The World Within the Web

by Lord Max

Chapter XV: My New Statue

Chapter XIV: My New Statue

* * * * * *

Sir Williaume:

“Now, before the Authority existed the Web was a much different place than it is now. Our best source on the time comes from the Books of Black and White, but some good pieces of information can be found in documents of the Enlightenment Nonconform as well. This may surprise some of you, since sources we find in the Nonconform are usually too seeped in local folklore or contradictory testimony to be useful, but nonetheless I feel they need to be approached as [here he gasps for comedic effect] historical documents! [another gasp, the students laugh] Yes, God forbid a historian want to find useful information in historical documents, but I suppose that just goes to show what an old fossil I am. But yes, good stuff can be found in the Nonconform—less of it than the untrue claims, of course, but still good stuff nonetheless. But what can I say? Now, can anyone here describe what we know about Web in ancient times? Yes, you there?” [he points to a student with their hand raised]

Student:

“Uh, it was really hard to get around? Like in the Deep Web?”

Sir Williaume:

“It was isolated! Now, if any of you have ever read accounts of the Deep Web—like Lord Jacq Tuttle’s excellent book on his travels in the Deep Web, which I think is brilliant—you’ll know that it is an untamed place. Tough, rough seas, and almost omnipresent fog that makes it impossible to sail! To the extent that no one is certain how much land is actually present in the Deep—some say little, some say lots—and the only ways to navigate are with nearly impossible to locate trails and channels, like the Torric Line, that raiders use to attack outside settlements or smuggle illegal goods. These kinds of conditions once covered all of the Internet, but that’s not the worst of it! Histories Chapter One from the Books of Black and White and similar accounts in the Nonconform tells us that huge creatures from the sea would pull down ships and attack even coastlines, suggesting that the krakens and sea serpents that still live at the far edges of the world—or perhaps even worse things—were far more common and active at the time.

“The result of this was that when people began to emerge on different sites in the Web, they had no real contact with one another: people might have lived out their whole lives without ever knowing other communities existed! This meant highly isolated, insular societies, without any kind of external trade or connection, living in uncivilized, tribal groups. But what happened?”

Student:

“The Deep Web retreated.”

Sir Williaume:

“It retreated! How long it took to do so is unclear, but eventually the conditions died down, and people began to develop sailing and navigation. Why did this retreat occur? Well, most scholars—myself included—hold that it was the will of the Logos that allowed the Web to come together. But more on that later.

“Now, when these isolated people sailed out, they found other groups, they had the difficulty of adjusting to a world where other people could access their sites, could meet their citizens, could desire the things they owned! People who had different cultures, different beliefs, and different languages! So it came to war, in many cases. It reminds me of the time when I was as young as all of you — back in the times that man forgot [the class laughs]—and when I was in the academy, and I was introduced to my roommate, Zeremy, in the living quarters. I remember standing in my room, when in walks in a six-foot, four hundred-pound man, with a mop-top and robes that looked like they had half a keg of beer spilled onto them, and I asked him, “Are you my roommate?” And when he of course said yes, I remember thinking [he contorts his face into disbelief] “Well this is great!” [laughter] But in all seriousness, we had good times together, with our own circle of friends. But what can I say? So yes, warfare was common: constant, brutal fighting, slaving, and conquering. Histories Chapter Two tells us of entire cities being laid waste, rivers running red with blood, the strong dominating the weak. So not a nice place to live.

“Even the ground we stand on now [for emphasis, he stomps his feet on the ground] in Central, was the home of corsairs and pirates, who carved out their own personal kingdoms and made their livings raiding the nearby sites. So overall, it was a nasty, brutish time to live in the world. Thankfully, those days were ended with the efforts of Our Founder, John the Traveller.”

— The above is a transcript of a lecture taught by Sir Williaume Jame of the Order of the Enlightened Mind, as part of a course offered in the Centrellian Academy of General Learning on early and archaic history of the Web and the Authority.

Sir Williaume’s dialogue appears in bold, those of his students appear in regular font, while the editor’s notes appear in brackets. This transcript was written by Sir Solomon Parker, as part of the Knight Enlighteners’ teaching census initiative.

* * * * * *

“Pray watch yerself, m’lady,” the guard said as they walked down the steep and dimly-lit stairwell, “the way down can be a bit tricky.”

It was a narrow path to a dark end, and a steep one as well, but Lady Violet walked it gracefully, clutching to no one and taking each step with a noble composure. Coin Counter did not have the same finesse, but did his best as well, gripping the banister and shuffling his way through.

Behind him were two others, a man from the Kind Friends and a Generous friend named Prim Enproper, while Theosyrius and Lady Violet walked in the front. Behind all of them was the Warden of Honesty, lumbering grimly down the steps. Originally, he had insisted on going in front of Lady Violet, but after some difficulty in fitting down the passage he had been forced to take up the rear, sidling awkwardly downstairs more slowly than anyone else. Kriseroff had been excused earlier, much to the man’s disappointment, but he had seemed less let-down after hearing that there was a sleeping area set up for the Honest Friends—he had gone off in search of that when they had parted.

