//------------------------------// // Chapter III: The Captain // Story: Equine, All Too Equine II: The Days of the Prophets // by stanku //------------------------------// Towards the end of the day, one at a time, scattered clouds began drifting over Canterlot. From beyond the mountain they came, via the route of barren plains that now paved the way to the eastern coast. Some of that barrenness had clearly rubbed into them, for the herd that finally accumulated above the city was black as coal. Veins of dark purple ran on the undulating ceiling, promising something more than mere water for rain. In the light of an oil lamp, in the office of the Captain’s mansion, Heart followed their ripples like swimming snakes. Even a hundred years after the Catastrophe, many pockets of raw magical energy still littered the areas around the city; remnants of the terrible powers that had been unleashed that day. Sometimes, especially in autumn, some of that power rose up and mixed into the overpassing clouds, which would then rain on whoever was unlucky enough to be below at the time. There were stories, supposedly based on witnesses, of ponies who had turned to stone upon such encounters, or simply melted away as if they were made of sugar. Most unicorns knew such fables to be little more than rubbish, but the two thirds of the pony race who were not as familiar with arcane lores had insisted that the city be protected against the magical downpours. Thus were the Barriers built. Occasionally, however, the discharges they were meant to bar were too strong, which led to leakages. These were rare nowadays, somewhat to Heart’s displeasement. The M-rains, as they were known, had a most positive effect on crime rates in the city. Nopony dared to go outside during them. It wasn’t even raining yet, and still the streets were as barren as they would ever be. Such is the power of superstition, combined with panic, thought Heart. He reached for the glass, found it empty, and went for the bottle itself, which was dry as well. That was funny. He didn’t feel drunk, not one bit. He got up from the chair, wavered about and tripped on his first step. “Godsdamnlegs,” he mumbled while trying to figure out which muscles moved his front hooves. This only managed to get him tangled on the carpet. Finally he gave up and focused on breathing heavily and on his mane that had fallen over his eyes. Hilt had left an ample storage of his home made liquor behind, and the weird thing about it was that the more you drank, the better it tasted. It was like magic. And certainly better than sleep. That didn't demand much nowadays, though – not for him. Not for the poison that he had for dreams. Lying on the carpet, it occurred to Heart that his father had died in this very same room. The thought wasn’t newborn, of course. Still it felt like it, every time it hit him. Perhaps Hilt had succumbed on this very same spot. Heart had never asked about the details of his demise. There had been no time, or when there had been, something else was lacking. He had the shameful notion it was courage, and a terrible fear that it was not; that he simply did not care. His father had died in this room to a heart attack. But that wasn’t the whole truth. The room had killed him; the room and everything it represented. It turned into his grave the moment he stepped into it as a Captain. And now it had a new soul to feed on, to grow on, to swallow and digest. The room was a beast, and a machine; a beastial machine. A machine for ponies. I may be the largest cog, but a cog nonetheless. Get too near me and you get crushed. He rolled lazily to his back, and screamed. “Sir!” shouted a guard who rushed into the room a few seconds later. “Everything alright?” Heart panted on the floor, staring at the window with wide eyes. “I… I saw a shadow… an angel of death… it stared right through me…” The guard glanced at the window. There was nothing there but his own reflection, staring back in the lamplight. “I can’t see anything, sir.” Heart, the more official part of his mind becoming increasingly aware of his less than presentable condition, made him stand up. The brief moment of terror forced enough order to his limbs to only make him shake slightly. “Right… I may have imagined it…” “As you say, sir.” The room spun in Heart’s vision, but he ignored the fact for now. He coughed, wiped his mane out of the way and gave the guard the sternest look he could muster at the moment. “How’s the night been?” “Quiet, sir. Was just about to change shift.” Heart nodded. “And Lily?” “Sleeping soundly I hear, sir.” “Good,” said Heart. “That’s good. Gravel, Grain, and Blunt still on guard there?” “For a few more minutes, sir.” Heart nodded again, for any other gesture would’ve been much too hazardous from his balance’s point of view. “Good. You’re dismissed. Oh, and…” “Like said, I saw nothing, sir,” said the guard, smiling