Eleven

by lord_steak

Getting In Too Deep

“You don’t just lose sight of them! Princesses don’t just disappear!” Fallow Fields barked at a trio of ponies at their posts, their crystal balls showing different parts of Canterlot. Others busied themselves. Others still appeared contented they weren’t the ones in trouble.

Trembling, one young stallion said, “No, sir, they don’t, but they do teleport. And Princess Twilight Sparkle is known to do just that.”

The director glared at him, yelling, “It doesn’t change that it’s too dangerous for either of them to go poof and for us to have no idea which way they went!”

“Sir, we have a report coming in, in regards to both!” chimed in another of the berated three with a hoof to her earpiece. “Princess Celestia returned to the castle in the way she left, to about the same place.”

Mr. Fields said, “Good, that’s one prodigal princess. And the other?”

“Seen airborne, heading towards Ponyville,” said the mare, reading off a small projection on her desk.

Fallow Fields sighed in relief. “Excellent, thank you, Ms. Waves. Monitor her flight,” he said normally, and then he continued in his earlier intense tone, “And get me info about the five seen with her!”

“Yes sir.”

The door opened. In walked a black earth pony stallion. He had the appearance of one who had been wrestling with the bedsheets and lost. Mr. Fields turned to him, raising his eyebrows in surprise. He remarked, “Ah, Shadow-Walker. You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” yawned Shadow-Walker with a rub at his side.

Fallow Fields grimaced. With a nod and sigh, he said, “I understand. I’m there nearly every night.”

“Sir, it may be just as well you’re both here,” interjected a young stallion looking at a still image on the ball. “The Lone Ranger just sent some information.”

The director motioned toward the wall. Four images appeared on there. Two were of a unicorn mare, pale yellow with a frizzy brown mane and tail, and plum-magenta eyes, and a caption on the second. Another was a storefront, with a display of pies. The last was of a lakefront street. Director Fields pondered a moment, then he gasped in understanding. “Through the shades...! Tinker, you magnificent son of a bitch, that’s brilliant!”

Shadow-Walker regarded the photos contemptuously. He began, “Why did—oh. A recruiter, eh?”

“Hmm. ‘Custard Cream.’ Sweetie Drops proves herself again,” said Fallow Fields with an amused smirk.

“If you say so,” muttered Shadow-Walker as he turned to go.

Fallow Fields stepped between his lieutenant and the door. Curtly he ordered, “Bury the damn hatchet already. This is past getting old.”

“Sir, we have facial recognition data on those five,” interrupted Ms. Waves, with a hoof held over her head.

Fallow Fields gestured to Shadow-Walker towards the wall. He said, “Good. Report.”

A picture of a familiar cobalt blue unicorn showed up in the main viewer. Ms. Waves said, “This is Minuette. She graduated with Princess Twilight Sparkle from Princess Celestia’s School For Gifted Unicorns, top 10% of their class, quickest dentist in Equestria.”

“Her mane looks like toothpaste...,” Shadow-Walked muttered irritably. Fallow Fields nudged him in the ribs and shook his head no when their eyes met. The image shifted again, to a yellow unicorn.

“This one is Lemon Hearts,” continued Ms. Waves. She blinked at the text in front of her a moment before resuming, “She, too, studied at Princess Celestia’s School For Unicorns, graduated in the top 20% of their class with Princess Twilight. She’s an event planner at Castle Canterlot.”

“Were they all school friends?” asked Fallow Fields as Shadow-Walker yawned. The viewer then displayed a white unicorn with pink mane and tail.

“It’s looking like. This is Twinkleshine. Same school and year, top 20% of their class. She works in the Department of Municipal Planning, City of Canterlot,” read Ms. Waves.

“Not surprised the company she kept in her school days have solid careers,” said Shadow-Walker as Fallow Fields nodded.

“Yes, but those last three are far more sociable than Princess Twilight. This next one, though, isn’t,” replied Ms. Waves. A cream-coated unicorn with thick glasses and eyebrows appeared next. “Moon Dancer, Salutatorian of their graduating class, behind Twilight Sparkle as Valedictorian. ‘Professional Bookworm:’ until recently, all she did with her days was study every subject she could, using a modest income from her long-term investments’ dividends to handle every monthly expense.”

“She looks damn depressed,” commented Shadow-Walker, earning another stern look from his boss.

Ms. Waves paused, both eyebrows raising substantially when a mint green unicorn appeared on the screen. She grinned, and said, “Oh...sir, you’ll want to hear this.”

“What about this last one?” asked Fallow Fields expectantly.

“Lyra Heartstrings, perhaps coming from the most affluent upbringing of those six,” said Ms. Waves with considerable amusement. “Same graduating class, top 5%. Music performance and therapy...in Ponyville.”

“Oh?”

Unable to contain the titillating, she snickered, “And it gets better: she shares a house with a mare named ‘Bon-Bon.’ Look familiar?”

Both Fallow Fields and Shadow-Walker stood agape as her picture showed up, minding her candy shop with a wide smile. The director blurted, “...you can’t be serious.”

Ms. Waves guffawed as a new bit of text appeared in front of her. Other ponies, who were hard at work before, stopped and stared as she nearly buckled. She started to rein it in as Shadow-Walker snapped, “Get it together, you!”

“Short Waves, do we need to review the drug policy?” Fallow Fields accused.

“I’m sorry, sir, this last bit is just too rich. It’s too perfect!” she answered, on the edge of laughing again. “All six of those classmates were at North Station when Princess Celestia teleported there. She left the same way, and five of the six school friends left on foot. Guess who got on a train, to where?”

Shadow-Walker scoffed angrily, “You’re telling us this Lyra Heartstrings took a train to Detrot after being seen off by both Sparkle and Celestia!?”

“That would be correct,” said Ms. Waves before cracking up again.

Fallow Fields walked over to a different station, one with a rail map of Equestria. Several moving dots inched along the marked lines. The young mare there highlighted the dot leaving Canterlot as her boss growled, “What the hell is she doing?”

