//------------------------------// // Chapter VIII: On Our Way // Story: The World Within the Web // by Lord Max //------------------------------// Chapter VIII: On Our Way * * * * * * I met a man from the land of masks, whose wooden visage held the task to hide his heart and soul away from the lamp-light eyes of the Beast in the Bay. The masks they wore, the stranger said, did more than shield the face and head, but hid their thoughts and minds from he who watches them from 'neath the sea. — “The Land of Masks”, Stanzas I-II * * * * * * It was a fast ship, Coin noted as he watched the blue ocean roll by underneath them. The other five were quick as well, particularly the one with a rainbow-painted thunderbird on the hull that raced ahead of the rest of the group, but none of them could compare to the one that Coin Counter stood upon. The Wonderbolt II was clearly a newer vessel than most of the others, judging by how little wear there was on the decks and railings, and had probably been bought or built quite recently. He thought about the first Wonderbolt and wondered what had happened that made it necessary to make a new one, but that wasn’t something a person uncomfortable with sailing wanted to dwell on. Especially when he was at sea. They had been journeying for most of the day now, and land had left their sights a few hours before. Most of the sailors were spending their time either racing around the decks keeping the ship in order or relaxing in their few spare moments below deck, but Coin and the other passengers had far fewer duties to attend to. They were guests, so most of the heavy lifting and real work had been left to the crew instead, while the Honest and Generous Friends were welcome to talk, walk, or lie back as they please. If it was to be anything like Coin’s trip on the Lightning Dust to reach the Blogosphere, it was probably going to be hopelessly dull, with little to do but sleep, eat, and wander aimlessly. The day wasn’t even over yet, and he’d already had his fair share of all three. Still, there were other things to do. Being called onto the mission wasn’t something Coin expected, but since he’d been told he tried his best to meet all the others he was joining. Most of the diplomatic team was split onto the other ships, along with a majority of the honor guard, but more than a dozen of them were still here. He had made his proper introductions to the Wardens of Honesty and Generosity earlier, but he didn’t know any of the other Bronies from the Citadel and had to spend time getting to know them. If he was going to work alongside them for the next few weeks, it would help to become friends. The ringleader of the Honest Friends on the ship seemed to be Dustario, the tall, olive-skinned and almond-eyed gentlemen. He had all of his homeland’s courtesy, greeting Coin like a brother when they first met and treating him with every pleasantry afterwards, inviting Coin to join his group of friends when they talked and always calling him ‘Sir Coin,' even though he was no longer a knight in truth. Dustario had been kind enough to introduce him to the other members of the guard as well, most of whom were every bit as polite. A Facer who had taken the name ‘Applewood’ who apparently was one of several other ‘Apples,’ including an Appleblossom and an Apple Orange, though Coin had only met the one so far. There was also a trio with the group who had each renamed themselves after the creator, and were called ‘The Three Fausts’ to reflect that, though only Dalwin Faust and Daria Faust were on the Wonderbolt. Some of the Honest Friends were harder to get a read on. Strongshield was a warrior from the Blurr, large in size and with a thin mouth forever pursed in scorn or disapproval. Another, Red Autumn, was similar, with hideous scars on his hands shaped like six-pointed stars, and a habit of looking down at Coin in a rather unsettling way — not unlike the Warden of Honesty himself. In fact, Red resembled the Warden in more ways than just that: his head was shaved, his talking terse, and his manner alien as well. It seemed like an odd coincidence to Coin, before he realized that the man was likely emulating the Warden on purpose. If so, he still had a ways to go; after all, he had no beard, both eyes, and was squat where the Shield of the Collective was gigantic. And the both of them were Honest Eyes, as well. Coin Counter had asked about the symbol, and was told by Dustario that it was a marker of the group who followed the Honest Friend and the Warden most fervently—fanatics who had taken the golden symbol of their leader as their own, and displayed it proudly on their uniforms. “Fiercely faithful” was what Dustario called them, and so they were, from what Coin could tell. He’d seen less of the other Bronies since boarding the ship. Lady Brushshape and Mister Hart largely kept to themselves, chatting in the cabin with Captain Skytide and taking their meals in there as well. It was probably for the best, as Coin wasn’t confident that he’d be able to talk to the Generous Lady properly if he had the chance. The Warden of Honesty largely did the same, rarely leaving his quarters and only seeming to stand on the deck staring out at the ocean when he did. The Honest Friends would normally bow or kneel when he passed, but the Warden hardly seemed to notice that anyone else was on the ship but him. Coin had met many people since he had come to the Citadel, but it was still hard to think