the faintest of smiles. With that, he left and closed the door behind. Heart swayed on his legs, wondering what rumours would start seeping into his ears in a day or two. No matter how tact the smile, everypony knew that guards gossipped like little fillies on cider. With any luck, he wouldn’t have to deal with sudden shrill screams behind every corner he would pass. Or drawings of angels of death sketched in the corners of daily reports… He turned around, and saw the angel of death. This time he didn’t scream, for his heart was in the way of his voice. He merely froze on the spot as the apparition stared at him from the darkness beyond the glass, its eyes gleaming in the faint light. He could hear a clock clacking, although the room had none: a mechanic, hollow ticking trickling into his ears, boding annihilation. Before Heart got to deciding that screaming might be an option after all, he realized that the ticking voice came from the glass, which the thing beyond was tapping. With a claw, it seemed. Suddenly, pieces started falling into their places like bricks; hard and real. He marched to the window and hurled it open so quickly that the visitor on the other side almost broke the swinging panel with her beak. “Hey, watch it!” said the griffon angrily, floating a few meters outside the window. Heart blinked at the sight. Dozens of ingrained protocols made a plea to implementing themselves, and all of them led to a conclusion where the griffon ended up as a wet smear on the pavement below. It was ultimately the alcohol that dragged the decision long enough to make him actually think before acting. “What… who… why?” he asked. The griffon tilted her feathered head. “You drunk or just overjoyed to see me again?” There was something in her voice that stirred a memory in Heart. “Wait… Cecil? It’s you?” “I recalled you were a clever pony. Will you let me in now?” Heart had a rich history of actions way more stupid than letting an almost unknown griffon into his house in the middle of the night. An equation between curiosity, suspicion, and open rage at the world in general sought balance in him. He was in no condition to fight, if it came to that. Somehow, he doubted it would. Heart stepped aside to let the griffon in, and closed the window after her. “What do you want?” Cecil looked around the room with apparent disinterest. “Pony homes. Full of so many things that a griffon would never need. You folks live in museums.” Heart was about to bark at her to get to the point (which, at two o'clock in the morning, better not be about his interior decoration), but a quiet voice within reminded him that griffons weren’t at home under direct questioning. “It was furnished when I moved in,” he said dryly. “Whatever, I didn’t fly here to discuss that,” she said, turning her attention sharply to him. “I came to deliver a warning. Tomorrow, a war will start between griffons and ponies.” For the first time in his life, Heart’s jaw dropped. “Or that’s what you people will call it,” continued Cecil. “It won’t happen like you think. There won’t be any fancy declarations, neat forming of regiments, any of that crap. There will be violence. Not all griffons will partake in it, but enough will that it makes no difference. I think the first attack will be on the grain si–” Her words choked on her throat as Heart’s magic clenched it. She struggled against the ethereal grip, fighting to remove the fingers that weren’t there. Her paws shredded the carpet as she kicked mindlessly, and her tail smashed a pot plant as it whipped the air. Still Heart strangled her, eyes wide, jaw shut so tight his teeth were about to crack. “Who… the hay… do you think… you are?” he said, voice trembling. “Making threats… in my house…” Horrible, smothered noises left her. She was blinking now, losing focus. Her left claw was still on her throat, drawn there by instinct, but the right one groped blindly behind her. It hit something, clasped and hurled the object at Heart. For the record, it should be said that it was a book on the pre-Catastrophe history of the races griffon and pony. This was relevant only because it had over two thousand pages and for all intents and purposes weighed like a brick. Heart caught the tome with his forehead. Even in his best condition that would’ve offered a major distraction. Drunk as he was, it almost knocked him over. It didn’t need to, for Cecil, now released from the spell, was on him in a split second. She swiped his legs from under him and rammed his head against the floorboards in one seamless motion. “I should cut your head off for that,” she hissed. “But maybe I’ll settle for a little reminder instead. Something you’ll certainly remember.” “Ihllsomgh,” said Heart. It was a miracle he was still conscious after that last blow. “For your luck, I’m not in the mood for staining my feathers,” she said with a voice like a razorblade. “I