//------------------------------// // Chappie 10 // Story: Confession of a Soul Mage // by SoothingCoffee //------------------------------// Mystery. It was that small nagging feeling I usually get from watching my father going out with unfamiliar women and got back home drizzled in cum and stank with alcohol. That poking feeling when I would hear the occasional scratching from the Redfield’s mansion’s bathrooms. And that rush of solving a deadly puzzle, a dangerously, deadly puzzle. I didn’t know where it stemmed from, really. It had seemed to be just there from... the beginning of my life. To seek for the truth, to rip apart that shell with meticulous and sharp wits, to see inside of that mysterious shell, and the feeling of ecstasy as I looked at inside of the shell. Anybody who knew of me, and weren’t dead, probably also knew what I’d dreamt of, before I realized my Rune Talent. Still, even though I no longer seek to be a detective anymore—Father screwed that dream before I realized my talent, anyways—, to be the one who seeks the truth, it still stayed as an obsession and an admittedly unhealthy one at that. I still couldn’t forget that mistake I had done as a Frontline unit. Seeking some Imperial scum’s hidden dungeon, hoping for loots, gold or some important documents I could take, only to instead see a hundred of dirty, naked, disgusting elves. It was so horrendous to my eyes that it was almost worth my defiled eyes once I burned down the mansion down to crisp. Thankfully, Captain Corpus was an understanding superior once I’d explained my part of the story. He gave me a sympathetic pat to the back, a pouch of bronze coins, before sending me to my merry way after telling me to continue my job like a proper Agent. It was the same feeling I was feeling as I stared at the textbook balanced on my white hoof. Even though I knew the grim situation I was in, I still couldn’t keep the thrilled grin away from my lips. Sure, Nero was more important, but she wasn’t an obsession, and never will be. This, however, was. I placed the book carefully on the floor as I leaned against the wall under the stairs. It was dark, but not dark enough that I couldn’t see words on the cover of the book. ‘Red Field’s Diary!’ it was written. And I ignored the eerie coincidence with her name. Just a coincidence. I assured myself. With great concentration, I tried to flip the cover. Tried, being the keyword, as it was bloody hard to use these bloody hooves. Only thirty minutes was I changed to a pony, and I was already missing my old body, my opposable thumbs, and my dickless forehead, and my sheath-less cock. It was only after the tenth tries or so, that I finally succeeded in turning the damned cover. July 3rd Dear Diary, Today the school break is over, and I have to go to school again. I don’t want to, but Daddy said I must. I hate being in school, Ticking Clock is always being mean to me! He always mocks Daddy just because he worked for his father, telling me that Daddy is stupid and poor. He’s mean! And I don’t like him one bit. And Ms. Carol isn’t even trying to stop him. I turned the paper again, clicking my tongue silently as the next was pretty much the same thing. A little girl’s brooding tool, about how she hated this Ticking Clock, followed by she loves his Daddy, and how she wanted to be with him forever. So I turned the paper yet again, skipping most of the unimportant part after a quick scan, until I stopped as I found a pretty interesting one. July 10th  Dear Diary, Today Daddy brought me fishing! I know it’s a bit weird, since we don’t eat meat, and when I asked, Daddy said we’re going to free them after we caught them, something about the thrill of fishing fish. It was supposed to be school day but Ms. Carol apparently called in sick, and there weren’t anypony could substitute her. Good for her.  Coincidentally, Daddy took a day off from Mr. Clockwork’s Workshop, and we ended up fishing in the nearby lake. We caught plenty of fishes! Large ones and small ones, but we quickly freed them afterwards. Oh, and I caught a pretty shell from my fishing pole. Daddy said that shouldn’t be possible, but I took it anyway. It was very pretty with rainbow colors. I quirked my pony-eyebrow, a pretty weird experience as my ears flicked reflexively with my brows. “That shell could be a medium for a demon,” I muttered silently, shuddering in discomfort as I heard no reply from my dearest familiar. “Right. Let’s get this done with.” I turned over the page to a new one. July 11th Dear Diary, The shell spoke! Well, not exactly, but it did sing though, something about wishes and stuffs! The voice is so beautiful, and it made me almost asleep. When I told Daddy about it, he just gave me a smile. I don’t think he believed me. But whatever! I’ll just listen to the shell’s singing. I nodded resolutely. Definitely a daemon or it could just be some random magical instrument. Doubtful, considering what the hell was happening a few minutes ago. So, with that conviction, I flipped another page. July 15th Dear Diary, I’m so, so sorry for not writing in the last four days... it’s just that I’ve been listening to the shell, and it... it told me that it could grant any wish I could imagine. Anything! I could wish for money, I could wish for Clock not being a meanie, or I could even wish to be with Daddy forever! Anything I could think of. Anything. I could wish for! It even told me that I could get Mommy back! I... I don’t know what to do with it.  