Mystery of the Draconics

by Wanderwing

Finding Information

Chapter 5

Finding Information

I had found within that ancient tome a clue about the Druids. One of the first entries mentioned them as the ones who performed the ritual to create the first draconics. Clearly this ancient order held information I needed. I have spent several years now traveling through Equestria and its surrounding lands. In all of my travels few if any knew anything about the order of Druids or if they did they weren’t keen on sharing the information.

This went on for a long time, I would travel to a new town and talk to as many ponies as I could and find nothing. For dozens of towns and cities this went on.

Any story seeker such as me knows pubs and bars are excellent places to pick up a new tale or two. Whenever I travel near one I nearly always stop in and talk to ponies. Alcohol usually frees ponies of inhibition, making them much more eager to share stories and information.

I found an old stallion in a pub on one of the borderlands between Equestria and the Gryphon Provinces. He was sitting in a corner alone. I find those who sit alone in pubs tend to have stories to tell. As it turns out my instincts were right. At first he was cold and closed off. I started talking to him and offered to trade him a drink for a bit of conversation.

A few drinks later I knew more about him than I had needed to know. I then steered the conversation to my search. He had heard stories that the Druids used to have an old convent outside of a small town a few days travel west. He seemed a little unsettled by my enthusiasm about the druids and it is possible I may have been talking a bit louder than I should have been.

I adjusted myself and tried to redirect his attention elsewhere by sharing one of my own stories. I have read many books in my life and talked to many well-traveled ponies so there were lots of stories to choose from. I decided a quick comedy would be the best way to end a drunken night of story sharing.

I recounted the tale of the Prince and the Mirror, a story somepony wrote to insult Prince Blueblood. I know a strange number of stories written or told to insult him but never having met him myself I reserve judgment. Soon the old stallion is banging on the table and laughing loudly as the tale reaches its climax as the prince falls in love with his own reflection.

At this point the loudness from my one pony audience had attracted the attention of a few others, and one of these new arrivals asked me to tell another story but this request was from a mare who wanted a tale of romance. I spun a yarn of love lost, friendships earned and the leading character’s deeds of valor.

Bits had begun piling on the table, ponies drunk or otherwise, loved a good story. A good storyteller can make hundreds of bits in a night if he only knows the right stories to woo and audience. This is how I made my living whenever I could.

The pub began to close after a few more stories and I made myself scarce. Having found the information I needed and made a profit as well I decided to set out for the town the old one had mentioned. It was there I found Warmhearth’s inn and chose to stay there while I searched the surrounding area.

I looked through the nearby forest, an exhausting, mostly fruitless task. But it was at the center of the forest that I found the cave. I spent some of the bits I had made getting a few small pieces of furniture to make it habitable should I need to hide out for a few days.

I bought the mannequins and began practicing again, all the while continuing my search of the nearby land. A few kilometers outside the town, past the town hall and just behind the graveyard there was an old building, nopony seemed to live there so I checked the door. Finding it unlocked I went inside.

It looked like some kind of church. I went farther inside and saw a mosaic taking up the center of the floor. The outer ring was decorated in what appeared to be thorn covered brambles. At the center in a triangle shape was a hoof print, a pair of feathered wings, and a unicorn’s horn.

I opened my tome and checked the information I had on the Druids, a drawing not unlike the mosaic was the symbol the Druids are known to have used. I had found it, the convent the old stallion had spoken of. At the back of the room there was a heavy door, forcing it open I saw there were stairs descending into catacombs beneath it.

I didn’t get much farther than that. At the base of the stairs there was a chamber that looked to be the site of some sort of ritual. I looked at the walls and found them covered in strange symbols. I found a partial list of druidic script in the book but I could only translate pieces of the text.

“The three tribes and the created must be brought together.”
“Blood has always been shed and ever shall it be.”
“The treasure is yours to gain”
“Nothing is free, all treasure especially the rarest of gems have a test, or a cost.”
Those were the only coherent sentences I could work out.

On the other end of the chamber, opposite the stairs, was a gigantic metal door with the same picture as the mosaic upstairs with one alteration, a dragon’s eye at the center of the triangle.

It was at this point I remembered my grandfather, and how his carelessness had cost him his life. I backed out of the room very slowly and decided to come back with help.

I returned to the inn and began sending messages to nearby mercenaries. The practice of being a sell-sword had never been outlawed in Equestria although their business is limited. More mercenary groups are based in Equestria but bring their business elsewhere.

Having done as much travelling as I had, I had met many ponies. I happened to have formed a contact with a member of the Shieldstallions who would pass my message along to his commander.

Only a few unicorns offer themselves as freelance mages or guides. I knew little about this practice but thankfully my contact in the Shieldstallions knew of an explorer going by the name Brightflare and sent an offer on to him.

Finding a mercenary pegasus was easy enough, they have a habit of advertising in skywriting after all. It wasn’t long before I saw one that seemed to fit my plan. “Falling Star’s Treasure Recovery Service” I had to fly my fastest to follow her until she stopped so I could set up a meeting.

I had not told any of the mercenaries about each other before the meeting I had with all of them.

I hoped I had learned enough, and that these mercenaries would be strong enough for the task before us. I didn’t know what to expect, anything could be down in those catacombs. I only hoped I hadn’t lead anyone to their deaths.

Comments

[Gytrash]

Shit getting Real?

Seems to be pretty common among good stories these days.