Shifting a few projected symbols and buttons, a large red one appeared. The mare held her hoof over it, and asked, “Should we have that train stopped, sir?”

“Not yet, but maybe,” said Fallow Fields, as he pressed something else on the desk that made the large red holographic button disappear. “We need to know what Ms. Heartstrings was told before we do such a thing; she’s not the only one on that train. If she were, well...acceptable collateral.”

“Acknowledged. Train-stopping protocols on stand-by,” she replied.

The director walked over to his lieutenant and put a hoof on his withers. He said, “I know this will make it more difficult for you to rest, but you need to, old friend. It looks like it’s gonna be an interesting one tonight, and you’re no good on minimal sleep. Get back to bed.”

“Yes, sir, of course...,” answered Shadow-Walker as he turned to go. As the lift doors closed, he cracked a grin and a chuckle, muttering to himself, “...wasn’t expecting a bit of serendipity when I dropped by, but not complaining. This Lyra Heartstrings may be just the key.”

---

Bon-Bon and Custard Cream sat at a round two-pony table. Bon-Bon’s plate had crumbs left on it, while Custard Cream was finishing off a slice of key lime pie. Bon-Bon had a thoughtful grin as she nodded slowly. She looked up and said, “I’m liking what I’m hearing so far.”

For Bon-Bon, this was the worst. She had been lying through her teeth for nearly an hour, just trying to get some new information, all with an overstuffed belly. Up until this point Custard Cream hadn’t given her any information she didn’t already have. That slice of coconut cream pie was superb, though, despite already being full after her double hayburger combo.

This wouldn’t be a bad place to take Lyra once this was all said and done...if it weren’t a front for terrorists. What I’d do to have a walk with Lyra along the waterfront right now...or anywhere at all.

Custard Cream chewed on the last bite of her slice with a grin of her own. She swallowed and beamed, “I thought you might. I think we’re gonna be good pals, you and I.”

“Yes indeed,” answered Bon-Bon with a warm smile. She turned serious and asked, “But is there a plan to make this a reality, like written down?”

Nodding, her tablemate said, “There is. Some of our legal experts already have been drafting a new constitution, mostly taking inspiration from Pferdland’s Grundgesetz.”

Bon-Bon stared blankly. “Huh?”

“The literal translation is ‘ground laws,’ but it means their constitution,” Custard Cream explained.

“I got the gist, but I was more confused by ‘Pferdland.’ Where’s that?”

Custard Cream gave her a slight frown. “I see you’ve not been there. It’s ‘Pferdland’ in their tongue, but in ours, we call it ‘Germane.’ They have a name for Equestria in their language, but don’t ask me to pronounce it.”

Bon-Bon silently mouthed an ‘ahh’ as she lifted her head. She felt a mini-burp exit her throat, the kind that often comes before puking; the pie’s lack of room kept pressing against her rib cage. Keeping it together, Bon-Bon asked, “They’re democratic?”

“First country of the modern era, too,” stated the unicorn. She gestured toward the water and said, “Across the river and lake is Caneighda, and so are they.”

Scrunching her forehead, the earth pony asked, “How much of the world is democratic? I had thought I was thinking like a radical, but it’s looking more and more like Equestria is behind the times.”

“Most countries still have royalty in one form or another, but that number is dropping,” said Custard Cream. “The idea that somepony, or yak, or deer, or whatever is above the rest of her or his race just because of her or his parents, or in Sparkle’s case, a single deed, is absurd, backwards, and routinely proven false.”

Bon-Bon lightly waved a hoof just over the table. Cautiously she said, “Um, just to be fair and honest, Twilight still isn’t entirely comfortable being a princess, and asks us to not address her by her honourific.”

“Really...?”

“Yeah. Really.”

Custard Cream’s face appeared to have either withheld a smile, or suggested she had a toothache...or maybe a little of each. Slowly she admitted, “Now that is interesting, and good to know. There may be hope for her yet.”

“There really is,” Bon-Bon said with a chuckle, shaking her head. Her overfull stomach protested again. Still not letting her queasiness show, she continued, “I’m willing to bet she would willingly lay down her crown if the ponies voiced they wanted democracy.”

“Nopony, or other sentient being for that matter, ever willingly concedes power unless it has become a burden,” said Custard Cream.

“I think she thought of it as a burden in the first place,” Bon-Bon said airily. Talking about the princesses negatively, even just playing the part, left her feeling ill, a feeling made far worse by coconut cream. Her stomach lurched again.

“Are you okay?” Custard Cream asked, her face concerned.

Bon-Bon rubbed her sides. Although pained, she honestly answered, “Ate too much. A double hayburger and then that big a slice of pie? I’m no draft stallion.”

“I believe you, about both the food and Sparkle,” said Custard Cream. She pursed her lips a moment, then asked, “Hey, are you busy tonight?”

“Not unless you guys need me to be,” Bon-Bon said, while she earnestly wished she had plans with Lyra, and have a belated Friendiversary...rather than sit here overstuffed and keeping it down.

“Sweet! We’re having a get-together tonight well-after sundown. You can officially join us then,” cheered Custard Cream with a broad smile.

Bon-Bon clamped on her own esophagus as she cheerfully answered, “I look forward to it!”

“Great!” beamed Custard Cream. She walked around the table and gave her companion a gentle hug as she softly and honestly said, “Bon-Bon, thank you. I speak on behalf of The Order of Eleven when I say we’re happy to have you, and we look forward to building a better Equestria with you.”

---

The moon was little more than a sliver as it rose out of the east, visible only around turns as Lyra sat pensive in the second sleeping car of the train. They had their stop at the junction to the Crystal Empire nearly an hour ago. She still had an hour left to ride, and this train showed no sign of slowing down, as though somebody shoved the throttle lever to its max and then stole the lever itself. Unfortunately her mind showed the same sort of motivation and drive, though instead of following a track into the northwest, her train of thoughts pressed onward through an ever-tightening spiral. Seven hours through said spiral whittled it down to five general thoughts left in its repeating sequence:

I think I like her, like, like-like her.
You can’t do that! It’s not right for a mare to like-like another mare.
But Princess Celestia herself said there’s nothing wrong with that.
G’ahh...!! Why can’t everypony agree?! I’m so confused, I don’t know what to think anymore!
It’s your life to live, not theirs; what do you think you want?
I think I like her....