July 20th Dear Diary, I’m sorry again for not writing, but the shell... it told me plenty of things. It said it could make everybody happy! It said it could do anything! And it kept saying the same thing on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on. It won’t shut up! It won’t shut up! When I told it to shut up, it would instead ask me what my wish is. When I told it to wait, it asked what my wish is! It won’t shut up! Please make it shut up! Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please. MAKE IT SHUT UP! Daddy... Daddy’s leaving again for work. He said I didn’t need to go to school today... I narrowed my eyes at the page. On the white paper, there were a few red spots on it. I sniffed on it, hoping that my Equine sense would work. And thankfully, it did. It was, predictably, blood. Well, whatever the daemon was doing, it was working effectively. I turned to another page, skimmed and flipped again, all of them filled with the same words; of her begging for the shell to stop singing. To stop asking the same thing and not a few of them contained some splotches of blood. One interesting one had a large hooflike splotch of blood. Until I stopped to the more interesting page. July 30th Dear Diary, Today Daddy took me to the hospital. My hoof is burning in pain, and my gum is torn apart, said the doctor. But it didn’t stop the shell from singing! I tried to throw it away, back to the pond, to the incinerator, but it always came back! I tried to crush it with hammer, but it doesn’t work. It kept on asking the same question over and over again. When I’m asleep, when I’m napping, when I’m writing, when I’m eating, when I’m playing, when I’m with Daddy, when I’m with Doctor Heart, when I’m in school, when I’m taking a pee, when I’m washing myself, when I’m standing atop of the clock tower, when I’m everywhere. Please... make it stop. August 4th Today I did a bad thing. It was a mistake, even Ms. Carol said so. Even Daddy said so! I swear, it’s just an accident. I didn’t push Clock to the ground. I didn’t punch him in the face. I didn’t kick him in the body. I didn’t crush his neck. I. Didn’t. Kill. Him. It was the Shell. It’s always the Shell. It told me to do it. Yes! It’s the Shell. Always is and always will. Because it won’t stop singing, Clock is now not breathing. Because it won’t stop asking, Clockwork is now crying. Because it won’t stop singing, Clock is now six deep feet underground. Because it won’t keep asking, Daddy is now fired by Clockwork. Yes, it’s all the Shell’s fault. Not mine. Not ever. What was the question, again? August 10th Daddy didn’t come home today. I don’t where he was going, but he never came back. I waited until it is night, but he never came back. Why won’t he come back? Is it because of the Shell? Is it because it won’t stop singing? It is, isn’t it? It’s always the Shell’s fault. Everything is its fault. Daddy didn’t come back, tonight. August 15th He never came back. Daddy left me, and now everypony is looking at me funny. All of them staring at me like I was a monster. When I went to school, they kept on staring. When I was on the Clock tower, they were all staring at me. When I was in house, they were still staring at me. They’re everywhere. Wherever I hide, they will always be there. They will be staring at me like I’m some kind of a freak. They won’t come to me, but their eyes are everywhere. Everywhere, and anywhere. And it won’t stop singing. August 25th I have decided to take my wish. I want it to stop. I want everything to stop. I want everything gone. I want them all gone. I want Daddy gone. I want Clock Work’s gone. I want everything gone. I want everything to die. I want Ms. Carol to stay dead. I want Doctor Heart to stay dead. I want Salt Lick to die. I want Clock to die. I want the town to die. I want Martrossa die. I wish for Martrossa to die. And it ended from there. Beyond that page were blank white pages, nothing more, nothing less. With practiced movement, turned to the final page, because there’s always something in the final page, be it some sort of puzzle, or just random nonsense. Except there was nothing on the last page. Silently, I closed the diary, putting it inside my bag as I pondered about on the Diary. In the positive note, now I knew how Martrossa turned into this complicated hell hole, or at least the basic understanding of it. I still didn’t get how wishing everyone to die would end up like this. But I could imagine what happened next. The girl wished came true, and Martrossa ‘died’ and after a few days without communication, it caught the eyes of the ever watchful Celestia. She then sent a group of her soldiers to investigate, except they never returned. I had no doubt it grated slightly on Celestia’s mind. Then I appeared, and it seemed to be too coincidental. So she decided to ‘test’ me by throwing me to the city of the dead, which led me here, a pony with a cock on my forehead. It’s funny how all this began because of a simple child, instead of some maddened adult. On the not-so-positive note, I still didn’t know how to get the fuck out of this weird fuckhole. I sighed, massaging the ridge of my nose with my hoof. How that worked, I will never know. I let out another sigh. There won’t be anything done as well if I stay in this place. Standing up, I was slightly grateful that it came easier than before. That would be helpful in running away from some gangbanging orgy.  