EMPIRE
Season 1, Episode 1: The Lord Abrasax
“So tell me Captain, do you have the courage to ride with the Devil?”
The honeyed words of the strange creature resounded off the chrome walls, his clear Trottingham accent rolling off his silvery voice in a way that made Shining Armor's blood run cold. In an instant, the world around him fell to silence, with nothing but the clicks of his stainless steel shackles against the metal table and the feint buzzing of the lamp overhead. The white stallion remained stoic, but the involuntary twitch in the corner of his eye betrayed his curiosity. The individual on the other end of the table clasped his hands together, fingers entwined as his lips stretched in a thin smile.
The creature in question had introduced himself as a stallion, yet bore no resemblance to a pony, or anything Equestrian for that matter. The black, three-piece business suit he wore had been tailored to match the contours of his body with the utmost precision, giving him a lithesome appearance. Yet, there was nothing effeminate in his bearing, though the sweet yet musky scent of smoked fire lilies and gooseberries led the former Captain to question that last deduction. What stood out, however, were his eyes.
Piercing irises of dark violet gleamed with a subtle glow like beacons in the black of night, and though most ponies did their best to hide their true nature, there was nothing subtle in his demeanor. Behind that cordial façade, those eyes bore something evil, sinister even. Despite his best efforts, Shining could not avert his gaze, as if bewitched by the sight of them.
His name was Orion Abraxas and that was the day they met.
A day Equestria will never forget.
Orion groaned at the familiar gush of parting velvet and the searing warmth of the morning sun on his bare skin. “By the Old Gods, Clarence,” he groaned, pulling up the bedsheets in a desperate attempt to return to the comforts of Princess Luna’s domain.
“I wish for once, just once, that you would sod off and let me sleep.”
“Etiquette, my Lord,” a mature voice chided.
“To Tartarus with etiquette.”
The sheets were engulfed in a luminous shade of purple and floated off. “Equestria rises with the morn, and I’m afraid you do as well.”
Orion rubbed the vexing temptation of sleep from his eyes as he smothered a yawn with his peculiar spider-like appendages. He learned long ago that they were called hands, and their nimble extensions fingers, though having been raised in a family of ponies, Orion had always felt uncomfortable referring to them by anything other than hooves.
“And such language is most unbecoming of a stallion of your stature.”
Stallion.
He chuckled at the thought. At times he wondered if the Equestrians had forgotten. Orion was no pony, that was a fact, and even after years of searching Equestria’s vast archives, no script or scroll offered him the slightest clue to his origins. Still, growing up an exotic being in a foreign land was no easy task, especially among the Entitled. As such, managing perceptions and confronting prejudices became a daily routine, as depressing as it seemed. Perhaps time had finally liberated their minds, or perhaps they had chosen to stay their tongues in light of his Transcendence. Either way, optimism was better than ignorance.
Well, at least they stopped asking if I was for sale.
Orion turned to dull-grey unicorn stallion brewing a fresh cup of tea by the silver dining cart next to him, chamomile with a smidge of mint judging by the distinctive aroma. A well-pressed tuxedo complete with bow tie adorned his broad, well-chiseled frame and not a hair on his mane out of place, or a thread out of line. If perfection had a name, it would have been Clarence Cavendish, the Head Butler of Abrasax Manor. All these years, and never once had Orion seen the old stallion out of uniform.
“I’m not even out of my pajamas yet, and already you’re chastising me. Honestly, sometimes I wonder why I keep you around,” Orion griped, running his fingers through the dark violet highlights of his messy jet black hair.
Clarence ruffled his thick, greying mustache. “Because then, my Lord, you would actually have to start doing your own chores.” Clarence levitated the two-piece set of china into Orion’s grasp.
“Touché, Clarence. Have mercy, please. It’s too early for a joust.”
“Believe me, Sire. As much as I would like to entertain your mood for jests, time waits for nopony.”
“Funny.” Orion lifted the cup from the saucer. “I thought time was a commodity I could afford. All of Equestria seems to be on sale as of late.”
“But the early bird catches the worm, or so the saying goes.”
