Bad Mondays

by Handyman

Chapter 30 - The norm, not the exception

Her excited expression, happy hum, and enthusiastic gait belied how utterly exhausted she was.

Her hoofsteps echoed rather loudly through the corridors of the crystal tree palace. Normally this annoyed her, reminding her of how the place was unnecessarily big for her. Oh sure, it was useful on the busier days. Being a Princess’ residence in the middle of the Equestrian countryside meant that the countryside nobility suddenly had somewhere they could bring all their concerns to without having to petition their own dukes or make the travel to Canterlot and wait their turn. They were a friendlier, genteel lot in comparison to their more urbane ilk in the capital. Most of the time, they only came around to say hello and have a chat rather than jostle for favour, creating more than one impromptu social function which required the use of the excess space. In turn, they brought a lot of business and money into Ponyville.

Rarity, for one, was ecstatic at the regular business she was receiving as a result.

That, however, was nothing in comparison to the numerous, endless minor panics, disasters, and uproars from just living in Ponyville on a day to day basis. Today's disaster of the hour? Cloudkicker and Thunderlane accidentally creating an unscheduled storm front, which, in conjunction with a new scheme by the CMC, with their so called 'graduates' being absent when they should have been keeping an eye on the new generation, ended up creating a small twister that ripped through the Apple family's orchard and causing several wild beasts from the Everfree to emerge which... just led to an avalanche of other minor disasters. By the end of it, at least Applejack had her end of year harvest, ahem, already bucked from the trees for her. It was only a matter of collecting the apples from the... everywhere they had landed. Rainbow Dash got the pegasi together to fix the sky, and her severely damaged cloud mansion, and promptly gave Thunderlane and Cloudkicker the third degree. They had the good grace to look thoroughly abashed for their failure, though when Twilight had asked her what they had done to cause it in the first place, Rainbow had simply responded, 'You don't wanna know' and left it at that. The CMC’s little death machine however, was originally supposed to be a simple ricksaw that somehow ended up looking more akin to a mobile siege tower. How that made the storm worse was… perplexing to say the least. Meanwhile, Discord had appeared, wearing a sunhat, shaded glasses, beads, and a simply vile-looking shirt with bright floral patterns, along with Sweetie, Apple Bloom, and Scoots, all similarly dressed. He had enquired as to what he had missed.

Twilight had been unamused.

So it was at the end of a long, long, long day that she found herself trotting down the now familiar corridors of her home. Her destination clear, her goal so near it was then that Twilight came upon a room so dear. With a wave of her horn, the enchantment was dispelled, revealing a doorway in the middle of a wall in an otherwise unremarkable hallway. It was not that there was anything truly dangerous or secretive in here. It was just... well, it was hers. Everypony needed a little space for themselves, especially when you were a Princess and just about every other aspect of your life was dedicated to other ponies one way or another.

She opened the door and was immediately hit with the musty scent of books and polished wood that immediately brought to mind memories of her old home. It had taken a while and a few favours, but she had the room constructed to be identical to the ground floor of the old treehouse. Pinkie kept referring to the castle as the treehouse, due to its shape, the other girls followed suit after a while. She really couldn't, however. With a flap of her wings, she allowed herself to be lifted into the air and drop unceremoniously onto the large, scarlet red with gold trim pillow set at the centre of the floor. She had thought about placing a replica of the table with the horrid, wooden, stallion’s head bust but had then thought better of it. Besides, this pillow was comfy.

She sighed contentedly and let herself sink into its embrace, enjoying the snuggly comfort for a moment as she readjusted her resting wings. Then, cracking open an eye and spying her little treasure from its spot on the shelves, her horn lit up, slowly dragging the large tome out of its spot and over to her hooves. She ran her hoof down the cover fondly as she read the title of her old favourite.

Advanced Studies in the Thuamatic Relationship of the Principles of the First Law of Starswirl as it Pertains to Modern Near-magical Science of Alchemy, Base Chemistry, the Arcane, and the Definitions Thereof

or

Astrapoflsmacadt, Volume II

By Spell Weave

Truly riveting stuff.

It had been a long week. Tartarus, it had been a long month. She deserved this. So there she sat, in a room that was a near perfect replica of the first floor of her old treehouse, the Golden Oaks Library. She opened the book, flipping the pages to get to one of the colourful bookmarks to pick up where she had left off. It was an oldie but a goodie, one her favourite books of all time. She had read it cover to cover more times than she could remember, and knew it by rote. But somehow, reading it again helped clear her head and more than once helped her work through a conundrum or problem she'd been struggling with. The castle was great – the past six years living in it had helped it feel more like a home than she ever thought it could become. She had a lot of happy memories here. She still, however, longed for her old home, still missed the warm feeling of simply being surrounded by wood and the smell of books. It was comforting, familiar, relaxing.

She needed the break, especially after keeping the human as a side project for the last number of months with which she had made no headway regarding that one obscure reference to his species from that old mare's tale from the north. If only she had had a few more hours, she could have gotten so much more. She had so many questions, enough to fill several papers. A unique perspective of a brand new species from the other side of the world from a living member! Well, no longer living. She had received the news early when Celestia sent her a letter and... she wasn't exactly sure how to take it. Sad, of course – she'd be sad at the death of anypony. Who wouldn't? She opted to instead focus on the frustration of having to leave a project unfinished, and mutter and complain about 'wasted' time to throw off the others' suspicions as to why she was so off put by the news. The honest truth was that she needed to clear her head and relax, from that concern and many others, which was why she was here right now.

She did this as often as she could. It was her little haven when the pressures of her new role as princess and the stress of life wore her down. When she needed a break from her studies, or at least, when Spike yelled at her that she needed a break, she was practically dragged there and locked out of her own study rooms. It was ridiculous! She was a princess! She should be allowed to study and research whenever she wanted! But it always ended the same. She'd have a cup of coffee, read an old favourite by the fireside, relax, and then thank Spike for badgering her into taking a little time for herself. Her smile fell slightly when the thought hit her. 'Spike,' she thought sadly.

Closing the book and putting it aside, she went to check on him. She cantered through the halls, her hoofsteps echoing loudly in the empty space, climbing a set of stairs to get to the young drake's room. It was about time he had a room of his own, especially now that they had actually managed to get his growth under control.

"Spike?" she asked, knocking on the door gently. She was greeted by a cough, and her ear flicked twice as she frowned. "You alright?"

"Yeah, hang on a second, Twilight!" he said as she heard the tell-tale pitter patter of scaled feet as the dragon hurried to open the door. "What’s up?" he asked. She took a moment to look him over before smiling.

"Just wanted to check up on you. You feeling alright?" she asked. He rolled his eyes.

"Twilight, I'm fine, really. It’s just a cough." She glanced over his shoulder, a difficult thing to do now that he was as tall as she was. Sure enough, there were several more scorch marks about the room. She glanced back at him, worry evident in her features.

"You've... had it for quite a while now. Are you sure I—" Spike held up a claw.

"Look, Twi, I appreciate it. You know I do, but I uh, heh, don't think going to the dragon lands will help," he said, scratching his cheek and looking away.

"Please, Spike," Twilight said, placing a hoof on his shoulder. "I know you don't want me to worry but... I can't help it! I've done everything I could, but I can't figure it out. Please, won't you at least reconsider?" He placed his claw on her hoof and gently slid it off his shoulder before rubbing the back of his neck.

"I don't... I don't want anything to do with other dragons anymore. You know this."

"But you wouldn't have to stay! Just... We can go ask them for help! Dragons are notoriously secretive; they'd know what's wrong with you."

"Nothing's wrong with me!" Spike said defensively. He hacked a little, his green flames, taking on a more sickly acidic tinge, escaped his mouth in tiny bursts with each cough. "It’s probably just a part of growing up, like my insides probably readjusting or something," Spike said, not sounding terribly convinced himself. Twilight had a pitiable expression on her face.

"Spike..."

"It’s late, Twilight, I'll be fine. I'll see you in the morning," he said as he closed the door. Twilight just stood there, debating whether to knock again and demand he talk to her about it before just shaking her head and moving on. A part of her hoped he was right. They had figured out that they could reasonably control Spike's growth by giving him a horde, bit by bit, so they could avoid a repeat of that one birthday of his years ago while not preventing his natural growth. In truth, it had worked! Spike had been growing, and he was quite happy about it too, no longer being referred to as a 'baby' dragon.

It had, however, been followed by that cough. At first it was thought to be just a winter chill... one that took months to pass. It had been with him for three years now and showed no signs of going away. He also seemed to grow more lethargic, more tired. Not his usual laziness either – he seemed to have barely the energy to leave his room most days. It really was becoming worrying. Twilight, being Twilight, had taken it upon herself to try to research some way of getting help to him when it became obvious that no doctors in Equestria could really identify what was wrong with him, only to run into a brick wall.

No means of magically determining what was wrong with him had seemed to work, and none of her books or references specifically dealt with dragons or their health, dragons being a notoriously secretive species on the whole. It hadn’t been the first time she had tried to convince him about going to the dragon lands to seek help. It also hadn’t been the first time she had considered going behind his back to do so either. Going to the dragon lands had its own complications, however. If he was going to go there, he would have to go alone, and given how he had been treated by his fellows during the dragon migration years back...

She settled down in her room once more, pulling the book towards her and trying to find her place. More than once she had to reread the same page in order for it to sink in, such was the state of her mind with worry. She had to put it down as she let out a breath, turning to look up at the ceiling at the approximate direction of Spike's room, thinking.

--=--

Birds squawked and took flight. Things that crawled and slithered upon the earth fled the water's edge as something truly immense broke the surface of the lake, giving off a deep rumbling from its cavernous throat. The immense sload strode out of the water, its six webbed feet crushing reeds and stones under its weight as the amphibian pulled itself ashore. Its great toad-like head turned this way and that, sideways closing eyelids winking over its four eyes as it let out another mournful cry from its great maw as its neck opened to allow two immense sacs to expand and contract, exacerbating its great call of domination over all it surveyed.

The creatures of the swamp cowered in fear in their dens, hiding from its sight in the dark of the shade in futile hope its piercing gaze would not find them, burrowing into the earth in shallow tunnels where he could not reach unless he put one of its incredibly dexterous claws to the task of digging, flying in the air in the belief that they would be out of the reach of its incredible tongue which could snatch them from the air like its lesser cousins would catch flies. Yes, they had much to fear, for the sload only emerged from its watery home to feed or to die.

The great beast stumbled, letting out a pathetic sounding, pitiable ribbit before falling sideways with a thunderous boom, sending shockwaves out on the water. The swamp was silent for a time, as if holding its collective breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it never came. The sload was apparently no more, but what could kill such a beast? Some great and terrible pox? Was it slain? Defeated in mortal combat below the waters in the murky depths where none dare tread? Perhaps, just perhaps, it was simply the creature's time to leave this mortal coil.