I peeked from under the stairs, and seeing nothing within the dark, I tiptoed silently,—as silently as I could with hooves, which was as loud as my Mother being happily fucked by another man—but of course, the moment that I’d reached the door, a clicking sound resounded behind me. A very familiar clicking sound. “Don’t move.” It was a female voice, and by her tone, she was trying to be intimidating. If, you know, she was intimidating to begin with. “Slowly turn around. And no funny business.” Slowly—but faster than I usually do, because I’m a rebel— I turned around, a fireball ready to be thrown if I had to. She was standing on the top of the stairs, a unicorn if her pink glowing horn and the familiar looking object floating—a blunderbuss, by the small trumpet at the end of the muzzle— and aiming at me was any idea. Unfortunately, I couldn’t make out any detail out of that. For some odd reason, the world is okay that I could read slightly in the dark, but I couldn’t recognize a pony’s face a few feet away from me. “Name yourself.” She growled out, a throaty ‘intimidating’ quality in her voice, that only made her sound like a woman being deepthroated by the local rapist. I glanced at the blunderbuss, before shrugging. “Psyche,” I answered simply, tilting my head slightly. She narrowed her pink eyes—or was it magenta?— at my equine face, before it travelled to my body. Suddenly, her eyes widened in shock. “You’re a stranger...” she whispered, her tone broken in desperate hope, and in disbelief. “But that’s impossible. Except...” she trailed her pink eyes— definitely pink— quivered, tears threatening to break from her eyes. “Dear Celestia... Please tell me you’re from the Princess,” It didn’t take a genius to understand what she meant, and I nodded at her. “Oh Celestia...” she muttered, a shaky smile suddenly found its way to her face as she lowered her blunderbuss. “W-Well come up here, then!” I shrugged, relaxing my muscle and released the spell in the tip of my hoof as I trotted to the stairs, climbing carefully as not to trip myself in this damned hooves. She eyed me weirdly as I wobbled slightly, before she shrugged, her hopeful smile never changing as I reached to the top. She was a pine-green coated mare with a braided dark-grey mane and roughly cut tail, I noted as I stood next to her, her large pink eyes regarding at me hopefully, before she suddenly frowned. “Wait, you’re just by yourself?” I gave her a crooked smile, absently noting that her blunderbuss was lifted slightly to my hooves. “Not about an hour ago,” The blunderbuss lowered once more, and the mare in front of me gulped audibly. “Oh.” There was an uncomfortable silence—for her— before she shook her head and walked into the left corridor of the floor, and without any words from her, I followed behind. “Festive Carol,” she said silently. “That’s my name. But you can call me Carol,” I blinked at her name, glancing at my bag, before a mental chuckle rang in my mind. Well, isn’t that a coincidence. “What happened here?” I asked. She stopped for a moment, hesitating, before she continued again, and shrugged her shoulder. “I don’t know,” she whispered; her voice hollow and haunted. “It happened all suddenly in one afternoon.” She paused, taking a shaky breath, before continuing, “I was just minding my own business, teaching the foals in my class when suddenly the world shook, and everything changed. Most of the foals died, turned to skeletons, but there were few that were still alive. I took them outside...” She stopped suddenly, exhaling a deep breath as I heard a choked sobbing coming from her. “And there were many skeletons, all of them dead. I brought them back to the school, but suddenly, there were no skeletons anymore. There were foals, grinning happily at me, giving me a cheerful welcome...” she let out a mirthless chuckle. “But it was all a lie.” She looked back at me, tears freely pouring from her eyes. “I don’t know exactly what happened, but everything changed. Every time I and my foals moved, things change, and they would attack us. Sometimes they won’t, but they would, soon enough. Sometimes we would find others who are real, but they would turn against us.” She turned, continuing to walk in what I noted as a very long corridor. “You’re not alone, then?” I asked dryly. A chuckle came from her. “No, I’m not alone.” She answered. “Though