sure. Ever been told you should lay off the romantic fiction?" Lyra chuckled wryly, tightening a wire by turning on a small screw on the top of the lyre. She closed her eyes and pulled on the string. She could tell it hit the right note, even with all the background noise surrounding her. On one hoof, she felt glad she could do that much on her own - but on the other hoof, the relative ease with which she had worked had also made for a frustrating experience.
Argh! Why can't I PLAY the darn thing if I can still recognize the sounds?!
The purely rhetorical question was all her anger managed to achieve. She didn't expect to ever answer that one. She no longer tried to dwell too long on the issue either. No use in crying over spilled milk, letting bygones be bygones... and all that.
"There's nothing wrong with romantic fiction!" The violinist snorted, yanking her head away in obviously faked anger. "It's a proper genre. A serious genre, too!"
"All the more reasons to stay away from it." Lyra snickered and turned on another screw on the top of her temporary lyre.
"Heh. And here I was thinking it'd be fun to play alongside you." The violinist groaned and leaned forward, her head still pivoting on the top of her instrument.
"You came expecting fun?" Lyra raised her right eyebrow, shooting a quick glance at the other pony. "You don't know the Major all that well, do you?"
The other pony made another - even louder - groan and sunk to the floor, paying great care that her violin landed safely.
"Feels like I'm missing a few vital cues." Snowy glanced up from the scoreboard and scratched her neck, the see-through strands of hair waving in the air. "I thought the Major was a really popular pony? Didn't Master say that she was elected by popular consensus?"
"I said she was elected by popular vote." Lyra made a small but important correction, then pulled on the fifth string of her lyre. She couldn't tell why, but that string still sounded funny; so she kept fiddling with the tuning screw. "See, I never said there were any other contenders either!"
"Ooooh." Snowy's eyes widened as her insight into Ponyville's political climate broadened. "Why is that? Is the Major leading this city customary? Something like an old family lineage?"
Lyra poked at the string, her ears twitching at the resulting sound. She was growing convinced that her own ears were malfunctioning and not the instrument. Tuning a lyre was a quite difficult task in the middle of a noisy crowd. She may have been able to do it, were she at her peak... but considering everything, she was far from that height.
She tried hard to stay positive. She enjoyed how she didn't get herself worked up, for example.
Eh, whatever. It'll do... it's good enough already. It's not like anypony here could tell the difference.
She hated that kind of half-hearted approach, but it was really the truth in her current case. A fact she found hard to swallow, nevertheless; she couldn't help but give her head a disgruntled shake.
"Major Mare and linage... hah! I hope I never get to see those two combine." Lyra mused absent-mindedly and proceeded onto the second-to-last string of the lyre. "No, our good Major only keeps getting elected because she's the only one insane enough to keep volunteering."
The violinist on Lyra's right bobbed her head slightly, turning her neck just enough to bring Lyra into her peripheral vision.
"You often talk to yourself?"
"Only when I long for the good company!" Lyra rolled her eyes and made a full turn on the small screw. A small uproar interrupted her; the crowd seemed a lot more energetic all of a sudden. The ponies around her began stretching their necks and shifting around, all of them trying to get a better view of something. A few - more daring - pegasi also took off, hovering a little above the head of the rest.
What's so interesting? Lyra wrinkled her eyebrows, and joined the rest in turning heads in circles. Even her arrival hadn't triggered anything close to that chaos - and she was plenty sure there were no other big names on the invite list.
"Uh... Master? That... that is part of the show, right?"
Blowing hot air from her nose in frustration, Lyra glared at the dumbstruck windigo of hers. The look on Snowy's face had convinced her to belay the berating, however. The windigo was glued in place; her ears dipped to the side, her lower jaw left hanging.
What the... even you look spooked? Lyra blinked in disbelief, then started to trace just where the windigo was looking at. Just who did the Major get-
The lyre dropped to her hooves. The instrument made a pained sound or two as it bounced around, coming to a rest against Lyra's left leg; but all she did was mimicking the shock of her servant. Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened.
A huge red dragon was reflecting in her amber pupils.
"What the-"
It took Lyra a few seconds to mumble that much. 'Flight or fight' had turned into 'fixed and fright'; the many conflicting instincts and thoughts had blocked each other in her mind, leaving her stranded and gawking. Not even the loud cheering of the crowd had managed to change that - though the harsh background noise did begin seeping into her conscious, making her aware of her surroundings.
