//------------------------------// // Chapter Seven: Before the Tempest // Story: Dirge of Harmony // by Stalin the Stallion //------------------------------// The ancient, cracked steeple of the old temple stood solemn guard over her decrepit enclave. Her walls lay broken with holes in many places, the front door having been eaten by the elements centuries ago. Rows upon rows of columbine lined her walls, nearly camouflaging her on her green hill in the middle of nowhere. Far below her ruined bell tower where ponies once worshiped long-forgotten gods, four stallions made their camp. And one of the four knelt down in the hallowed pews of a bygone god, his hooves clasped around a set of prayer beads. Narcissus knelt, his eyes rapt to the beads he held before him. His lips mumbled prayers in his native tongue, though he wasn't even aware he was doing it. Claude, his expression more neutral than a rock, eyed 'Narc' the whole while. “I didn't know ya were a prayin' stallion,” Claude said. Narc's eyed shot open as he flinched. “O-oh, Claude. M-moi...” He looked at the beads in his hooves. “Moi was praying?” Taking a seat next to Narcissus, Claude replied, “Ya weren't? Sure as hay sounded like it.” A smile smile danced across Narc's muzzle. “Back where moi is from we had a god, a goddess, to be precise. Her name was – is, moi guess – Déesse.” He shrugged. “Moi does not believe in her, not anymore at least.” “Then why was you prayin', hmm?” Narcissus slumped from the pew and into the chair, finding himself sitting next to Claude. “Like moi said, moi did not even know moi was. Mon parents were very religious ponies, you see.” It was quiet for a moment, the only noise being Crimson fluttering about the upper recesses of the temple and Cauterium configuring the anti-Harmony device to track down the last two anti-Elements. It was truly broken my Claude. “What were their names? Yer parents, ah mean.” Narcissus opened his mouth, his face going blank as he once again stared at the prayer beads. “Rosée was mon mother, mon father being Cyrano.” He blinked, his eyes remaining shut for five whole seconds. “I loved them dearly... Moi means: 'moi' loved them dearly. Moi can only hope they found their peace with Déesse; I didn't have the heart to believe in her after... after what happened to mon folks.” Claude open his mouth, only to shut it as if some sixth sense had told him not to question down that line. He sighed. “Ya know, kid, I never knew mah folks. The only 'father figure' I even had I hate to death. I mean that ah really hate him; were it not for my honor I would have... Well, let's just say that thank Celestia that I'm a good pony and that I ain't no monster.” “Do not call me 'kid', you're not that much older than moi,” Narc mumbled. Claude shook his head. “I'm seven years your senior.” “And Cau is older than us all.” “Really? He don't look all that old.” “'E takes good care of himself, beau.” “Ah see. I'm curious, Narc, what's it like outside of Equestria? Ah've only hear the barest of rumors.” Narc leaned forward, placing his chin on the stone chair in front of him. “Et ez 'orrible. You do not want to hear about it.” After a moment's hesitation, Claude put his left arm over Narc’s shoulder. “Try me.” Narc's eyes went utterly dead as if he were staring at a still object a thousand miles away. “Moi has seen the worst that ponykind is capable of. Moi has seen what Celestia would never allow. Moi has seen atrocities that would sicken even you. Moi has seen too many orphans, too many limbless, and too many dead ponies to believe in a god anymore. “T-to slog through mounds of the dead and dying, and then to have to ignore their begging of water to keep yourself alive... And to be just a small foal is.. it's just...” A tear dripped from Narcissus' eye onto the temple's stone floor. “To have to keep, to have to be greedy because it is the only thing keeping you alive, is a terrible fate. M-moi thinks that... that is why moi is the wielder of Penury, though moi thinks it wields me, not the other way around.” “What d'ya mean, sugah boy?” “Moi does not own a single thing, they own me. A wise pony once said that 'we do not truly own something unless we