//------------------------------// // Reforging // Story: Through the Nether // by StormDancer //------------------------------// In retrospect, finding the mine cart had been the first sign that her luck had been turning around. Yes, the crystal was an important discovery and, yes, having discovered the disused cart rails had been proof that there must be an exit somewhere, but the mine cart itself had been the single most helpful thing she had wandered across in the expansive underground cave system. She had been in above-ground caves before... the distinction was appropriate: it was cleaner. She smiled bitterly as she tottered along, the dim glow of her crystal giving off just enough light to track the rails before her as she pulled the cart along by ropes she'd found near an old wooden pulley system a ways back. The cart itself was nothing particularly unique... an old, partially rotted out, wooden cart with rusty metal fixtures, but it gave her both a place to safely rest and a method of transporting anything else she had found along the way. And find things, she had. After the cart, she'd found the old coil of rope dangling from some kind of winch and pulley system. She'd found an old lantern, and though it was out of fuel, it was still something she could potentially use later on. A short shovel had been thrown in next - though that would likely be used for firewood before anything else given that the handle was almost completely dry rotted. A short length of chain had joined the pile followed by the crowning achievement of her trek: a rusted mining pick. Grabbing another plank in the rail line, she pulled herself forward, dragging the cart along with the dull groaning of axles unused to the touch of oil. It wasn't an experience she would have ever thought she would be found doing in her old life but, given the turn it had taken after the destruction of Draenor, she felt it was an understandable lack of forethought on her part. Not many actively pondered life activities following the destruction of the planet they currently resided upon. Heaving the cart along, she began to notice a slight incline to the rail and paused to weigh her options. On the one hand, she could leave her cart behind, lugging her collected 'treasures' like some beast of burden, to the top of said hill and to whatever lay beyond. On the other, she could struggle to the top, dragging the resisting cart and hoping that she didn't slip and get dragged back down the hill hitting every plank, tie, and rock along the way. Or, of course, she could choose the easiest route: emptying the cart and bringing her goods up individually to reduce the weight. With a breathless sigh, she began to empty the cart. Good luck or not, she was not going to risk being reduced to bone meal simply to save a few minutes of travel. Gaining reputation hadn't been a one day affair on Azeroth... she could survive an extra hour or two now. -~oOo~- Duty frowned as he bit into a cold sandwich at the end of a long day of soulless, painful, wasting paperwork. True, he was used to paperwork, but the soul-crushing wasteland that was the general importance ~of~ those particular pieces of paper... that was almost physically painful to him. He was used to paperwork that concerned things of import! He was used to running the numbers, sifting through evidence, trying to eek out the one fact that everypony else had missed that would save the day! And, as he mashed the day old tomato and garlic sandwich into an unidentifiable paste, he could not believe what some ponies would file paperwork on. Mailbox polish? Water dampness certifications? Balloon buoyancy ordinances? The level of stupid some of his fellow Canterlotians seemed capable of.... that made him shudder. And worst of all, worse than the mindless drivel, worse than the constant bile-swelling horror that was red-tape, was that through it all he couldn't help but wonder what was happening at the castle. Some crazy pony was out there, trotting around and casually invading the castle of the Princesses, and he was stuck filing for some uppity noble's monthly order of Mane Glow conditioner. The absurdity of it left him with a glower that he was certain he'd have to explain if Princess Luna saw his dreams tonight. Muttering a bit as he finished his sandwich, Duty pushed back from the 'desk' in his temporary apartment... really no more than a table with a box of his possessions from the castle wedged under the one side... and leaned back in his chair. Really though, there wasn't much he could do about it. The Princesses had kicked him out. It was their problem now. They would have to go through all the papers, filter out all the crap he would normally dismiss, and try to out think whatever depraved soul had decided to go around digging up graves. They would have to decide what was need-to-know. They would have to decide what to tell the populace. They would have to do all the fiddly little things that he used to do. They would... they... would. Duty sat forward, his brow creasing as he played that line of reasoning back through his head. The Princesses would have to do all the work now... well, at least until they hired someone new. Someone with connections and experience. Someone who could piece together a mystery while keeping the mundane tasks of daily management to a reasonable level. Someone who would never question the reason for their recent employment. And while the kingdom kept right on going, the Princesses would take care of everything that the little colts and fillies didn't need to know about. Duty frowned. The Princesses would take care of everything, just like they always did. And no one would be the wiser. Duty slid his chair back, glancing down at the crate of his stuff from the castle. No... it wouldn't be right. He shouldn't even be thinking it. Slowly, he pulled the box from under his desk and let his hoof hover over the tin of pushpins inside. But.... but they're the Princesses... they would never.... He pulled out the tin and swept the crumbs from his sandwich away before pulling out the pins and glancing at the empty corkboard on the wall. "I'm going to need some coffee for this," he muttered as he set his desk with scratch paper, pushpins, yarn, and a set of quills. It was going to be a long, long, night. -~oOo~-