Gjallarsong

by BlackRoseRaven

Verse Five

Verse Five
~BlackRoseRaven

And across all the nation can be heard

The rumbling of the coming thunderstorm:

The Dragon has laid his claim, said his word,

To him, we are but clay to shape and form.

The Princess clutches to her dear treasure,

As 'tis with love that angels are bested,

For this child she loves past mortal measure,

In him, all her hopes have been invested.

What of the child born of sorrow and strife?

Fathered by avarice, mothered by hope,

Never in control of his own half-life:

Puppeted by unknown hands, unseen rope.

And as creation burns, the child shall sing:

Through all this world, the Gjallarsong shall ring!

Valthrudnir rested calmly back in his throne in his tower, his eyes coldly surveying the images that danced over the holographic screen floating in front of him. He slowly tapped his fingers against the arm of the enormous chair he was seated in, before he finally gave a thin smile and waved his hand to dismiss the screens.

The dragon leisurely crossed his arms and closed his eyes, tapping a foot slowly against the floor as he reflected that perhaps he had been... overconfident. He had expected far more from Thesis... but Thesis had done a spectacular job of failing to live up to his expectations so far. Maybe that was unfair, however: Thesis had also been raised by ponies instead of pushed towards his true potential... and all the coddling from Celestia, and the fact that Celestia kept constantly pushing him away from the battlefield, was not helping matters.

Valthrudnir stood up, his arms still crossed, head bowed in meditation as he walked towards one of the bookshelf-lined walls of his room. Without slowing, he strode into it... and passed through both it and the wall beyond as reality rippled like water, the dragon striding moodily down the hall hidden beyond the illusion with his head still lowered in thought.

There were admittedly... other problems that he had not anticipated surfacing as well. The fact that not one, but several battleships had been destroyed by the incompetence of the ponies and the savagery of the griffins; the concern that the griffins had somehow made alliances with the more vicious races around Equestria, something that Valthrudnir knew he should have pushed for himself; and, most worrisome of all, several of his Stage I Dogmatists had been killed.

When the Dogmatists had first been introduced half a year ago, they had frightened the little ponies: but after demonstrating how devastating they could be on the battlefield, and how, once they returned home to Canterlot, they could just as easily put their mechanical prowess to use in more civilian fields, the ponies had started to admire them.

After Celestia had agreed to allow more ponies to undergo the process, more had stepped forwards, eager to undergo enhancement. Valthrudnir had been more than happy to oblige, although he'd been careful to always put on a show of following Celestia's rules... that was part of the game, after all. It would make things so much more difficult if he was forced to show his real hand.

The dragon smiled to himself as he stepped into a large, circular room that was filled with strange machinery and bubbling vats of chemicals. Kennels lined the far wall, animal whimpers coming from behind the thick steel bars... along with the moans and weak pleas of the ponies he often used as test fodder for his experiments.

Valthrudnir's eyes roved meditatively over the kennels: he was considering simply euthanizing most of the animals, since they were no longer of much use to him. Furthermore, it was becoming easier and easier to retrieve pony subjects when necessary: as the war raged on, the list of missing ponies grew longer, and it was becoming easier and easier to retrieve the test subjects he needed from outer camps, mobile military hospitals, and the cities that had begun to experience the full calamity of the griffin invasion.

Of course, that was just him making silver linings out of dark clouds. He considered these insects and their lives trivial, but... while he had taken advantage of a diplomatic crisis to create a situation that should have been both controllable and advantageous to his projects, instead he had ended up on the opposite end of the spectrum: in chaos.

It wasn't that he cared in the slightest about the ponies. He had lived here now for decades – which to him, was a barely noticeable span of time, although to these mortals with their insignificant, momentary lives, he seemed as eternal a fixture in Canterlot as Celestia herself – but far from growing attached to them, the study of their lives had only left him all the more revolted with their... incompetence, their frailty, their bodily functions. They were a disgusting, amoral, and weak lot, addicted to their vices and driven by primal instincts...

Well, almost all of them, Valthrudnir thought, as he absently stroked a finger along the bars of one cage, studying the various ponies trapped inside the kennels as they whimpered and whispered and cried and plead. There were... one or two ponies that he had come to... he didn't want to say 'respect...'

Valthrudnir clicked his tongue, then he straightened before glancing to the side and calling calmly: “Assistants!”

Almost immediately, there were several loud clanks from an archway, followed by several ponies. But they weren't entirely pony, not anymore: their eyes had been replaced with round rubies that glowed with hellish, unnatural light, and their hooves clanked with the sound of metal against metal as they walked slowly over the sterile steel floor.

They approached Valthrudnir and bowed their heads silently, and Valthrudnir looked down over the ponies meditatively, studying the three: they were Dogmatists in only the loosest sense of the word. Dogmatists still retained some modicum of excuse for sentience: these ponies had instead been some of the first to undergo his newest behavior modification protocols, which had proved a little too effective at controlling and regulating these animals.

“If I wanted automatons, I'd simply build more golems.” Valthrudnir said contemptibly: it was so hard to create proper servants outside of a controlled setting such as Decretum. There, in his beautiful Clockwork World, he could easily control ponies through the Clockwork King AI and other guidance programming, but here, he had no lieutenants to pass on his orders, no machinery to constantly monitor these needy little slaves.