I have no doubt I will soon, or maybe it would be the foals. Last time, we met group of guards from Canterlot. They were here to help us, but in the end, they were gone. I don’t know where they are now,” “They’re dead,” I provided her the answer, briefly remembering the skeletons by the gate of Martrossa. “Saw their skeletons when I came here,” There was a momentary silence as we walked in silence. “I see,” she said, stopping once more, this time in front of a wooden door. “Well, here we are.” Her hoof reached out, rapping on the door. “Merry, it’s me, open the door,” she whispered softly. “Carol?” A child’s voice, a filly to be more specific, said beyond the door, soon followed by a closing soft clattering sound. There was a clicking sound as the filly unlocked the lock, followed by the door creaking open, before stopping halfway. In the corner of my eyes, I noticed Carol smiling in something akin to pride as she leaned forward to the creak. “Yes, it’s me, Merry,”   There was a happy gasp, before the door opened fully, revealing a small Pegasus filly standing over the door. She had a soft blue fur, and a blue mane and tail with stripes of white in the middle. Curiously, a patch of bandage was placed over her left eye. The edge of a slash wound could be seen around the edge. “Merry!” she whispered happily, her wings fluttered about as she jumped to hug Carol, who responded back with a chuckle. “You’re back.” She mumbled in the scruff of her neck. Carol chuckled, entering the room, of which I followed inside. The room, just like the world beyond, was dark. I could make out silhouettes of items around the room; a small bed, a dresser, a nightstand, a desk, and a three breathing lumps under the blanket of the bed. I turned to the hugging pair next to me, before I shrugged, and shut the door close, and turned the key around with my teeth. Carol shot me a grateful look, whispering soft soothing words to Merry. Merry nodded, jumping down from Carol’s neck, before an ‘eep’ escaped from her lips escape her lips as her right eye caught me. “Don’t mind me, Child, I will do no harm,” I said softly, offering the Frontline’s graded warm smile—taught to be used to calm down children, except for Imperial’s or Elf’s—, patting her head softly with me hoof. She ducked her head slightly, giving me a small nod, before glancing at Carol, who gave her a reassuring nod, before turning back to me. “My name is Merry Hearth, and it’s very nice to meet you, Mister...” “Just call me Psyche, Child,” I answered her, my voice softened. There was an old saying back in Camelot, more of an unwritten rule, really. ‘The next generations are our future’ it says, told by King Arthur himself. It told us to care about the young generations; to watch, and guide them to the right road, where they’ll prosper, and live a fitting life. Because in the end of the day, the old will die, and the young will lead. It was slightly sad to see a child staring at me with that haunted look. They’re too soon. Early bloomers like her won’t be a good tool for the future, too much traumas and too much sadness. I shook my head softly, releasing my hoof over her head. She nodded, giving me a small smile. “Psyche,” she said, tasting the word, before she glanced at Carol again, who gave another nod. Merry smiled widely, trotting away and slowly climbed up to the small bed, careful as not to wake the others. She made herself comfy, digging into the blanket, sharing warmth with the fellow foals. I turned to Carol, who was staring at the four lumps with a sad look. “She’s still seven years old, you know? And she just lost her eye a week ago, or at least I thought it was a week, anyway.” she said, her voice quiet and trembling, and though she didn’t say so, I had no doubt that she was mostly talking to herself. “She was such a cheerful filly before all of this, singing and grinning, trying to fill the class with her brand of cheeriness,” a ghost of a smile crossed her face. “I would usually get annoyed by her. Too much shouting for my own opinion, but now I missed that bright smile of her...” She shook her head, giving me an apologetic smile as her glowing horn died down; the blunderbuss carefully placed next to her, before it lit up again and two small pillows were pulled from under the bed. “I’m sorry. It’s easy getting caught in moments nowadays,”  I gave her an ‘understanding’ smile, taking the floating pillow with my teeth, and laying them down on the floor, where I plopped my ass. “It’s alright, I understand.” She plopped her own plump ass down to her own pillow, giving me a raised eyebrow. “Do you, now?” there was a slight spite in her voice as she said that.  