of himself as one of them. The guardsmen, the Wardens, the artists, the sailors, all the Bronies around—they were parts of a world that he had only just stepped into, standing confidently while he blundered around bleary-eyed and confused. The only friends he really had were miles and miles away, and he couldn’t make new ones in an instant—that took more than just an evening of talk. Perhaps he could find his place in time, but he still couldn’t feel like he belonged. I never asked for this, Coin thought. If he had any choice in the matter, he would be back home, listening to one of Greenheart's jokes or Book’s stories, rather than sailing halfway across the world to confront lords and strangers. But that doesn’t matter now. I am here, regardless of what I want. For however long it took to resolve the crisis, he had to focus on doing all he could, not complaining. No more reluctance, no more regrets. The Warden was right about one thing: it was his duty. The waves were moving on and on, while the ship continued to cut through them on its path to the Painted Sea. The tint of the water had been darkening since they left harbor, going from a pale blue to a much deeper one as they sped further into the open sea. It made Coin wonder what was in the ocean underneath them: fish and whales, certainly, but people in the north spoke of sea serpents that preyed on the leviathans of the depths, and sailors whispered of kraken pulling under ships no matter where one went. People said the Bay of Masks in the Chan was home to an entire school of them, to explain why so many ships went missing there. Looking back out at the sea, the color, for whatever reason, reminded him of Lord Feylen’s eyes: blackish-blue, like two bruises pressed into his gaunt face. The Warden of Magic, Coin thought anxiously. He knew now that it was a far more fitting title than he expected, since he had seen that tattoo on Lord Mars’ wrist. The mark of the cybramancer. Everyone knew it when they saw it: the strange geometry, the jutting lines and spiraling half-circles forming a arrowhead-like shape down a man’s arm. Anyone unfortunate enough to be born with dread powers was required to have one such tattoo under penalty of death by law of the Authority. The mark of the cursed blood. Those powers were as old as the Internet itself, allowing people to bend the laws of nature and the Logos at will. Some men born that way only had meager abilities if any, but a select few were too dangerous to live unmonitored. The Highlen Doctrine adopted by the Moderator Authority demanded all with the affliction register with the Cybramancer’s Guild, but some always slipped through, and it usually ended in tragedy. And Lord Mars is one of them. The words Coin overheard in the Magic Wing still chilled him, even now. Three men, four masks, a pyre, six towers and a black island… it was beyond Coin to know what each meant, but he knew that he wasn’t supposed to hear them. Coin Counter had been taught at the academy that every destiny was planned and mapped like the courses of so many ships, each proceeding with the order of the Logos—the eternal code, the fact of facthood, the universal constant. But to be able to peer into that intelligence and see what those destinies contained… His thoughts were interrupted by a whistle. It was the signal that the better part of the day’s work was over, and the crew that had been working would be allowed to break for the evening. Coin hadn’t even noticed how late it had become, with the sun already lowering and the sky growing almost as dark as the sea. Upon hearing the call, the Loyal Friends who had been working the lines gave a brief cheer before happily jumping down to eat and relax for the time being. Some would be needed for the night shift, but for now they could rest, drink, and talk to their hearts content. They were not the only ones to take advantage of the opportunity, Coin noticed when he saw his fellow Honest Friends come to the deck as well. Dustario was leading the pack, as always, but at his side was Proximo Hart, standing out in white among a group of orange and yellow. The two were chatting about something or other, when Dustario called out to Coin. “Sir Coin!” he said. “Have you had a chance to meet my friend Proximo yet? He may be one of the Generous, but he’s as good as any Honest Friend, I’d wager.” “We’ve met before,” Coin replied, “though it’s good to see you again, Mister Hart.” He bowed respectfully. “Likewise, sir,” replied Proximo. “I must admit, I wasn’t expecting to see you joining us on our mission. It’s good that you are, though: we’ll need men of experience for such a delicate matter.” “I’ll do everything I can. Hopefully that’ll be enough.” It was a long-haired man in bright pink who answered—Jayson Joyfelt, one of the Laughing Friends. “I wouldn’t worry much about that, friend,” Jayson said while twirling his long blonde hair. At his side was a fiddle, no doubt to play for the crew. “One look at our innocent little faces, and they’ll be letting those two go in no time. ‘Cursed is the one who brings false punishment,’ they say.” Jayson always seemed to have a quote ready when the situation asked for it—that one in particular came from The Books of Black and White, which Coin had had to study extensively when he was training in Central. Any subtlety in the conversion was killed the moment the giant Kriseroff strode up from behind, belting out a song at the top of his lungs while