The problem was less that his servants were tempted to deliberately disobey him, and more that... free will was a sibling to disorder. A Dogmatist left with its free will intact and not constantly monitored would begin to laze through tasks, would take breaks, would become... inefficient.

Equally, of course, automatons couldn't comprehend even the most simplified logic problems: if a problem arose or something happened that confused their simple programming, golems tended to react either hostilely or shut themselves down. And of course, once a task was completed, golems often simply turned off: they needed a handler to constantly give them new orders to keep them on task.

Valthrudnir studied his assistants: they shared more in common with golems than they did the Dogmatists, especially in the fact that they required constant supervision to maintain their efficacy. But they were capable of some individual thought and motion, still: they would attend to their own needs, and they kept his equipment and supplies neat and organized, and they would feed the beasts in the kennels and clean up any unfortunate messes that might occur.

Besides, they were prototypes: Valthrudnir had seen far greater results with many of his later designs. And speaking of which... “What is the status of the neural network project? Have they been updated to my specifications?”

The three stallions nodded in synchronicity, then bowed their heads before turning and striding towards the archway. Valthrudnir followed after them, putting his hands behind his back as they entered into another room... and he chuckled quietly at the sight of the black blood that covered the cement floor in one corner of the room, the dragon remarking: “I see upkeep has fallen. Or have you been causing difficulties again, Riordan?”

Above the stains and puddles of black blood, a mutilated pony whimpered, slowly raising his head and staring towards Valthrudnir with unseeing eyes. The marks of experimentation and torture across his frame had twisted and warped him into a mockery of a pony, the stallion suspended by large hooks and spiked chains that had been twined around his frame.

And worse yet were the cables that fed out of the stallion's head, held in place by pins and needles that fed up into a machine above. This machine had more cables coming from it that branched out in every direction, as well as a monitor that displayed all manner of vital information culled directly from Riordan's mind... who likely didn't realize how fortunate he was, Valthrudnir reflected. After all, he had been selected to act as the very first of a new breed of servant, and had the honor of serving as the prototype for all future designs for the most elite of his projects...

Riordan gurgled, before he looked back and forth... before screaming in agony, convulsing as one of Valthrudnir's soulless assistants calmly tapped commands over a glass screen, sending surges of electricity through the cables rigged into Riordan's head. Valthrudnir studied him intently, watching the way the mutilated pony jittered and convulsed, howling in agony... before there was a sudden, loud ding, and the pony slumped, going still and silent.

Riordan blinked a few times... then looked emptily up before reciting quietly: “All things began in Paradise. But we were fools, and threw away this gift...”

“Memory sequencing seems functional. Emotional controls...” Valthrudnir surveyed Riordan, then simply held up a finger with a pleasant smile.

Several enormous spikes of metal formed in midair, then slammed home through Riordan's breast, sending up black splatters of blood as the assistants merely looked on emotionlessly. And with equal emotionlessness, Riordan's body twitched and flinched... then he only looked emptily at Valthrudnir, with the same hollow expression on his face as he continued to recite tonelessly: “This world is born of sin, the first sin of our first father and mother. That is why every day we must strive to be better than we are; to overcome our animal natures, so one day we will be deserving of returning to the Paradise from whence we came...”

“Yes, that is correct, Riordan. Excellent, the emotional restraints seem to be functioning adequately as well.” Valthrudnir looked up at the machine above Riordan's head, studying the monitor and the flow of various electrical signals and chemical reactions... “Some neural processes have slowed below optimal levels... Riordan, what is two plus two?”

“Four.” Riordan answered after only the smallest pause, but Valthrudnir scowled a little all the same.

“Four times four times two times two?” Valthrudnir pressed.

This time, there was a much more distinct pause before Riordan answered finally, in the same emotionless tone: “Sixty four.”

Valthrudnir looked up, studying the monitor and the brain activity displayed over it, before he flicked a finger, a crystalline orb appearing out of thin air and floating towards the stallion's face. Riordan barely registered it until Valthrudnir ordered: “Follow the orb in front of you with your eyes.”

Riordan didn't acknowledge the command, but his eyes did focus on the bauble. Valthrudnir's expression deepened with displeasure before he flicked his finger back and forth, making the orb move slowly back and forth through the air, before gradually picking up speed.

Riordan's head moved back and forth, his eyes following the orb... but as it began to move faster, he noticeably fell behind in his reflexes. He didn't so much as twitch even as Valthrudnir scowled and began to puppet the orb in swats across the stallion's face, before he finally gave a grumble of disgust and dismissed the toy, muttering: “Perhaps we can counter the sedation effect with chemical injections... the nodes themselves are functional, it is the brains of these plebeians that are so flawed in their structure and design...”

The dragon clicked his tongue in distaste, and then he ordered, without bothering to look at his assistants: “Copy the node programming from the machine and prepare materials for surgery. We will see the effect these devices have on mortal ponies and begin the development of a chemical compound to counterbalance the side effects of the control nodes.”