Lyra shook her head. All this repetition had given her a brutal headache. She stared out the window at flat landscape, dotted here and there with conifers, tinted a dark blue as dusk settled. Thumbing through the old divination book reminded her of many spells she once knew; she called upon one to show her a map of Detrot and the surrounding area.

Geez, this town is huge! Knew it had seen much better days, but damn, it looks terrible. It's a huge dump. Much too huge a dump, particularly with all those iron mines in its eastern hills. And the Bon-Bon could be anywhere in all that mess. Stupid, should’ve taken my friends’ offer to come along now. I can’t draw a magic circle to boost the a spell’s range anywhere near that much. Unless....

Her horn began flickering rapidly, sending a message to her lavender friend: “Hey Twilight, Detrot is enormous. Are there other circles you know how to etch, or stronger divination spells, to make this feasible? I don’t know if I can do this alone.”

An orchid pink-purple text of italicized cursive showed up in her vision in response, “Hey Lyra. I was wondering about that. Well, if we can’t help you right at your side, we’ll help you like this.”

“Thanks.”

“Wait, how far along the ride are you?” asked Twilight via the texting magic.

“About another hour before I get there,” Lyra texted back.

Twilight answered, “Whoa! That’s some range on this spell!”

“It helps when one knows exactly where the other is.”

“I see what you mean. Hey, let me try something,” the young princess posted.

Lyra clamped her jaw for a moment at this. She responded, “Define ‘Something.’”

A slight pause came before Twilight’s answer, “Just seeing if...ah! Good evening.”

Lyra’s head jolted backwards a moment as an off-white text in ornate, modern script appeared, “Hey Twi.”

“Moon Dancer??” Lyra replied.

A series of pale yellow letters in medieval calligraphy appeared next, “Good evening, my old faithful student.”

“YOUR MAJESTY!?!” answered Lyra, actually italicizing her response.

Moon Dancer’s answer came right on the heels of Lyra’s. “Uh, Your Majesty?”

“Well, well. Lyra and Moon Dancer, if I’m not mistaken?” asked Princess Celestia’s message.

There was another pause. Moon Dancer remarked, “Yes, Your Majesty. It’s us.”

“Oh wow, Twilight! Element of Magic or not, that’s impressive!” Lyra gushed.

“Twilight Sparkle, did you use this spell to cheat on your exams, too!?” accused Celestia’s next post.

“No, Princess. I just learned it yesterday,” answered Twilight.

Still another pause, then Celestia prompted, “Just yesterday?”

Lyra asked, “And you already tweaked it from being a link between two ponies, and made it into a conference call?”

“Yep,” responded Twilight. “I was pondering how you gals weaved the dweomer on the way home, and had a thought.”

“You’re not the kind to show off, Twilight,” added Moon Dancer. “You added the Princess and me to the conversation for a reason. What can we do to help Lyra?”

Twilight replied, “She needs a more potent magic circle, or clairvoyance spell, or both, to help her search in Detrot. I thought the three of us are the most knowledge of the libraries, or spells in general. My own student never studied divination magic at all, but maybe she can contact Sunburst. He’s brilliant with magical theory.”

“You actually took Starlight Glimmer as your student? That wasn’t just a rumor? Isn’t she old enough to have been your foalsitter?” Moon Dancer posted.

“Yes, yes, and yes, to your questions,” answered Twilight.

Lyra imagined Twilight had to be losing her patience at all the sidebars. She felt so too as she interjected, “Um, gals, Your Majesty, this train arrives in an hour. Could I get a hoof, please?”

Twilight replied, “I’m already in my castle’s library, looking.”

“I shall be in my own library in a moment,” popped up the text from Princess Celestia, barely after Twilight’s response.

Moon Dancer began, “Um, the Canterlot Public Library closed hours ago...what the...!! Um...how did I get here?”

“I teleported you to the correct section of the library, Moon Dancer,” explained the senior princess. “I will send a notice to the head librarian, so that you will not be accused of trespassing.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Twilight posted, “I’ll keep the conversation active, and we can pass our findings quickly.”

“Will Hayscartes’ technique interrupt this spell?” Moon Dancer asked.

“Nope. I’m already inside the books.”

What are they talking about? Well, whatever it is, or whoever this “Haycartes” is...if it helps me, I don’t care.

Lyra cocked her head to the side. Moon Dancer answered, “Oh wow! That’s great to know! With that said, I’m going in.”

Princess Celestia entered, “I shall as well.”

Lyra shook her head as the others discussed the finer subtleties of divination.

---

Custard Cream led Bon-Bon into what looked like a rough neighborhood. The paint jobs looked fresh and shoddily applied, many windows were barred, and twice they passed a chalk outline of a pony surrounded by police tape. Several places didn’t have working street lamps. Twice they were approached by honest-to-goodness gangs, and twice their potential assailants stopped and waved when Custard Cream waved to them. They approached what looked like a large brick institutional building with the tattered remains of a playground to one side. Bon-Bon asked, “An old school?”

“Yes. We use it as a symbol: we gather where our children should have been, to secure for them the future that they should’ve had in the first place,” said Custard Cream, leading her inside. The hall was dark, but Bon-Bon’s eyes darted between points of soft red light tucked among cracks of the crumbling walls and ceillings, and between lockers.

“Why did they close the school?” Bon-Bon asked as they turned the corner and went down half a flight of stairs.