“The dungeon’ll be just a little ways more, m’lady,” said the guardsman in the front. He wore the uniform of the city watch, with a red coat draped over armor and a yellow shirt. He wore no helmet, and his bare head seemed more than a little grimey from the time he’d spent in the basement of the Palace of Aureliano as a keykeeper of the dungeon. “Just watch yer step,” he said after almost tripping on a particularly sloped step.

“Stairs,” said Prim after stumbling slightly, “I’ve always hated stairs.” He had looked glum when he had seen the way down to the dungeons. From what Coin understood he was a man that never hesitated to raise a complaint. “It’s unnatural, honestly. If God had wanted man to go up, he would have given us wings.”

“But these stairs are going down,” pointed out the man from the Kind Friends behind him.

“Even worse. We don’t have claws or whiskers either, so we aren’t moles. Though I suppose that the dark can have some advantages,” he said morosely. “No one can see me, for one. I was once at a party where they turned out all the lights, and a girl I met offered to marry me. The betrothal only lasted until the lights came back on.” He sighed wearily. “Stairs are non-negotiable, though.”

Lady Violet laughed. “Rather intolerant of you, isn’t it Prim? What did the poor stairs ever do to you?”

“What didn’t they do? Stairs killed my entire family, I’ll have you know. They were going to a reunion that was up a flight of stairs, and the evil thing tripped them. It was like dominoes, but with people dying.”

Despite Prim’s misgivings, they reached the bottom in good time. The room they arrived in had a desk, strewn with paper and garbage, and a bored guard behind it. Opposite from him was a sealed metal door, behind which the rest of the dungeon—and the imprisoned Brony diplomats—no doubt lay. Coin still did not know exactly what prompted Theosyrius to hurry back to the Palace, or to insist that he accompany the Warden of Generosity in seeing the captives, but he knew he would learn soon enough.

The guard behind the desk raised his eyebrows upon seeing the Bronies enter, and set aside the newspaper that he had been reading in order to examine what it was that had decided to stumble into his domain.

Violet noticed the look and bowed her head in hello. “Good afternoon,” she said.

The guard behind the desk did not respond, and instead looked to the other guard who had escorted them downstairs. “It’s talking to me, Cabrio,” he said flatly, “what do I do?”

The guard called Cabrio sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “They’re just here to see the prisoner, m’colleague.”

“If there’s anything left of him, you mean,” his counterpart said. He rolled his eyes, and picked up his newspaper again. “Just go through and shut the door behind you.”

Cabrio nodded and took one of the iron keys from the ring on his belt, and pushed it into the lock of the metal door. It screeched as he turned it open, revealing a dirty and poorly-lit hallway behind it. He peered inside, looking to the left and right, before gingerly stepping inside, as though he expected something to jump out at him. “Stay close behind now, m’lady,” he said as he carefully motioned to the group.

Lady Violet looked to the Warden of Honesty uneasily, and he elected to go through first. The rest followed, close behind, into the dungeon proper.

There were cells, small and cramped, on either side of the central hallway, and most were filled. A few filthy, ragged bodies were forced into almost all of them, a horrid mass of dirt, dust, and bones in shape of people that watched hungrily as the Bronies walked by. Some of them did not seem to notice that others had entered, looking numbly at the floor or lying silently on the rough straw that served as a bed and who knew what else. Most took attention, though, and Coin could not count the glassy, hollow eyes that followed them, one by one, as they passed by.

The prisoners looked at them, some fearful, some loathing. There was a terrible, aching sense of hate in their gaze, as though they had been trapped so long that the mere sight of someone who could see the sun or breath fresh air was as unbearable as the cages themselves. Coin had seen many prisons and dungeons in his time, but rarely one so deplorably kept.

Cabrio sniffed again as he walked in front, then seemed to regret it once the smell hit his nose. He wiped it, then looked back. “Yer friend should be in one of these, I think. One up ahead.”

Lady Violet nodded, but said nothing while she glanced around with a look of horror. The Warden of Honesty was as stoic as ever, but the rest of the Bronies seemed unnerved as well, seeing and smelling the utter misery of the place.

Some of the prisoners seemed to take a greater notice in the people walking by, and began jeering as they passed. Lady Violet was walking in the front now, and more than a few were calling out to her, leering and shouting… but once they saw the Warden of Honesty trail behind her, they went quiet and backed away. One of them was bolder than the others though, and leaned against the bars of his cell with a sordid look. “Well hello,” he said, mopping back his long and greasy hair, “been a while since I’ve seen that. How long have I been here, ‘ey? Too long, to not remember what that looks like.” He reached an arm through, trying to grab her as she passed. “Are you new here? Maybe we can share—"

The Warden of Honesty moved like lightning, seizing the man’s arm and twisting sharply before the prisoner could even think. The man howled in agony, kicking at the ground and pulling away uselessly, incapable of escaping the grip of the giant’s mailed fist. He twisted and writhed ferociously, but the Warden was not moved at all, and tightened his hand.