The assistants all nodded in solemn synchronization, and one quickly tapped a command across the glass screen in front of him to shut down the nodes. There was a buzzing, and then the mutilated pony howled miserably as agony pounded back into his mind, twisting back and forth in the chains before he finally slumped with a broken whimper, shivering and staring blankly at the ground as a bit of black blood leaked from his mouth.

Valthrudnir looked distastefully over the stallion, and then he simply gestured at him dismissively: a moment later, the large spikes still buried in Riordan vanished from sight, as wounds knitted closed across the pony's frame. He supposed he was being a little bit too generous... but he didn't want to drive Riordan any more insane than the pony already was. That wouldn't benefit his projects in the slightest.

The dragon rubbed his thumb and forefinger together meditatively, studying the pony as he gurgled and shivered in his restraints. Of course, if he so desired, he could simply rewrite the pony's brain completely, make him absolutely loyal... but while that was good for ensuring that his lieutenants would never think of betraying him, it was useless for Valthrudnir's ultimate aim. Even as mighty as he was, he couldn't simply snap his fingers and take over the mind of every being across the entire world. No, if he wanted to ensure that the masses were as productive as possible as a part of this mighty, sprawling empire he was building across all of reality, then he required a method that his servants and machines could implement.

He had also come to realize that Decretum had been... less than successful, so far, in large part because so much required his presence, or that of his commanders. Furthermore, he had put too much weight on projects such has the Clockwork King, which had not proven nearly as successful as he had hoped they would be.

Valthrudnir studied Riordan for a few moments more, then he gave a thin, contemptible smile. Well, he wouldn't rush the process along this time. He was here to research and understand these ponies, and to test what they were capable of. In every world he had visited, he had seen some form of them, and they had always proven to be the main obstacle between him and his goals: ridiculous, considering how obsessed these ponies were with order, and that was all he was trying to bring to the universe. A little bit of order amongst all the calamity of chaos.

But he supposed that ultimately, these ponies couldn't be more than they were made to be: hypocrites, animals, the toys of a god they no longer even knew the name of. Valthrudnir smiled again at this, straightening and brushing out the lapels of his suit.

Yes, there was no need to rush: he would simply take things in stride, until he proved once and for all that he knew what was best for the universe. That he could take even these miserable malcontents and make something useful of the raw and unpolished materials they provided.

Valthrudnir turned around, then said without bothering to look back at his assistants: “See that you clean up this mess as well. I have other business to attend to, but I expect three ponies to be outfitted with our prototype control nodes by the time I return. Do not disappoint me.”

His only acknowledgment was silence, but that was all Valthrudnir needed as he strode toward the exit. After all, these golems were the first sliver of the perfect universe he would one day build, where everything obeyed him.

He knew what was best, after all.

Thesis yawned loudly as he sat down at the table, absently picking up a fork and using it to poke blearily at his eggs. He hated eggs. He didn't know why they always served them to him.

He looked up... then smiled awkwardly as he saw quite a few sets of eyes all glaring at him from around the head table in the dining hall. He had really preferred it when he'd been allowed to sit with the Royal Guard during breakfast, at one of the tables down the hall... but ever since he'd been called back from the mines, he'd been forced to act like a prince, not a soldier.

He really wasn't very good at acting like a prince, though. And all these snobby diplomats and high upstanding court officials made him nervous, as he looked down and slowly and carefully picked up his napkin, taking his time in laying it out over his lap.

When he finally dared to look up again, everyone had thankfully gone back to their own conversations and he was once more being ignored. Thesis snuck a glance at his mother, but Princess Celestia was deep in debate with one of her advisers, her food forgotten in front of her.

Thesis looked for a few moments at the crepe his mother had left sitting on her plate, and then he slowly began to slide one of his front hooves across the table towards it. But the moment he touched the plate, Celestia brought her hoof down on top of his wrist, Thesis cursing as he quickly yanked his foreleg away, accidentally knocking over his glass of water in the process.

All eyes turned towards him again, and Thesis blushed deep red before he looked hurriedly down at the plate in front of him, picking up his fork and lamely beginning to pick at his eggs again while a servant hurried over to take his glass away and clean up his spilled water.

After a few minutes, Thesis looked up again, and once more everyone had returned to their own meals and conversation. The Prince of Equestria grimaced a bit, and then he finally plucked up a bit of his shredded egg and put it into his muzzle, wrinkling up his features in disgust.

He managed a few more mouthfuls, then grimaced and pushed his plate away before slumping a bit in his seat. A servant came by shortly to gather up the used tableware, and Thesis sighed in relief as he started to excuse himself-

Without looking, Celestia reached back and caught him by the shoulder, and Thesis winced a bit at this as he dropped himself back in his seat. Things hadn't exactly been at their best between himself and his mother lately: the stress of the war, and everything that had happened over these last few months, and the fact that... well, they weren't really seeing eye-to-eye on the handling of the war either, which felt very strange to Thesis, considering the fact that they had always gotten along so well in the past on just about every subject imaginable.

But Thesis was worried that... things were going wrong. He didn't want to question his mother, but... there were more and more of these 'Dogmatists' appearing around Canterlot, and even though it was probably kind of weird for Thesis to question the morality of that whole premise, he still found himself wondering if... this was the right thing to do. If maybe Valthrudnir was taking advantage of a situation and they were starting to lose a little of what made Equestria so great...