“No money and no teachers will soon leave a school with no students,” explained Custard Cream as they continued down another hallway. “This part of Detrot suddenly had twenty-five hundred foals who would not have even an elementary school education. We asked for help from the princess, because at the time it was just Celestia, but we heard nothing back, time and time again. The school ran out of funds and had to close. Canterlot decided they would rather have yet another fountain in their then-newest park, than educate our children. The cost of the fountain would have kept every school in the greater Detrot area open for three years. But no, we went ignored. We eventually stopped asking about five years ago.”

Bon-Bon said, “As they say, ‘out of sight, out of mind.’ It’s too easy to turn a blind eye to nameless, faceless ponies.”

They came to the gym. Entering and beginning across, Custard Cream elaborated, “We know. We are only as strong as the weakest of us, only as well-off as the poorest of us. We’ve looked around the world and learned the strength and wealth of a society comes from its working class, not from aristocratic elites. Layponies spend their bits, which increases market demand, and that creates both jobs and new opportunities for business; we’ve seen it in so many other nations. We also feel everypony is entitled to have her or his opinion known, and that nopony’s opinion is any more valuable than anypony else’s. Fair voting is the only way we all can have liberty, security, and a shot at a fair living.”

“Sounds great, but I could use a bit of clarification, please,” said Bon-Bon.

“Anything.”

In carefully-minded tones, she pointed out, “Somepony could construe that to suggest everypony, regardless of their occupation, should be paid exactly the same.”

“Others before you have voiced the same concern,” began Custard Cream as they neared the middle of basketball court. “While we would not allow anypony to fall through the cracks, the cream of the crop should still have something worth striving for. Ponies should rise to the top financially because of their deeds and talent, deeds that helped a great many and not just a hooffull, and certainly not just because of lineage. Nopony should lord over another. We all enter and leave this world the same way; we should live together as sisters and brothers. Because of that, everypony should have equal education. We have no idea where the next Hayscartes will come from, or the next Whinninov, or Starswirl The Bearded. Unless they all can get their chance, the world will miss out on what geniuses would come from the poor.”

Mention of the composer’s name made Bon-Bon’s face light up, thoughts of Lyra rushing to her and the number of times the mint-coated mare carried on about his work. Even the thought of listening to Lyra playing made her smile, and she exclaimed, “Whinninov? My very best friend loves his concertos!”

Custard Cream grinned with an affirming grunt as they walked up some stairs onto a stage, attached to the gym. She said, “Then you know better than most why equal chances are of utmost importance.”

They stopped by the backstage door. It alone looked to be new, or at least in good repair. A green ray swept over both of them. Bon-Bon’s eyes narrowed as green text appeared. “One of you is unknown. What is both friend and desire that must hide?”

Bon-Bon thought a moment, and answered, “Liberty.”

New text replaced the first. “And how far would you to go to find your friend?”

Bon-Bon saw Lyra’s smiling face, and thought of her instead of the mission, answering, “Through death, and then Tartarus, before I give her up.”

Custard Cream raised her eyebrows. A last bit of text showed for a moment before disappearing as the lock clicked. “Welcome, new friend.”

“Something wrong?”

Bon-Bon came out of her Lyra-trance. She looked over at her companion. “Huh?”

“You looked irritated at the security measure.”

Bon-Bon covered, “Perhaps a little, but I’m more curious where you got that.”

“I don’t know the specifics, but let’s just leave it as that some among us are some former special agents. There’s no way to predict what it’ll ask, but it’s intelligent enough to understand the answers it receives, and if the pony is lying. That was one heck of an answer,” Custard Cream replied most-impressed.

The two entered. They were greeted by a stairwell that could convey four abreast both up and down, and in good condition by normal standards rather than Detrot’s lowered bar. At the bottom were two sets of double doors. Going in, there was a crowd of ponies and some seats in rows, all facing a stage that had a podium on a raised dais. Bon-Bon noticed an unfortunately familiar face. Her own grew slightly worried. Before she could duck from sight, the stallion shouted to her, “Sweetie Drops! Hot-diggity-damn, it’s good to see you!”

Custard Cream faced this almost-middle aged pegasus, asking, “‘Sweetie Drops?’ What are you talking about, Rays?”

The sunny yellow pegasus with powder blue eyes and a white mane and tail laughed happily as one would when meeting up with an old flame. “Ms. Cream, this is Sweetie Drops! She and I worked together in the B.P.P. a few years ago.”

“The mare who was Sweetie Drops hasn’t been around since the agency closed, Breezy Rays,” Bon-Bon said as smoothly as one does when one wishes to leave another’s past crush in the past.

“You were a monster hunter?” asked Custard Cream with a raised eyebrow.

Breezy Rays patted Bon-Bon on the shoulders, still with that unwanted glint in his eye, proudly saying, “Ma’am, you’re looking at the best of the best we ever had!”

“Just a confectioner these days,” urged Bon-Bon in a fixed but uneasy tone. “I’m guessing you had a hoof in the security here?”

“Sure did!” he beamed, pulling Bon-Bon into a side-hug. She looked over at Custard Cream, disconcerted. She shared Bon-Bon's expression, though he carried on obliviously, “Hey, should I get everyone’s attention for the announcement?”

Nodding, Custard Cream said, “If you don’t mind.”

Breezy Rays let go of Bon-Bon, and walked to the centre of the room. The confectioner shrunk and shuddered a little bit. Custard Cream rubbed the side of her own glowering face irritably with a soft growl. Breezy Rays flitted to just above the crowd, took a deep enough breath one would suspect he was showing off, then hollered over the din, “OYEZ, OYEZ!!!”

Everypony stopped talking. After they looked at him for a moment, they all turned to the podium. Custard Cream was already leading Bon-Bon to the front. Ponies began taking their seats. Stepping up to the podium, Custard Cream announced, “Good evening, my comrades! We have a new friend joining us tonight, and I think she’ll be a great addition! Please welcome Bon-Bon to the Order!”