Even so, reality had difficulties getting Lyra's attention when she was eyeing a dragon waltz around the plaza. The red reptile moved around at a leisurely pace; the beats of her large wings almost seemed slow-motion compared to the hasty flapping of the pegasi hovering nearby.
It was that strange image that had finally proven too much, breaking Lyra out of her stupor. She took a better look at those pegasi - examined them one-by-one, shifting her gaze from one to the next... and noticed a rather puzzling fact in the process.
Am I the only one concerned by the huge pony-eating lizard?
The pegasi were flapping their wings about, but only to maintain their comfortable viewing spots above the crowd. The very crowd which was also blatantly uncaring about the danger looming above them. The ponies were pushing against the ring of Guard troops in front of them, trying to get closer to the stage where the musicians were gearing up for the show.
"Hey - you okay?" The violinist pony turned to Lyra, her hoof pointed at the ground. "You dropped your lyre..."
It took effort on Lyra's end, but she managed to push the dragon down her list of priorities. It was still in the top three, but she could no longer afford getting so completely hung up on the lizard. Not when everypony around her were acting as if the thing didn't exist in the first place.
Her head still pointing in the generic direction of the reptile, Lyra glanced at her hooves and reached out to the lyre with her magic.
Oi, oi, oi! How is this stupid lyre even a thing right now? Why are you even looking this way? Can't you see what's behind you?!
Evidently, that violinist was completely desensitized to scaly monsters with sharp talons and bad attitude. She wasn't alone, either; the entirety of Ponyville seemed to have become stupidly brave.
Why are they not reacting to the dragon at all? Lyra bit onto her lip and she lifted the lyre up. She ran an overt gaze around, but the picture didn't change whatsoever. Cheering ponies surrounded her - even as the lumbering red beast landed on a rooftop directly next to them.
Guessing the dragon's weight by its dimensions, Lyra braced for the immediate destruction. There was no way roof tiles and wooden beams could withstand the landing of a full-sized dragon. Squeezing the lyre tightly against herself, Lyra flinched as she saw the clawed paws reach out-
-and gasped when nothing happened. The beams held and the roof tiles remained in place; this despite how they had a huge red dragon weighing down on them. The reptile glanced at the crowd and folded its wings lazily, then pulled its head back and gave its neck a good scratching with a hind paw.
Lyra couldn't believe her eyes. The image defied her expectations and, indeed, reality itself. There was no way a dragon of that size could fiddle around so much and not demolish the house underneath.
No way a regular dragon could, anyway.
"That thing's a servant!" Lyra mumbled in a hushed tone, and took a wavering step backwards. She wasn't entirely sure about her reasons, but she felt more afraid of a magical reality-bending dragon than a regular pony-eating one. Her weakness was fleeting; though the decision to stay was not strictly her own choice. She couldn't simply walk off the stage and run away. Not with all the crowd surrounding her.
Stop panicking, girl! Keep calm! This dragon might be benign for all you know. I mean, I have been living next to windigo for weeks... and I'm still fine, aren't I?
Her lips twisted into a small, wry grin.
For varying levels of fine, anyway.
"Snowy."
She only whispered the command, and the word was lost to the noise of the crowd right away; but the windigo still snapped to attention without fail.
"Any idea who that is?" Lyra motioned at the dragon, careful that her movements wouldn't look overly suspicious to anypony around her.
Snowy clenched her teeth and shook her head, slowly and deliberately.
"Nothing, I'm afraid." The windigo sighed, then turned her head sharply to the left, running her crimson eyes across the colourful crowd. "But judging by the lack of reaction, I surmise it's a fellow servant. Should I try and engage it in conversation?"
Lyra was surprised by the idea at first - and then by the fact that she had been surprised in the first place. Snowy could move just as freely as the dragon did, after all. The only limitation the windigo faced was the necessity of keeping close to her master. Nopony could see or hear the servants; so there wasn't much stopping Snowy from just waltzing over to the reptile and asking a few questions.
Not quite used to this kind of thing yet, Lyra admitted to herself with a dry chuckle.
"Go for it." She gave approval with a barely noticeable nod. "Just be back when the show begins."
Diplomatic talks with other servants may have been important, but she needed Snowy once the Major's show was underway. She couldn't play the lyre on her own.
"But of course!" Snowy gave a deep, courteous bow. She was off the next moment, leaping into the air. She landed at the very edge of the clear area, right next to the line of Royal Guards, then bounced back into the air.