His stance on the Dogmatists made him feel like a hypocrite for a lot of reasons, though... and not just because he was a homunculus himself, but because he felt that if they were making these supersoldiers... why had so few of them been deployed? The griffins were digging deeper into Equestria day-by-day, and now they were bringing forwards war machines of their own, and forming full-fledged alliances with other races instead of simply recruiting prisoners and outlaws.

They had to start fighting back harder. Not just minimize the damage, but begin making their own attacks on the griffins. Too many ponies had died now, and this had evolved from a long-term border dispute into a full-fledged war. The griffins were trying to destroy them, and Thesis thought the only way they were going to stop was if they were destroyed first.

Thesis shifted a little in his seat, glancing down and feeling a stirring of guilt in his gut. He knew a lot of that was anger and ruthless logic talking, though, and that his mother was wise and compassionate, and even if they had lost territory and land, her strategies had saved many lives all the same. The griffins were vicious and only respected strength: if they took control of a town and it wasn't evacuated, they would kill and enslave every pony there, from the youngest foal to the oldest mare.

The diplomats and officials left one after the other, until finally, only Thesis and Celestia were left sitting at the table. The Princess turned towards her son, looking at him for a few moments... and then she smiled briefly before silently pushing her plate towards him, the stallion blushing a bit as the mare said softly: “Eat.”

Thesis picked up his fork, but then he bit his lip, looking awkwardly up at his mother. She looked back at him for a few moments, but then only shook her head with a quiet laugh, murmuring: “Just like when you were a foal. In a lot of ways, you still have a lot of growing up to do.”

“Yeah, I... I know.” Thesis mumbled, as he picked slowly at the crepe for a few moments with his fork, before he looked up and said finally: “This isn't as fun as I always thought it would be as a kid. Being a prince, I mean.”

“I know, Thesis. Maybe you're not meant to be a prince, and... I'm sorry for trying to make you stay here when you don't want to be.” Celestia smiled faintly, and Thesis blushed a bit as he looked up at her with surprise. “It's very hard to let you go, to let you... be the stallion you want to be. I suppose I've meddled quite a bit in what you want and I apologize for that.”

Thesis lowered his head a little, and then he nodded hesitantly before murmuring: “It's not your fault, Mom. I... I haven't been doing the best at being a good... pony in general, really. I was the one who screwed things up with the Royal Guard. And I'm the one who... I guess I don't want the responsibilities of being a prince, but I do want all the privileges.”

“You and Valthrudnir have a little more in common than you think.” Celestia said softly, and Thesis winced a bit and scowled in spite of his best efforts not to, but Celestia only chuckled quietly. “Don't be like that. He's... trying very hard to protect us all, in his own way. I believe that he'll make the right decision. He thinks he's been very sly about everything, but I'm not an idiot. He's too precise with his 'experiments,' among other things.”

Thesis looked up in surprise, then he shifted uncomfortably before he asked in a low voice, as he looked back and forth worriedly: “You think he's... already been experimenting on ponies?”

“I know he has, Thesis. He has a very different set of morals than we do, he considers right and wrong to be more... arbitrary guidelines. But part of the reason I allowed him to begin conducting these experiments is because I wanted to see what he's been doing to my people... and if he really is trying to benefit us, in some strange way.” Celestia stopped, then murmured softly: “And with volunteers coming forwards, I believe he's cut down on his... other unfortunate experiments.”

“Why do you put up with him? Why do you let him... do things like this?” Thesis asked in a louder voice than he intended, leaning towards his mother with a look of... frustration, and pain, and pure confusion. “I don't get it, I don't get why you don't just-”

“For the same reason I haven't said we should try and annihilate the griffins, for the same reason I put up with the... peculiar etiquette of the dragons, for the same reason I try and be accepting of other cultures instead of simply demonizing and dominating them when we have more than enough power to rule land, air, or sea.” Celestia replied calmly, shaking her head slowly. “He is from a much different world, Thesis. A different culture.”

“But you wouldn't let... a diamond dog or a griffin get away with torture and murder!” Thesis muttered harshly, leaning in towards his mother and frowning at her as she looked evenly back at him. “I just don't see you how you justify this, like-”

“Thesis. Valthrudnir is a creature of unknown power from an unknown world, who has weapons and machines at his disposal that can do things even I am not capable of.” Celestia said coldly, and Thesis stared at his mother as she rose her head and said quietly: “What is gained by making an enemy out of the most powerful ally we have? Especially when among his victims so far have been detractors and undesirables. Sometimes the existence of monsters serves the greater good.”

Thesis looked disbelievingly at his mother as she looked back, before Celestia closed her eyes and murmured: “I know the cost of war very well, Thesis. I know all about what sacrifices we have to make, and the responsibility we have to take. War costs a country much more than the lives of the good ponies in that nation. Sometimes war costs us our souls, too.”

Thesis lowered his head silently, looking down at his crepe as he shifted silently in his seat... and then Celestia murmured softly: “But I want to spare you that. I have been asking you to stay out of this war and moving you as far away from it as I could because I know that... our enemy is too strong for us to win by conventional means. And the civil war between myself and my sister almost demolished this country. Even today, there are still places where hatred for me festers, and ponies pray to my sister for her eternal night.”