Because honestly, anything would be more dignified than death by indigestion.

A small bulge appeared on the sload's midsection before retracting and appearing several more times. Eventually, the sword cut through its thick hide, thrusting through the skin, keeping its momentum and swiping down, cutting diagonally through the monster's belly as both the pony the sword belonged to and the human practically fell out of the creature's stomach onto the ground along with the contents of said gastric system.

Handy gasped for air, greedily taking oxygen into his lungs as he began wiping off the slime, blood, and stomach contents from his chainmail, trying very hard not to think about what he was covered in. Jacques' cloak was ruined, but the swordspony didn't seem to be concerned with that, hunched over, retching, coughing and sputtering as he was. "That was... certainly something." Handy breathed in as much as he dared.

"Something!? Je vais vous montrer quelque chose, vous inculte, singe œillères! We got swallowed whole by that crapaud géant putain!" Jacques shouted, gesticulating wildly with his sword strapped to a forehoof. "I should never have agreed to help you fish!"

"Well, I'm sorry if I can't just lower my head to the ground and eat grass like the rest of you!" Handy shot back, getting unsteadily to his feet. "Some of us actually need meat in our diets."

"Ohh..." Jacques brought a hoof to his barrel. Handy did not notice as he continued ranting.

"See this hammer here? Yeah, good fucking luck hunting with that, and not one of thou knowst how to make a trap, and even if thou didst, the closest thing I have to a skinning knife is this useless little sliver of metal here!" he said, drawing his dagger. "Sure would be fun times back at camp if I went to town on a carcass with this little thing, hmm?"

"Pease... pitié..."Jacques groaned. His stomach could be heard churning as he stuck a hoof to his mouth.

"And how was I supposed to know there would have been a super frog waiting by the water's edge to swallow us up! Now I don't even want any food! Seeing the inside of a stomach, gugh, I think my mouth was open and everything when we—" It couldn't be held back any longer, the memory of the inside of the stomach finally doing the trick and caused the stallion to spill his guts out all over the human's legs. Handy just stood there in shock and disgust.

As Jacques finished up, the pony walked off miserably, knees shaking. Handy just looked down at his feet. "Great," he said, now covered in even more stomach contents, the smell of bile threatening to conspire together with his own nusea and cause him to vacate his stomach as well. He turned away, hands on his sides as he sighed heavily. Looked like neither of them would be having dinner today. "Just great."

--=--

It had been a few days since they had arrived in the forest, and food was becoming a problem. Whirlwind was a Godsend when it came to finding berries and safe plants to eat, as grass, apparently, was tasty but not that filling. Handy had to take their word for it, having taken to eating the occasional fish they actually managed to snag. He was surprised to learn that it was not that they could not eat meat, but that they did not. Jacques, took particular offence to the idea, claiming he was neither Henosian nor Concordian and that a civilized pony never ate meat. Which seemed to imply the ponies of those lands ate meat at least semi-regularly. All very interesting, but it didn't change the fact that food was still hard to come by right now.

However, by day three of wandering around, it became clear that there was another problem in their midst that simply could not be ignored any longer. A veritable elephant in the room as it were. Tell me, dear reader, when you imagine an alien world full of brightly coloured talking equines, how do you imagine it smelled? Apart from the obvious scent of an entire town of a certain species being immediately and noticeably different than, say, what an entire human town smelled like. You wouldn't notice the difference until you experienced it yourself. A human is a human after all, and on an intrinsic level, we all know what humans as a species smell like, so we don't really pick up on it.

It was a very different story in this world, and Handy was very aware of what a pony smell was and what a griffon smell at the base level was. It was just something you notice when you live in a multi-species environment. Ironically enough, ponies did not, in fact smell like horses, a revelation he’s been trying to wrap his head around since his days in Spurbay, but wasn’t quite so curious as to ask questions about it.

Even so, these people were civilized and washed regularly, probably more so than humans would. Handy knew griffons placed a high value on personal hygiene and presentation. So the base smell was often heavily covered up by any number of pleasant scents, with the exception of villages where indoor plumbing and body wash lotions were a luxury, or poorer parts of cities where you were most likely to find people who simply didn't give enough of a shit for regular washing. Now, since the festival started, it had been simply impossible for the majority of people present to bathe even once, and for participants in the tourney, who had to wear armour and fight as if their lives depended upon it, the situation had been markedly worse. They had to deal with it because, hey! It was a festival! It was going to smell rank – so put up with it or go home like the lonely loser you were.

Now, everyone involved here was currently covered in mud, dust, dried in blood, soot and dirt. In the case of 'Crimson', it was a wet, purple flower pollen from a particularly explosive plant she had strayed too close to. In the case of Handy and Jacques, they also happened to be covered in swamp water and the indescribable foul remnants of the sload stomach.

Basically, they all fucking stank, and it was getting on everyone's tits. Something had to be done.

"It's green," Crimson noted as the three of them stood at the gently flowing river's edge. Jacques, Handy, and herself were staring warily into the, frankly, bright emerald green water as it passed them by. Jacques flicked an ear.

"Monsieur, are you sure it's safe?" he asked, looking up at the human. Handy reached down, grabbed a branch, and stuck it in the water. When he didn't immediately hear the hiss of it dissolving in the water, he opted to hold it there for a few seconds longer before pulling it out. Just in case.

Nope.

The branch wasn't dissolved. Even still had that one green leaf at the end. Wet but completely none the worse for wear.

"Well, it isn't acidic," he concluded. "Maybe."

"Yeah but is it safe to... y'know, drink?" Crimson asked. They all turned back to the water and were silent for a moment.

"Mon cher, you are welcome to be the first to try," Jacques said. Crimson glared at him and smacked him on the withers with her tail. He just chuckled in response.

"I don't see why we can't just go to that lake you two found," she said.

"Because it was a swamp. I very much doubt thou wouldst find it pleasant to bathe in swamp water."

"Also a giant frog monster is likely to swallow you alive," Jacques said idly, inspecting a hoof. "As it did us." Handy looked over at him.

"I thought we had agreed never again to speak of that singular horror."

"Hmhm, you agreed, monsieur. I threw up," Jacques shot back. Crimson blinked. Handy was about to reply when a splash and very loud gulping drew their attention to further up the river. Whirlwind was head first in the water, drinking like a fish. He withdrew his antlered head with a pleased sound and waved over to the motley band that had been following him around for the better part of a week.

"Hey guys! Water's great!" he shouted. The three just stared disbelievingly at him for a moment.

'Sure,' Handy thought, 'Just dump your head in the bright green water that may or may not be something absolutely deadly and horrible. Why the fuck not?' It was not that he had never seen green water before. Common sense and a very basic inquisitive sense of adventure would educate someone right quick that seeing green bodies of water was quite common, usually because algae or perhaps because of what lined the bed of most rivers made it appear green. This was different – it was literally bright green water, so green that had it been night, Handy would probably be willing to bet money that it would glow in the dark.

When it became clear the deer wasn't going to die or have his face melt off, they decided the river would do for now, drinking their fill before taking turns washing up. Handy volunteered to go last so nobody would have a reason to approach the river while he was in it. Camp wasn't too far away, as none of them were particularly keen on wandering too far away from Whirlwind and whatever it was he was doing to protect them from the forest's predations. As a result, they each took their sweet, sweet time. Crimson alone took two hours as they waited for her to return. Handy didn't know much about how changeling magic worked, but for all intents and purposes, that fur coat of hers was real. Therefore, so too were the realities of it clumping together and matting. Whatever that pollen was certainly had caused that to happen.

It was approaching evening when it was his turn. While he wasted no time leaving the group to their discussions and headed towards the river, he actually hesitated before actually going into it. It was not as if he had never swam in rivers before – he had an awesome childhood like that. Hell, it was not that he had not bathed out in the middle of nowhere before, having fond memories of that spring he found out in the Badlands. It was just this forest.

Looking around, the forest was alive with sound: the low buzz of insects, the drone of distant animal calls, the rustle of tree branches and the crack of twigs underfoot, the birdsong that filled the air with music. A difference of ambience so stark it was almost frightening in and of itself. The idea of stripping to his skivvies, leaving his armour aside and wilfully wading into a river in a place like this made him more than a little nervous. Which was understandable, for God only knew what could pop out of the woods at any moment after all... or the river itself for that matter.

Once he had worked up the nerve and decided to take his war hammer into the water for good measure, he sucked it up and got to work removing his armour. Have you ever worn armour? Most of you probably haven't in any context, but needless to say it was a laborious process getting it on and off. There was a practical reason, after all, knights had servants do it for them, as it made it so much easier and faster. Not that Handy wasn't practiced in getting his own gear on and off or anything. While he was generally of the opinion that having servants was the tits, he did not care for the idea of people getting into his personal space like that, so he got used to armouring himself. This didn't make him any faster at it, so it took him nearly a full half hour to get it all off, the rents and tears in his cuirass making things difficult.

With that done, next came his clothes and undergarments, which he was significantly more circumspect in removing. Also, he noticed, the water was fucking cold. Leaning over the water's edge, he grimaced. He was actively contemplating the possibility of just saying fuck it and deal with being filthy until he got back to civilization... until the expensive brick decided to give him a little push. At the highest possible volume and then some. Startled, Handy jumped, tried and failed to regain his balance and promptly fell bodily into the freezing cold water. Spluttering curses as he broke the water again, he glared incredulously at his carrying bag and pouches on his pile of armour where the brick was stored.

When Handy was done swearing bloody revenge on the inanimate object, he pulled himself from the water. Well, nothing for it now. He was already wet; might as well finish the job. He gathered his gear and went further up river, looking for anywhere that would give him some additional privacy. He found a hill on the inside of a bend in the river, creating an overhang of earth above the water. He smiled. 'That'll do for now. No one will be able to spot me without coming into my line of sight from there.' And with that decided, it was all business.

Slowly, methodically, he began cleaning, starting first with his clothes, using smooth stones to help rub the worst of the filth off using the water while minimising fraying before allowing them to dry on low hanging branches of a nearby, much smaller tree. Next came his armour, plate by plate, link by link in his chainmail, using the remaining rags from the tournament arena to get the grime off of it. It was a long process as he began airing out and washing the inner padding of the armour, which itself was also in need of repair as much as the steel exterior. It felt good, peaceful even, and his mind wandered as he worked.

It was some time later that he realised he was staring at his own reflection in the river. Despite the constantly disturbed water, he could see himself clearly.

He looked filthy.

His face seemed different, thinner than it had once been perhaps, a testament to weight loss less from dedication and more from a shock to his system and general stress since coming to this world. His grey-blue eyes had deep, dark rings about them, as if he had not slept in a week. And truly sleep had not come easy most nights. His hair was slightly overgrown and in need of attention, matted and dirtied as it was, his brown goatee and moustache marred by a growing stubble, making his face seem all the dirtier. He looked haunted, honestly.