Bon-Bon stepped back in surprise at the thunderous applause. She figured they’d be welcoming, yes, but this left her expectations far behind. Cheers, hurrahs, and whistles sounded from all around the gathered ponies giving her a standing ovation, even after the first thirty seconds had passed. Custard Cream stayed at the podium through the applause. The clapping slowly subsided. Bon-Bon looked around and saw other ponies enter the room at different doors, each wearing a robe of a dull purple and orange, though their hoods were down. A few had a red and black rope looped around their left shoulders. A few among those had a blue and white one as well. One, though, an austere, senior citizen unicorn mare at the back of the centre aisle, had two gold ropes and a medallion as well as the other decorations. Custard Cream looked at the decorated figure and declared, “Madam President, I believe our new friend is ready and willing to take on a major assignment right away! If it would please you, I’d like to show how she answered the door.”

The president strode up the centre aisle with a deliberate gait. She was a red pony with a yellow mane and deep blue eyes. Ponies seated watched her go by with fond faces, akin to a foal seeing granny come to the front door. The stern mare’s horn glowed the same yellow as her mane; the lighting in the room dimmed immediately. She said, “Then begin, Comrade Cream.”

A projection displayed Custard Cream and Bon-Bon coming to the door, as viewed from the door. The entire crowd gasped with delight as Bon-Bon answered the second question, and a display over the image stated there was no hint of a lie in her words. Bon-Bon grinned at the smattering of awestruck commentary.

Thank Celestia and my lucky stars that the door didn’t detect I was thinking about Lyra and not of overthrowing the princesses. Fortune smiled on me there.

Movement to her right tickled at the corner of her eye. She looked to see the president standing there as the lighting returned to normal. The robed unicorn’s face eased, and she happily said, “Welcome, my friend! We are thrilled you came!”

The applause roared again, even more so than before. The president stepped up on the dais. Bon-Bon met the president with a hoofshake. As the clapping simmered down, Bon-Bon replied, “Thank you, Madam President. My name is Bon-Bon.”

“Well met. I am Stall Lynn, President of The Order of Eleven. I understand you wish to join us?” the president asked as the room fell to a dead hush.

Bon-Bon smiled with a nod. “Yes indeed.”

The room turned dark, except a single spotlight over Bon-Bon and Stall Lynn. The president nodded with a satisfied expression. She continued, “Then, would you work to ensure ponies may rule themselves?”

“I will.”

“Do you pledge that your answers, both to me and to the impersonal barrier, are true and accurate, on pain of death?” asked President Lynn with an expectant grin.

Sure am in the thick of it now. Well, here goes nothing.

“I do.”

The world around them seemed to shrink away as the president gave her one last vow to take, “Do you swear, my friend, that you would sooner lay down your life than allow the current oppression to continue?”

“I swear it,” said Bon-Bon.

Sounds like I'm getting in too deep to get out. Was this a suicide mission?

“Then, congratulations, Comrade Bon-Bon! You are now a member of The Order of Eleven!” President Lynn declared, as the lighting in the room shifted to normal.

More applause of the same intensity. The aging president pulled Bon-Bon into a hug, which she returned. As they let go, two robed stallions presented Bon-Bon with a robe of her own. She donned it, and pulled her hood back. Custard Cream gave her a wide, genuine smile. As the applause died down, President Lynn said, “Comrade Cream, Comrade Glade, please take Comrade Bon-Bon to the Preparation Room. Of the many souls I’ve had the pleasure to know and induct, none answered so thoroughly and truthfully as you. We have a ceremony for new members, and for one who answered as you did, we have something truly special.”

---

The remaining hour on the train ride passed with what Lyra thought of as the most intense magic lesson of her life. Twilight’s adjustments to the spell allowed diagrams in addition to text. Several times she sat dumbstruck, reading and examining the depictions as Twilight, Moon Dancer, and Celestia continued discussing magical theory and its applications. Among the diagrams sent were how to weave some seriously potent divination spells, several of which written by major figures like Starswirl The Bearded, Clover The Clever, Mare-Lin, and even Princess Celestia’s father, King Galaxy. Lyra’s head was awash. Lyra was secretly glad they could not get Starlight’s friend Sunburst on the line too; she didn’t know how much more of this sort of discussion she could take. Over the course of that hour, one kind of headache had been replaced with another. Lyra looked around as she felt the train slow down. There were city lights. She posted, “The train’s pulling into the station.”

Princess Celestia’s decorative script replied, “The safest hotel in the greater Detrot area is about six blocks away. Taxis aren’t as readily available there are they are in Manehatten. Hopefully you won’t need any personal protection spells.”

Lyra hesitated. Attack magic was nothing she ever wanted to know. Sure, she had learned some protective magic; defense spells were required at Celestia’s school, but offense wasn’t covered, both for what Lyra felt were obvious reasons. “I never learned those.”

“Then, hopefully we won’t have to give you a crash course,” texted Twilight.

Moon Dancer added, “If it comes to that, Lyra, it’ll be a learning experience for us both.”

The train stopped. The conductor announced they were at the end of the line as Lyra responded, “All the extra studying, and you never once looked into evocation?”

“Nope. I found transmutation and illusion spells much more fascinating,” Moon Dancer answered. Lyra got up and took her bags, then started for the door.

“While I had learned a few, I never actually tried one of them out until the changeling incident when my brother got married,” texted Twilight.

Lyra looked around. The platform was mostly empty. A few hobos accosted debarking passengers, including her, as she started toward the exit. She texted, “Ah. If you say so. Um...which way to the hotel? A bum is offering directions in exchange for money.”

“You’re looking for the Iron Hills Inn. Take a left once outside the station. Go four blocks, take a right, and after two blocks it’ll be on the right,” Celestia posted as Lyra slinked past the last vagrant trying to earn a tip.

Lyra started down the street, looking around. She had never been this far from home, either her own place or her parents’ estate. Much of the architecture was art deco, and derelict. Moss grew on the side of several office buildings, along with wild grasses in a number of cracks, both on the road and the skyscrapers, suggesting more wild flora lived above the city lights. Frowning, she texted, “This place looks like it’s falling apart.”