only came to say you this: be prepared. I didn’t want it to come this. You know that. But some things aren’t ours to control. The last hundred years, for one.” Heart was distantly aware that she was speaking to him. For the most part he verged between fainting to the booze or to the pain. Hoofsteps hurried towards them from the corridor. Cecil snarled under her breath and leaned closer to Heart’s ear. “If you can hear me still, know that I’ll be among the ones who won’t leave the caves tomorrow. And I’ll make sure that as many as possible do the same. It’s the best I can do. I suggest you do the same in your end, whatever that is.” When the door burst open a few seconds later, the guards found Heart alone on the floor in a messed up room. The window was closed. They tried to wake him up, which only made him snore louder. The guards had been assigned to the mansion already when Hilt had been the Captain. This sort of thing was less unorthodox to them than one might expect. Thus they hauled him up, delivered him to his bed and tucked him in. The next morning, they were sincerely stunned to find Heart cursing them to the lowest pit of Tartarus for doing this, right before he rushed outside half dressed and apparently gone mad.                                                                                  *** Heart galloped through the streets chased by the end of the world. For a good, chilling while he was convinced it had already made it past him, for there was practically nopony in sight. Then he gazed up, and saw that the M-clouds were still there, filling the sky from horizon to horizon. That was odd. Usually they rained themselves out quickly enough and dispersed afterwards in due order. Now they almost seemed to be waiting for something. Had Heart not been driven by terrible panic, he might’ve stopped to wonder about that. He made it to the guard station in record time. The insides of his head felt two sizes too big for his skull, and sweat had glued his badly dressed uniform into his skin, but still he managed to begin barking orders right as he stepped into the building. “Everypony, listen! I want every horn we got on patrol duty in two minutes! Fully equipped! This is not a drill! All officers, meet me in my office in one minute for briefing! This is not a drill!” He stopped to draw a precious breath. To his relief, the lobby was already filled with movement, shouting, and general rushing. It was as if they had heard his orders even before he had issued them. Wait a minute… He seized a guard running by from his tail. “Soldier! What is going on here?” “Captain?” said the surprised guard. “You’re here? When–” “Of course I’m bloody here! I’m the Captain! Now start explaining: have the griffons launched an attack already?” The guard’s face radiated confusion. “The griffons…? No, sir?” “Then why is everypony running around like the building was on fire?” “Uhh, because of the event? It’s been like this the whole morning, sir. Something’s going on on the east side; near the Ledge. Something big.” Heart tried to comprehend some of that. He couldn’t. “Where did you hear about this? And what were you going to do about it? By whose orders?” The guard seemed to shrink under his stare. “I… I don’t know, sir. There was only the rumour. And I heard that somepony said you weren’t available today. Some Lieutenants started giving orders, but they were all contradicting each other, and–” “I get the picture,” said Heart grimly. “Well, I’m here now. Start spreading the word. I want everypony on their positions in ten.” “Minutes, sir?” “Seconds. Go.” He left the guard and marched across the lobby, shouting orders as he went. Where he went, an order of sorts followed. As he got to his office door, he was pretty certain that already half of the Guard was back in line, and the rest would catch their cue from them. In a few minutes, most of the officers had found their way into his office. “Now,” started Heart. “What happened here?” In contrast to the din that had reigned only moments ago, the sudden silence was the clearest answer Heart could’ve got. It figured all too well. The Citizen Guard was a fractured organization at the best of times. It was meant to shelter the city, mostly from itself, but nopony had really thought that sometimes it was the Guard that needed protection. It wasn’t immune from the general doubt and insecurity that had plagued Canterlot for years, now more so than ever before. There were days when Heart could feel that if somepony sneezed too hard, it would all collapse. “I got the impression that something was going to take place on the east side,” he continued. “Somepony here has to know something more about that.” “I heard an alicorn will come,” said a Sergeant warily. “Heard from whom?” pressed Heart. The Sergeant swallowed, looked around and pointed at some other pony. “Wasn’t it you who said first, Cliff?” Sergeant