He splashed his face a number of times, letting the repeated shock of cold water waken his senses as he washed his face. It helped, but it didn't make the man staring back at him any less of a stranger. He shook his head, looking for anything else to distract him but finding nothing but the forest itself, the river sparkling gloriously as unfiltered sunlight hit it from a gap in the canopy above. The river was just wide enough to separate the immense trees on either side, creating a thin sliver of blue sky that followed the path of the water, creating the illusion of a river above to match the one below.

Pulling himself out and drying himself off – not the easiest thing to do when all you have were soaked, dirtied rags you had used to wash other things with – he pulled on his now dried clothes and just... sat for a while, sitting back against a large rock, hammer resting across his knees, watching the river pass him by. Though he shifted, uncomfortable from being without his armour, it was nice being unburdened for once. His head still raged with a million thoughts, a storm of emotion and concerns that failed to let up, a thousand problems and not nearly enough solutions for them all. But... sitting there, letting it play out as he watched the world go by... it was nice. It helped.

It didn't make it go away, not any of it. It did, however, let him get his head straightened, if only a little bit. He leaned forward, his forehead resting upon steepled fingers, his right leg bouncing in agitation as he fidgeted. He let out a shuddering breath. 'One thing at a time,' he thought to himself. 'Deal with it one at a time. First things first. Joachim's alive, right?'

That he was reasonably sure of. The servant of the Mistress seemed to have gone out of his way to avoid fighting the guards. That cloud on the ground nonsense was evidence of that, and he had been focused on him, 'Crimson', and the crown for some God forsaken reason. Joachim had to be low on his priorities. More to the point, that dragon, Ferix, was... he was no longer a threat. So he could be reasonably sure his friend was safe. The other knights he couldn't be sure about, but they could handle themselves.

'Crimson is safe. The real Crimson,' he continued. 'If the geas works both ways, then Crimson should be free by now, unharmed. I don't imagine Chrysalis likes the idea of becoming a slave any more than I do,' he reassured himself, his breathing evening out. He needed that unicorn, his only sure-fire way home and his only source of knowledge of what he was up against when it came to the Mistress, which he needed now more than ever before. God only knew what the mare would do with her freedom, knowing she was kidnapped and replaced by a changeling, but he couldn't worry about imponderables now. He looked at his hands. 'I'm alive. That's always a good start,' he thought happily. That was when his thoughts began drifting to pondering what he was dreading. He wouldn't be alive right now if it hadn't been for the one thing that he now hated most about himself, which brought his thoughts back to that damned mare. "Stellar. Eclipse," he hissed, clenching his hands into fists. "Sorry?" he laughed. "She said she was sorry about what she did to me?" he said, hitting his knee, seething anger pumping through him at the thought.

The audacity that she could think, to even think, that this was something she could just apologize for. That she could be forgiven! He wasn't about to forgive himself for what he did, let alone her. The fact that offering her blood saved his life didn't even enter into it. She was just returning the favour of what he did for her on the train, and to save her own hide too, end of discussion. He fumed on that for a while. It felt good to be angry again, focusing on something tangible, material, not whatever nonsense this forest had been throwing at him. He'd get his own back on her, some day. He refused to be cheated by the circumstances they had found themselves in. It wouldn't cure him, it wouldn't undo the hurt and the horror, it probably wouldn't even help him feel any better, but it would at least mean he did something about it, however small.

That... would have to do for now. He had other concerns to put ahead of revenge. The Mistress had come after him. More specifically, she had come after Crimson and the 'crown' that Fancy Pants had hired him to courier. That damn, little bundle of magical silver chains; he should've dumped it on Jacques the second he said he was Whirlwind's friend. Hell, he should've thrown it out of the airlock of his airship over wilderness. Now, however, finding it safely secured in Crimson's saddlebags despite them being damaged, he quickly moved it to his own bag, keeping it nice and close to him. Whatever it was, it was important enough for the Mistress to desire it. It belonged to the deer, given he was supposed to deliver it to them. Meaning, potentially, it was his bargaining chip if worst came to worst and he wanted that to hand in case it was needed.

Chrysalis' little schemes proved to be a blessing in disguise, putting Crimson well out of the Mistress' reach and replacing her with a body double, even it did end up putting Handy under a geas in order to secure her release. That, however, coupled with something Thorax had said, gave him an idea. He couldn't really afford to go back to Gethrenia, not right now, not when the Mistress was willing to risk so many lives for what was only a small gain. 'Unless that wizard was just incompetent,' Handy mused. Still, returning to Skymount without some sort of reprisal on the Mistress' followers just endangered his kingdom and his friends. He had to keep moving. This, however, moved him farther and farther away from his support base, his money, his lands, his ship, his supplies... everything.

Which brought him to a conclusion: Chrysalis needed him. More than he needed her. While, according to the geas, he had to do his damnedest to find what Chrysalis sought to liberate from the Mistress' possession, this only meant the Queen had a vested interest in seeing him succeed, giving him access to another support network entirely, one where, if he played his cards right, he could cut off cold turkey and go straight back to Griffonia as soon as it was convenient. Not beholden to the changelings. Information, secrets, access... all he'd need to do was make it look like he was giving in begrudgingly, let them think they had him, let them think they could use him. And he could start with Thorax. The little fae wanted in? Fine, he'd let her in. Let her think she had her hooves in him, and between her and the Queen, he could have the changelings do exactly what he wanted in order to get where he wanted, using what he learned about them to hold them hostage should they dare threaten him or his own again.

One sticking point of his plan is getting out of the stipulation that he has to show up to Chrysalis, in person, to hand over whatever magical whatchamacallit he had been tasked to fetch. That meant the queen probably had a contingency in place just in case Handy thought of doing what he was thinking right now. Ah well. Cross that bridge when he came to it, he supposed. Right now, however, his main focus was getting out of this forest.

Preferably alive.

--=--

"So we're not exiting forest!?" Jacques said incredulously.

"Oh, we are!" Whirlwind nodded excitedly

"By going deeper into it!?" Crimson said, her tone matching Jacques, with an unamused facial expression thrown in for good measure.

"Yes!" the stag smiled widely.

"Tell me again how going deeper gets us out faster," Handy said, trying, and failing, to rub his temples through his helmet.

"We don't die that way!" Whirlwind chirped. The remaining three participants in the conversation were quiet for a long, judging moment.

"I'm sorry, but what?" Handy said at last.

"Ok well, you know how I'm a deer right?"

"Right," the remainder said collectively.

"And this is the Greenwoods, right?"

"Right."

"And we're kinda sorta famous for making sure outsiders, y'know, stay outside?"

"Go on, mon ami," Jacques said. Whirlwind held out his hooves, indicating the three of them, and smiled nervously. Handy blinked.

"You mean the other deer will kill us?" he asked

"No!" Whirlwind said hurriedly. "No no! Haha, nonononono, noooo, that'd be ridiculous!" he said with what was meant to be a reassuring smile. It slowly wilted under their collective gaze. "...Maybe a little."

"A little!?" Crimson shouted.

"Look! Outsiders aren't supposed to be in this deep anyway! It’s dangerous to the tribes! And the forest being the way it is these days, I kinda want to get us somewhere safe before it stops listening to me..."

"What do you mean before it stops listening to you?"

"Nothing!" Whirlwind said hurriedly. "Nothing, just trust me on this!"

"Hold on," Handy said, holding up a mailed palm. "If we're in danger because we're so far deep, how is going deeper going to make us safer... and thus more likely to get out?"

"Well y'see!" Whirlwind said happily. "If we just head straight out, we're likely to run into other deer. That'd be bad."

"Whereas if we go deeper..." Jacques waved his hoof around.

"We'll still run into more deer!" Whirlwind smiled while the rest scowled "Only they'll be my tribe. My grandfather's the elder, so I can vouch for you!"

"Oh sure, that'll go well; let the crazy stag vouch for us!" Crimson snarked

"Cher, Whirlwind may be a bit... eccentric, but there is no reason to be going around throwing insults now, qui?"

"So far his idea of getting us out of here involves running into one tribe or another. That's not worthy of being called at least a little crazy?" she shot back.

"Ok, yeah, I will need a bit more convincing than that," Handy said, looking at the deer.

"Well, if we go there we can get water canisters and supplies. We kinda need those if we're gonna trek to the edge of the forest."

"Not buying it," the human said.

"Warm food?" Whirlwind said, looking at Crimson hopefully.

"Not good enough," she said. Whirlwind frowned, furrowing his brow and thinking, before glancing over at his bodyguard.

"Pretty girls?" he said, smiling at Jacques who shrugged.

"Eh, tempting." he said tapping his chin, "But then, there's beautiful mares everywhere, no?" Whirlwind sighed in defeat, looking down at the ground.

"Soft beds?" he said dejectedly. Handy shot up immediately.

"Sold!" he shouted, startling the two ponies present. "Let’s go," he said, getting up.

"Wait what!? Han— I mean, sir!" Crimson shouted as she jotted after the human. Whirlwind looked ecstatic and smiled triumphantly at Jacques, who let out an exasperated sigh.

"So... Does you say?" he asked as the other two went out of earshot.

"Are you mad?" she hissed at the human. "You heard him! The deer are likely to kill us!" Handy suppressed a smile at having the changeling follow him away from the others. All without suspicion too. Time to go to work.

"You been through the same forest I have?" Handy shot back, turning around. "This entire place is liable to kill us. And antlers over there let slip he's not exactly fully in control of whatever the hell is keeping this forest from going Stephen King on our asses."

"Who? What?" Thorax said.

"Never mind. Look, you want to know what I saw, the other day?" Handy said, losing his patience with the mare. Thorax was about to answer but he powered on. "Death. I saw a death carriage coming right for me. I don't know how, I don't know why. I am not even sure I still want to find out, but if it hadn't been for deer boy over there, I wouldn't be here anymore. This forest nearly killed me, Thorax," he said. "If you don't play ball, it'll kill you just as easy. And right now, that guy?" He nodded his head at Whirlwind, who was packing up camp with Jacques. "He's our way out."

Thorax looked at him like he had grown a second head. "A what carriage?"

"A death ca— You know what? Don't worry about it, because if we stick with Whirl, you'll never have to find out," he said. Thorax glanced back behind her, her ear twitching in irritation.

"I need the pendant," she said at last.

"And what exactly are you going to be telling the Queen?" Handy demanded. She turned back and glared at him.

"Explaining how we may or may not make it out of this forest alive. More precisely why."

"Oh good idea," Handy said, crossing his arms, "and what exactly do you think she'll be able to do about that?"

"It is not my place to know that," Thorax said, "I'm just reporting the change in our circumstances."

"Then that report can wait, because depending on how our meeting with Whirlwind's people go, I have a feeling our circumstances will continue to change drastically."

"All the more reason to keep her up to date!" Thorax hissed. "I haven't told her anything in nearly four days now."

"She can wait," Handy said. Thorax clenched her jaw.