“Touché again,” Orion replied. “Alright then, what’s on the itinerary today?” He moved the cup to his lips, taking a deep whiff of the majestic aroma. “By the Old Gods, how I’ve missed this.” His eyes slipping to a close as he sighed.
“Aside from having to address the executive committee—”
“Not looking forward to that.”
Clarence snorted. “—you have a press conference at eleven, then a pre-lunch cocktail with the Canterlot nobles.”
“Definitely not looking forward to that.”
“And knowing them, all the noble Fillies and Gent—”
Orion scoffed. “Come now, it’s just us. Speak freely.”
“As you command. Every Entitled whorseson with a silver spoon stuck up his arse is simply dying to meet you.”
“Now that—" Orion gestured with a wave of his finger. "—is the Clarence I know and love,” he said with a grin.
“And then, of course, your scheduled tea session with her Majesty.” Clarence raised a fuzzy eyebrow. “Although, I am curious as to how you managed to procure such a meeting. Her Majesty is quite the busy mare.”
“Magic,” Orion said, sipping on his tea.
Noticing the apparent scowl on the face of his trusty butler, the young Lord rolled his eyes. “Well if you really must know, I may or may not have said some things during our rather interesting conversation back at the Pony Summit. A conversation I merely wish to continue.”
“If I may be so bold as to pry, my Liege. It doesn’t have anything to do with that now, does it?”
He shot the old stallion a wry grin. “My word, Clarence, is that concern I hear?” Orion climbed off the goose-feathered mattress, flinching a little as the bare soles of his feet as they made contact with cold marble floor.
“Concern, and more. In truth, I shudder to think on what you intend to accomplish. More so on the repercussions which await you should her Majesty not share your perspectives.”
“Oh, pish posh. You worry too much, old boy.” Orion waved a dismissive hand. "Besides, Princess Celestia is an absolute darling, and I simply adore her."
Clarence narrowed his dull amber eyes. “That was no jest, my Lord. Ten years ago, I swore an oath to Lord Sol that I would keep you safe. I know you intend to honour his memory, but your father wouldn’t have wanted—”
“Clarence.”
Clarence froze, taken aback by Orion's sudden change in tone.
“My… my apologies, Sire." He bowed his head. "It was not my place.”
In the presence of a noble, such contempt would have been warrant for discipline, but instead Orion gave the old butler a reassuring smile. “Have I ever given you reason to doubt?” He placed both cup and saucer upon the silver cart. “Have a little faith, I know what I’m doing.”
Clarence sighed in resignation. “That confidence, Sire, is the sum of all my fears. You may not be his blood, but you certainly are your father’s colt," he said. “Well, idle chatter aside, I have prepared the bath.”
"With those lemon scented bath beads I love so much?” Orion said, a chipper tone in his voice.
“Unfortunately, we no longer have those in stock. I’m afraid you are just going to have to settle with the Jasmine ones for now.” Clarence made his way to the cart.
“Oh, by the Maker, not the Jasmine ones!” Orion smacked his forehead. “Prince Blueblood adores them, and the last thing I want is to end up smelling like him.”
Clarence rolled his eyes. “Believe me, Sire. With everything happening today, I sincerely doubt the press would choose to squander their precious time describing the way you smell.”
“Touché, and that makes three.” Orion chuckled. “You know me so well, Clarence. I don’t know what I would ever do without you.”
“Get another butler for starters,” Clarence levitated the silver tray and taking it with him as he trotted out of the bedroom. “I shall return to dress you once breakfast is prepared.”
“Marmalade please, not jam. I hate strawberries, and I would like my eggs sunny side up this time around.” Orion smoothened the wrinkles on his silk pajamas. “Now, isn’t he supposed to call—”
He looked over his shoulder, eyes falling on the stick-like device vibrating upon his bedside cabinet as a familiar chime reverberated across the alabaster walls. “Speak of the Doctor, and he presents himself.” Orion smirked as he grabbed it.
With a pull and a twist, he then tossed it into the air. The black mechanical device lay suspended and began unraveling itself, spreading across in a foot-long screen of neon blue bearing a flashing icon a phone. The name, ‘Doctor Whooves’, spelled out in a set of illuminated letters directly beneath the digital photograph of a brown earth pony with a silly grin plastered on his face.