his braided brown beard blew about in the wind. He was a huge, dark-skinned man with a golden eye on his chest, a red apple tattooed under his eye, and one of the deepest voices Coin had ever heard, with which he would bellow out at every opportunity. Once he paused for breath, Kriseroff looked over the others as though puzzled. “This is break time! Shame! Shame to you all! Kriseroff has his song in his heart, but no drinks and no music. It is crime and tragedy! Tragedy! Will he have to jump over and swim to shore to escape this dullness?” “I think not, Kris,” the pink singer replied. “You’re too big for swimming anyways — you seem more like the sinking type, if you ask me. But what do you all think?” he asked the people on the deck. “Shall we have a song?” The Loyal Friends around seemed starved for entertainment after a long day, and the resulting cry was loud enough to answer his question. He had another prepared, however. “Very well,” Jayson continued, “but it seems only fitting that my tune goes to one of our brave protectors on this perilous trip! So, which should it be—a song for the Honest or the Loyal?” Both sides raised cheers to decide which it would be. The Loyal Friends outnumbered the rest almost three-to-one on the deck, but Kriseroff shouted so loudly that the winner was clear soon enough. To oblige, Jayson raised the fiddle to his chin and began to play a familiar tune, with those around him laughing and hooting when they recognized it. They clapped along to the rhythm as the Laughing Friend began to sing: “We’ve travelled the road of generations, joined by a common bo-oo-nd! We sing our song ‘cross the website nations from the masked lands to beyond!” By the time they came to the chorus, the crew had started to sing along and dance, with figures in orange, blue, and white spinning and twirling around one another. Dustario was trading partners quickly, going between two women in the Loyal Friends and one from the Generous, stepping gracefully to-and-fro with elegant footwork. He made an offer to Strongshield as well, but after a look that suggested she might twist his head off he went to dark-haired Daria Faust instead. Coin lingered behind, however, as did Proximo Hart. When the assistant noticed this, he approached Coin and leaned against the railing with him. “Not one for dancing, Sir Coin?” “I’ve never really had the footwork for it.” The last time he tried was in a celebration in Reddit, and there he had only succeeded in humiliating himself. “And you, my lord?” Hart smiled. “I’m capable, they say, but I need the right partner. Otherwise, what’s the point?” He ran a hand through his thick black hair, and turned his dark eyes to the sea. “I did mean what I said before. I imagine that this assignment came as a surprise to you, but I’m sure you shall be a great help to us.” “I… thank you, my lord,” Coin replied. “I, ah, I meant what I said as well. I’ll do all that I can.” “I’m sure that will be a great deal. You seem like you’ve had ample training, Sir Coin.” There was a glint in his almond eyes, but his smile seemed sincere. “How many years did you train in Central to join the Moderators? I imagine it gave you more than enough experience in this sort of matter.” “Seven years, if you count when I was squiring. I placed well on the early exams, then after that I started studying under the Knight Regulators when I was thirteen.” After that was five years of tests, training, endless books and sums, and basic arms practice as well. He scored high marks on everything but the latter. “I served under Sir Samuel Harker for about two years of fieldwork as a squire, and then after that I was knighted a week after my twentieth birthday. And I was a knight for… let me think, five years after that.” “Before you joined us. It must have been difficult, setting that aside.” “It was. The hardest choice I ever made, truthfully. I loved being in the Order of the Fair Trade, and I didn’t disgrace myself there either.” At the same time, though, it still didn’t compel him the same way the Six did. “It wouldn’t have been right for me to hold on to my title while I really felt more strongly for another. My superiors were understanding.” Hart smiled. “Mine were less so, when I made the same decision. You were fortunate to avoid the worst of it, Sir Coin.” “I know. Sometimes I wonder if I got off too easily, when I hear about what other people went through. You ah, you don’t need to call me ‘Sir Coin’ if you don’t want to, though. I’m not a knight anymore.” Hart cocked his head. “True. But some say we never forget our first loves, and I still remember mine. Do you still recall yours fondly?” Coin was lost. “My… you mean the Authority? Well, of course it was where I got my education, my job and skills.” “Mm, but do you owe any more than that?” Hart continued. When Coin couldn’t summon an answer, the generous man said, “I will speak plainly to you, friend: where we’re going, it may come to pass that the Authority is opposed to our success. If that happens, will you be able to choose between us?” Yes, Coin wanted to answer immediately, but the words caught in his throat. The Authority wasn’t just a government to him: for years it had been his life. Once, every teacher, partner, and friend he ever had came from the Moderators. What would he choose, if it came to it? The past is the past, Coin thought, I have a new duty now. “I… I have sworn an oath to the Honest Friends, my lord,” he said slowly. “I