Celestia answered, “It is. That’s why my sister held a conference to revitalize the city. Her aim was for the businessponies to reopen the closed locomotive factories, and renovate them to make airships and airship parts. Things, however, did not go as planned, mainly thanks to the Elevens making an attempt on her life. They even slaughtered the bankers in there with her, trying to frame her guards for their murders.”

“Oh. Oh wow. That’s horrible,” Moon Dancer texted.

Lyra crossed at an intersection. She looked around and saw a few rough individuals step out of the shadows as Twilight inserted, “They are.”

“Um, I might need that attack magic now...!!” hastily texted Lyra, picking up her pace as the pack pursued.

A circular diagram with a series of notes popped up in her field of vision, all in a completely alien alphabet, and in Twilight’s pink-lavender. She stated, “Okay, use this simple pattern to generate a striking ray from your horn. This is a basic Magic Missile.”

“Twilight Sparkle, no! Those can be fatal,” Princess Celestia fired back while Lyra went to a full canter. The gang kept up, and was gaining on her. A larger, more complicated, and not-at-all circular diagram appeared. “Cast The Lone Mare's Ward instead because never kills. It’s more complicated, but will subdue your assailants.”

Still another spell diagram showed up as Twilight countered, “Well, if we’re worried about death, Mass Stun is a similar spell that has a spheroid area of effect. It’s centred on the caster, in case of somepony coming from behind.”

“Can we stop with the diagrams for a moment, please?! They’re blocking my field of vision!” Lyra protested as she barely missed a lamppost.

Twilight posted, “Sorry.”

“My apologies,” replied Celestia just as quickly.

“I’m just going with the first, because it’s simple, and I caught all of it the first time. And...,” Lyra stated as she turned to face her attackers. There were six of them, all earth ponies. They slowed and began to encircle her. Lyra used the pattern presented and fired a beam out of her horn at one moving toward her left, knocking him into a dumpster and subconsciousness. She quickly fired again at the other trying to outflank her. The spell’s ray struck him in his left-front leg and punched a hole clean through it. He howled as he started to bleed. The others retreated. She resumed her response, “...hey, that was easier than expected. They’re backing off now.”

“I’m glad you’re safe, Lyra. I don’t think I could handle what you’re doing,” answered Moon Dancer.

Lyra watched as her would-be muggers, or worse, disappeared. She turned to continue on her way, suddenly feeling really tired as she also became aware that her heart rate had gone through the roof. She likewise found out she edged into hyperventilating without knowing that, either. She took a moment to settle her nerves, then continued on her way. She posted, “Believe me, it comes as a shock over here that I’m doing it, too. But she’s my very best friend. I have to help her.”

“So that what you’ve decided she means to you?” Princess Celestia asked.

Lyra twitched and hesitated. She partially lied, “I...don’t know, Your Majesty. My thoughts kept going in circles on the train.”

The next several blocks passed without any real hassle. Lyra booked a room on the third floor, mentioning to the innkeeper she may have another mare joining her later this night or on a subsequent evening. She took the keys and headed up to her room, finding everything most satisfactory and in order. She could see the lights and silhouetted buildings of downtown from the window, in nice accommodations. A slight glow, dim enough most would miss it, on the windowsill told her why this building didn’t have bars on them while many on the neighboring blocks did. She set a seal on the door that prevented entry without a key.

Discussions via the texting spell revealed how to draw a much stronger magic circle. Lyra found that to use it, she had to move the beds in the room to open up a large enough space. The circle was a complicated piece of work indeed; even with direct instruction from those three, she spent a good forty-five minutes setting the circle. Twilight advised to be careful with the spell used, since she could not scribe the circle again for another week, lest she wished the spell to fizzle. Princess Celestia showed a highly complicated diagram, and posted, “Speaking spells that can be used only on every now and then, try out this. You can ask three specific questions with it, and get an answer about it, but only if you are honest with the question. The circle will give you a longer distance to check and a much more thorough answer.”

Lyra asked, “Will this do me any good without the circle?”

“Not likely, with what you need to have answered. This may push your upper limit, not in terms of skill, but raw power. This spell can be used only once a month, and will take all of your focus. I shall leave you to your work,” answered Celestia.

Moon Dancer posted, “Good luck, Lyra. Go get your mare.”

The mint unicorn blushed furiously as Twilight texted, “Our thoughts and prayers are with you.”

Lyra felt her jaw clamp tighter from her cheeks’ redness as the others left the conversation. She breathed long and deep several times before her jaw eased. She walked around the circle, looking over her work. In spite of the step-by-step instruction, she couldn’t help but feel pleased with herself. Never had she seen such a complex spell booster, and she did it herself. Telekinetically she opened the cabinet drawer and pulled out the complimentary twelve-pack of simple white candles. Rather than set them in the wall fixtures, she set nine of the candles at the vertices along the circumference, lighting each. She set the others aside and walked into the very centre.

Lyra powered up her horn. Heeding her sovereign’s advice, she pushed the charge as hard as she could. A slight breeze in the room picked up as a secondary aura surrounded her horn. Sweat ran down her brow. Digging deeper and closing her eyes, she forced more charge into her horn. That didn’t make a difference. Redoubling her efforts provided a small but present increase, but she knew there was nothing more she could do. She pressed her charge at the circle, which responded, its outline, runes and markings turned from a slightly darker colour than the surrounding carpet to a bright white glow. Lyra recalled the diagram Princess Celestia showed her, weaving the magic into the biggest spell she ever used.

A bright flash pulsed from Lyra’s horn as she felt herself lifted from the ground. Her eyes opened, and found herself aloft and lazily floating within the circle, along with every mote of dust in the same space. Three questions. Her cheeks reddened. With a hard swallow, she asked the spell, “What has happened to the mare I love?”