I tilted my head slightly at that. Do I? The answer would be a Yes. I’d watched my teammates died, raped, shot, and tortured. Heck, I did that torture. But understand? No, I’d never delved myself much into it. Once they’re dead, then they’re dead. If they’re dead for the sake of Camelot, then their name will be etched in history. If they’re dead for the opposite reason, then their name will be sullied, spat at, and scorned upon. Even when Lily died on my hands, I never dwelled much onto it. Dwelling on things like that would only drag you down, crippling you down until you’re on your knees, sucking every cock shoved to your face. Oh, I was angry, that much I was sure. I’d felt that cold rage when I saw my brother’s smug face, when I saw those elves underground, and when I saw those fat Imperial fucks. But do I understand? I let a wry smile found its place on my face as I shrugged lightly. “Fair point,” “It’s fine.” Uncomfortable silence blanketed the two of us as I made myself comfortable on the cushion. Carol squirmed, fidgeting as she looked anywhere except me. That silence was broken as she let out a sigh. “So,” she started, looking defeated for some reason. “Tell me about yourself.” She blinked, then again, both in confusion, before she snorted; amusement rolling in her eyes as she said, “Well, you’re the only stallion in the room, and I could do a quickie,” she glanced at the four lumps on the bed. “But, well, I don’t think they need any more traumatizing,” I chuckled. “I’m sure they don’t, though I prided myself capable of giving a good time anytime you want to,” I gave her a wink, of which she responded with a light blush and a small laugh. I nodded. “Absolutely. I have people waiting for me in the other side of the gate,” I answered her desperate question, staring at the dark ceiling for a moment before back to Carol. “And besides, I think I know how to get out of here,” “Yep,” I told her, popping the ‘P’ in it, before I rummaged through my bag of holding. “And I think you should read this first, since I also need your help with doing it.”  What with her knowing her ways in the town, she should know where to found the demon resides. I had a few a guesses, and hopefully that would work. That said, I wasn’t exactly sure if killing the demon would release us, but it was the only thing I could do to escape. I pulled out the Diary from my bag; slightly bothered by the ease I used the hoof and the impossibility of grabbing the Diary from my bag with a flat hoof. Carol stared at it with a raised eyebrow, then at me. I gave her a crooked smile. “You’ll love this one,” I said, before handing it to her. She took it with her telekinetic grasp, twisting it around in the air as she stared as it curiously, only to widen in surprise her eyes stopped at the front cover. She looked up at me, eyes wide in shock, fear, and slight rage. “Just read it,” I nodded to the book. “You’ll understand.” Her stare bored into my dick-head, before back at the floating book, and after what looked like a quick decision-making time, she opened the Diary, and began to read it. There were plenty of ways to describe the changing emotions showed on her face as she flipped by chapter to chapter. Like a surprise orgy sex in a dark alley, comprising of a prepubescent girl and one-hundred-and-eight old sweaty man, first came surprise. Surprise turned to shock, then that shock turned to pain—or guilt?— as she winced slightly, then it came to pity, and pity quickly changed to shock once more, then guilt again, and as she flipped closer to the end of the book, the tremble in her body became more and more apparent. It was amusing, in a way. Like watching an old grandma trying to masturbate with her dry fingers, only to fail, and calling two handsome whores to fuck her silly, before the two were suddenly arrested when the grandma died of a heart attack as she shot her final climax. She let out a loud gasp, and I deducted that she was probably at the end of the diary, eyes wide in mixed emotions. Shock, guilt, fear, hatred—whether it was for herself, or for Red Field, left to be known—, pity, and rage. It finally settled to sadness as her body shook, enveloping the book with her hooves as she hugged it to her chest. Sobs escaped from the furry bundle in front of me. “It’s my entire fault...” I could hear her silently muttered repeatedly, choking on her sobs as I could make out tears falling to the floor. “I should’ve been a better teacher, I should’ve had listened to her, I should’ve stopped her, I should’ve...“she trailed off, leaving the sentence to end as she cried to herself. In the back of my mind, I pondered how much truth was worth in her words. After all, even though she thought herself as being guilty, Red Field was still the one guilty. Granted, she was a filly, and not only that, also rendered into madness. The fact that she didn’t fall into the demon’s word immediately and even managed to struggle from her madness for more than a month spoke plenty of her resilience. Still, that didn’t change the fact that she wished for the death of Martrossa. And instead of killing all Martrossa in instant, they’re trapped in some sort of Limbo, left wandering until their slow death would reach them like a bad case of PTSD. Or STDs, it’s always the STDs that plucked the Frontline’s most. But on the bright side, they’re perfect to spread diseases to the dirty Imperials. Still, the situation I currently was in was ironic in away, considering the name of who caused it. Karma works in a