"We made a deal, human. It was made under the assumption you would let me at least talk to her."

"And that I'd control when you would," Handy said. "I remember very well, Thorax."

"And when, pray tell," she said very carefully, "will I be able to do that?" Handy crouched so that they were at least eye level.

"When I can be sure those two won't be anywhere nearby," he said, "And certainly not if we're going to be running into more deer." He pointed to her. "I am not about to lose their trust because my 'servant' is acting weird and talking to a glowing pendant. That's one line of inquiry I'd rather avoid."

"So? I'm a unicorn mage after all. Ponies like me do weird things all the time."

"And they're a magically apt unicorn swordspony with an enchanted sword and a stag capable of telling an ensorcelled forest to shut up and sit down in a given area." Handy deadpanned. "I think they'd be able to tell something was up." Thorax held her gaze with the human. Her ear twitched once, then again before turning around, looking back at the other pair through the obscuring bushes.

She sighed.

"Right," she said at last. Before Handy could stand back up, her hoof shot up and pressed down on his shoulder. "But," she continued despite Handy automatically shoving her hoof off of him, "you need to hold up your end of the deal. Tell me what’s going on. What the Tartarus it was that you really saw?" she demanded. Handy made a show of thinking about it, looking down at the ground.

"...Alright," he said after a moment. "When we get the time, I'll tell you."

"Everything?"

"Most things," he said. She studied his helmeted face for a moment before breaking out into a light smile.

"Good. Well, glad we can trust each other enough to at least get that out of the way!" Handy nodded once, muttering noncommittally. She got up and walked on. "In that case then, let’s go ahead and follow this mad deer." She stopped, her smile turning to a frown. "Uh..." Handy looked back. Whirlwind was promptly walking down a completely different direction. Jacques, meanwhile, seemed to be looking for them.

"It appears our departure from the camp was a little premature," he said, not bothering to resist the smirk as he turned to look back at Thorax who, confident in her triumph, strode off where Handy had been heading half-cocked without really any clue where she was going. She rounded on him, face flushed with embarrassment. 'You know, changelings can control their emotions, right? I imagine they could. So is that genuine embarrassment or is she putting in the extra effort for the show of it?' he thought. She blinked and shook her head.

"Hmph," she hmphed, trotting past him and going out to meet Jacques. "You, are we going?"

"Ah, cher, we're just leaving. Whirlwind's leading the way," he said, smiling at her before turning to look at the human as he emerged from behind the trees. He cocked his eyebrow. Crimson walked after the stag without another word. "Sooo... Problems?" Jacques asked, giving Handy a curious glance.

"Just putting some concerns to rest, I assure you," Handy said.

"Je parie..." Jacques said with a light smirk. "And did you?"

"We came to an understanding," Handy said. Jacques chuckled at that as he followed after the others. Handy did likewise, though his smile disappeared as he began thinking. He said he would tell Thorax most of what was going on, letting her into his trust enough that she could be useful to him before letting her have a chat with Chryssi dearest. He had absolutely no intention of telling anything close to the truth of course.

She didn't need to know that, however.

--=--

"Oh for fuck's sake..." Handy cursed under his breath, hands in the air as his hammer was lifted from the belt loop where it was held and his dagger was taken from him. And his bag. And his helmet because of the bladed wings on the sides. When he was asked if he had any other weapons, allowing a small amount of spite to win over his better judgement, he had merely flashed them a bright, healthy smile.

That won him no friends but it at least made the nearest deer, little more than a young buck, back off a few steps. The others were having similar 'fun' times being systematically disarmed. Jacques had to be physically held to the ground before he was parted from his sword, cursing like a ship full of drunken Finnish sailors on an extended fishing trip to the Baltic Sea after crashing into a Russian trawler. Which was to say he did so loudly, crudely, and with vigorous enthusiasm borne of deep seated cynicism that was, frankly, shocking to witness. Handy was tempted to make a joke at his expense about being too attached to one's weapons... if he didn't feel just as naked and furious from being separated from his hammer.

Crimson had it easiest... except that she had to have some weird, black leaf wrapped around her horn that prevented her from using her magic to so much as make a pleasant night light. For a brief, terrifying moment, Handy thought her disguise would flicker and fail. Thankfully, it didn't, meaning that at least as far as their disguises were concerned, their magic didn't rely entirely on their horns.

You can imagine how well this went down. What’s that? You think they were jumped? That these armed and dangerous deer were waiting in the shadows of the trees, carefully analysing the approach of the party to their homes and then, with ruthless military precision and efficiency, ambushed them and had them so surrounded and thoroughly defeated they could disarm them on the spot?

Why yes, that would be the sensible assumption wouldn't it? Certainly more reasonable than Whirlwind and company blundering through the bushes and stumbling upon the ten deer as they were playing cards, catching them, almost literally, with their pants down. Which of course was exactly what happened.

What followed was everyone in the clearing looking at each other like, and the stupidity of it all was not lost on Handy, deer caught in headlights before Whirlwind broke the silence. Introducing himself and explaining who the rest of them were. The deer captain greeted them warmly. Turned out he was a cousin, Brittlebark. The two hugged before locking antlers in what was, Handy later found out, a complicated form of 'handshaking' among deer and not the aggressive behaviour he knew deer back home made of it. Then again, the deer back home were mere animals; these were sapient beings capable of interpretation.

The two continued to exchange excited pleasantries. The other deer were smiling and generally being friendly and amicable. Handy wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. Sure, he had dealt with lackadaisical guards before. Sure, he had given Joachim the third degree over his own troops failing to act in a situation where they should have. But hot damn, this was some shit. It was just as he was thinking those scathing thoughts about the quality of the deer soldiers that the captain, still with the smile on his face, gave the order.

In less than a blink of the eye, he and the others were surrounded by eight sets of antlers, each spike tipped with a long, sharp, serrated blade. It was practically a steel coat coming to a point, turning each spike into an individual spear. Given that on average they had ten forward pointing spikes to a single antler, that equated to them being surrounded by in and around, oh, one hundred and sixty spear tips. Math is a motherfucker, really. The remaining two deer guards, a pair of doe if he guessed right, both with two little stubs on their heads where the antlers would grow on a stag, stood at the ready behind the captain. Their stubs seemed to burst into ethereal, white flames and their eyes shone a bright, golden glow.

I mean, faced with that, you'd probably give up your weapons too.

"H-Hey, Brittle!" Whirlwind said, seated on his haunches as the two deer warlocks wrapped similar black leaves around the base of his antlers. They seemed to... lose a vitality to them that Handy almost didn't notice until it was gone. "Buddy, come on, we're cousins!"

"Hehe, yeah we are!" Brittlebark said enthusiastically, his fur a noticeably darker hue of brown than Whirlwind's, his eyes a bright blue and his antlers had similar, swirling carvings. He had a blue, woad marking coming from the scruff of his chest under his armour, snaking up his neck over his left cheek, and encompassing the entirety of the area around his left eye. Like the other guards, he wore a dark, almost black, barding with silver trim along the edges of individual plates. Intricate, flowing, blue script traced the edges of the plates where they met the trim.

"So you know..."

"Yeah?"

"Seeing as we know each other so well..."

"Yeah!"

"And you KNOW I wouldn't do anything if I thought it'd endanger the tribe."

"Oh, of course, you're not an irresponsible deer!"

"And I told you these guys are only here long enough so we can get supplies so I can lead them out, right?"

"Yeah, you did!"

"And you're my best cousin, right?"

"Yeah!

"So you could totally let us go if you wanted right?"

"Yeah!"

"And you'd do anything for family?"

"YEAH!"

"So how's about you don't arrest us and let me go talk to gramps and sort all this out!?" Whirlwind asked. Progressively the two drew nearer over the back and forth, they were cheek to cheek as Whirlwind drew him into a one-legged hug, both of them wide-eyed with the biggest, stupidest smiles on their faces as if talking to each other was the most exciting fucking shit ever.

'Dear God, there's more than one of him,' Handy thought.

"No!" Brittlebark replied, still smiling brightly.

"Oh..." Whirlwind's face fell. "Dang."

"Yep, sorry, but you're all under arrest, chieftain's orders for trespassers," Brittlebark said, having the decency to smile apologetically as he shrugged his shoulders. Now see, that always bothered Handy. Ponies, griffons, and now deer, he'd seen them all shrug like that and it just seemed weird. Granted, no weirder than how they could move their limbs in directions they logically had no business bending or stretching to and do so with no discomfort. Or how he saw ponies and griffons alike sitting on chairs. Like on their asses, not even on their haunches, letting their legs hang over the edge of their seats without discomfort. Alongside how griffons had teeth in their beaks and said beaks were quite malleable despite being hard, or the worrying implications of what he had learned was called a hippogriff he saw back in Ifrendare. It looked like he now had to throw out assumptions about basic skeletal structure of the various races of this world and start from scratch. One surprise after another, it seemed.

"I was under the impression that thine tribe's leader was Sir Whirlwind's grandfather," Handy said. Brittlebark blinked up at the tall human in surprise before giving Whirlwind a level look and tutting.

"What have you been telling the outsiders, cousin?"

"Nothing!" Whirlwind said, holding up his hooves and smiling nervously. There was a clack and the sound of jangling metal, and Whirlwind looked down at his hooves to see shackles, a dumbfounded expression across his face. The does moved to each of them in turn, magically levitating the restraints and putting them in place. They had fun trying to lift Handy's arms up to shackle them though, for only his left hand could be gripped with magic. He only co-operated and allowed them to put the shackles on after a helpful poke to the side with a bladed antler to remind him that his position was currently non-negotiable.

Whirlwind kept protesting and yapping off to his cousin and the guards, who for their part, were only too happy to trade banter with equal joyfulness and enthusiasm as they escorted the lot of them through the forest. All of them. Handy got the worrying impression that, far from being an outlier, Whirlwind was probably a typical example of what deer were like. And they were going to be held captive in a city full of them. Joy. The woods got progressively warmer as they went, and Handy noticed the unusual prominence of fireflies as they travelled. Or at least he thought they were fireflies – it was still the middle of the day.

"Hey, you!" he turned to look down at the voice. It was one of the doe guards. Like their males, female deer were slightly taller and lither in build than ponies, but judging by how surprisingly sturdy Whirlwind turned out to be, that should not be mistaken for fragility. Their ears were all the more prominent on their heads for their lack of antlers, giving them a disquieting impression of baldness. He assumed that was so at least. The two doe here certainly had no manes, although both did possess odd colouration along their scalps and the back of their heads that did not match their fur colour. Their muzzles were slightly shorter and more gently curved, actually that description could be applied to their whole bodies but it was hard to tell through the barding. What caught his attention, though, were the stubs of bone protruding from their heads where antlers would grow on a stag. His proximity allowed him to notice impossibly intricate indentions in the bone taking the form of swirling patterns and designs. Like the ones on Whirlwinds antlers but more densely compacted.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" Handy said, making no attempt to disguise his irritation with the guard. She smiled happily up at him as if she weren't an arresting officer.