Cabrio doubled back on him. “‘Oy!” he yelled, too intimidated to move much closer. “Leggo of ‘im now, yah hear?” He did not seem eager to force the Warden to do so, but tried to appear as fierce as he could.

Still ignoring the shrieking prisoner, the Warden looked back to Lady Violet, as though for instructions. She took a look at the prisoner, then to Cabrio. “Release him,” she said immediately.

The Warden did so immediately, and the man scurried back to the corner of his cell, clearly terrified. The giant took one last look at him, then began to move forward again. There were no more jeers from the prisoners after that.

Stepping down the mud-caked hallway, they approached the end, but no one had spoken up or recognized the two Bronies that were being held. Coin began to wonder whether there was not another level of the dungeons entirely, one even darker and deeper where they were being held in total darkness, until Lady Violet stopped sharply at one of the last cells. It was the third to the end, on the right side of another metal door that was fastened shut. The Warden of Generosity almost went past the cell, but just before she walked away she gave a last look, and gaped at what was inside. “Greenglade?” she asked, shocked.

Coin peered inside the cell. It was every bit as filthy as the others, but with even less light, as though they had deliberately placed him as far from a lamp as possible. At first, Coin thought that it was empty, aside from a crumpled ball of yellow rags in the corner. It was only when it began to stir that he realized it was not ragged clothes but a particularly ragged man.

The robes he wore were yellow, but only barely: they were so soiled and caked in filth that he was practically brown from head to toe, and his feet were bare and black. He had his knees pulled up to his chest, with his arms wrapped around them and his head buried between. When he heard his name he looked up, a pair of blue eyes peering out of the mangy brown hair and beard that covered most of his face, his mouth agape at the sound of someone finally having come. His eyes widened when he saw who it was, then filled with tears.

“Lady Violet?” he asked incredulously.

Coin did not know what Greenglade had looked like before they had placed him in prison, but the sight of him shocked Lady Violet so much that she could only nod in reply. He rushed over, practically tripping over himself to grab the bars before collapsing to his knees. “Oh, thank God you came for me!” he sobbed, looking up at her with red, bloodshot eyes. “You came!"

Lady Violet covered her mouth in horror when she saw him pressed against the bars, crying. “Six save us,” she murmured, “Greenglade, what happened to you?”

The man on the floor could do nothing but shake his head and grip the bars tighter. Lady Violet quickly turned to Cabrio. “Open the cell door.”

The keykeeper looked around, uncertain that he should do as she said, until she rounded on him fiercely. “Open it. Now."

Cabrio nodded, fumbled with the lock and opened the door. Lady Violet rushed inside, knelt down and embraced Greenglade in a hug, as he began to break down completely.

The rest of them looked on dumbly, none of them sure what to do. The Kind Friend who had accompanied them seemed in a state close to shock, Prim appeared even more dejected than usual, and Theosyrius looked as though he were about to vomit. Even the Warden of Honesty seemed more stiff, looking at Lady Violet hugging the sobbing man. Half of Coin wanted to put a hand on Greenglade’s shoulder, to say something to comfort the man, but he couldn’t bring himself to move, and instead they all just listened to the quiet weeping, helpless.

It was Prim Enproper who spoke up first, in a soft voice. “Well,” he said, taking a sharp swallow, “well, you don’t look good, Green.”

Greenglade looked up, only just noticing there was anyone else there. “Prim? You’re here?” He glanced over to his fellow Kind Friend. “Mattieu? You too?”

“Of course we are,” Prim said quietly.

“Always,” said Mattieu, the Kind Friend, still reeling from the appearance of his fellow.

Upon seeing them all, Greenglade seemed to recover somewhat, and broke away from the hug to sit back down onto the floor. “I’m so glad you all came for me. I’d started to think…” He shook his head, and wiped his eyes with a dirt-covered hand.

Lady Violet put her hand on his shoulder. Her beautiful clothes were stained brown after embracing Greenglade, but she did not seem to notice or care. “Greenglade,” she said slowly, “tell us what happened.”

He swallowed, and did as asked. “It was in the morning. I woke up like I always did, but the guards broke down my door and dragged me away. They said that I had killed Sir Harald and his squire as well, and threw me down here with Dabrius. They wouldn’t tell us anything else, but once in awhile they would take one of us away, ask us questions, then throw us back in the cells again.”

“Ask what?” Prim questioned softly

“Where I was the night before, whether I knew where Dabrius had gone, why I had killed Sir Harald… my lady, I never killed anyone! I’ve never even held a sword before!”

“I believe you,” Lady Violet assured him. “You mentioned the night before?”

Greenglade swallowed again. “We were having dinner at one of the taverns nearby. Dabrius and I, that is. The Moonlight Inn, out near the docks—it’s where we would always go. Dabrius was angry, so we had some drinks to lighten the mood and talked. That was ten o’clock, I think.” He looked at the ground sheepishly. “I must have had too much to drink, because it gets hazy after that, but I never left the inn, I swear it.”