can give it away, if not then they own you'.” He licked his lips. “Moi cannot give anything away. It's not because moi is greedy, moi does not wish to deprive others of their belonging just so that moi can posses them, no. Moi is simply unwilling to give up anything. Déesse-only-knows why Penury chose me as its avatar.” “Well, I, uh, damn. I didn't expect that kinda back story from a dandy such as yerself. I...” Claude trailed off. Narc sniffled. “You know, mon parents always said that one day moi would return to the old country. They said that an oracle-no, three different oracles from across the nation, all unrelated to each other, said that one day moi would return and save the old country. They said dzat moi was some sort of messiah to the old land; that I would save the old country and make it a utopia like Equestria is.” Claude smirked. “You know that your accent' falling, right?” “It is a kind of fake, mon ami. Moi was raised on it, it is how moi speaks, but most of the 'dz's and 'moi's are just me consciously doing that. Forgive me if moi ever forgets his linguistic roots.” “Yeah, yeah. Where are you even from, eh?” Narcissus sighed. “'Ave you ever heard of a little place called 'France'?” “Ye-ah.” “Well, today what became of France is a despotic piss-hole ruled by warlords and fascists dictators alike. In short: as politically stable as ever. The last time we even were a republic was... oh, a 1,100 years ago. That ended after President Du Gualle, who moi is actually descended from, instituted emergency dictatorial power in order to combat the Domination.” “And here I thought France was a land full of sillies like yerself.” Narcissus cracked a smirked. “Moi is actually from the Gascony, the most mustangly region of France. Gascons are – were – dedicated to the art of warfare and how best to fight; we were well know for our abilities as boasting, hence dze word 'gasconade'.” “Huh. I did not know that about the French. That's just... odd.” Narc scoffed. “Please, there hasn't even been a France since De Gualle died. Dze biggest powerhouses today are Burgundy and Orléans. There's a reason why I can't drink Burgundy, and hate the color Burgundy. We, mon parents and moi, had to cross it to get to Equestria. The young 'duke' of Orléans got it in his head that Déesse chose him to unite France into a single nation again. It's too bad his France would be a nation build on slavery, serfdom, and murder – which is why he attacked Gascony, the Burgundians joining in for fun and profit.” He shook his head. “Moi is sorry, moi is probably boring you to tears. The only one moi can relate to with this ez Cauterium, you know?” “And Cauterium is who, exactly?” Narc blinked. “Oh, yes, right. Cauterium is the science guy nerd-type. The one fiddling with the deice thingy. He never calls himself Cauterium, moi just calls him 'Cau'. Et es some crap about him casting off his old name from the old country, but he never bothered to get a new name for himself. So everypony just calls him Cauterium or Cau, and it just pisses 'im off.” Claude took the arm he had on Narc's shoulder off, using the hoof to scratch the back of his neck. “Right.... What d'ya mean only Cauterium can relate?” Somewhere in the background, Cauterium yelled something at Crimson. “Cauterium ez from a place called the 'Basileia ton Romaion'.” He shook his head. “Terrifying lot, those ponies.” “I've ne'er heard of that,” Claude intoned. Narc chuckled. “Yeah, Celestia keeps a lot of things like that. If she can keep their horror outside of Equestria's borders then by all means don't mention them. They're in the older history books, I've seen it. But nowadays everypony likes to forget those kind of horrors exists.” “Horrors?” “Yeah... Only twenty years ago the Basileia ton Romaion was on its last legs – it only had its capital city left, and that was surrounded on all sides by either the Bosporus strait or heathens.” “How could an alicorn let that happen to her nation?” “Not a ‘she’, a ‘he’. The ‘emperor’, or ‘basileus’, was and still is a playboy. He let it happen to his empire because he just didn’t care. Then along came Skantarios Laskaris, known as ‘The Killer’ by all who oppose him. He