Lyra tried her best to keep an eye on the windigo of hers, but she lost sight of the blue ghost as soon as it descended into the crowd. She noted the sad fact with a trembling sigh. She would have hated to admit, but she had immediately regretted going along with that plan. She had butterflies in her stomach, and perhaps rightfully so. She was in the middle of a stage with an instrument she couldn't use on her own, was staring down a dragon of unknown purpose, and was cut off from her own servant. She had no idea where Snowy was, and couldn't contact the windigo. She couldn't even shout - not without drawing a lot of attention to herself.
Using both her magic and a leg, she hugged onto the lyre. The instrument was cold and the tuning screws bit into the skin beneath Lyra's fur, but she didn't mind. She was so nervous, she had to do something - and squeezing against a lyre was one of the less conspicuous ways to deal with the tingling sensation.
Well... at least I can be sure that I'm not the kind of idiot who overthinks things! She mused, and could taste the rich sarcasm in her own thought. She had really put her own self into a tight spot. What made everything even worse was that she was in the middle of a lucky break even - had the crowd not been busy cheering at something, she might have been called out on her quirky behaviour. Che! And all that dragon's doing is just sitting there... this 'game' is nuts! All it takes to ruin my life is keeping a random servant breathing down my neck. How the heck do the other players deal with this stress? I'm going to need the LARGEST bottle of Prozac if this keeps-
Lyra's ears dipped half-way between horizontal and vertical as she swivelled her head around slowly. With all her attention on the dragon, she had completely forgotten about the elephant in the room.
Wait a sec! Just why IS this crowd cheering so much?
She couldn't see any reason for the sudden shift in atmosphere. Who in Equestria could have made all those ponies go wild?
"Psst... psst! Hey! Wake up! Did you fall asleep or something?" The violinist whispered, poking Lyra with the bow of her instrument. "Stop hugging that lyre! Can't you hear the Major arrived? We're about to get started!"
Lyra nodded and pulled the lyre to her eye-level - at which point she ran out of ingrained actions and reverted to conscious-mode. First of all, there was no reason for her to prepare so eagerly; it was all moot without Snowy being around. Secondarily, she had a hard time believing her ears.
It was the Major who got that kind of reception?
Really? What. Just what! How is this even possible? Lyra stretched her neck to raise her head as high as possible, trying to find the familiar figure on the stage. Why would these weirdos cheer for the Major so loudly? Did I come to a celebration full of paid actors or something?
From the corner of her eye, Lyra noted how all the other musicians had finished preparing, and now stood at the ready. That meant that the Major must have been around indeed - and that she needed to get Snowy back. Urgently. Only, the windigo was visibly standing on the roof of the opposing house, right next to the red dragon...
Come back already! Lyra gave the blue ghost a despairing glare. I thought you'd ask the reptile for a name or something, not discuss the story of your entire life!
Then, at long last, she got a glimpse of the beige mare with ornate glasses.
The Major! Lyra hissed and sank her teeth into her lip. She remembered the outline of the programme - there was going to be a short introduction, but the Major had requested some light tune for the second half of her speech already. Shoot! Snowy, you air-headed idiot, stop chatting that dragon up and GET BACK HERE ALREADY!
Screaming loudly inside her head was off little use, of course. It was simply the most she could dare. Breaking into screams right next to Ponyville's top official wouldn't have done her life any big favours. She needed better ways out of the tight spot.
What if I pretended to faint?
She dipped her head measured the lyre carefully. It looked like a less intricate, but sturdier variant of the lyre she had at home. Heavier, too.
I could totally just smack myself over the head with this thing and black out, Lyra pondered. How would I do that without being obvious, though?
"Fillies and gentlecolts! Dear ponies of Ponyville!"
The Major's voice sent shivers down Lyra's spine; she could tell that all the furs on her back were pointing skywards. Her sense of balance started to act up - the world began wobbling around her, as if the axles of reality had began to loosen. The loud crowd receded from her mind, the choir of voices becoming dull and distant.
There was only one thing Lyra could think of with utmost clarity.
I'm in trouble. Oh Celestia, I'm in so much trouble.
"I think we all know why I have called you to this spot today." Major Mare continued. "I mean, I would rather hope so - I've spent a small fortune on fliers!"
A faint laughter rippled through the crowd, and even Lyra bobbed her ears up. She had nowhere to run to, so she might as well pay attention.