The stallion looked silently up at his mother: he knew how much it hurt her to talk about her sister. Nothing was more important than family, after all... and when your family turned on you... “I... I want to help, though, Mom. I can help. I know you tell me not to think of myself as a weapon, that I'm a pony... but this is what I was made for. To fight... to protect others.”

“Those are two very different things.” Celestia said softly, looking at her son silently. “So which of those two were you made for, Thesis?”

Thesis bit his lip, looking down and thinking hard... and then he looked up into his mother's eyes, saying quietly: “To protect others. Because... I am a real pony, not a weapon. Weapons can only fight in the name of others. Ponies can... protect others, in their own name.”

“Good.” Celestia gave a small but honest smile, nodding slowly before she sighed quietly, lowering her head and murmuring: “I have a mission for you, Thesis, if you're willing to accept it. I want to send you with a team of Dogmatists to destroy a griffin outpost.”

Thesis' eyes widened in surprise, but Celestia only looked at him steadily until the stallion bit his lip, then asked finally: “What does the mission involve?”

“Espionage and stealth. You and your team will move in and plant explosives on several integral supports. The base is an important one to the griffins, and it should discourage them from making any more operations in the area.” Celestia said softly, before she gestured towards the plate. “Eat, Thesis.”

Thesis looked down at his crepe, and then he picked up his fork and nervously dug into it, eating slowly as Celestia continued: “I have invited the griffin ambassador to Canterlot, for one final attempt at discussion. You will be working in a very specific timeframe, to maximize the effect of the explosives... literally and figuratively.”

The stallion grimaced a bit, shifting a little before he said finally: “Why are we still holding back, though? Why are you trying so hard for a peaceful solution when they're... invading, destroying and taking over our land?”

Celestia looked away for a moment, and then, without looking back at Thesis, she said softly: “Because once Equestria starts to fight back, and once we begin to push the griffins out, other nations will try and step into the fray. They will know that even a nation as great as Equestria will not be able to maintain multiple fronts for very long, and that our military forces will be occupied. For many races, there would be no greater victory than if Equestria and the griffin nation completely eradicated each other. That is my chief concern: that this conflict has been exacerbated and exaggerated into what it has become, because another nation is waiting for the opportunity to strike.”

Thesis nodded slowly, looking at his mother as she smiled faintly back at him, saying softly: “Nothing is more important than your family, Thesis. Because your family are the only people in the entire world you can trust. Your family, your blood, your kin: everyone else... they will stay beside you while it suits them, Thesis, but no longer than that. Your closest friends, your greatest allies... they all have the potential to betray you if it suits them.”

The stallion looked silently up at Celestia, and Celestia gazed back at him quietly before she closed her eyes and lowered her head, saying softly: “That is the cost of being who we are, Thesis, of leading a nation. Never blinding yourself to all the hell and lies and evil in the world, but instead accepting it, every part and parcel. And yet all the same, trying to make the people under your command believe, truly believe... that the world can be a good place. To accept and love others... no matter how different they are.”

There was silence for a few moments, and then Thesis laughed a little before he looked up and started impulsively: “Your sister...”

He stopped, then looked down in embarrassment as Celestia gazed at him softly, before the stallion mumbled awkwardly: “I mean, sorry... I... I know that...”

“She didn't betray me, Thesis. I betrayed her.” Celestia said quietly, and Thesis looked up in surprise at the Princess of the Sun, who smiled faintly at her son before she reached a hoof across the table to gently rest on his. “And even though I did... she never turned on me. Nightmare Moon was not my sister. Nightmare Moon was the result of my own sins, my own actions, more than Luna's, Thesis. And I was the one who... punished her far beyond what she ever deserved.”

Celestia looked silently up towards the ceiling, and then she smiled faintly before saying quietly: “If I could do it all over again, Thesis, I'd change everything. More importantly, I'd change myself. But one day, she'll return, when the Elements of Harmony are ready to be used by those who deserve to bear those trinkets and that same title.”

Thesis cocked his head curiously, and Celestia only chuckled softly before shaking her head and returning her eyes to her son. “A silly old legend. But we've talked enough off the record for now. After you're finished your breakfast, I want you to report to the dungeons. A soldier will meet you there to escort you to your new duties.”

Thesis frowned in surprise at this, looking back and forth before he said finally: “That seems... a little strange, Mom...”

“We're in strange times, Thesis. I've already told you more than enough, and we have to be careful, now. There are a lot of ears trying to overhear our conversations.” Celestia stood up from the table, then she stepped forwards and gently kissed the stallion's forehead, making Thesis blush deep red as he looked up at her lamely. “Finish your crepe. And remember that I love you.”

“I... I love you too, Mom.” Thesis stammered, surprised by the suddenness. But Celestia only smiled at him softly before she turned to walk away, leaving the stallion alone at the table, staring after her... and wondering uneasily why he suddenly felt so... afraid.