Cliff looked panicked under all the gazes that turned to him. “No! No, I swear! It was Hull who told me about it!” From somewhere back, another denial erupted, followed by an accusation. This went on for some while. At some point the ring made a full circle and returned to the original Sergeant. By then the room was bubbling with conversations, and Heart was closing in on a boiling point. “Everypony, shut up!” he snapped. “Okay, let’s forget where the rumour started. Why did it drive all of you crazy?” “Not all of us,” said Lime Light, stepping into the front row. “I knew the rumour was rubbish the second I heard it, but then it was already too late – the poison had taken effect on the body. We tried to restore order with a few other officers. But some wanted to get to the east side at once, along with the crowds, although we couldn’t–” “Wait,” interrupted Heart. “You’re saying there’s people gathering on the east side? Because of the rumour there’s going to be an alicorn? Despite the M-clouds?” There was something like a collective nod. Heart sank into his chair. “This is insane… Why has everypony gone insane? We’ve been promised new alicorns ever since the Last one got sucked into the void! Why has everypony suddenly started believing in that crap?” He waved an irritated hoof at his own words. “It doesn’t matter. We’re what counts for a police force in these parts. If the M-rains won’t keep the crowds at bay, we will. Besides, there is something else I think you should know…” He recounted the yesternight’s encounter with Cecil, or the parts he could still remember, sieved through carefully and hastily woven censorship. “They’re going to attack us?” asked somepony. “In some fashion, yes,” said Heart. “There’s a possibility it was a griffon’s idea of a joke, but I’m not counting on it. I want fifty horns per grain silo. Guard them with your life, and call for reinforcements if needed. Some other locations need to be secured also: this building, the armories, city gates–” “–the Parliament?” “–buck the Parliament. They can have it if they will. Secure what is important: food, water, weapons, main streets.” He drew the map of the city from a drawer. “I’ll mark here the key spots: start making copies and distribute them. Lieutenants: begin organizing the squads.” “How about the east side?” asked Lime Light. Heart gritted his teeth. “Does anypony actually know what’s going on there? Anyone visited the site?” “It’s on the Ledge, is all I hear,” said somepony. And that seemed to be it. Heart stared at the map. The Ledge was not a good place for a lot of ponies to meet. Regardless what the construction companies promised, the area was known for its unstable geography. And with a possible M-storm ahead, literally anything could happen, not discounting a mass panic. And what if this connected to the self-immolations of yesterday? All this sudden chaos had a distinctly engineered taste to it. Somepony was rocking the boat. In a storm. “I’ll go there,” said Heart to the map. “Me and a few soldiers who can keep their heads cool.” Lime gave him a doubtful look. “Sir? What is your plan?” “To observe,” said Heart, looking up. “Evaluate the threat. If things go as I think they will, there will be a lot of waiting for nothing. In that case it’s good that the citizens are at least out of the fighting's way. But I want to be updated every hour, or in case something decisive happens. Different squads are to keep constant contact with each other, to know that nopony is taken out by a surprise attack.” By now, the momentum of a clear objective, combined with the means to achieve it, was starting to pull its weight. Heart could see the subtle change in the group; the strange way their figures turned sharper. They knew they were soldiers again. The next trick is to remind them what that means, exactly… “One more thing,” said Heart. He waited until every pair of ears was listening. “The situation is grim. In the turn of an hour it may turn desperate. But I want each and every one of you to swear, not so much to me but to themselves, that it’s not by their hoof that that happens. The Guard is not to commence open hostilities. In other words: you see a griffon, you ask first and go from there. Remember that our first duty is to see that there is law around. Officially, that same law applies to griffons, too. The moment you start treating them as the enemy instead of a citizen, you’ve failed your true purpose.” “And what if one of our good compatriots is trying to slice my throat?” asked somepony from the back. “You arrest them,” said Heart bluntly. “And if that fails…?” Pray they don’t have a history book on them. “You give them fines for resisting arrest.” This got out a nervous laugh. That was good. At least they could still pretend to be relaxed. “Well then. You know your assignments, and if you don’t, you know where to get them. Go do