"Why do you glow like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like that!" she said, pointing a hoof at his right shoulder. Looking around, he blinked and hissed as he stared straight a blinding flare of light as a beam of sunlight pouring through a particularly large break in the canopy straight onto him. Meaning while he hadn't noticed it, he must have shone like a beacon.

"It’s... because magic, mostly," he said. 'Fuck explaining.'

"Oooohhh can you teach me?"

"What? No."

"Aww come on! I'm a good spellcaster! I rated top in my militia for the hartsight!"

"Pardon?"

"Hey whatcha talking about?" another voice interrupted.

"The outsider's being mean!" the doe whimpered.

"Whaaaat!? Hey, why are you being mean to Shadowfire?" the stag demanded, shooting the human a contemptuous look.

"I am doing nothing!" Handy protested.

"He won't tell me how his armour gets all shiny!" she pouted.

"Yeah, why won't you tell her how you get your armour so shiny? What polish do you use?"

"Actually he said it was magic."

"...What magic polish do you use?"

'What fresh fuckery is this!?' "It’s not polish!" Handy shouted, trying to impose order on the impromptu interrogation by his captors about how fucking shiny his armour was.

"But it’s shiny?" the stag said, screwing up his face in confusion.

"Only when the sunlight hits it!" the doe pointed out.

"Oh cool! So its sun armour?"

"It is not sun armour!"

"But it glows in the sunlight!"

"It also sparkles in the moonlight, but that doesn't make it mo—"

"Hey, maybe you can make our armour like that? It'd be pretty cool!"

"Hey I asked first!" Shadowfire protested

"I'm just asking!" the stag replied.

"Yeah well, wait your turn, Gust." she harrumphed, turning her nose to the air. Handy snapped.

"I cannot believe this!" Handy exclaimed to the snickering behind him that was doubtless the still disguised Thorax and the chortle of an amused Jacques. He shook his shackles in frustration. "Will the two of yo— thee, shut up!?"

"Why?" Gust asked.

"Why? WHY!?" Handy shouted. "You're guards! Professionals! We're under arrest! You're not supposed to be buddy buddy with us!"

"Actually I'm neither!" Gust said with a smile. "I'm actually a ranger. I was just hanging out with these guys." Handy almost, almost broke his face in. The only thing holding him back, aside from immediately being perforated by over a hundred deadly spear tips, was the forest. He didn't want to be caught on his own again, so breaking faces and making a run for it didn’t appeal to him nearly as much as it should have. He shook with contained anger and frustration. "So you should totally teach Shadowfire to be shiny. And stop being mean."

'Are you actually for real, you fucking tit!?' "Yes," Handy said through gritted teeth. "You're right. I should totally share with you my secrets of radiant faggotry." The doe gasped.

"Is that what the spell is called?" she squealed.

"Sounds cool! What does it mean?" Gust asked.

"Hey hold up, what’s all this then?" a third interjected.

"Shadowfire and Gust are getting the human to teach them the art of radiant faggotry," the second doe answered, who apparently had been eavesdropping.

"Hey! I want to learn radiant faggotry too!"

"Me too!"

"Well wait your turn," said the first doe, sticking her tongue out at the stag. "I asked first."

"Aww, but you'll just keep the faggotry to yourself!"

'Oh my Jesus...' Handy couldn’t press his hands into his face hard enough.

"So, sir," Crimson said, in her most perfect imitation of Crimson's disinterested monotone, "still think this was our best possible option?"

Handy just groaned.

--=--

He was out of breath, his clothes ruined and dirtied as he galloped down the cobblestone streets of the city, weaving between carriages and wagons to avoid the press of the crowds on the hoofpaths. Turning a corner, he ran into a poor courier pony gathering up news sheets for that evening’s edition of the herald, sending the sheets flying and landing in the dirty puddles by the kerb. A candlelighter with his long light pole hurriedly jumped out of the way of the speeding stallion, dropping the pole and extinguishing the flame before he could light the candles in the glass street lamps.

A mailed guardsmare with a feathered plume in her helm called out to him and gave chase when he refused to stop. He muttered under his breath with the last vestiges of his power as he turned into an alleyway. Not five steps down from where it met the street, a stone wall appeared, bursting from the ground. The guardsmare turned the corner and could not stop herself in time. The weighted momentum carried her and she crashed headlong into it, knocking her out cold as the earth pony mare slid down the wall to the ground in an adorable bundle of armour and suffering.

The rain began pouring harder as ponies hurriedly vacated the streets. There was a lightning flash in the distances and the roar of the waves and the ringing of a bell in the nearby harbour foretold of a rough night. The pegasi had apparently been putting off this storm front for quite a while due to a busy trade season and had to make up for lost time. He didn't care. What mattered was getting somewhere safe.

His last safe place in the world.

He thundered past the gate guard of the enclosed estate. The black cloaked guard, recognising one of his employers, did not protest being rudely shoved out of the way. He threw open the doors to the foyer, breathing heavy. These were palatial apartments reserved for those who had the means and the inclination to live with privacy and comfort in what was usually considered the most squalid part of the city.

"Can I help you si—" The maidservant stopped as she was given a death glare from the haggard stallion. "Uh— I'm, I'm sorry sir, I didn't recognise you!"

"Has anypony been to the third floor today?" he asked, his voice was still that same, measured baritone. Straining between exhausted, wild, manic paranoia and fear, it was plainly evident to even the humble serving pony, that this was a pony on the edge of snapping.

"N-no sir, nopony has been to your apartments! I haven't even been allowed to clean it!"

"Then you just might still have a job by the end of tonight," he said harshly, sneering at the mare as he hurried up the polished wooden staircase, hooves splashing mud and water all across them as he left the frightened servant on the bottom floor. Doors and false columns embedded in the walls to evoke a classical aesthetic, mimicking the ancient pegasi architecture of the lost cloud cities of Air and Downshire, rushed passed him as he made his way to third floor. He let himself collide bodily with the door, his shoulder smarting as the hard oak wood refused to yield. He cursed, reaching into the folds of his ruined jacket with his muzzle, trying to find his key.

Frustration overcame reasoned thought, and with an aggravated noise, he turned and bucked open the door. The wooden construction splintered as the door handle and the wood around it exploded inwards, unable to withstand the strength of an earth pony. He hurriedly made his way into the dark room that hadn’t been touched in nearly a year. The soft sofas, tables, dressers, the fireplace, chairs, empty bookcases, the unlit lamps and candelabras were all covered in a layer of dust and grime. Several somethings scurried away from the light that poured in from the hall behind him. The squeak of rodents could be heard, and cobwebs could be made out of the corners of the ceiling where more sophisticated beasts made their dwelling, preying on the lesser pests of the building.

The drapes were closed yet still the flash of lightning outside filled the rooms with brief bursts of incandescent light, colouring everything a pale shade of blue as the rain hammered against the window, the increasing gale whistling, probing, and trying to enter the shelter the walls gave him from the elements. He paid it no mind as he began tearing the place asunder, overturning tables, pulling out drawers, every nook and cranny searched until he found something, anything. He had lost too much, far too much. He couldn’t let himself forget. He had to find it before he did before it was all gone.

He couldn’t find anything. Not one scrap of paper, not even an idle scribble. By the end of his desperate search, quills, parchment, and ink spills from broken bottles stained the floor, and he was no closer to his prize. “Where is it?” he hissed desperately. “Where the buck is it!?” It had to be here – he had made copies! Copies upon copies! Entire nights wasted away painstakingly copying every curvature, every brush stroke, every intricate design. He had drew and wrote and stroked until his jaw had run raw from manipulating the brushes and quills hours on end. He had stored them all away so that whenever he went dry he could get at them, read them, remember them once again, and regain his power before they slipped from his mind and dragged what remained of his memories with them.

However, they were not here. No grimoire, not one single scrapbook, not even a parchment with so much as a doodle. But how could that be? He had purchased these apartments under a pseudonym, all above board otherwise. No one had any access to them. It had been a year, and not a single soul had entered these rooms. Tartarus, he doubted even he was here a single time since day one when he had set everything up. He never even met any of the staff. He was surprised that maidservant had even recognised him when he came in the door.

And then it hit him. The lightning struck, and his haggard visage was bathed in a stark blue-white light, creating stark shadows under his eyes as they widened to the size of dinner plates in realization.

“Looking for something, Thunder?” the erudite tones caused the stallion to whirl on the spot. In the doorway, upright on two legs, stood the tall imposing figure of Chopper. The diamond dog merely gazed at Thunder impassively. Dressed simply in the leather collar and long coat of the sea dogs who made their living working at the harbours and docks of the cities of more civilized races, his fur was a simple patchy grey interspersed with off white. His eyes were blue, and they cut through the darkness of the room as if they were the piercing beam of a lighthouse.

Thunder’s hooves shook, and his jaw locked as he was caught halfway between fury and utter terror. “You,” he spat, a tremendous effort to say something intelligible.

“I,” Chopper said. He turned to look at the pony beside him. “Your payment is outside. Ask the guard at the front gate,” he said to the maidservant.

“Yes sir,” she said. She looked at Thunder’s direction for a brief moment before turning away and walking down the stairs at a brisk pace. Chopper watched her go, the corner of his mouth twitching in a frown momentarily.

“Useful things, ponies,” he said, turning back to Thunder. “Especially ones with cutie marks related to being light on their hooves. Not a single hoofprint anywhere.” He whistled. “Impressive, isn’t she?”

“What are you… What are you doing here?” Thunder said carefully, pausing to swallow. His eyes darted. The door was the only way out of the apartments besides the windows. He may have enough left in him to slow his descent to avoid breaking his legs.

“Have you had any sleep yet?”

“W-What?”

“Sleep. Have you had any yet?”

“What sort of… I… don’t know?” Thunder asked, unsure. He had been running an awful long time. Getting out of the festival grounds and getting far enough away had taken a tremendous amount of power. Warping was different from teleporting in that respect. A powerful enough mage could trace a pony’s teleportation destination. Warping, however, allowed a traceless transposition. It also allowed a much greater range, but it was loud, flashy, and destructive to the surrounding environment.

He had gotten as far as the border of Firthengart and Equestria on the first warp alone, long before news of the fiasco at the festival could reach anywhere farther than Ironcrest. From there, it was short jump after short jump, getting from one bolthole to another. He had gone through three, only to find them ransacked, their stashes robbed. He had too much old magic for far too long to dream anymore. One day bled into the other. He honestly did not know if he had slept at any point since the festival. He had grown progressively more paranoid, restless, and weaker, expending more and more power to get to his final ray of hope, his home away from home in Manehatten.

And now that he was here, that ray of hope was snuffed out. The dog who now strode into the room, his paws disturbing the thin layer of dust on the hardwood floor, had killed it. "You should get some rest after we're done here," Chopper said, taking a seat in a rather expensive looking armchair, pulling his long tail around so as to not harm it. "It'll do you good."