was ‘elected’ chancellor of the Basileia, then in a bloody campaign carved out the greatest land empire in Equine history. The ‘real’ leader was out chasing butterflies in the palace gardens; Skantarios, a unicorn, became the real leader. He was brutal, he was a Romaion supremacist, and he knew no mercy. Rumor has it that Cauterium was his childhood best friend, and that Cau was single-hoofedly responsible for giving them a technological edge to led them to where they are today – the top of the food chain.” Claude glanced over his shoulder to Cauterium, who wasn’t there. Glancing around he saw Cauterium playing with his device upon the temple’s alter. “Dammit,” Cau mumbled. “That guy helped to create an empire? Why’s he here and not basking in riches of his home?” “Because, Claude, he fled because he couldn’t handle the absolute genocides the regime performed. Cau lost faith in his nation’s patron deity, a sin that Skantarios wouldn’t tolerate. Cau risked life and limb getting here, which is how I met him. Despite Skanatarios’ five million strong army of ‘citizen soldiers’, even he’s not stupid enough to go against the mare who controls the sun. At least not until he’s stronger.” “Crimson, get down form those rafters!” Cauterium barked, “No!” Crimson replied. “Yes!” In the dimmest bits of light shining through the decrepit ceiling of the church, Crimson caught a glint that he swore hadn't been there a moment ago. “There’s something up here!” “There’s nothing but-” he shut himself up as the AHMD began to blink. “The Disharmony Honing Device has something!” “Err, wasn't it dze the Anti-Harmony Measuring Device, beau?” Cau have Narc a blank look. “No... A-anyhow, I got a lock on that last to Elements! According to this, they’re in.... the Royal Canterlot Mares' Stockade... Oh, dear.” “How can you tell they're both in that?” Claude asked. “Long story, but that's where they are.... Beneath Canterlot Castle... guarded by Celestia's finest.... and right beneath... her... hooves... Damn. Well, looks like we’re going to Canterlot!” Crimson stood in the rafters of the ancient sanctuary, staring at a particular form. The from had made a single noise, and it had been enough to attract his attention. It was a pegasus stallion wearing a pair of goggles. “And who might you be?” “Gear Grinder.” He smirked. “Bounty hunter to the max; I've got your name on my ax, and it's marked with an X.” Something with talons took position behind. “And I'm Gilda, so just relax. Pleased to make your acquaintance. Say, did you know there's quite a pretty penny on your head?” “Or that his life's hanging by a thread?” “And we've got the scissors right here.” “Let's just hope your compatriots don't... interfere.” “Hey now,” Cau barked, “up there, what's that I hear?” A crack. And then the wooden panel beneath Crimson collapsed, knocking him through the rafters and landing on top of Cau. “Err, boss? We got company.” “Wha-who-oh-” Cau grunted as Crimson Thunder landed behind them, a huge smile on his face. At the base of the alter came down Gilda, landing with a cat-like grace. “How d'you do, I've see you met my.... faithful companion,” Gilda said. Gear frowned. “You know, I think we should cause them some trouble.” Cau blinked, struggling to force Crimson off of him. “Wait, who are you?” Somewhere a slow guitar rift played as Gilda spoke. “Don't mind him. He's just a little brought down because.. in order to get him here... I had to make a basic or two... assumption.” She took a step forward, accompanied by a random trumpet blast. “Are they doin' a musical?” Claude mumbled. “Where the hay's that music comin' from?” “Don't get too strung out by how we enter or the... way I look. Don't judge my book by its cover.” “You might think her much by the light of day,” Gear chimed. “But by night I'm one hay of a bounty hunter. I'm just a sweet griffon from Glorious, Greedlandia – and we're here for... you!” Gilda finished. *** “Wait, so just hold on for a buckin’ sec. Just what are we listening to, exactly?” Dash asked, her face awash with perturbation. The irked singsong of static consumed the air, and it all sprung forth from a small, metal box hardly any larger than a pie. It