And he wonders why nopony returns his calls.
He swiped the icon off-screen with a wave of his hand. “Good morning, Doctor.”
Orion jerked his head when the screen came alive with a blotch of brown. “Is this thing on? Horseapples, I never could get this boneheaded contraption work.”
“Hoof down, Doctor. It’s working perfectly fine.”
“There we go,” Doctor Whooves said as he came into frame. “I never should have trusted those tabloids and converted to Pear. Overpriced piece of junk.”
“I’ve always preferred PONY myself.” Orion folded his arms, making his way to the grand glass window overlooking the baronial manor’s expansive courtyard. “Call them peculiar, but the Neighponese know their Machina.”
“That, I agree, Lord Abrasax.”
Orion lifted a hand. “Doctor, we’re not in public, Ryan will do. All this formality is making me nauseous.”
“Right.” The Doctor cleared his throat. “Back to the matter at hoof, I have assembled the data packs you requested, and I have an update from our engineers. First, would you like the good news or the bad?”
“I prefer my desserts first, if you would be so kind.” He leaned his back against the window.
“It’s brilliant, the preliminary field tests are complete and N.O.V.A. works like a charm. In fact, I’ve never seen more promising numbers, take a look for yourself.” the Doctor swiped a series of diagrams and charts into the screen.
“And don’t get me started on the Machinas. The dual crystallic cores work in complete sync, and all systems are running at full capacity.” He sighed, a clear smile on his face. “It seems that the A.E.G.I.S. Initiative is a go.”
“Music to my ears,” Orion said. “Good work, Doctor. Papa would be proud.”
“On behalf of every pony on my team, I thank you, but we couldn’t have accomplished this without the Founding Fathers. The math, schematics and designs were all decades ahead our time. It is an honor to breathe life into such genius.”
“So, how much longer before we move into full production?”
“Well, if everything goes according to plan, by Luna’s second moon. But...” the Doctor’s voice trailed off, ears splaying backwards.
Orion arched an eyebrow. “But?”
“I’m concerned as to how much longer we can keep all this a secret, Lord Abra—” He stopped mid-sentence. “I mean Ryan. We are talking about a decade’s work behind Princess Celestia’s back, and considering the nature of it all, some would say its grounds for treason.”
“Who, the Entitled?” Orion scoffed. “You leave the House of Lords to me, and though I would rather have my bottom impaled on a giant cactus, parlaying with nobles and bureaucrats is what I do best. Your true concerns however, should be on her.”
The Doctor shrugged. “I knew you were going to bring her up eventually.”
“What can I say? I am literally head over heels. How long before she’s functional?”
“As soon as the final power calibrations on her Crystal Core is complete, and once she’s airborne, she’ll be the most majestic thing to ever grace the Equestrian skies,” the Doctor said.
“That she will, which leaves the final piece of the puzzle,” Orion said.
“Speaking of which…” the Doctor swiped an icon shaped like a manila folder into the screen. “Would you care to elaborate of your irrational choices in ponies? I mean, what in Celestia’s name were you thinking, having me gather these files for you? Illegally if I may add.”
“Are you questioning my excellent judge of character?”
“Quite the opposite, really. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you've gone stark raving mad.”
“Doctor,” Orion lips stretched into a thin smile, making the brown stallion cringe at the sight of it. “You should know by now that in our world, sanity is an overrated state of mind.”
He moved away from the window. “And besides, Equestria has gotten a little bit too mundane for my taste. Wouldn’t you agree?”
The Doctor’s face went slack. “Um…”
Orion then snapped of his fingers. “Now give me my green vegetables.”
“Oh, oh right!” the Doctor shook himself free of his daze as he swiped another graph into the window with a wave of his hoof.
“Well, as you know, Abrasax’s stock is soaring higher than ever. Our analysts in Manehattan say we’re set to climb several more points by week’s end.”
“Correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't you were supposed to give me my veggies? I honestly fail to see just how that leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”
“Would you please let me finish?” the Doctor said. “According to the data, the possibility of that depends entirely on the press conference later today. At this very moment, all Equestria has their eyes on you, especially our investors and stock holders.”