your work.” Aside from a few higher officers who stayed behind to discuss details with Heart, the room emptied quickly. As the noise level came down, Heart could make out somepony writing in the back of the room. He glanced past the Lieutenants, and saw Chart Top sitting in a corner, putting down the minutes as always. Still the sight surprised him: he had no idea at what point the mare had slipped into the room. He was further surprised when, after the Lieutenants had left, she walked to him timidly. A trinket of some sort hung from the corner of her notepad. “Uhm… Could I have a brief word with you, sir? Please?” “Sure,” said Heart carefully. Top didn’t seem like her brisk, cheery self today. A veil of hesitation hung over her, its stings making her fickle. “Is something wrong?” She gave him a sad, slightly scared look. “You’re… Are you really going to go to the Ledge?” “...yes?” said Heart. “Could you… uhm… No, it’s silly of me to ask. I’m sorry for the bother. Bye.” She swirled around and scurried for the door. “Hey, wait!” exclaimed Heart, standing up. “Whatever it is you’ve got to say, you can say it. Consider that an order if it helps.” She stopped, turned, and walked meekly to him. A lone tear appeared to the corner of her eye. “I’m so sorry… It has all been so hectic here today; my nerves are shredded. I’m sorry.” “Don’t be,” said Heart. He faltered for a moment, and then laid a compassionate hoof on her back. “We’ve all been on edge lately, myself included. No shame in that. Really.” She smiled at him weakly. “Thank you, sir.” “Never mind the sir. Now, what you wanted to say?” She chewed her lip a bit, then offered him the trinket. It was a small necklace with some kind of a gem hanging from it. A few bits would buy you a score of those, if you knew the right alley to look for. “Incase an alicorn really comes to the Ledge… Could you give her this?” The request wasn’t quite what Heart had been expecting, and a great part of him was overly relieved of that – to the shame and guilt of another one. He accepted the jewel nonetheless. “I’ll do my best. Can I ask what for?” “It… belonged to my sister. She is gone now. No, don’t be sorry, it happened years and years ago. I’ve gotten over it. Still… They say an alicorn can pass on gifts to the Other Side. For the loved ones. It’s silly, I know… Really, what was I thinking…” He raised her chin gently with a hoof. “If that is what counts for silly nowadays, then I’ll carry the name with pride.” He pocketed the trinket like it was worth all the gold in the world. “You should, too.” Her smile grew stronger. “You have a good heart, Captain.” A smile lit his face now also. “A deckful of them, actually. But only when stakes are involved, of course.”                                                 *** It just had to be him, hadn’t it? Of all the ponies in the guard, it had to be him. What had he done to deserve such treatment? Four years of mostly impeccable service, and for that he always got the most dangerous, looney tasks they had to offer. Perhaps it was his fate to–. “Oh, shut up already,” said Stone Mill, interrupting his friend’s lamentation. “It’s not as bad as that. You’re only roiling yourself more.” Helm Cleaver made a wounded face. “Oh, really? So I’m just blowing it out of proportions agains, am I?” “Things could be worse, is all I’m saying,” said Mill patiently. “A very original comment,” replied Helm. “Indeed, out of my head I can imagine a dozen scenarios worse than walking into a possible riot in the Ledge, with no back up and with a bucking M-storm about to hit the city!”   Helm shook his head slowly. “Well, would you rather be defending the silos from a griffon attack?” “At least then we’d have back up.” He paused to gnaw the strap of his helmet. “I don’t get it: why do we always get picked to go on the Captain’s crazy adventures?” “Because I happen to trust you,” said Heart, who entered the lobby around a corner. The two soldiers sprang to attention. The effect was somewhat ruined by the strap that was still stuck to Helm’s teeth. Heart eyed them with a hint of amusement and a great deal of irony at his last words. “Lieutenant Cowl trusted you enough to send you fetch me from my home in an emergency,” he continued. “And back in the Cliffs, you showed exemplary courage and steadiness. Both are acutely needed on this mission, which is why I once again picked you.” Helm spat the strap from his mouth. “Yessir! Thank you sir!” “A question, sir?” said Mill, who was trying to bury his smile. At Heart’s approval, he said, “We were told to accompany you on a mission to observe. What are we to observe, exactly?” Heart considered this for a moment. “We’ll know it when we see it, I suppose. In the meantime, watch out for anything suspicious; anything out of place. A pony in an attempt of setting themselves on fire, for example. An alicorn would be another one.” “You really