"What are you doing here!?" Thunder hissed, eyeing the now empty doorway.

"Please," the dog said, studying the pony impassively, "Don't. I'd only have to stop you and that would be, how do you so eloquently put it? Ah, yes, it'd be such a bother." Thunder glared back at him.

"Where. Were. You?" he spat through his impotent fury.

"Safe," Chopper said, steepling his forepaws. "You overstepped your boundaries. Created quite the fiasco."

"I had everything under control!"

"Is that what you call it?" Chopper asked, inclining his head thoughtfully. "Wasting resources on the dragon and blowing a hole through the stadium? In plain sight of guards, kings, and hundreds of spectators?"

"You were supposed to back me up! Provide a distraction to allow me to escape."

"And I would have," Chopper enunciated carefully. "That was until your own lack of foresight set half the festival on fire, bringing far more attention and trouble to the situation that I could not contain it without showing up personally and using even more old magic. Fortunately for you, the human killed the dragon. There won't be anything pointing it back to you, aside from untraceable gold and gems."

"What do you mean killed him?"

"Did you not find it odd that the human came upon you in the middle of the disagreement you were having with the stag and unicorn? Completely unmolested by a giant, fire breathing lizard?" Chopper asked simply. Thunder stammered. "Yes, I was watching," the dog continued. "Your little overpriced distraction didn't nearly distract him long enough. At least now we have a fair idea as to why Crimson wasn't enough to bring him to heel."

"I saw him bleeding out on the ground!"

"Apparently that proved more a nuisance than anything. Oh, and thank you for admitting to nearly killing the mistress' prize. She'll be so glad to hear you care so little for her orders."

"You're one to talk! You bailed on the operation!" Thunder shouted. Chopper held up a paw.

"Lower your voice."

"If you had of deployed your dogs like you were supposed to, neither of us would be in this mess!"

"I said, lower your vo—"

"N-Now, the human and the acolyte are dead, and the crown is lost. That damned deer ha—!"

"Shut. Up," Chopper said. His voice was barely louder than it was before but cut Thunder's rant short. "My rear is plenty covered from her wrath, I assure you. Your flank, on the other hand...," Chopper said, letting the threat hang. Thunder took a few steps back, bloodshot eyes darting around, trying to calculate escape routes.

"I-Is that why you're here? T-To—"

"No. If the mistress wanted you dead, we wouldn't be talking right now."

"What? But... How... She doesn't give ponies second chances..."

"No. She does not," Chopper said, remaining quiet for a moment after that. Thunder waited for him to respond before losing his patience.

"Well!?"

"Yes?"

"Then why isn't she offing me!?" Thunder exclaimed, advancing on the dog, who remained calm and seated.

"Do you really think she saw fit to tell me why?" Chopper responded.

"Then what are you doing here? We lost everything!"

"No we did not," Chopper said, exhaling a sigh. "Did you really think the deer was capable of vaporizing himself and the others?"

"What else could it have been!? I sensed no magical signature. It wasn't old magic and wasn't teleportation. It had to be a-a bomb of some sort!" Thunder rattled off, his own calm demeanour and measured tone breaking under the strain. "They're gone!"

"Displaced," Chopper corrected.

"What?"

"Why do you think Mistress wanted the crown of winter?"

"I-I don't know, the same reason she wants all the artefacts she orders us to get? Power?"

"Do you ever see her use any of the artefacts she has?"

"Of course not! I wouldn't dare to presume! I like living!" Thunder verbally backpedalled. Chopper let him have his dignity before continuing.

"There are more things in that forest she wants, Thunder. Things which, yes, we could obtain ourselves, but which would be a costly waste of resources and take far too long. The death of the last Lord of Winter was a golden opportunity. By obtaining the crown, we could have extorted the deer to bring us what we wanted themselves."

"But that's lost to us."

"Yes." Chopper leaned forward. "But we think the human and the acolyte may not be."

"S-So?" Thunder tried to piece it all together. "H-How... Where does this leave me?" Chopper leaned back in the chair, a gentle smile gracing his short muzzle as if something was just confirmed for him.

"You will have another chance to bring them to her," Chopper said, raising a paw to stop the pony before he interrupted. "The human, when he emerges from the Greenwoods—"

"You mean if," Thunder said, pointing at him. Chopper frowned.

"For your sake, it had better be when. He'll be coming to find you," Chopper said. "From what we know of him, this is likely inevitable."

"H-Hold on! I don't have much power left. M-My writings, the spells, the magic, I don't have any of it! I-I'll forget everything. How am I—" Thunder stopped as Chopper reached into his coat, pulling a rectangular cloth bag out from under it. Tossing it to the floor, several thin books and sheets of parchment spilled forth onto the floor before his hooves. He stared at them disbelievingly. "Where... Where's the rest of it?"

"That's it. It’s all she will allow you."

"But I can't—!"

"You will!" Chopper shouted, standing up. Thunder backed up a step. "Are you so ungrateful for your life you will gripe and moan about what little scraps Mistress sees fit to give you? That you will be allowed to remember anything at all instead of being allowed to become an incontinent, gibbering wreck of a pony who forgets how to put one hoof in front of the other? After the disaster you caused!?" Chopper glared at the pony, teeth bared, and a growl rumbling from the depths of his canine throat.

"The human will find you. One way or another. This is how the Mistress wants it done. You will subdue him. You will recapture the acolyte Crimson. And you will crawl on your belly before the Mistress and pray she is satiated enough with your offerings such that she doesn't forcibly warp your bones and flesh into a living furniture piece so that your every living moment is spent in unnatural, excruciating agony for your failure and disrespect!" Chopper said, advancing with each word until the pony was pressed against the wall. "You will not see her again until then. As of this moment, you do not have a seat at the council. You are a pawn, no longer worthy of your vaunted position, existing at her pleasure. We will be watching you, do you understand me?"

"I-I…"

"I said—"

"Yes! Celestia yes!" Thunder shouted. Chopper glared warningly at him, holding up a single digit pressed against his lips for silence.

"Good," Chopper said simply as he began to stalk back towards the door. "Read them. Keep them safe and above all else, as always, don't let anypony else see them," he said without turning around.

"Wait," Thunder said, his mind working to process the implications of everything that just happened. "The maid, the thief you hired, is she one of ours? What if she read the magic?" he asked. Chopper stopped and turned to regard the stallion. He smiled lightly.

"What maid?" he asked innocently. Equestrian was his first language unlike most dogs and it showed, his erudite tones making the question sound genuinely inquiring and earnest. That was before his expression fell to a more customary scowl dogs were known for. "Enjoy what memories you manage to retain with that power. What you lose will stay lost forever," he said, taking one last, long, cursory look over the rooms Thunder occupied. "And get some rest."

And with that, the pony was left in the room on his own, staring as the shadow of the dog disappeared from the lit hallway beyond his broken door, the disturbed dust of the floor and the armchair the only hint of his presence. Thunder let go of a breath he didn't know he was holding and looked at the pages and books on the floor. The parchments was nearly black with ink from the intricate symbols and calligraphy that filled them. His head was already feeling foggy. Clouds gathered at the edge of his mind, memories fading into obscurity, as if he were watching them play out from behind frosted glass, the price of his folly and his years of use of the magic catching up with him with a finality that frightened him.

Briefly, he considered the ominous possibilities as to why the Mistress would give him a second chance when she never gave anypony such mercy. But only briefly. Then he threw caution to the wind and practically dived at the notes, scanning pages after page, committing as much of the writing to memory as fast as possible. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he felt his memories solidify as others became washed out and grey, became less and less his own and more those of a stranger. A stranger who was a happier pony, one with a family, one with a job, one who had fantasies of power and influence. A pony who writhed in guilt ridden agony as his ambitions led to those who were once closest in his life to forget he ever existed, who came to terms with the price of his power and enjoyed its use and how easy it had made the task of living now that he had all the time in the world to live. A pony who took it easy, who didn't really want to deal with any bother, who wanted things done nice and simple and who looked for the easiest means of doing so. A pony who disappeared.

Thunder did not know this stranger, and like with all strangers, he slipped from his memory, for he was not worth remembering. Why would he be? Who was he anyway? Nopony important. All he remembered was the power, that he served his mistress and had done so for years. That he had failed her, and that this was his one chance to change his ways. To shape up and make amends.

Still, he couldn't shake the feeling he was neglecting something important. He reached up, patting down his mane, and sighed in resignation.

He forgot his hat. Of course, that was it.

--=--

A stiff, wide-brimmed parasol opened up and hovered over the steps leading from the doorway to cover the dog as he exited the building. A deep blue aura held the base of the contraption, shielding the unicorn's employer from the torrential rain. The black cloaked pony held the gate open, his face obscured by a peaked helm covered in a rain protector the same shade as his clothes.

"I assume you paid the mare," Chopper said, walking through the gate and turning. His carriage was just up ahead.

"There was a complication," the surprisingly young voice of the stallion replied. Chopper stopped in mid-stride momentarily and took a breath before continuing, glancing around. Most of the street lamps had been lit, but not all of them, and there were no ponies left out in this weather, thankfully.

"Such as?"

"I took her to the carriage and presented her payment, let her count it as you said. I did a brief scan." The unicorn held his hoof to his muzzle to pretend to cough, motioning as to how he had performed it. "Old magic – horn didn't light up. She didn't suspect anything. She had wards to throw off most scrying spells. However, beneath her outfit and coat, I detected several... pieces."

"How much?"

"Enough for the Mistress to want to lynch you and for you to throw me under the stampede to placate her," the unicorn said softly, with a grimace. "I'd rather avoid that." Chopper snorted, withholding a chuckle. Hard Knock was honest and had no illusions. He liked that about the pony.

"Awake?" he asked as they stopped at the side of the carriage. There was a single earth pony up front waiting to haul it off.

"Barely. Disposal?" he suggested. Chopper shook his head.

"Useful," he said, opening the carriage door and stepping into the darkness inside. The door closed, and he was greeted with the sound of muffled heavy breathing and an acrid stench of burnt ozone. She was scared. Good. This would be easier then. Hard Knock ensured the door was tightly closed before trotting to the front and slipping into his harness. He traded a few terse words with his partner before they both took off with a grunt of effort, pulling the carriage as smoothly as was possible down the cobblestone streets as it was battered by the wind and rain. "I assume you understand why you are here right now instead of relaxing by the corner of that hole in the ground you call a home where you light your fires," he said, to be met in response with the sounds of struggling and unintelligible noises that, had they not been blocked by cloth, would have been words. "Don't try to escape; the bonds that hold you aren't the sort you can worm your way out of."