“When did you get back to the Palace?” Mattieu asked, stepping inside the cell.

Greenglade thought. “It must have been five in the morning at that point. I had fallen asleep in the inn for a while, but Dabrius woke me up and helped me to my room, and then I slept until the next morning, when they came for me.”

Lady Violet considered what he said for a moment. “Theo,” she said to the man behind her, “you mentioned that Sir Harald and his squire might have left six or so hours after their evening recitations?”

“The Peacekeepers seemed to believe that was likely, yes,” Theosyrius answered, hesitantly waiting outside the cell door. Half of him seemed to want to step inside, but the other half seemed to have a stranglehold on his sense of sight and smell, and did not want to sully itself by entering the dank cage.

The Warden of Generosity frowned at the answer, and Coin couldn’t help but share the feeling. Assuming Sir Harald performed the recitations at eight or nine, the normal time for the ritual to be done, they would have left the Palace at two or three in the morning. That’s assuming that Perseverance Cartwright and the rest of the Peacekeepers were right in their estimate, Coin thought, but if they are then the timeframes match up. That hour-long gap was enough to cast doubt on the Bronies.

“You said you fell asleep sometime between ten and five,” Lady Violet asked, “you can’t remember anything that happened then? You say that you didn’t leave, but what about Dabrius?”

Greenglade brought his knees back up to his chest. “I think he was there. I don’t remember him ever leaving, and he was there to get me home at the end.”

Lady Violet turned to the Warden of Honesty. “My honest friend?”

The Warden stared intensely at the man squatting on the floor. Greenglade seemed to sense it, and tensed up upon seeing the man looking down on him. After a moment of contemplation, the Warden of Honesty broke his gaze. “Telling the truth,” he said gruffly.

Lady Violet nodded. “We’ll have to send some people to this tavern. Hopefully someone there can remember seeing them.” She crossed her arms, and looked up to the eye of her friend. “If we can find some witnesses willing to testify to them being at there all night, then we have an alibi.”

The Warden acknowledged the idea, but was silent. Prim Enproper was looking at the Warden strangely, as though he was trying to understand something that was just said. Instead of asking, however, he turned to speak to Greenglade instead. “Why was Dabrius angry?”

“Pardon?”

“You said you two went to the inn because Dabrius was angry. Why was that?”

“Yes,” Theosyrius said, “I’d like to know that as well. The Moderators had mentioned a conversation he had with Sir Harald.”

Greenglade cast his eyes down. “He… he had spoken with Sir Harald.”

“And?” Lady Violet asked.

He seemed reluctant to say more, but did so regardless. “It was earlier in the day, around six. Dabrius and I talked to Sir Harald almost every day, to try and make him side with us, so we found him in the main hall talking with the Martes. Dabrius asked him if he was closer to a decision, and that we’d been waiting long enough.” Greenglade’s fingers tightened on the sides of his knees. “The Martes started insulting him, calling us criminals, so Dabrius yelled back at them. I tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t listen, and soon he was yelling at Sir Harald as well.”

“And what did he say?” Theosyrius ventured apprehensively.

Greenglade was so hesitant to speak further that for a moment Coin thought he might not. He opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. “My lady,” he said to Lady Violet, “you must understand that we had been trying to convince Sir Harald for months at that point, all while the nobles and Sir Harald were insulting us. He refused to even listen to us, really, and whenever he did he would only sneer, just like the Dreamweavers would. It had been months without any progress, and Dabrius was just frustrated and— “

“Greenglade,” Lady Violet said firmly, “what did Dabrius say?”

He looked ashamed. “He told Sir Harald that we’d been waiting too long, and that he was sick of listening to the Martes talk about us. He said that if the Authority wanted to solve the problem, they shouldn’t have sent... forgive me, my lady, but he said that should have sent someone content to do more than sit on his ass and talk sh— er, nonsense.” He stared up apologetically. “Sir Harald went all red and told him to try repeating that, and then…”

“And then?” Lady Violet said, cringing already.

“Dabrius said that Sir Harald should watch himself, and that he would find a way to replace him with someone better.”

Prim groaned, and Lady Violet sighed upon hearing the words. Theosyrius wasn’t happy either. “Just like Sir Depravity said,” he remarked, “I worried that it might be so.”

“I’m so sorry, my lady,” Greenglade said quickly. “I tried to stop him, really, but I couldn’t. He knew it wasn’t the right thing to say, he told me that later on, but he was just so frustrated…” He brought his knees in closer again. “It really was terrible, trying to make Sir Harald see reason, but it was wrong. I know that.”

“We need to talk to Dabrius,” Lady Violet said to the others. She glanced around her, but the man was nowhere to be found. “Where is he?”

Greenglade buried his head in his knees. “They took him. I haven’t seen him in… in… Six save me, how long have I been down here?”

Lady Violet turned to Cabrio the keykeeper. “Dabrius Joh, the other Brony prisoner, where is he?”