believe there might be…?” “I don’t know,” said Heart. “And in truth it does not matter. We’re there to evaluate the threat to public peace. Everything you’ll see there, you’ll see through that lense.” He narrowed his eyes slightly. “Do either of you consider themselves especially religious?” The guards blinked. Suddenly, neither were very comfortable meeting Heart’s gaze. “I wouldn’t say especially…” started Helm. He coughed into his hoof. “I mean, we visit the Temple of Hexagonicity and Crystal Church every week with the kid and wife… Mostly for the wife…” “I pay my tithes,” said Mill. “Not always to the same church, though. I mean, there’s so many of them… Kind of betting it safe, I guess…” Heart couldn’t have been less surprised. He had once heard a statistic which claimed that Canterlot’s various religious movements combined had twice the city’s population worth of members. It wasn’t uncommon for an average pony to visit a different church every day of the week. But “betting it safe” was not the driving reason behind the spiritual multiplicity. The sects were highly specialized. There were dozens of churches, cults and whatnots focused on the diverse parts of ponies’ souls and what would happen to them on the Other Side, all fighting for members or, as Heart saw it, customers. Naturally, when religion was just another market, normal ponies tended to get kind of irrespective of it. And yet, today, something had stirred a part inside the souls of Canterlotians to which no sect had yet found a name – belief. Something had made them dare the weather and gather on the Ledge, waiting for an alicorn. Until he knew exactly what that something was, he’d treat everypony as possibly infected. But until he found one good atheist, these two would have to make do. They left the station in short order and headed to the Ledge at a gallop. Enough light filtered through the roof of the clouds to announce that noon was approaching. The streets ought to have been filled to the brim, but they hardly encountered a single citizen on their way. Five blocks from the edge of Ledge, Heart stopped. “Undress yourselves,” he said, and started removing his armor piece by piece. Helm and Mill exchanged a look. “Sir… You mean we’ll go in unarmored?” “Steel won’t do us any good there,” said Heart. From under his plates, a worn, plain robe unfolded. “Indistinguishability will. Remember: we’re there to observe. The best way to do that is to not to be seen yourself.” The guards watched him wrap the robe tightly around him, then started stripping their own mail and plates. “Sir: do we get cloaks, too?” asked Helm. “You won't need any. But somepony might recognize my face. It’s flashed on the papers lately.” He messed his mane and patted some dirt on his face, after which he drew the deep hood over his head. He kept his original uniform underneath the robe, just in case he happened to need its authority. “How do I look?” “Like a class A gibberer,” said Mill automatically. Both him and Helm froze immediately, but Heart only raised an eyebrow at them. “An interesting description. I trust in its accuracy. Now, let’s move. At trot.” “You nearly blew the lid off the game,” hissed Helm in Mill’s ear as they set off. “That’d be the least of our problems now, wouldn’t it?” “Maybe for you it is,” spat Helm. “Just so you know: uniforms or no, I’m still playing, and you’re judging. I got the fifth anniversary and a couple of birthdays coming on top of a Heart’s Warming Eve. The real apocalypse comes when I don’t win the week’s pot.” The three ponies trotted into the Ledge, leaving a pile of armor behind some trash cans. Soon enough, a fourth one came to study them, although not for long. It was their owners that he was interested in.                                                 *** Like all of Canterlot, the city built on a mountainside, the Ledge had an extremely economic grid. No space was wasted for stray alleys or backyards, and all the buildings were built side by side. The streets were narrower than usual, for traffic in general had grown scarcer in the post-Catastrophe city. There was but one main square in the district – a crescent shaped clearing right at the edge of the cliff, slanting slightly to the breathtaking drop. Even the more optimistic developers had considered it too risky a site to build on. And now it had been packed full of ponies. Heart could scarcely believe his eyes. There were thousands of them, squeezed on the clearing and even on the streets leading to it. Young, old, rich, poor – everypony. The air was dense with feathers, wing beats, and indistinct murmur. Its commanding tone was definitely tense. Out around him, Heart could see a few brawls going on. Countless makeshift stages had sprung from nothing, along with whatever prophet happened to holler above them. All the major churches seemed to have a representation present. Heart even