Orion bit his bottom lip. “I... I never knew the conference leveled with such importance.”
“Could you honestly blame them? Next to Princess Luna’s return, you being named heir to one of Equestria’s largest corporate empires is possibly the biggest news since the invention of the Crystal Core. In fact—” the Doctor swiped a window into the screen as an audio file began to play. “—it has been all over the Vine since you returned from Trottingham a week ago.”
"Equestria, a land of myth and magic which now thrives on the wings of industry."
Orion folded his arms as he listened.
"Hi, I am Rip Runner of the Canterlot News Network, and today it is my pleasure. Nay, my privilege, to introduce you, Equestria, to one of the world’s most iconic Entitled families, and how thieir renowned contributions to science had set Equestria on a road to the future."
"Hundreds of years ago, explorers in the heart of the Frozen North uncovered a deposit of magical elemental crystals of power. The crystals, later named Lacrima, sparked the catalyst of what would be Equestria’s greatest discovery— Machina."
"The prodigious foal of both science and magic, these marvelous machines have propelled civilization to exponential heights. From agriculture, transportation, construction, logistics, even medicine; all aspects of society have enjoyed great leaps and bounds in their fields."
"Then, with the dawn of the Industrial Age, came the rise of the first generation of who we now know as the Imperial Families of Equestria, though none deserve more recognition than that of the one and only Abrasax Family. Having dominated the Lacrima industry, have built a multibillion-bit corporate dynasty across the globe."
"Although, it was the invention of the Crystal Core, the brain-foal of Lord Sol Abrasax is what lifted the Abrasaxs to the very pinnacle of corporate success. Visionary, genius; the son of the late industrialist, Lord Libra Abrasax had revolutionized Machina in which the world had never seen before. Replacing the now obsolete Crystal Engine, the sheer power of the Crystal Core opened a myriad of possibilities which led to the invention of larger, more powerful machines in the decades to follow."
"Then, ten years ago, came the passing of a legend. As Equestria mourned the death of Lord Sol, ponies around the world watched in apprehension as they are faced with the obvious question. Who will ascend the Abrasax throne? Who will step up and fill the void left by the greatest innovator Equestria has ever known? All expectations inevitably fell on Ares Abrasax, Lord Sol’s eldest and most eligible candidate. Not only is he an honored graduate from the prestigious Stalliongrad Academy in Trottingham, Lord Ares is also a decorated athlete and a former Sergeant of the Royal Guard.”
"Surprisingly enough, fate took an interesting turn. For at the Reading of The Will, Lord Sol left the future of Abrasax Industries not to Ares, but rather to Orion Abrasax, his Transcended son and second youngest foal."
Orion drew a deep breath, his fingers digging into his arms as the turbulent memories from that dreaded day flooded his mind. He shook his head, banishing his thoughts as he made his way to the dressing room mirror at the end of the room, stepping past the wooden stool table and the crystal chess set on top of it.
"Thirteen at the time, young Orion Abrasax, now heir to the Abrasax fortune was only in his sixth year through Stalliongrad Academy. As such, the temporary leadership of Abrasax Industries fell to Lord Fancypants, Lord Sol’s lifelong friend and godfather to Orion."
"Ten years had passed since then, and thus, the prodigal son returns, having graduated summa cum laude and is anointed the new President of Abrasax Industries. His eminence, Lord Orion will be addressing the public later today at Abrasax Towers in downtown Canterlot. There is no telling what the future holds for Abrasax Industries, but this reporter is hopeful that like father, like son, he will usher in a new age for Equestria".
“So, needless to say, muck up the press conference, and Abrasax Industries will be neck-deep in red for a good quarter.” the Doctor swiped the window off the screen. “That being said, what are your impressions on the Vinecast?”
“It was a little over the top, but not the worst I’ve heard.” Sighing, he took a moment to gaze upon his reflection, rubbing his fingers over his roughly-shaven face. “I think I may keep it. What do you think?” Orion looked over his shoulder back at the screen.