She shook and gasped. Lyra never dreamt she would say aloud she loved another mare, and there it was. Before she could explore this shock any deeper, a series of images and sounds passed before Lyra’s eyes and ears. In the course of a minute she saw sum-up of everything Bon-Bon went through in the last two days: her reaction to the summons, the meetings at the agency HQ, the dangers in Detrot, the painful talks with Custard Cream, going to the meeting...and then it showed her what was to come, somehow prefaced as such. Lyra learned the immediate future...and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Before it was over she started into rattling gasps and sobs, convulsing while still in the air. She murmured, “No...please, no...please, God, no...oh God, please, don’t....don’t let them...oh no, please....”

Lyra curled up into a fetal position as she wept. She lingered afloat by the spell along with her tears. She twitched again. Forcing some gulping breaths, she regained enough control, albeit shakily, to ask her second question: “Where is the mare I love?”

---

Bon-Bon took in the information like a sponge. This was a gold mine. The plans they spoke of, once the princesses were out of the way, and why, came one after another. Bon-Bon wasn’t sure why they spent so much time on her appearance and trying to keep her stress levels down in the preparation room. Through the walls there was occasionally the muffled noise of chanting, or a lively discussion. They had been at this for close to an hour when Custard Cream wheeled in what looked like a ceremonial gurney, with restraining straps for all four hooves spread, one for the head, and one for the torso, though they were all well-padded. Bon-Bon raised an eyebrow at this and asked, “Um, should I be worried?”

“Maybe a little,” answered Custard Cream bobbing her head about. She looked Bon-Bon square in the eye and continued, “Nervous would be better than worried.”

“That’s making me worried,” grumbled Bon-Bon as her shoulders slumped. She pulled the robe’s shoulders back up.

“Sorry, Bon-Bon.”

The confectioner looked over the gurney contemptuously. “What’s this for?”

Custard Cream smiled brightly, and said, “It’s the little ceremony we’re having tonight for you, the one the President mentioned.”

“I get to be strapped down on this thing, huh?” Bon-Bon grouched.

“Yeah.”

“...fun times,” Bon-Bon muttered, fiddling with one of the straps absentmindedly, and then lightly smacking it.

Custard Cream sighed as she shook her head understandingly. She started, “I wish it weren’t necessary, but with the ceremony....”

“What is it about this ceremony? Why are we doing this?” Bon-Bon interrupted with a mix of apprehension and accusation.

“The way you answered the door shows you’re one of the very, very few who can do it,” said Custard Cream encouragingly. “Because of what happens during the ceremony, you can help us move plans forward much more quickly than anticipated, which would help free Equestria from the princesses.”

“And that calls for restraints, because...why?”

Custard Cream grimaced, then stated, “Because part of the ceremony, for you, is really gonna hurt, and I’ve heard from the few others who’ve been through it that at first it’s really scary. It’s to make sure everything is going in place well.”

“Yep, nervous went right out the window and we’re in full-scale worried, now,” muttered Bon-Bon, not-so-lightly slapping the same restraint as she turned away, burying her head in the hood.

The pie baker pursed her lips. She started toward Bon-Bon. Gently she said, “Relax. The pain and fear won’t last. The freedom will, and you’ll live to see it.”

Bon-Bon did not look at her as she grumped, “How exactly is this terrifying, painful thing gonna help me liberate Equestria?”

“I don’t know all the details myself. I’ve just heard this is the lead-in to ‘The Master Stroke.’ Honestly I’m a bit jealous that you get to do this and not me...,” Custard Cream trailed off, her voice more than just “a bit jealous.”

Bon-Bon snorted, “It’s not too late to trade places.”

“I’m afraid it is,” said Custard Cream with a sad chuckle. “I didn’t answer the door as well as you did.”

Another came into the room, one of the robed figures with three loops of rope around his shoulder. He looked around and urged, “Comrade Cream, it’s nearly time.” She nodded. Both of them turned to Bon-Bon. He met her gaze and said in awe, “I’m honoured to have met you, Comrade Bon-Bon. You’ll be a hero, all your days and into old age, and beyond.”

Bon-Bon shot him a questioning look, turning her head such that only one eye saw him past the hood. She warily pressed, “I’d still like to know what I’m supposed to do.”

“That will be made quite clear before the end of the ceremony, Comrade Bon-Bon. You’d best get into position,” answered the decorated stallion. With a nod, he stepped back out.

Bon-Bon sighed nervously. She climbed upon the gurney and laid down. Custard Cream eased the restraints onto her, tightening them one at a time. She looked down at Bon-Bon before starting on the one for her head, and asked, “Not too tight?”

“Nah, it’s fine,” signed Bon-Bon, staring vacantly at no point in particular.

Custard Cream stopped working at the padded belts. She pursed her lips as she looked up, unable to find any Bon-Bon could be staring at. With a worried voice, she pleaded, “Please tell me what’s actually bothering you.”

Bon-Bon nickered. She looked at Custard Cream briefly, then resumed the empty stare. She bluntly declared, “I hate pain. I worked for the Bureau of Peace Preservation for five years, became Chief Special Agent in that time. Seventy-eight assignments, no failures. Never once did I go into something expecting it to hurt, or to be hurt, or allow anypony else to get hurt. Now I’m told I get the rare privilege to do what needs to be done, it’s gonna hurt like hell, and scare the shit outta me. Nervous, worried, and the anticipation of coming pain...I hate it.”

“I think that’s just pony nature, to let our heads create the worst possible thing and fear that coming,” Custard Cream said soothingly, rubbing Bon-Bon’s closer restrained foreleg. She patted her, then continued strapping down Bon-Bon’s head as she spoke, “Then when it actually comes, it’s not so bad.”

“I hope you’re right,” murmured Bon-Bon, testing the restraints. They held, and were padded well enough they didn’t hurt or dig into her skin.

“Yeah,” Custard Cream said. She held her breath a moment, and with forced cheer suggested, “We’ll have to share pie again once Equestria’s free. Or maybe stop by your shop and have a few chocolates?”

Bon-Bon said, “Sure thing.”

The same decorated stallion poked his head in again, and evenly said, “Comrades, it’s time.”

The door closed. Chanting started on the other side of it. Custard Cream walked around to the pushing side of the gurney. “So....”