was Azure’s ‘Spydoll Receiver’. “Da, Azure’s... got a bunch of dese vhacky t’ings. This one is, I guess, spying on somepony. She’s got von for everything, da,” Tesla said. Spike, his nose wrinkling, glared at Tesla. The pony stunk of alcohol and shame. Glancing at Rarity, he was vaguely amused to see her apprehensive expression; Tesla’s uniform was so horrible, it set the Fashion Disaster Alert (FDA) level to “kumquat”. And to Spike’s intense worry, Pinkie was as silent as a graveyard; she eyes seemed locked on the device, her eyes shining with what he could almost call a draconic lust. After all, Spike should know. He once experienced a phase where that was all he did. Pinkie’s jaw fell ajar as Azure stuck her key into her device, trying to get a better single. “Ztupid thing. Come on work!” She glanced at Pinkie. “Uh, is she okay? Um, pink one?” “Want, want, want,” Pinkie mumbled. “If I give you one my mechanicals, will you stop looking at me like that? It’s legitimately making my skin crawl.” Pinkie vigorously shook her head ‘yes’. Azure levitated out a small, brass clockwork dog. Pinkie’s eye ere consumed with a soup of spinning, white stars as Azure held out the key to her. Pinkie snatched the key in her mouth, the dog in her tail, and practically vanished, leaving an inconspicuous cut-out outline where she once stood. “So,” Rarity began,” just who are you fine gentlecolts and lady?” Azure continued fiddled with her device as Roy said, “Cerchen, the ‘security contractor’ sector of the Treowth Cerchen.” Rarity frowned. “I’ve heard of them somewhat, nothing good.” “Well, when you own the largest private military in the nation, that military being us, the Cerchen, you tend to get a bad rap. It don’t help that we’re also the single largest arm contractor in the whole of Equestria, too. Nor that we’re the biggest in the tech sector. In short: a bad reputation for being a little to good.” Azure put her ear to her device as Rarity continued, “Private military... I thought the Treowth Cherchen was part of the government.” Roy shook his head. “Common misconception. Ostensibly, the TC – err, the Treowth Cherchen – has no official ties with the government but... Well, Princess Celestia and we have a thing going, and it’s been that way for some time. We’re her ‘laundrystallions’, if that makes any sense.” “Pardon?” Twilight asked. “Well, we do what does not see the light of day,” Roy replied. “You mean-” “Yes, covert ops, black ops, the sort of thing you don’t ever want in the tabloids. This here? Technically speaking, it’s a black op. There will be no record of you ever being here, and likewise you’re not to speak of even talking to us. We do what the Princess would rather keep secret; we’re the guys who make sure her regime stays neat, tidy, and safe for everypony.” The girls all exchanged looks. “And what you’ve just heard is not technically classified, its details are beyond even my clearance tier.” “Got it!” Azure beamed, the radio tuning in to Cau’s entire speech about where he was going. Then the speak turned into a rap, than a song. “While weird, I think we know where we’re going if the mercs don’t zucceed.” ----- Behind the dingy, dark stone walls of Canterlot Mares' stockade were tow mares, two ponies bearing exemplary abilities in two evil traits. Robin Conchall giggled playfully as she massaged her cellmate's wings. Her coat was yellow, her mane purple, her cheeks peppered with freckles, and her cutie mark a jeweled ring. “Oh, Alcatraz, you're wings are so... excitable.” She giggled again. The guard, a young colt on his first day on the job, stood outside their cell, staring at the two mares. “What's that matter, boy?” Alcatraz chuckled. “Cat got your tongue?” Alcatraz, her coat purple and her mane a light champagne in color, laid on her belly with her wings outstretched, making eye contact with the sweating colt. Yet despite the lines of black tattoos running across her body, it was hard to deny just how hot she was – especially with Robin behind her. Robin ran a hoof through Alcatraz's wings, then pouted with her full lips “Oh no, it looks like we're out... of pillows.” She looked up to the guard. “Excuse me, handsome, would you