“Um…” Once again, the Doctor’s face went slack, having been caught off guard.
“Yes, I think I’ll keep it!” Orion proclaimed. “Adds a bit more finesse to my otherwise more coltish features. I don’t want to look too much like a stooge, and I certainly don’t want to come off as too intimidating either. Or perhaps I should start growing that porcupine Clarence loves so much—”
The Doctor gave him a deadpan stare. “Can please we return to the matter at hoof?”
“Fine, fine. If you would be so kind, transfer the files to my tablet. I want to review them before addressing the committee later today,” Orion said, moving his head closer to the mirror as he inspected his chin.
“Files transferred. How else may I be of service?”
Orion spun around with cheerful grin on his face. “As a matter of fact, I—”
“Anything else that doesn’t involve me breaking any laws,” the Doctor said sternly.
“In my defense, I did not know that was a crime.”
“How in Celestia could you not know that hacking into Equestria’s central mainframe was against the law?” The Doctor threw his hooves in the air. “I could have been arrested, locked up in Tartarus for the rest of my natural life, and with my posh accent and feathery brown mane, they would make me the belle of the ball.”
Orion snorted. “Please, loopholes are made to be exploited. Besides, a stallion as smart as you is far too clever to be apprehended by the likes of inept amateurs.”
The Doctor rubbed the back of his neck as his cheeks flushed with a shade of pink. “Well I am fairly clever, and—” His eyes snapped wide open, garbling incomprehensibly as he shook his head from side to side like a wet dog. “Still, that doesn’t mean that you could just—”
“Say, how fast can you get your suit tailored?” Orion interrupted.
The Doctor looked as if his train of thought came to a screeching halt. “I… I beg your pardon? My suit, whatever for?”
“The conference of course. It is as you said, the future of my company depends solely on success of this conference, and with that in mind, I have certainly no intention of being on stage by myself.”
“B-b-but… I… I am certain that there is somepony far more suitable—”
“Oh, poppycock! You’re perfect. Now go get ready and I’ll pick you up in two hours.”
“But Sir, I—”
“Ta-ta, Doctor Whooves,” Orion took a singsong tone as he swiped the window off-screen, ending the transmission.
He narrowed his gaze at the icon left on screen and tapped on it. Selecting the first file, he brought it to the center of the screen and stretched it to full resolution. His eyes trailed along the words ‘Tartarus Maximum Penitentiary’ marked at the top end of the sheet. Waving his hand, he scrolled through a list of documents strewn across a series of open windows. Recurring words like dangerous, erratic, volatile and mentally-unsound did nothing but fuel his growing curiosity.
He then came to a series of photographs. Fellow inmates, judging by their trademark orange jumpsuits, though it wasn’t their identities Orion found interesting, rather their ghastly injuries.
“By the Old Gods.”
Deep gashes, broken bones, severed limbs; the list went on. Orion felt his innards began twisting in knots with every expression of pain, anguish and regret frozen with every captured frame. How he thanked the Maker that breakfast was yet to be served, lest he empty Clarence’s signature Quinoa Salad all over the manor's prized Saddle Arabian carpets. For the sake of his appetite and his mental wellbeing, Orion swiped past the rest of the photos. Not until the final document did he lay eyes on the infamous convict.
Thus, that same insidious smile began taking shape. “Race: Unicorn. Linage: House Sparkle, Fourth Generation. Profession Prior To Incarceration: Captain of the Royal Equestrian Guard. Gang Affiliations: None,” he read aloud.
Keeping his eyes on the screen, Orion wandered to the chess board, removing the luminous, crystal carved white knight from its place. “Crime: First Degree Murder. Sentence: Life imprisonment without parole.”
He turned his attention to the photo of a white unicorn stallion with a mane of sapphire blue and sharp cerulean eyes. Orion took interest in the rather peculiar tattoo on his left cheek. Tribal, he deduced, but unlike any he had ever seen. Perhaps there was a story behind it, one he intends to learn in due time.
“Shining Armor.”
Glowing eyes of dark violet settled on the piece in his hand as a slow, crafty chuckle escaped his lips.
“Alright then… let's go get our knight.”