There was a blinding flash of light, and small glass jars attached to the walls of the carriage lit up with blue flames. The mare lay on her side on the seat across from him, her tan coat and yellow mane frazzled and burnt in places, her eyes bloodshot and a small rivulet of blood falling from her left nostril. Her maid's uniform and coat was a smouldering ruin from the shock Hard Knock had given her. Her large, terrified, green eyes looked up at the dog pleadingly. "I despise greed, Miss Light Weight. I need you to understand that," he said, leaning forward. "Almost as much as I hate laziness. I do, however, appreciate competence. Sneaking a few bits and pieces for yourself without my noticing? Impressive."

Light Weight continued struggling, putting in her earth pony strength to no avail, now on the verge of panicking, wondering why she couldn't slip the ropes off of her legs, having been more than skilled enough to do so. The bindings seemed to constrict tighter the more she moved, to the point where it was beginning to seriously hurt. Futile struggling like this did not amuse Chopper. Ponies should know when they were beaten as far as he was concerned.

"Stop. Struggling," he growled. Light Weight focused back on the dog, yelping fearfully. "I do not care for theatrics. If I wanted to be rid of you for your duplicity in trying to cheat me, you simply wouldn't be here. Or anywhere else for that matter." He paused. "I am going to offer you an opportunity, Miss Light Weight. You can be a rich mare if you agree. If you should refuse..." He trailed off, shrugging simply, giving her a wry smile. "We have ways of making ponies disappear." His face fell into a scowl. "Do you understand me?" The pony just stared up at the dog in horror, comprehension dawning on her as the first tear streamed down her face. Chopper, satisfied, sat back.

He brought his paw to his chin, rubbing it thoughtfully as he stared off into space, watching the city pass him by through the tinted glass windows of the carriage, letting the mare stew in her fear, imagining all the terrible things he could force her to agree to. "How do you feel about a little trip to Canterlot?" he asked.

Author's Note:

Filler Chapter is filler. Felt like we needed a break from the forest to have a look-see at whats going on in other parts of the world. It means extending this half of the arc where Handy is in the forest by another two chapters but hey, we need a smooth transition for the mood change. We've been spending a mite too much time on the dark tag recently. Just needed a little grey first.

Also this chapter was initially titled Reasonable Concerns but I changed it because it sounded like the header of a memo you get from your manager about your work performance.

Comments

[ShittyMKSound]

5032055
FACK.

[The Serpent Mage]

Radiant faggotry.

Dear Lord, Handy, what have you done...?

[BronyofMeddlers]

For some reason filler has serous stuff in it.

[Aerial]

He should teach the deer all about his radiant faggotry. I have a feeling next chapter is going to be rather hilarious.

[Tacitus]

Radiant Faggotry is best spell.

[ademonsdream]

YAAAAAAYYYY it updated the day after i favorited it

[EonAon]

It was a very different story in this world, and Handy was very aware of what a pony smell was and what a griffon smell at the base level was. It was just something you notice when you live in a multi-species environment. It was just something you notice when you live in a multi-species environment. It was just something you notice when you live in a multi-species environment. Ironically enough, ponies did not, in fact smell like horses, a revelation he’s been trying to wrap his head around since his days in Spurbay, but wasn’t quite so curious as to ask questions about it.

Either I'm missing something but in this paragraph you wrote the same sentence three times

[Asheram]

Jacques had to be physically held to the ground before he was parted from his sword, cursing like a ship full of drunken Finnish sailors on an extended fishing trip to the Baltic Sea after crashing into a Russian trawler. Which was to say he did so loudly, crudely, and with vigorous enthusiasm borne of deep seated cynicism that was, frankly, shocking to witness.

This is pure poetry.

[Adamanthys]

Look at all those thumbs down... looks like we have a radiant faggot on the lose.... a easily offended one at that.

[Lupus]

"Filler" is usually used when the episode (or chapter in this case) has no bearing on the actual plot. Other than Twilight's segment, I don't really see this as a filler chapter at all. In fact I'd like to see more chapters from the council's perspective.

Also I think I'm gonna like the deer society if Whirlwind's behavior is seen as normal. I'll especially enjoy Handy's reaction to it as well

[D48]

Well, that was fun. Whirlwind being typical for the deer is both terrifying and hilarious and makes me look forwards to seeing what chaos ensues, especially if Expensive Brick decides to chime in again with its wonderful comic timing.

Really my only complaint was that Twilight came back with no interrogation from Lyra because that looked like comic gold in the making. Oh well, maybe Twilight will bring our minty friend with her next time she manages to corner Handy as a compromise.

[IkioStar]

It was just something you notice when you live in a multi-species environment. It was just something you notice when you live in a multi-species environment. It was just something you notice when you live in a multi-species environment.

You might think I just copy-pasted thrice...I assure you, I did not.

[Handyman]

5075191
5076012
How the hell did I not notice that? Damn.

Thanks for pointing that out, its been fixed.

5075709 Couldn't be more wrong if you tried =]

[HumansRuleOK]

10/10 chapter, I await for more. Give us more Handy, or people kittens will die

oh and radiant faggotry is OP, needs nerf.

[Handyman]

5074650 Clearly the worst possible scenario =[

5065692 See? This guy gets it.

5074869 Lack of context. The best form of comedy.

5074893 Word.

5074897 Oh come on, its not that serious... except for Spike being mysteriously ill and a poor downtown Manehatten theif being pressganged into the service of a dark and terrible cabal.

...Huh. Well, I did say this would be a grey chapter by comparison so...

5075005 I don't think Handy wants tot each anyone his secrets of radiant faggotry.

5075079 Truth.

5075147 Happy to have been so prompt =]

5075370 I had fun writing it. Finns aren't used enough in jokes. =[

5075589 Ah, let them be. I could understand their actions if I was genuinely using the word in its offensive context (for the purposes of drama or otherwise) but if they can't accept that Handy is obviously using the post-2010 internet definition of Faggot, which means whatever you want it to mean, then that's really their fault. I'm not going to throw a fit over it. Its almost as if the definition of words can change over time.or something...

5075765 Can't linger too much on the council's perspectives nor too often. Much like how this Crown of Winter arc started, the council is involved in other things besides Handy. Handy only became involved because Fancy Pants, in his wisdom, thought it'd be wise to involve him as an anonymous courier, not knowing A)that his own enemy was the mistress and B)she was after Handy anyway. Coincidences are fun. Showing things from the council's perspective involves focusing on their interior politics and their other concerns to such a point as to be distracting from the plot, much like how I don't spend much time in Canterlot of Lepidopolis despite both royal courts being concerned at least in part about Handy's shenanigans, but they have their own shit going on.

This is the reason I gave JBL when he asked if I was going to put more cutaway scenes in the next chapter (I am not), if I started it, with how spread out this story is physically, it would then be more akin to A Song of Ice and Fire, hopping across a continent. Such is the number of things going on in the background that simply have little or nothing to do with Handy or his story. (example: Heat Source and Grave Danger. Do you think either of their lives hasn't changed because of Handy's actions? Both when he was in their town and what happened afterwards? They have, but its not worth drawing away from the main story to write a chapter about... well ok it is, but I am not starting now in any case)

Not that that wouldn't itself be interesting and I would be capable of writing it, I simply do not wish to, as it would extend this already long term project by a few more million words at the least.

This is the price of making the MC, decidely, NOT some heroic hero of prophecy with which the world revolves around. The world and other characters are, as a result, more interesting and have more agency, but it also means I can't focus on everything going on at once unless I want to slow the pacing to a snail's pace.

5075816 JBL would kill me if I did another Lyra chapter, but I want to. If anything she's just a periphery comic relief in this story, even if I make all her stuff non-canon. I sincerely doubt Twilight will take her with her to see Handy, even if she pestered the hell out of her, there will already be enough conflict fodder available when Handy meets the mane six to make additional agitation unneccessary. Something my editor is quite excited for.

Although he has to wait, like everyone else =]

As for the expensive brick, to say that Handy is not on the best of terms with his magically powered phone is an understatement, the deer would have an entirely different opinion when they figure it out.

Sides, its not as if this world has a habit of breaking out into spontaneous song and dance or anything.

Oh wait...

5076340 THE ONCE AND FUTURE KING

5077036 Radiant Faggotry underpowered, plz buff.

[BronyofMeddlers]

5077345 well let's hope that things might turn out for the better.

[HumansRuleOK]

5077345 You're right, it no longer blinds. Give buff plz handy, u r worse den EA!!!

[truekry]

You call it filler, I call it "totally worth it!"
I laughed my ass off because of the "magic of radiant faggotry".

[JBL]

5077780
5077036
5075005
5075079

[JBL]

5074650 i.gyazo.com/aaa570bcb5c1a4104e3de840127448ee.png

[D48]

5077345 Don't think of it as Lyra bugging Twilight into letting her come, think of it as Twilight unleashing Lyra on the unsuspecting Handy to get revenge for how he screwed with her earlier and making her think he was dead.

Also, you are the author, not JBL. You alone have the power to decide when she makes an appearance, and it sounds like we both think her meeting with Twilight is long overdue.

On another note, while I am definitely with you on this story not having time for the side characters, that may be worth exploring at some point in a side story collection which can wander wherever it pleases without having to worry about pacing or jumping around erratically. It would also be a good place to put Lyra's shenanigans as a compromise with JBL, and it might make sense to move the existing chapter with her over if you decide to do this.

[JBL]

5080226

Also, you are the author, not JBL. You alone have the power to decide when she makes an appearance,

hahahahahahahaha! I have Handyman like:

dougrichardson.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/the_puppet_master_by_mini_zilla-d325mdn.jpg

And by that I mean without any clothes on.

[Warman1138]

May Handy bless all the deer with '' Radiant Faggotry ''........I can't stop laughing.

[The Tyrannical]

Dude, I wouldn't even care what the magic did. I'd just want to be able to say "I KNOW THE MAGIC OF RADIANT FAGGOTRY. BACK OFF, MAN!" to my enemies.

[Jerky]

Great work, Handy and whoever the fuck your editors are.
I almost feel bad for Handy.
Almost.

[Beyond the Horizon]

Felt like we needed a break from the forest to have a look-see at whats going on in other parts of the world. It means extending this half of the arc where Handy is in the forest by another two chapters but hey, we need a smooth transition for the mood change. We've been spending a mite too much time on the dark tag recently. Just needed a little grey first.

Le gasp! Does that mean... We'll have a breather episode!? Will things actually not horrible happen to Handy the Harried?!

... Lordy, finally. One can only partake of so much darkness and dreariness and existential worry before one succumbs to the blight of Darkness Enduced Audience Apathy.

Certainly what killed my interest in Background Pony...

[Handyman]

5085975 Much like my attitude towards romance, adventure will always come first in this fic. So as dark as it has been, we're gonna be taking a bit of a breather from it, I even got the main character's requisite post-truama brooding out of the way so as to not spoil it. As much as I loved breaking Handy down, I think I have sufficiently humbled him, now I have to set to the task of building him back up all over again. I am writing an adventure fic, not a horror fic afterall.