The Major looked pleased with the reaction to her small joke - she gave a little pause, letting the laughter run its course and die down.
"However, I'm happy to say that I have a surprise for you!" The Major traversed her gaze across the crowd, her reserved smile growing to a toothy grin.
Lyra wrinkled her eyebrows. She had no idea why she had picked up on that little detail, but it bugged her. She had never seen the Major smile like that. That pony was so reserved that she would begin her own birthday party by clearing her throat, followed up by a canned speech.
There was no time to dwell long on the issue, however. The mention of surprise had a remarkable effect on the crowd - everypony fell silent and began listening eagerly.
"I think I can safely say that these are going to be the most intense moments of your lives," the Major chuckled and drew her mouth to a sneer. "Your remaining lives, anyway."
Lyra recoiled at the chilling words.
Wha-
There was no need for her to wonder. The Major basked in a vivid green light; the outlines of her body rippled, as if the pony had difficulties deciding on her own size. Perhaps justifiably so: the good Major grew two sizes in the next moment, now towering above the other ponies. Her skin had also turned from beige to almost pitch black, and the new colour only highlighted how lean her figure had become. Wings grew from her sides; not of the usual feathery kind, but some sort of translucent membrane. The grey mane of the Major had also changed and turned dark blue; her glasses landed on the floor as a horn sprouted from the middle of her forehead.
Lyra gawked at the sight. It was the very first time she had seen anything like that, but her instincts told her to get away - or back-pedal at the very least.
The something the Major had been a few moments ago had stepped forward, smashing the reading glasses with an absent-minded stomp of her hole-ridden hoof. It was at that point somepony had found the courage to whisper.
"Queen Chrysalis...!"
Lyra had no idea who had said that, but wished the pony was wrong. She was familiar with the stories related to that name.
Frighteningly familiar, in fact.
All the other ponies in the audience must have thought similarly, for the chatter had completely stopped - stopped so abruptly as if everypony's words had been cut in half.
Lyra could have sworn she could hear the faintest breeze whistling in the air.
"Well... without further ado! Let the festivities begin!" Chrysalis hollered, her words ringing in the dead silence. "Changelings! Lunchtime!"
"See? I told you my master's troublesome."
The dragon uttered her groan in a deep, rumbling tone, her long claws scraping against the thick scales covering her nose.
"What the- did- did that pony just shapeshift?!" Snowy gasped. She was the same dumbstruck as the scores of living ponies filling the plaza, her crimson eyes fixed on the distant figure. "Is that really your master? Who in the world is she?!"
"Yeah, she's my master all right. She's Chrysalis... a troublesome vampire who thinks herself a queen. Even though her kingdom only exists in her own head." The dragon frowned and shook her head. "She detests me as fully as possible, though. So I suppose this feast could be all right... as long as she gets to get her fill and I get to keep myself uninvolved."
"A vampire!" Snowy mumbled and squinted back over her back, at the red dragon. "Is that really so? Your master feasts on other ponies?"
The dragon raised her head and hummed, scratching her chin thoughtfully. Considering the stance, her answer was surprisingly short, however.
"Yep."
"My Master is down there. So your master... will try to feast on mine!" Snowy concluded, then turned back to the crowd with a dry gulp. "I will need to stop her."
"Heh. Well, considering my relationship with my master... I probably won't get in your way should you try." The dragon chuckled wryly, waving a paw in the air. "I hope it does turn out like that. It would be bothersome having to fight you, Nix."
"Yeah. I-" Snowy nodded and prepared to leap off. She leaned back onto her rear legs and arched her back up, but a last second doubt made her hesitate. She cocked her head to the side, so her right eye got a glimpse of the dragon. "Did you just say you're fine if we beat your master?"
The dragon didn't even miss a beat with the reply.
"That's my master's problem, not mine. As long as you don't make me partake in bothersome things... I really don't care."
Shaking her head in utter and obvious disapproval, Snowy shot out, flying towards the shocked crowd underneath. Unlike a certain other servant, she would be fighting on her Master's side.
The dragon watched the blue figure fly off in the air, then dip below, finally land and disappear in the colour crowd.
"I wonder what would count as rigging the game if this doesn't." The reptile murmured, once she was sure the windigo was out of earshot. Then she curled up, sighing loudly as the move squeezed the air of her lungs. "But that's not my problem, is it? And if you do get to do my master in... heh, I guess I wouldn't complain about one less troublesome deity in my life."