The stallion eventually returned his attention to the crepe, eating the last of it before pushing away from the table and heading nervously out of the hall. He made his way towards the stairs leading down to the dungeons: a place he had never seen a whole lot of, in spite of having lived most of his life here. Sure, when he had been younger, it had been the spooky, creepy place where he and Songbird had run around like morons, giggling to themselves...

But then again, when they had been younger, the dungeons had rarely seen a lot of use, and only certain sections had been home to prisoners. Now that war was raging, the dungeons were being used for more than just the occasional thief caught sneaking around the castle...

Thesis grimaced a little as he pushed through a large, wrought iron door to descend the stone steps beyond, feeling... well, he wasn't quite sure what he was feeling right now. He was worried, among other things, but he also felt... excited? Was it okay that he felt excited? Or was that weird?

Thesis shook his head as he stepped down into the dungeons, then he frowned in surprise as he glanced up and realized that the guttering torches had been replaced by magical lights, and the halls seemed much cleaner than he remembered them being. Granted, he hadn't been down here for months, if not years... but still...

He strode down the well-lit halls, glancing towards the cells he passed and frowning a little. Some of them looked like they had been polished and repaired, while others seemed to have been converted into a variety of different rooms: an interrogation chamber here, an emergency supplies store there, a shelter probably meant for the guards to relax in...

Thesis glanced up as he reached the end of the hall, and then he frowned curiously as he saw a tall, thin unicorn he didn't recognize clearly waiting for him. The stallion hesitantly drew closer, then cleared his throat before saluting and asking awkwardly: “Uh... so are you going to... brief me?”

The unicorn's lip curled in an unpleasant smile, and Thesis grimaced as he studied this apparition in the few moments of silence that followed: a listless, tarnished gray coat, and an ugly mane that had once been black, and was now peppered with white. One eye was cataract white, with distinct scars around it, while the other was an eerie blue...

Thesis' eyes narrowed as his eyes flicked quickly over the stallion, taking in his rigid, almost unnaturally-straight posture, the looseness of his coat, and the polished whiteness of his teeth... “You're not a pony. And you're not like me, either.”

The unicorn chuckled quietly: a clanking, ugly sound, before it turned around and opened the door, striding away. Thesis hesitated only a moment before following, keeping a comfortable distance away from the creature as he watched the way it moved: almost naturally, but the key word was almost. The... near-contempt he felt from it certainly seemed like it was real, but the way it moved...

Thesis grimaced a bit, recognizing the irony of his own thoughts. So that was 'real' contempt, was it? He shook his head slowly... then frowned a bit as the creature suddenly came to a halt in the middle of the hall, before it turned slowly around.

Thesis frowned and stopped himself... then winced and looked to either side, tensing himself, as four cell doors slid open around him. He readied himself... then gritted his teeth as four ponies dressed in black armor emerged, all of them clearly Dogmatists... heavily modified Dogmatists, at that, far beyond what Thesis had seen in the soldiers that Valthrudnir had been authorized to do by the Royal Council and Princess Celestia.

His body tensed and flexed... and then the unicorn-thing that had led him here finally spoke, saying in a voice that crackled strangely, as if it was talking over a roll of rolling parchment: “These are your soldiers. They require constant monitoring to remain at optimum efficiency, and will listen to your orders explicitly.”

Thesis frowned uneasily as the four soldiers around him saluted, before the stallion slowly turned towards the unicorn. They looked at each other steadily for a few moments, and then Thesis asked quietly: “And who... or what... are you?”

“A command unit similar to yourself, sent here from Decretum to assist in monitoring the situation. But until Lord Valthrudnir deems it necessary, I will remain in a passive role. I will brief and debrief you, and provide suitable equipment under orders from Lord Valthrudnir and Princess Celestia.” The unicorn paused, then added calmly: “You may refer to me as Vice.”

“Fantastic.” Thesis muttered, and then he looked nervously back and forth at the four Dogmatists surrounding him, still frozen in salute. “So they're... they'll listen to me?”

Vice only gestured at him, and Thesis grimaced a bit before he cleared his throat, then ordered, with the faintest twinge of hesitance in his voice: “Role call! Line up and sound off!”

The four Dogmatists quickly marched forwards, lining up in front of Thesis, and then one by one spoke their name. Their voices were all hollow, emotionless... frightening, Thesis thought. And as he studied these creatures, he shivered as he realized perhaps why they bothered him so much: how different, really, was a homunculus like him from golems like these?

He drew his eyes uneasily over the four: Hierophant, Lamella, Napalm, and Zone. They were covered in grafted metal and synthetic parts, and Hierophant was a unicorn with strange, glowing eyes, while Lamella, an earth pony, had large vents on his side and stank of something... toxic and familiar that Thesis couldn't quite put his hoof on.

Zone was another earth pony with some kind of metal plating on his side as well, that clicked worryingly away, Thesis wondering what the hell it was... but Napalm was by far the one that made him the most uneasy. There were large tanks visible on his sides and back that looked as if they had been embedded in his body, and what looked like tubes and hoses all throughout flesh that glistened like wet rubber over the hairless unicorn...

Thesis turned towards Vice, but the unicorn only smiled coldly before saying softly: “They are not my concern. They are your concern, Thesis. Now take control of the situation, or I will be forced to find a suitable replacement for this mission.”