Cabrio, who had only been half-paying attention during this, seemed startled by the question. “What… well I don’t… wait who?”

Mattieu seemed impatient to know, and approached the man. “The. Other. Prisoner. There were two, were there not? What kind of keykeeper are you?”

“I don’t suppose he escaped, did he?” Prim asked. “That would make all of this so much easier.”

Cabrio still seemed confused and gaped at the inquiries. “That other one? I think ‘e was carted out two weeks ago. ‘Aven’t seen him since then.” He tried to straighten himself, pulling down on the tails of his dirty uniform.

“You mean to say,” Lady Violet said with a hint of frustration, “that you don’t know where he is?”

“Nah,” Cabrio said. “Er, yah, that’s it. Well, ‘e’ll probably be down there, if they took him off.” He point to another door, sealed shut, that presumably led to another set of dungeons.

Mattieu seemed past his temper. “Six save us man, how do you lose a person? Isn’t this supposed to be your job?”

Cabrio had not stopped being confused, but stood defensively at Mattieu. “Now listen, I’m not in charge o’ all of this place, yah know? I only work down in this part once a week, besides. I don’t work bad, neither, and I always give all o’ them more food than they’re ‘pposed to get and such as well. I’m not bad at keykeepin’.”

“If you’re a good keykeeper,” Prim said flatly, “then take that key, open that door, and don’t keep us waiting.”

“Ah,” Cabrio said sheepishly, “I can’t, actually. Don’t have permission. Not ‘pposed to go down there. ‘Sides, m’Lord Arcadio’s goin’ in there soon, and we ain’t to disturb ‘im.”

“Arcadio?” Prim said, glancing over to Lady Violet upon hearing the name. “That’s Lord Aureliano’s brother?”

“Aye,” Cabrio said, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his uniform. “‘E’s the commander, so’s we ain’t allowed to bother ‘im when ‘e’s down in there, so I’m not goin’ in when ‘e’s about to go in. ‘E’ll get angry.”

"I’m angry,” Mattieu said, “angry that we cannot even speak with one of our friends, while the other is kept in conditions like this. I should like to—”

"Should like?" a voice called mockingly from down the hall. “Do you hear how they presume?” The man laughed.

Coin and the others turned to see who was coming, and saw a man approaching quickly from the other end of the dungeon, flanked by guards on either side. All of the cells went quiet as he went by, and the prisoners seemed to retreat as far back into the cells—and into themselves—as possible as he passed them. They were all wearing the uniforms of the city watch, but the man who had spoken had one that was different: rather than a red coat, he wore a crimson cape that hung across his shoulder, and a yellow cuirass of felt with steel sewn between the fabric. The clasp that pierced his cloak in place was the shape of a winged tiger, and there was more finery on his clothing than those of the men to either side.

“Look at him there,” he said with a smile to the guards accompanying him, “getting so angry. They should learn to keep their tempers. I hope,” he called over, “you weren’t thinking of letting them in, were you Cabrio?”

“No m’lord, no,” Cabrio answered sheepishly, looking down at the floor.

A lord, then? Coin thought, looking more closely at the man who came towards them. It was not Lord Aureliano, that was certain, but now that Coin saw him more clearly, there seemed to be a resemblance. He was stronger, leaner, and more handsome than Aureliano, definitely, but they had a similar look. This man was sharper, though, with a trimmed goatee and long, black hair, one strand of which had been dyed red and was dangling in front of his face.

Lady Violet noticed the similarity as well. “Do I have the honor of addressing Arcadio, brother of Lord Aureliano?”

He laughed. “You do indeed. And you are the Brony woman.”

Lady Violet bowed, and the others did the same… aside from the Warden of Honesty. “I am both a Brony and a woman, or so I’ve been told,” she replied. “I have heard a great deal about you.”

“It’s all true, as well,” Arcadio said with a mock bow in return. “The man, the myth, the legend, that’s what I am. Indeed you have the honor of meeting me, and yet I still haven’t heard a ‘thank you’ from any of your sort. I saved all your lives, you know.”

“Truly?” Lady Violet asked innocently. “Refresh my memory, it’s been a long day.”

“I’m the commander of the city watch, and had it not been for my guards I’ll bet that your little party wouldn’t have made within eyesight of the Palace. You’re welcome,” he said. “Though maybe you should have taken the hint. The people don’t want you here, the city doesn’t want you here, my brother doesn’t want you here, and more importantly I don’t want you here.” He smiled sharply and leaned in slightly to address Lady Violet. “So, with pleasantries out of the way, why are you here?”

“In this dungeon, or in this city?”

“Either. Both.” Arcadio laughed. “You’ll find soon enough that this whole city will be your dungeon, and to you this dungeon will be the whole city, however long that takes. And it won’t be as comfortable as the cell your filthy friend is in, either. Now, I’ll ask again: why are you here?”