strange way. In the back, I could see the four lumps on the bed moved to the edge of the blanket; probably awakened by the mare’s breakdown. Four head of various colors popped out from the blanket, one of them being a sleepy looking Merry, who tried to get rid of her sleep by rubbing her face. The other three; a unicorn colt with dark chestnut brown coat with a short almond brown mane, another was unicorn filly with lavender coat and an uncared long cerise mane, and finally there was a dark orange coat Earth—unless there’s a wing under the blanket— colt with a green, streaked with red crimson mane. They all blinked sleepily, before freezing—except for Merry— like a pedophile cornered in a dark alley by a pedovest as their colorful eyes spotted me. A particularly loud sob turned their attentions away to Carol, and quick as a lightning, they all—this time including Merry— turned to me, giving me the most unintimidating glare. I gave them a small shrug. “Not me,” I mouthed. They gave me a dubious look, clearly they didn’t believe me. But another sob, which reminded me of a girl after being raped, from the curled Carol in front of me, caught their attentions once more. They turned to each other, and as if in silent agreement, nodded in unison. Quietly, they removed the blanket away from their bodies, and carefully climbed down from the edge of the bed one by one. Walking silently, the four of them huddled to both sides of Carol. Two on her left, while other two in her right, sandwiching Carol into the saddest sandwich ever. The mare flinched at the sudden touch, peeked at the four foals, and I could see a smile managed to find its way onto her lips despite her continued sobbing. “Oh, children,” she whispered, followed by a hiccup as she dropped the book to the ground and spread her hooves, lifting the four of them into one big group hug. “I’m so, so sorry,” The four of them looked in confusion, but nevertheless returned Carol’s hug. “It’s alright, Ms. Carol,” brownie said, the words muffled by Carol’s fur, even though he looked utterly lost. The three other nodded in agreement, and Carol’s chuckled, tightening her hooves around the foals. “Thank you...” she whispered back, a grateful smile on her face. I watched them quietly, ignoring the fact that they ignored me, and silently swiped the diary from the ground, and threw them back into my bag. The children let out a collective yawn, spreading the virus to Carol as she let out yawn as well. She let out a chuckle, “Heh, I think it’s time to sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be an important day,” she gave me a glance, letting out an exaggerated grunt as she stood up from the floor, placing the sleepy children onto her back. Moving next to the bed, she placed the foals one by one back to the bed, giving each of them a small peck on the forehead, and horn, in case of brownie and lavender. “Good night, children,” She turned around, and was about to move back to the cushion before she stopped, and looked back. Orange was biting her tail, giving her a pleading look. “Will you sleep with us today, Ms. Carol?” I saw the conflicted look on her face. Part touched, and guilty. She stared at orange, before back at me. I gave her a shrug of 'why not' and she relented as she gave a small tired smile back to Orange. "Sure, Tangerine, why not?" As she said that, the four foals broke into a grin, and I could practically their mental cheers as Carol climbed the bed; the foals scooted over to give her space. The moment she was in, the foals made their move and embraced their teacher. She let out a small laugh, returning their embrace back. And soon they were asleep. I let out a sigh, giving the blunderbuss on the floor a look of disdain, the bloody thing is an Imperial's weapon by the look of it. Granted, it's antique, old and slightly worn, but that still begged the question of where she got it. I stared at the peaceful looking ponies on the bed, before shrugging. "Resting time, I suppose," I muttered. Glancing at the cushion in front of me, I grabbed it with both of my hoof, and placed it next to me. Like a birthing ogre, I let my head fall to the cushion; a peculiarly sweet smell of Carol's sweat wafted into my head as I took a deep breath, before I shifted my body around, until I was staring at the dark black ceiling. There were still a plenty of mysteries in this damned place. I was tempted to sneak out and inspect the house. The house was larger on the inside than the outside, so surely there would be plenty of loots spreaded around in secrecy. I threw that decision down like I would to baby elf as I glanced at the sleeping ponies. "Or I should take watch," I muttered, shaking my head slightly as I lifted my head. It was more of a sense of duty than anything else. Besides, I wore the mask of a guard already, in the basis of being sent by Celestia to protect. So that made it less of a sense of duty, and more of to the principality of things. Nodding at my reason, I silently dragged my body, and the two pillows to the wall, leaning my back on it as I kept my eyes peeled open.