The stallion narrowed his eyes at the Vice, but then he looked over his shoulder at the soldiers and said calmly: “At ease.”

The four relaxed, and Thesis turned back around towards them, studying the four before he said quietly: “They're all built for different roles... but I don't recognize some of these machines. And I don't recognize the ponies, either.”

“That is none of your concern.” Vice said dismissively, and Thesis frowned a little, but didn't look back at the unicorn, staying silent... and as he had hoped, Vice continued in a distasteful voice, apparently not fond of being ignored: “You have been issued your orders, and by Princess Celestia, no less. She did not see it fit to question how this unit came to be. She merely thanked Lord Valthrudnir for his generosity in this matter and agreed that a strike was necessary.”

“Alright.” Thesis said calmly, looking down for a moment and feeling... distinctly uneasy at that. So his mother knew about this... “What are our orders?”

“Classified, and on a need-to-know basis. You should concern with getting yourself equipped, Thesis. These machines have been ready to go since they were programmed for this mission. Your function will merely be to oversee operations and adjust for any unexpected difficulties that occur.” Vice said contemptibly, and Thesis grimaced a little as he turned to face the unicorn again. They looked at each other steadily... before the unicorn narrowed his eye as Thesis smiled a little. “What's so funny?”

“I've met a lot of assholes in the Royal Guard. Some were assholes for good reason. A few of those assholes saved my life and were the best people I've ever had the honor of meeting. Doesn't change the fact they were assholes, but if anything, I admire them for having the guts to be an asshole, to know that half the unit isn't going to ever appreciate everything they did for us.” Thesis stepped forwards, meeting Vice's eye and raising his head high, saying quietly: “But you? You're just an asshole, Vice. I'll take your toys, though. And I'll make soldiers out of them. Because that's what they deserve.”

“How endearing.” Vice's synthetic voice dripped with disgust, before he turned around and strode down the hall to a heavy, plate-metal door, his horn glowing and lighting up a magical lock. “This requires your input as well.”

Thesis approached, then reached up to push a hoof against the glowing, hoof-shaped lock: it fit his front hoof with a strange snugness, the stallion frowning... then he winced as he felt a painful tingling sensation spread through his hoof. He hurriedly yanked it back, and Vice smiled contemptibly even as the lock depressed and the heavy door slid open. “I remain unconvinced that you are supposed to be the prototype for the ultimate lifeform.”

The stallion looked sharply at Vice, but the unicorn only gave a reedy, clanking laugh before he turned away. “I must make my report to Lord Valthrudnir. Everything you require is inside.”

Thesis watched the unicorn walk away, his eyes wary: whatever else, Vice made his guts curdle. He stayed at the edge of the doorway until the unicorn finally left his sight, and then he looked over at the four Dogmatists, the stallion biting his lip before he asked awkwardly: “So uh... what do you guys like to do for fun?”

The Dogmatists only looked at him silently, and Thesis winced a bit before he mumbled: “Okay then. No fun. Business then... come on, guys.”

Thesis stepped into the equipment room, looking uneasily back and forth at the gear that lined the walls: he saw black armor made of a substance that he didn't recognize, that seemed somewhere between glass and plastic, and weaponry and equipment that looked far more advanced than even the cannons on the flying battleships.

It made Thesis shiver as he looked uneasily over these, before murmuring: “What the hell is Valthrudnir really capable of? What are these things?”

“Class II equipment. Military-grade.” said a toneless voice, and Thesis winced over his shoulder as he saw Hierophant standing almost right behind him, with the rest of the Dogmatists crowded into the doorway. Well, he had made the mistake of telling them to follow him... “Authorized for Class C, Class II, and Class V use.”

Thesis looked uncomfortably at Hierophant, then he nervously looked at the gear on the wall before asking hesitantly: “Am I... authorized?”

“Yes. You are Class V, Replicant.” Hierophant responded in his hollow voice, and Thesis shivered a little as he felt a strange twist in his stomach at that word, and a chill run down his spine...

“I... I am Thesis. I am a pony.” Thesis said finally, and then he looked over these mechanical, hollow ponies. These machines that had once been...

Once been? No... they still were ponies, just like he was a pony. He gazed up at them, at how terrible and frightening they looked... and yet, beneath that, he saw how hollow and lost they were, too. And here he was, treating them like he had been treated more and more as the war raged on and ponies insisted on seeing him as either a weapon or a nuisance...

“You are all ponies. Forget your... classes, forget all that crap.” Thesis suddenly said forcefully, and the Dogmatists all looked at him with something akin to confusion. “You, what's your name?”

“Hierophant.” the Dogmatist answered tonelessly.

“No, that's your callsign. My callsign is Lightning Hoof, or Lightning. But my name is Thesis. What's your name?” Thesis pressed, and the Dogmatist slowly tilted its head... but that was the most emotion it had shown so far, and Thesis felt ridiculously proud of himself.

“Hierophant.” it repeated all the same, but was that maybe a hint of hesitation under the synthetic rumbling of its voice?

Thesis smiled a bit, then he glanced at the armor on the wall for a moment before he turned and picked it up. He studied it for a few moments... then he shrugged before turning and looking at the Dogmatists, asking: “Do you know how this works?”