“You know full well why,” Mattieu chimed in, clearly past his patience. “We came here to see our friends, and when we arrived we saw this. I’ve never seen such disgraceful conditions in my life,” he said irately, “and what’s more this keykeeper is forbidding us to even see Dabrius. If you think for one moment that you can—”

Arcadio interrupted by bursting out into laughter. “Good Lord, you hear how he talks?” he said to the men beside him. “It’s almost as though he believes he’s someone important, or that anyone cares what he thinks. You know what I think?” Arcadio asked as he stepped towards Mattieu. “I think that when you stand there in your stupid little robes and talking out of your tiny little head, you look like a child—so eager to be a grown-up, aren’t you? Perhaps you should let us real adults speak in peace, little child, before you throw tantrums,” he said, and then laughed right in Mattieu’s red face.

Mattieu looked ready to punch Arcadio straight in his laughing mouth when Lady Violet put a hand on his shoulder and drew him back. “Mattieu, take a moment,” she said.

“Yes Mattieu,” Arcadio chimed in contemptuously, “go stand in the corner and ‘take a moment.’ Important people are talking.”

Mattieu could do nothing but obey, though not without a murderous look to Arcadio. The lord did not seem to care at all, and instead turned his attention back to Lady Violet. “You’re much dirtier than I expected, you know.” He looked down at the mud that was still clinging to the Warden of Generosity after tending to Greenglade.

“I’m so sorry to have disappointed,” she replied calmly. “Perhaps if the conditions of your charge were more hygienic, the sight might be less offensive?”

“I see you’ve already started making yourself right at home, then. That’s good, you’ll be seeing a lot more of these cells, I wager. Don’t worry though, you’ll have plenty of company, including my two favorite prisoners—isn’t that right, Favorite Prisoner One?” Arcadio said to Greenglade.

Greenglade had been completely silent during the whole conversation, but as soon as he saw that Arcadio became interested in him, his eyes were wide with fear and he scuttled quickly into a dark corner. “Get that man away from me!” he screamed, balling himself up.

Arcadio seemed to find this amusing. “Aw, look! It remembers me. Don’t worry, we’ve been having a wonderful time down here. I’m sure that we’ll have good times as well,” he said to Lady Violet, “once you join him, that is.”

Lady Violet was stone-faced, but one could practically feel the anger coming off of her when she looked coldly to the man in front of her. The Warden of Honesty didn’t bother to hide it, staring down at Arcadio like a roach in dire need of a boot—his giant hands were threateningly close to a sword-hilt at his belt. Lady Violet did not see fit to discourage him, but turned to Arcadio instead. “Where is Dabrius Joh?”

“Who?” he asked with the least sincere smile that Coin had ever seen.

“The other prisoner,” she asked forcefully, taking a step towards Arcadio, guards or not.

All she got in response was a yawn. “So sorry, but we just have so many other prisoners. You’ll have to be more specific.” Violet looked as though she were about to slap him across the face when he deemed to answer. “Unless,” he said with a sideways glance, “you mean Favorite Prisoner Two? Black hair with blue dye, beard, middling height, angry, likes to throw things?”

“Sounds about right,” Prim replied, staring absently at Arcadio. It was hard to tell what Prim was thinking about the man, but likely it was nothing good.

“Ah, well his poor behavior, sadly, forced me to move him down to the lower floor. He was a danger to himself and others, I’m sorry to say, and with any luck he’ll learn some manners down there.”

Lady Violet clenched her jaw. “May we see him?”

Arcadio pretended to consider it. “Hmm,” he murmured while tapping his bearded chin. “No.”

She looked at him in disbelief. “May I ask why?"

He gave an unctuous grin, and answered in the voice one would use to address a child that didn’t understand something. “Well, since you’ve been so polite, I’ll tell you.” He leaned in closely, right to her ear, and whispered, “Because I. Don’t. Want to. And really, that’s all there is to it.”

Lady Violet drew away from him in disgust, and at the same time the Warden of Honesty had had enough. He drew in between them quickly, towering over Arcadio with a hand on his sword-hilt. “Back,” the Warden said angrily.

The two guards put their hands on weapons as well, but Arcadio did not seem afraid at all. “Big man!” he said with amusement. “I was wondering when you would talk. You seem stronger than the rest of these.” Arcadio’s hands went to two thick, golden hilts at his belt, where a pair of sheathed knives lay. “Perhaps you want to try this now?”

Surprisingly enough—surprising even to himself — it was Coin that stepped forward. “Do you know know the law?” he asked Arcadio—it was hardly cautious, but after what Coin had heard the time for caution was over. “Dabrius is one of the accused, and you’re forbidding us from seeing him to gather testimony. That’s Interference with Justice.”

“He’s right,” Theosyrius said accusingly. “You think the Lord Moderator won’t hear of this?”

Arcadio looked at Theosyrius with loathing. “Going to run and tell the Mods? Good luck getting Halforth on your side, then. My brother has his ear, and when it comes down to your word or mine, who do you think he’ll believe? The person in charge of this city, or a pack of perverts like yourselves? Especially,” he said with a glance back to Greenglade, “when you’re defending confessed murderers.”