“No point in putting this off,” muttered Bon-Bon.

The unicorn gave the earth pony a hug as could with the other strapped down. She said, “I’ll stay beside you as long as I can.”

“Thank you, Custard,” said Bon-Bon genuinely.

Custard Cream rubbed Bon-Bon’s hoof as those outside the doors opened them. The chanting was in unison, but not in a language Bon-Bon knew. Illumination was limited. Custard Cream moved on at a steady pace, neither rushing nor lagging, down the centre aisle. Bon-Bon turned her eyes in her head since she could otherwise look around. It looked as though everypony was robed with hoods raised. The chanting rumbled. Bon-Bon felt her breathing getting away from her, and forced it to slow.

They turned a corner. Bon-Bon’s heart pounded in her throat. The chanting changed, though its tempo and metre remained as it was. She tried to discern how many were there, based on rows and columns, but was forced to concede she couldn’t get an accurate count. Another corner, and up a ramp they went. From there Bon-Bon saw the centre of the stage had plenty of lighting. They turned in that direction. They came under the lights. Bon-Bon, unable to look away, squinted. The chanting stopped abruptly as the gurney came to a halt.

From her right, Bon-Bon heard President Lynn speaking in this other tongue. Custard Cream rubbed Bon-Bon’s hoof again. After a moment, the crowd gave a unified four-syllable response. President Lynn leaned over Bon-Bon, mercifully between her and the harsh light above, and asked, “Comrade Bon-Bon, tonight we bestow upon you a great honour and duty, both to the Order, and to all of Equestria.”

The audience responded again with the same four syllables. Bon-Bon attempted to nod, but the restraint kept her head in place. President Lynn continued, “My friend, our dear new friend, we are ready to begin when you’re ready.”

“Madam President, nopony’s told me what’s going on,” Bon-Bon said flatly.

“What we are doing, here and now with this ceremony, is imbuing you with a power and a gift,” explained the president. “With it, you will help in major ways to free Equestria. You will help to flush out the truth, so that the populace will see the princesses for what they are.”

Bon-Bon asked, “‘The Master Stroke,’ as I heard it put?”

“Precisely,” said Stall Lynn warmly with a fond smile.

“Then...,” gulped Bon-Bon, “...let’s get started.”

The crowd gave its favourite four syllables again. Giving the side of Bon-Bon’s face a grandmotherly pat, President Lynn said, “Of course. Thank you, Comrade Bon-Bon. We’ve barely met you, and already we owe you so much.”

The chanting began anew. The president walked out of Bon-Bon’s field of vision. The strapped-down earth pony’s ears flicked around, and heard a spell. Two robed figures separated the front of her robe, exposing her belly. The chanting intensified as the president returned, holding some oblong object wrapped in a white velveteen cloth in her telekinetics. Bon-Bon blinked at the aura; it seemed different somehow than the times she’s seen Lyra move things about with her horn. The cloth fell away to reveal a black crystal. It was long, semi-transparent, and exhibited a hexagonal pattern. The president rotated the crystal so that it was perpendicular to the ground, hovering over Bon-Bon’s belly. Bit by bit the crystal descended as the chanting continued, nearing a fever pitch. The confectioner tensed up, holding her breath, unable to look away. For a brief moment she thought the crystal had a slight green sheen to it. The president whispered into Bon-Bon’s ear, “Brace yourself, Comrade.”

The crystal touched Bon-Bon in the middle of her navel.

Bon-Bon convulsed in the restraints, as her midsection suddenly felt pain on a level she never dreamt possible. Her belly button felt like it was under a blowtorch, or that it were stuffed with dry ice, or both at the same time. She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing happened. Only the chanting sounded in the room, reverberating inside her skull while her navel cried out helplessly.

Bon-Bon felt her skin split as the crystal cut through. Her belly felt as it were boiling away, or dissolving, as the excruciation kicked itself up another notch. Her entrails were shoved aside, amplifying her writhing even more. Still she could manage no scream.

The last of the crystal pushed through, closing her navel behind it. The paradoxical pain of freezing and burning in unison continued while she perceived it turning itself to lay sideways, nestled amidst the looping of her small intestine.

Suddenly everything went quiet for her. Bon-Bon saw the mouth of the president chanting with the crowd but heard no noise.

Then she heard a voice, a threatening, malevolent, airy baritone whispered inside her own mind, “Hello, Bon-Bon. Thank you for the body; I’ll be putting it to very good use.”

Bon-Bon fought against what felt as though she were losing control of her own body. She ordered her limbs to pull against the restraints, but they eased. She dug in deeper, desiring only the sight of the mare she loved with all the force she had to act of her own will. Her body responded, although the muscle twitches were accompanied by the pain of fire and ice in her belly. As it happened and as she fell from the conscious world, she saw black mist come over her face.

It was as though the black mist had come from her own eyes.

---

As she floated aloft at the centre of a complex magic circle, a certain mint-coloured unicorn bolted upright; a gasp and a tear escaped her as in her mind, and not from her imagination, she heard Bon-Bon voice in a most frantic, desperate whisper:

Lyra...help me....

Author's Note:

Fourth chapter, and it's getting a little hairy.

Comments

[WhitewolfStormrunner]

So Sombra's behind the Order of Elevens' actions.

Lovely.

They're just stupid pawns to a monster who wants to use them to overthrow the Princesses, for their supposed "oppression", only to bring about his own, and use them to enslave Equestria.

I have absolutely no sympathy for these idiots.

[EverfreePony]

It's insane (meant positively) how much are you able to cram into one chapter. Finally more about the Elevens, growing mystery at HQ, a new pony in danger and most importantly, the group chat scene. That was a brilliant and incredibly amusing one. Also, many puns and references!

[lord_steak]

7918788
Glad ya' like. The one that I'm not sure anyone got was the president's name of "Stall Lynn" being a spin of "Stalin," as in Joseph Stalin of the USSR. They also call each other "comrade;" how Soviet of them, eh? Ample connotations will go with that, ya' know?