Granted, the breather may not be the biggest break one could hope for, they are still in the middle of a doom forest afterall and thats still going to be a problem. But I will be moving from the heavier stuff to some more light comedy, as well as some actual, physical rest for the party.

5084778 Sympathy is for the weak.

5081702 The most deadly of threats!

5081301
5077780 He'll bless them by walking into the market on a bright, sunny day and proceed to blind them all.

5080343 No you don't sonny boy

5080226 Well I suppose I can put in a Lyra chapter sometime in the future, but it'd have to be on the sly and self edited. Twilight having to constantly guard her notes on the human from an over eager Lyra splinter-celling into her palace is a hilarious concept.

Also JBL suggested creating Indices after BM is finished filled with lore for the world I didn't get the chance to explore, which is an interesting concept, there's certainly enough to fill alot of indices. It can include things such as this one child queen of a petty kingdom in Griffonia whose land is dominated less by feudal lords and more by bandit warlords with pretensions of nobility and who BARELY respect her enough to pay lip service to her sovereignty, the only thing keeping her in power is the high king who really doesn't want a civil war on the border of his own demesne. Her position is precarious as hell, being young, a member of a nearly extinct royal clan who used to rule another kingdom, a different religion and high culture than most of her subjects. She has no friends, barely any influence in her own court and absolutely terrified for her life. Worthy of a story in itself and happening simultaneously to the main story of BM.

Another index could just be devoted to how the law works in, say, the kingdom of Gethrenia alone. I often find myself having to explain the intricacies of feudal contracts to people so it'd be useful to have something to simply point to in future. For example, typically, the feudal hierarchy goes High King > King > Duke > Count > Barons > Knights > commoners but this doesn't include the oddities such as bishoprics, both landed and otherwise, or the weirder titles like viscounts. Nor does it include direct relationships. Like how Ivorybeak, as Count Munister, and Handy as Baron Haywatch, both have Joachim not only as their king but as their direct feudal overlord with no intermediary nobles between them and Handy, being much lower rank than Ivorybeak, doesn't answer to him either. Or the more unusual points of feudal law regarding arranged marriages. A king cannot tell a duke or any vassals of the duke who to marry, nor even his own counts who are directly subordinate to him. He can, however, tell the knights of his own demsene who to marry if he felt the need to (in the past this proved exceptionally useful in securing an alliance AND placing a ruler-consort upon a throne friendly to the king, a knight not having sufficiently power base to be a dynastic threat to the potential ally yet competent enough, at least in military matters, and prestigous enough to be useful to them.) it is almost never done in the modern era, however.

Theoretically this means Joachim could give the order to have Handy married off to someone, however, given his character, he'd never do this and Handy, rightfully, would tell Joachim to go eat a dick and probably get away with it.

Also just exploring the nature of Equestrian politics would just be a whole mess of fun for me. Non-Alicorn Princes and Princesses. Everywhere.

[Beyond the Horizon]

5086259

So long as they have some reprieve between world-view shattering events and the like, and as long as some hope is allowed to them to keep on going, it's fine. They need those periods to challenge themselves, surely, but having those constantly go off, on and on and on, kind of gets tiresome after a bit.

I like what you're doing so far, though, and I await to see Handy's reaction to meeting the larger tribe of Deer.

... Hundreds(?) of Whirlwinds. Everywhere. All the time.

[D48]

5086259 That sounds like fun all around, although I have to wonder if Lyra would be Twilight's nemesis or accomplice. As insane as Lyra can be about humans, Twilight is no different when it comes to interesting problems which Handy most definitely qualifies as so I can see them getting along in an unholy terror of mad science.

Also, two random thoughts. First, because of how the deer are, you can torture Handy and amuse the hell out of us with lighthearted comedy so there is no need to worry about things getting too dark at the moment.

Second, I am really wondering why Handy didn't just say that he doesn't know how the Radiant Faggotry happened. It is true after all and the armor was made by a pony so it would have diffused the situation nicely...not that that would have helped much.

[Handyman]

5088353 He was a bit pissed and thought biting sarcasm would have gotten the message through. it did not.

He'll probably just tell them to piss off if they keep bugging him about it. Which they will.

Lyra and Twilight together would be a hilarious combination. Though I sincerely doubt she'd take Lyra along on anything at the moment, because you know, people think the human is ded. And certainly wouldn't for the planned revelation I have in mind because both would simply be two far away for that to happen. Maybe later.

[D48]

5088422 Yeah, that's not going to work. At all.

As for Twilight and Lyra, that combination does naturally require them to be in the same area and be focusing on Handy so it is easy enough to disrupt. That said, if Handy ever shows his face in Canterlot again he is getting jumped by the pair of them no matter how much he wants to get away and it will be glorious.

[Jerky]

5086259 Indeed my friend.

[twad]

The Deers are creepy. Its interesting.

I cant help but think the deers are adorable/quaint for weaponizing their antlers. I can't really picture it being effective against armor and/or biped species (too many points spread the piercing force around against armor, one hand to pin/grap the antlers with the other start stabbing the exposed head for bipeds).. but they got weird magic going for them so whatever.

That said.. they seem to "look" joyfull, "act" silly but they got that barely concealed mean/murderous/impulsive side of them wich contrast with how they look a lot. (look where they live, the murder forest of insanity, they used to thrive in there).

Maybe their brains just pump them full of happy juice non-stop.

Happy. All the time. Everytime.

Wich is creepier than pretty much everything else, ever. I'd have Pinkamina a hundred time before a deer.

In unrelated news, Deer blood have been fond to be a powerfull anti-depressant. Contact a pharmacy near you for more information.

[Handyman]

5092787 Deer antlers are not to be sniffed at. There's a reason hunting deer in real life with anything other than a ranged weapon is an idea worthy of a slap to the face. Getting gored on that shit is not a fun way to die.

Granted, deer in this world are smaller (only slightly taller than ponies on average) they are fast, surprisingly strong and the weaponized antlers are 'bladed' more often than made into spear tips. They prefer slashing to sticking their enemies on a stick. The armies in BM, much like real world Renaissance armies, are not heavily armoured as a rule, but at best, mostly partially armoured. A deer with bladed antlers is a dangerous fucking individual in his own right, a warband of them are more than capable of making short work of larger bands of warriors from other races. This is of course not counting other weapons. Deer are as capable as using spears and polearms as much as the other races and even have their own answer to hoof blades in the form of single bladed weapons strapped to their fore and rear hooves that extend into punching daggers upon command, making their bucks and stomps murderous. Ranged weapons are utilised as well, though usually by does (because if you have swords growing out of your head, why the hell aren't you on the front lines, son?), as it does not take an awful lot of magic to hold up a bow and draw it back, certainly much less magic than it takes to chuck things.

Note Whirlwind's method of fighting during the tournament, literally dancing around his foes. Deer are masters of hoof-eye co-ordinated combat and even against a superior opponent can whittle them down in this manner, many of them acting in concert, especially in their home turf pretty much ensures victory.

Granted a biped like Handy could easily overtake a deer on their own provided he knew in advance what he was fighting and can adapt rapidly, you have a point in their antlers being less effective against someone that heavily armoured. The key here being is that they have a significant numbers advantage (not going to account magic given Handy's own edge in that regard) and Handy is not running on a vampiric high. Fighting would literally have been suicide.

Despite this, the deer are not invincible, more akin to the fragile speedsters of this world when it comes to battle tactics, they cannot maintain a sustained campaign beyond the forest without significant support. Furthermore, technologically, they are woefully behind other races when it comes to firearms and cannons, with only some tribes having access to primitive gunpowder weapons and given the nature of combat in the forest, there is little point to putting together the large formations necessary to make gunpowder weapons a worthwhile investment.

Their magic is powerful but there is a reason why that is not really considered much of an advantage against other races which will be explained in the story.

tl;dr: Deer will fuck you up with a smile, yo.

[Xaerouzle]

I am ashamed that I didn't read this story earlier. It certainly deserves more likes. It's like Diaries of a madman, but without nonconsentual rape, consentual sex, ptsd, timeywimey loopdeloops, parent hood, sci-fi thingys and the whole diary thingy going on, aka an excellent read for those that want an amazing adventure without the explicit theme.

[JBL]

5096429 You got the 666th comment.

[Handyman]

5097208 ....Huh. Shit.

5096624 I've never actually read the Diaries of a Madman, (though I have skimmed its TvTropes page), I am told it is rather excellent. A bit too much sex for my tastes however, if what I read is right. I can guarantee however, that there won't be 'sci-fi' thingies in this story, it leans very heavy on the high fantasy end of the scale. As in proper fantasy. I don't ignore the science, but I am not going to cheapskate my way out of explaining a difficult world-building problem by hand waving magic as 'quantum physics misunderstood' or some horse shit like that. God that gets on my nerves sometimes.

That said, I am glad you have been enjoying the story thus far and I hope not to disappoint you in the future.

[KnightOfZaku]

Since Handy still has some very strong negative feelings for Stellar Eclipse and her kind. Does that mean that he may at some future point, start lashing out and possibly killing any thestral he encounters?

[Handyman]

5100297 Its worth keeping that in mind, but Handy is a bit put off the idea of outright killing for the moment. That scare he got when he had a good, long, hard look at himself is still fresh in his mind.

[JBL]

5100297 Swiggity swooty, Handy's coming for their booty.

[KnightOfZaku]

5100883 That's good to know.

Also, while it is true that Handy is currently hesitant to just killing those that wrong him or stand in his way. I strongly suspect that another incident or two with the royal pony sisters and or the servants of the Mistress. Will completely crush his fears and hesitation.

[Handyman]

5101808

[JBL]

5105140

[Asheram]

5080102 Oh god.. I'm crying here

Aah.. Today has been a Bad Monday... I wonder if Handy will follow?

[Rust]

"Hey! I want to learn radiant faggotry too!"
"Me too!"
"Well wait your turn," said the first doe, sticking her tongue out at the stag. "I asked first."
"Aww, but you'll just keep the faggotry to yourself!"

wat

[wlam]

radiant faggotry

I know MLP is gay as hell, but come the fuck on. This isn't half as funny as you probably thought it was. What's next, zebra jokes about eating chicken?

[El Comal]

>Living furniture
Making sure that her "Mistress" name is not being thrown carelessly .

[Skinned Rabbit]

I just lost my shit at the radiant faggoty part

Good job

[DE_K]

the smell of bile threatening to conspire together with his own nusea and cause him to

Nausea

The parchments was nearly black with ink from the intricate symbols and calligraphy that filled them.

Parchment was/parchments were
Believe it to be second though as it is plural

[More Dakka]

I never thought I'd see a species that acted more 'ponyish' then the ponies...

"Why? WHY!?" Handy shouted. "You're guards! Professionals! We're under arrest! You're not supposed to be buddy buddy with us!"

Yea... there's a whole school of Etiquette to this...