It took half a moment for Lady Violet to process the words. “Greenglade,” she asked carefully, “what is he talking about?”

The prisoner looked at her panicked, looking so absurdly guilty that Coin wondered if he would start weeping again. “My lady, it’s not true. Not a word of it. They… they made me sign it. ‘It’ll be better this way,’ that’s what they said, they— “

“It seems your friend,” Arcadio said, “had a guilty conscience. Why, it was only a week or so after he was imprisoned that he insisted upon writing a confession to his role in the murder of Sir Harald and the squire.” He reached into a pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Yes, I have a copy right here, if you like. A full confession, with his signature at the bottom, no less.”

“They made me sign it!” Greenglade shouted, desperate for anyone to believe him. “Every time I tried to sleep, every moment, they would wake me up, and they wouldn’t bring us food either! After they took Dabrius away…” he said chokingly. “When they put it in front of me… I didn’t know what they were making me sign, they just said that I would be released if I cooperated, and so would Dabrius. I didn’t know, my lady, I swear it!”

“Hm!” Arcadio replied, amused, “how strange. I seem to remember him leaping at the chance to clear his troubled heart of the crippling guilt, and tell us how he conspired with his friend and other Bronies to do away with Sir Harald. After all, that would have meant a new negotiator being sent to the Dreamweave, one that would be more inclined to side with the horse-lovers.”

"Liar,” the Warden of Honesty said furiously.

Arcadio smiled at him and waved the confession. “But it seems that it’s my word against yours again—I wonder which one the Lord Moderator will believe?”

Lady Violet’s almond eyes narrowed. “If you seriously think you can get away with this, you’re sadly mistaken.”

Arcadio laughed. “‘Get away with it?’ I think you’ll find that I can ‘get away’ with whatever I want. Because that’s what I can do in this city—anything I want. Anything at all, really.” He signaled to his guards and walked forward, pushing Theosyrius out of the way and proceeding to the locked door. “I’ll say hello to Dabrius, shall I? I’m sure he’ll be happy to see me, as always.”

With that, he opened the door stepped inside with his guards, and slammed it behind him. The rest of them were left staring at the door he’d just vanished behind, and then looking to each other.

“Wow,” Prim said solemnly, “what an ass.”

Lady Violet looked over to the prisoner and rested her hands on the cell bars. “Greenglade.”

“My lady,” he said quicky, “please. I swear to the Six and all that is holy that I never knew what they were making me write. ‘It’ll be better this way,’ that’s what they said, they just kept saying that over and over, never letting me sleep or eat or… and then I’d hear him coming down the halls again. I couldn’t think straight, I couldn’t think at all, I couldn’t…”

“Did you hear about this as well?” she asked Theosyrius.

He hesitated. “Sir Depravity mentioned it. Truthfully, I did not believe him at first, but that was partly why I came back.”

“What are we going to do?” Mattieu said softly.

“We’re going to gather our own evidence to disprove whatever nonsense the Martes have drudged up,” Lady Violet replied, determined. “We’re going to force them to cooperate no matter what it takes, make Lord Halforth see the truth, and most of all,” she said with her eyes on Greenglade, “we’re going to bring you two home.”

Greenglade stared up at her with bloodshot eyes. “Thank you my lady. For coming for me. I know you’ll do everything, but…” He hesitated. “Please, swear to me that you won’t leave us here.”

“I swear it,” Lady Violet replied, kneeling down to him. “By the Six and One, I will not leave this island without you.” And for the first time, Greenglade gave a fragile smile.

The walk back to their rooms was long, and done in silence. As they walked up stairs and down halls, passing by servants and nobles giving dirty looks, not one of them said a word.

After some time, they reached the living quarters that the Martes family had set aside for the Brony guests. They were small rooms, even for the Wardens, but most of the Bronies did not even have these: Coin and much of the honor guard were lodged in a formerly abandoned barracks on the other side of Palace, with nearly all of the fifty-six Honest Friends cramped together. The fact that the different Bronies were so far spread out was more than slightly inconvenient, and forced the guards to make accommodations to account for how far away they were from their posts.

Lady Violet’s quarters were the largest that the Martes had provided, and accordingly the Bronies had offered it to their most senior leaders: Lady Violet had originally refused, but the Warden of Honesty would not accept it and neither would anyone else. Stepping inside the room, Coin saw that even the most sizable room was still fairly paltry, being smaller than the captain’s cabin aboard the Wonderbolt II. Red sheets covered the bed, and red paint covered the walls, while a wardrobe well-stuffed with clothes stood in the corner. Someone had found a few chairs and placed them in the room: Theosyrius immediately took one, while Mattieu and Prim followed. The Warden of Honesty remained standing, and Coin did the same, leaning against the wall by the door.

Lady Violet stood as well, looking quietly out of the single window in the room. She had her hands folded behind her back, and seemed to be thinking intensely—no doubt about what had transpired in the dungeon. Still looking out the window, she spoke up. “So,” she said, “what are our thoughts?”