The Dogmatists only looked at him for a moment, and then Thesis held up the armor in front of himself, explaining: “When I put it on, I'm Lightning Hoof. When I take it off, I'm just Thesis. So what about you guys? When you take your gear off, who are you?”

Thesis recognized that the Dogmatists probably couldn't actually remove most of their equipment: too much of it looked like it had been bolted or grafted on. Still, he hoped the metaphor would get through to them... “We are never off-duty. We serve Decretum. We serve the Clockwork King.”

“The Clockwork King?” Thesis grimaced a bit. What a strangely-fitting name for Valthrudnir, he thought... “And he ordered you to listen to me?”

“We have been programmed to obey all commands given to us by superior units. Your authority is superseded only by those of monarch rank.” answered Hierophant tonelessly. “You do not have override privileges.”

Thesis sighed a little, looking uncomfortably at Hierophant, before he glanced past him to the other Dogmatists, asking awkwardly: “Anyone have anything else they maybe want to say?”

None of the others spoke, only looking silently at Thesis with their glassy eyes, and the stallion grimaced a little before Hierophant explained calmly: “I am the highest ranking under your command, as a Class C Intelligence design. I will speak for the needs of the unit.”

“I don't want you to speak for the needs of the unit. I want you all to talk to me.” Thesis said in an exasperated voice, even as he started to buckle on his armor. “I... come on, guys. Work with me a little here. I know there must still be pony in there beneath the... beneath the everything else.”

He fell quiet, and there was silence for a few moments as he shifted back and forth, buckling on the body-fitting equipment before frowning and looking up as a mechanical voice said quietly: “We are not ponies. We are Dogmatist. We are servants of Decretum. We are military designs.”

Thesis looked at Napalm for a few moments... and then he gave a faint smile as he tightened the buckles of the black armor around his body, saying softly: “You're all of those things, as well as ponies. Maybe you guys can work that into your programming.”

The Dogmatists only stared at him, and Thesis grimaced a bit before he finally straightened and absently patted the breastplate he had slipped on. It was form-fitting, and felt like it had been made for him precisely. Not that it would be a huge feat of skill to get his measurements from the tailor or one of the armor smiths, but it still felt weird...

Thesis returned his eyes to the wall and the weapons that covered it, before he reached up and picked up some kind of... handle, he thought. He tilted it back and forth in his hooves... then swore loudly as he hit a button on the side and the goddamn thing electrocuted him, the stallion flinging it to the ground as he rubbed wildly at one of his hooves.

“The stun rod must be unfolded and gripped firmly by the rubberized handle. Otherwise it may overload or pose a danger to the wielder.” informed Hierophant.

Thesis looked sourly at the pony, then he sighed before saying finally: “I'm going to start calling you Toot. Because you do all the talking and you seem to know everything.”

“I am not Toot. I am Hierophant.”

“No, you're Toot now.” Thesis said mildly, feeling a strange sort of relief in the fact that the Dogmatist actually sounded both confused and maybe the tiniest bit irritated. “I'll give the rest of you new nicknames later.”

Hierophant seemed to be scowling at him slightly, but Thesis took that as a victory even as he forced himself to become more serious, asking calmly: “So what are the mission parameters? Do you know when we depart?”

“We will join a merchant caravan in two hours' time. It will provide the cover necessary to approach the staging area. The mission will require stealth and accuracy. The mission will begin at twenty hundred hours tomorrow. Napalm has already been programmed with the target data and. Our main objective is to escort and defend Napalm while he deploys explosive charges.” Hierophant explained, and Thesis nodded slowly. “We have been ordered to obey all instructions that you give us during this period. We are flawed and incomplete, and have shown increased difficulty reacting to unusual situations and atypical stimulus.”

Thesis looked at Hierophant for a few moments, and then he shook his head slowly before asking hesitantly: “So you're saying that you four are... essentially just... programmed? But the other ponies who were modified into Dogmatists don't show that level of... well...”

What was a polite word for brainwashing? Thankfully, Thesis was saved trying to figure that out as Hierophant only explained tonelessly: “They are not Dogmatists. They are augmented, but they have not undergone reprogramming or extensive modification. They are only enhanced. They are not servants of Decretum.”

Thesis nodded slowly, and then he asked slowly: “What is Decretum?”

Hierophant was silent for a few moments, and then he finally answered: “That information is restricted, Commander Thesis.”

“Just Thesis.” the stallion said softly, and then he sighed a little before looking uncomfortably at the Dogmatists, silently wondering if this was what Valthrudnir ultimately had in mind when he said that he wanted to make pony society better... and wondering just why it was then, that he had been left in charge of these hollow vessels, and what Valthrudnir's plans really were for him and the country that he had sworn to protect.

Comments

[hellcatte]

Of course, that doesn't change the fact that he's a petulant, psychopathic bastard.

[ponygrad]

That's quite an about-face for celestia to go from no-augmentation to kidnapping and brainwashing undesirables. It might have made more sense for them to be POWS, considering their treatment has come up before and it would be a smaller ideal for celestia to sacrafice.

Also, those intro poems are sweet, particularly this one.