mind seeing about getting us another pillow?” The guard swallowed. “I-I'm sorry, m-ma'am, but I'm not allowed to-” “Oh, pretty please,” both mares asked in complete unison, batting their eyes at him. He glanced around. “W-well, I guess I... I'll be right, uh, yeah.” Trotting briskly about, his sword clanging against his waist, the guard vanished around a corner. Robin's smiled turned into a grimace. “Just a little longer, Allie, and we'll be outta here,” she singsonged 'Allie' wore an expression not dissimilar to Robin's. “'Cause if it ain't, I'm gonna kill you,” she also singsonged. “Plenty of time to do that later.” “Not if I don't kill you first.” “That wasn’t a threat.” “No, but I was threatening you.” “Remember that I’m behind and above you; I can break your wings and wring your neck faster than you can turn around,” Robin continued, still singsonging Allie flipped over onto her back. “Oh yeah?” Robin's grimace turning vaguely sadistic. “Remember how I'm the unicorn here, and I know some pretty nasty spells.” “Yeah? Like?” Allie snorted. “Oooh, I dunno. Just a little baby called 'Evan's Spiked Tentacles of Forced Intrusion'.” She battered her eyelids. “But you wouldn’t make me do that, would you?” “You wouldn’t,” Allie hissed, eyes narrowing. “Oh but I would,” Robin cooed, placing her right forehoof to the left of Allie's head, her mane falling onto her. Somepony cleared their throat, causing either mare to jerk their heads to the outside of the jail cell. “Hey there, sweetie.” “I, uh, I'll just, um, throw it in,” the guard stammered. Alcatraz batted her eyelids. “Oh, well not just hoof it to us, hmm? We don't bite.” Licking his lips, the guard just stood there staring. “Uh. I don't think, uh-” “Aww, just make me beg, handsome,” Robin cooed. “Yes, don't make me either – cause I will,” Alcatraz added with a pout of her lips. Swallowing, the guard inserting a key into their cell door. Eying Robin licking the inside of her cheeks, the guard stepped into the cell. Seeing the hungry look in Allie's eye, he closed the door. He held the pillow out to them as Robin shook her hips, saying in a girlish voice, “Aww, won't you come just a little closer.” Her tone dropped to downright sultry. “Have a little... fun?” His throat went dry. “I-I don't think that's... I'm breaking regulations as it...” Allie, thinking on her hooves, put a hoof on Robin's rump, the latter mare struggling not to punch the former in the face. “Don't you wanna-” Alcatraz giggled “-have a little playtime or some R&R?” The guard dropped the pillow to the floor, taking a step back. “I, uh, don't think, you see... I'm, uh, kinda in, oh mare...” “Aww, don't make us beeeg,” Robin singsonged with a pout. The Guard didn't move, his heart threatening to explode out of his chest. Still pouting her lips in the most provocative manner possible, she extended an arm at the guard, waving it in a 'come hither' gesture. Feeling a nosebleed coming of, the guard clutched a hoof over his nose. “Quick, plan B,” Allie whispered. “I'm not gonna kiss you,” Robin hissed. “Fine, plan C!” “We have a plan C?” Allie grabbed Robin's hips with her hind legs, throwing her to the ground and rolling on top of her. “We do now,” she whispered. Hips swaying like a clothesline in the breeze, Allie cantered up to the guard. Nodding her head, Robin followed suit. The guard just stood there, bits of red trying to find their way out of his nose. “Hey there, we need all twelve hooves for this little trick we've wanted to try,” Robin cooed, her hoof finding a firm position a little to low for the guard’s comfort. “L-ladies, p-p-please stand back, o-o-or,” the guard stuttered. “Plan C!” Allie barked, her hoof smashing into the guard’s head as she grabbed his baton with a wing. The guard just fell to the floor without a whimper, his nose's flood gate breached. “Oh, and may I recommend a really cold shower after this, hmm?” “We should go,” Robin muttered, her hoof probing around the guard's groin in search of his cell keys. “You're right,” Allie chuckled, “stallions are too easy.” “Ah-ha, got-” Robin tried, only for the guard to moan. Her face went red. “Nope, definitely not his keys! Err, sorry about that one.”