will not forsake it. I promise you that.” Mister Hart nodded. “I believe you. I beg your forgiveness for asking something so personal, but you’ll understand that I have to ensure our success. More lives than just the two in the Dreamweave may depend on it.” Coin hadn’t considered that. I spent so much time wondering why I had to go, that I never considered what might be at stake, he thought ashamedly. “The Dreamweave. Do you know much about it, my lord?” Before coming to the Citadel, Coin had never even heard of the place, and besides it being in the Painted Sea near the Devien Isles, he knew nothing about it. “More than some. It wasn’t far from my home, and I would visit it from time to time.” He frowned. “I don’t have fond memories of my time there, but that was more due to who I was. I was a very different man when I was young.” His hand went to a spot on his chest, below his right shoulder. “Well, younger.” “When they were talking about it,” Coin said, “in the council meeting, I mean, they said that the two were sent there to mend some situation. Do you know what that was?” The assistant’s face twisted. “I do. A Brony was protesting the embargo that was set against us in the Dreamweave. Demonstrating, asking that they open themselves to our people, that sort of thing.” “What happened to him?” “He burned himself alive. Right on the docks, outside the city gates.” Coin paled. “Light of life… what could drive someone—” He shrugged. “When you’re devoted to something enough, any action seems right and logical if it advances it. We mourned for him in the Citadel, but our friends travelled to the Dreamweave to ensure such a sacrifice wasn’t in vain. I still pray it wasn’t.” A silence descended between them, though the rest of the ship was anything but quiet. They were still smiling, still laughing and singing as they all travelled together. Kriseroff was swinging a tankard of something foamy in one hand and gripping one of his friends in a crushing hug with the other, bellowing out the lyrics of a new song. Jayson had started singing this new one a few minutes ago, but Coin hadn’t been paying attention to the words until now. Everyone was lifting glasses and cheering along with it as he sang: “Together we stand, united as brothers, sing side-by-side in harmony! The memories we share, the friendships we gather, will forge an Equestria for you and me! “Kindness and Laughter, Honest and Generous, following through so Loyally! By sun and by moon, the Magic between us, will forge an Equestria for you and me!” With the last line, Jayson dramatically strummed the final note, and a cheer erupted among the people around. Dustario gave a final “Hear hear!” as they all smashed their tankards together, letting the drink inside spill out onto the deck. Hart smiled wanly and clapped along with the rest, but his words were still serious when he spoke up. “How have you found your fellow Honest Friends since you arrived?” Coin thought about that. He couldn’t claim to be the closest of companions with them yet, but he didn’t think ill of any of them either. “Well, I don’t truly know them all. But they’ve been nothing but friendly, my lord. I imagine we’ll be good friends in time.” “And the Warden of Honesty? What do you think of him?” Coin opened his mouth, but couldn’t summon an answer. ‘I’m sure we’ll be friends as well’, he could have said. But that would have been a lie, and not one fitting of an Honest Friend. ‘He frightens me’ would have been better, but that wasn’t an answer to give to this man. Instead he said nothing, and Hart took his silence as the only reply he was likely to get. “He’s quite mad, you know. He thinks that he’s the will of the Six in human form,” Hart said almost nonchalantly. Coin couldn’t think of anything to say to that. Proximo Hart sighed. “As I said, devotion can make strange things seem reasonable. And, as I said, more lives than we expect may rely on our success — we cannot allow anything to compromise that. I trust that you’ll make the right decisions.” He bowed. “Good day to you, Sir Coin. May you walk with the strength of Six.” Hart walked towards the cabin to rejoin the Wardens, leaving Coin alone on the side of the boat again. He pondered about what the assistant had said while he watched the waves go by. The will of the Six in human form, he thought. It was mad, just as Mister Hart said. Coin wondered how someone could believe that. Worse, he wondered if it might be true. A voice across the deck called out, “Sir Coin!” He turned to see the group of Honest Friends preparing to go elsewhere, likely below decks once again. “Will you join us for cards, sir? I intend to crush the rest of this lot!” Counter hesitated for half a second, but then shouted, “In a moment!” before they retreated into the hold. Coin watched them go, but turned his eyes back to the horizon before he followed them. Facing the west, he saw that the sun was beginning to set, dipping down into the ocean beyond while the faintest stars began to appear in the sky. The light from it was yellow and gold, pink and orange, blue and dabs of purple, but all of them were streaked with the crimson red of the sunset. Coin looked at this and wondered, as it grew smaller and fainter still while the ship sailed away and away to a strange land. * * * * * * “There are two constants, universal: truth and death. Both you shall find within.” — Opening lines from the “Books of Black and White” * * * * * * End of Part I