fancied seeing a glimpse of the famous rainbow cloak traditionally worn by the Deacon of the Unity Church, although it was more likely that somepony had stolen it from him again. There were a million different things happening. The thing was, as far as Heart could see, this included nothing much. The situation was chaotic, but only as chaotic as one would expect a ten-thousand strong crowd to be. Heart was looking for a special sort of chaos while hoping from the bottom of his heart that he’d fail. Over the tumult, a noticeable puff carried to Heart’s ears. He looked up and saw an intricate magical pattern flash against the background of dark purple clouds. It lasted for a few seconds, then evaporated. All’s well, recounted Heart. No sign of griffons. Yet. The sky signs weren’t an ideal tool for any more complex communication. There was no helping it, though. No courier could find him in this mass, not unless he wanted to. But drawing attention to himself wasn’t the first thing on his to-do list at the moment. All was well, for now. It would not last. Heart felt it in his guts. The sensation burned like a hot coal, galvanizing his senses and pushing fine sweat on his brow. He could see that others had caught it, too. The herd knew what was coming, although no individual did. Although in theory the crowd remained still, in practice this was but an illusion in the same sense that a lake may appear as calm as a mirror. It was calmness fractured with countless little vibrations, tiny streams and fluctuations. Heart swam along, aiming nowhere in particular. He was observing. And, according to all the laws that govern these things, was observed in turn. A hundred eyes glanced at him every second, and yet he only felt a pair of them. He was being followed. Had someone asked him how he could know that, the answer would’ve had something to do with needles and haystacks. That was because analogies were the closest thing language had to a hunch of a seasoned copper. That, and a face painted black and white was rather hard to miss. They can’t know who I am, can they? he thought while navigating his way deeper into the herd. My face shouldn’t be that familiar. Besides, nopony should know I’m even here. He made a sharp turn to the left, strode forward and looked if the pony was still on him. She was, and now she had a friend. They shouldered people aside while closing in on him. Heart cursed under his breath and headed straight ahead. He had no idea which direction the city was, but neither did it matter anymore. Now the goal was to lose his twintail. He zigzagged in the mass of moving bodies, but his pursuers were relentless. At times they even managed to cut his course, random though it was. Then he realized that there now four ponies after him; then six; and then he could not tell anymore…   They had him surrounded. In the middle of a horde, he was suddenly being hunted. It made no sense. They must be mistaking me for somepony else. They must be. They came from all angles, all sides, all at once. Heart’s sweat – no longer fine but thick and cold – glued the uniform to his fur under the robe. The closest pony was about to grab him, but a passerby pushed into his way. What do I do? What do I do? I can’t start a fight in the middle of  civilians. What do I– He happened to glance at his chest. It was glowing. Mesmerized, he peeked into the folds of his robe and into the pocket of his uniform. Inside, curled together like some animal, the little trinket radiated soft, green light. A hoof landed on his shoulder from behind. “Captain Heart. May we have a word with you in private?” Heart looked around slowly. The unicorn mare’s horn was glowing with the same shade of green as the amulet. “Who’s asking?” he said. The mare nodded past him. Heart turned his head, right in time to get to know what it felt like to be hit by a speeding truck. He dropped out cold the same instant the big stallion landed his iron reinforced hoof. Nopony paid much attention to the little scene, not even as they carried Heart away. It was just another brawl; just another problem that wasn’t theirs. Besides, they had more important things to attend to. An alicorn was coming. The pyres had promised thus. A hundred years had promised thus. This was it. And for hay’s sake was it about time.                                                 *** As Heart woke to the massive headache, he could not help but to think there was something painfully familiar to all this. I’m sure it’s not in the regulations that an address with the Captain of the Guard requires kidnapping and beating him first… He opened his eyes and saw nothing. It was pitch-black around him, but from the general experience he deduced that he was in a room of sorts. It had a stone floor and some hay for sleeping. The smell reminded him of the cells under the guard station – used and dry. It wasn’t the most comforting smell to wake up to, but at least it beat the previous two times. The remnants of his hangover, coming to him with delay, made up for the lacking nausea more than handsomely though. Now let’s see… I still got my horn, so “they” probably just want to talk, not torture. I wonder what it is this time? Are they first going to go over their childhood; how they’re not really that bad; how they’ve got a real good reason for doing this. The best there is. I’m just not sure how many “best reasons” I can handle anymore… He fumbled his way forward and hit a row of steel bars. They had been coated with powdered obsidian – the bane of all magic. So maybe it’s torture, after all, he thought with disdain. At least it’s a clue of my whereabouts. Not many can afford magic-proof cells nowadays. Could it be some millionaire turned cultist? But what the hay would they want from me? Well, I’m sure they love nothing so much as to explain that, as soon as they turn up… Heart sat down to wait and, more or less to his own detriment, to think. Time passed. Funny. They don’t usually take this long. Maybe they’re testing my nerves? Trying to soften me? Good luck with that. I’m used to waiting. Especially in the dark. I wonder if they think I’m still unconscious? How long have I been here? No rush. I can wait. I’ve waited all my life. They’ll come, sooner or later. It’s not that they’d just forget me here, right? Right. What time is it? This is stupid. What, they think I’ll break this easily? Some nerve. Who are they even? What do they want? I hope Lily’s okay. Okay, that does it. Come now. Come now before I get really mad at you. We can still settle this. I’ve used to settling things like this. I’ve used to. If I start shouting… Will they come then? Is it morning already? Or day still? Night? Nopony came for an incalculable time. Heart shouted. Not loudly; just a bark informing that whoever was pulling the strings could raise the curtain now. Nothing happened, save the death of the echo. He shouted again, this time banging the bars too. Nopony came. Instinct urged him to shout more, but his sense of pride refused to obey. This was all part of the game. Perhaps it was a different game than what he had been used to, but a game it was nonetheless. Twisted, malicious game. There were hoofsteps. Coming closer. Now, a faint lamplight: he could see other cells in the glow. They looked oddly familiar. “About time,” grumbled Heart as the pony stopped before the bars. The light stung his eyes, so he could not get a good look at the figure. It had sort of a cubic look to it. “So, what’s it going to be this time?” “Hay,” said the dull voice. He seemed to look behind Heart. “Haven’t finished the last batch yet? What, stuff’s too good for a goody four shoes?” Several thoughts crossed Heart’s mind. He recognized the voice, although every part of him was convinced that he was wrong. He knew now where he was, and couldn’t believe that either. Third, he had apparently slept on his own meal. “Dab?” Heart managed. Dab the Jailor tuned down his lamp just enough so Heart could catch his grin. “Who were you expecting? The Spirit of Heart’s Warming Eve?” He dropped the bail of hay from his back and shoved it past the bars. “Now, don’t get too picky this time, eh? Won’t come here until the midday.” “Dab,” said Heart. “What do you think you’re doing?” “Why, my duty only, sir. Or is it sir anymore? Don’t think it is. Going to call you that anyway. Has a nice ring to it, ‘sir’. Sir.” At this point Heart was convinced that either of them had gone insane. That was the only reasonable explanation for the situation. How else could the Captain Of the Guard lay imprisoned in his own cells while being mocked by the lowest ladder in the many-stepped hierarchy of the organization: the Jailor? “Dab,” he tried again. “I’m Heart. You know I am. Let me out. That’s an order.” “No can do, sir. Got new orders, and new orders makers. Can’t see the difference, really, but what’s it helping? Not my duty, seeing the difference…” To Heart’s horror and rage, Dab started to walk away. “Wait! Let me out of here! Whose orders? What’s happening here! Get back here! That’s an order!” “See you later, sir,” was all Heart heard past his own shouting. “Hope they go easy on you. You weren’t all that bad, in the end.” Dab left. The darkness returned. The questions screamed on inside Heart’s head, tolling insanity. He tried to lit his horn. Although the effort was successful, the weight of the nearby obsidian made it presence known. It was like trying to swim in syrup. If I try to break those bars, I might crack my horn. He tried to break the bars. His horn didn’t crack, but only because his consciousness got there first. He stumbled back, hissing in pain, and collapsed on the stack of hay. The shivers came soon, hot and cold both, boiling the rage which had never left. In the same way the darkness never had.