The rest of them looked between one another. Prim was the first to speak. “Greenglade seems to be in some difficulty,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Dabrius is likely in worse trouble,” Theosyrius said with a clearing of his throat. “We need to speak with him, as soon as possible.” He leaned forward, and put his hands together in front of him. “I suggest we bring this to the Lord Moderator, and quickly.”

“This trial is a sham,” Mattieu said bitterly. “If the Lord Moderator doesn’t already see that, he is either blind or stupid. And if he does see it, he must be letting this go forward out of some hatred for us. That worm in the dungeon was right enough—Halforth won’t side with us, if it comes to it.”

“We have to try, nevertheless,” Theosyrius replied. “He must let us speak with Dabrius, and hopefully we can convince him to move our friend as well.” He looked over to Mattieu. “I am loath to say it, but Greenglade seems to have been driven half-mad.”

Mattieu looked offended, but Prim spoke first. “My kind friend has always been sensitive,” he said morosely, “but being trapped in a place like that was more than anyone could likely handle intact. That Arcadio has done something to him.”

“Arcadio,” Mattieu spat vehemently. “He’s the mad one. I hardly believed the reports I read about him, but it seems he’s a lunatic after all. If there were any justice to be had in this place, that man would be the one in a cell, not our friends. You should have let me punch that pinched head of his in, my lady, and we would have been better off for it.”

Lady Violet gave him a sideways glance. “That is not a kind thing to say, Mattieu, particularly for one wearing your colors. At any rate, speaking that way will not help us here.”

“Hm, maybe not,” he grudgingly admitted. “It does feel good though.”

They were interrupted by a knock at the door. “Ah, that’ll be him,” Lady Violet said. “Come in, Proximo.”

Her assistant opened the door and stepped inside, clothed in the deep violet vest and tie he had worn while meeting with the Lord Moderator earlier that day. “Ah, my lady, I heard you had returned. You will happy to know that I have taken full account of—" He suddenly stopped and looked at his lady in surprise. “Six save us, my lady! What in the Web happened to your dress?”

Lady Violet told all of the details of the encounter with Greenglade in the dungeon, ending with the story of Dabrius threatened Sir Harald. Proximo the assistant listened intently, then commented, “Well that’s bad” at her conclusion. When she continued to speak of the false confession, he said with concern, “Well that’s worse.”

“Indeed it is,” Lady Violet said. She turned away from the window and faced the others. “We will, of course, need to bring this to Lord Halforth’s attention as soon as possible. Mattieu may be correct in saying that he will remain unsympathetic, but it must be brought up nonetheless.” She thought for a moment. “Sir Coin? You have experience in the Authority, if I’m not mistaken. What is your reckoning of the Lord Moderator?”

Coin was startled, not expecting to have been consulted. “Lord Halforth? I… well I can’t claim to know him. There were stories of him, when I was in the Knight Regulators. People spoke very highly of him—a few said he would become High Censor someday.” He tried to collect his thoughts on the subject—he remembered that Cellia Ravenry, the Peacekeeper, seemed to revere the man. “My lady… I would think that the Lord Moderator be open to the truth. He is just, from what I understand.”

Lady Violet nodded. “Very well. It would be handy, then, for us to find favor with the rest of his Moderators. My honest friend?” She looked to the Warden of Honesty, and he looked down at her in return. “Would you feel it appropriate to have the investigation team work more closely with the Peacekeepers?”

The Warden answered immediately. “Outsiders. Cannot be trusted.”

Proximo glared at the Warden, but Lady Violet shrugged. “Perhaps or perhaps not, though I’m certainly not as sure of it as you are, my honest friend. Trust, however, is hardly the question at this moment. They will work closely in order to gain more information and favor, if possible… though a certain distance will be needed. If your team finds anything compromising, only share it at your discretion, and do not allow the Peacekeepers to grab hold of anything that may threaten Greenglade or Dabrius.” She put her hand on the Warden’s huge arm. “Would you do this?”

The Warden took no time considering it, though he did not seem happy (if he ever did). “Hrm,” he grunted in affirmation.

“Wonderful,” Lady Violet replied. “We will meet with the rest of our diplomats later as a body so I can tell you all what I intend. Before that, however, we must set our minds to the next task—dinner.”

Coin was lost, and so was Mattieu by the looks of it. “Sorry?”

“The Martes family is holding a ball tonight to honor the arrival of guests. As is custom, we have been extended an invitation—through clenched teeth, no doubt, but an invitation nonetheless.”

Mattieu was gaping. “Apologies my lady, but aren’t they accusing us of murder? And now they throw a celebration, and we’re invited?”

Lady Violet laughed. “These are the Devien Isles, Mattieu, or close enough, at least. A foreigner like yourself—meaning no offense—would not understand it at first, but if one noble family is housing other people under their roof, even people they hate, then they must extend hospitality. That is why our arrival was given such a show in the Palace earlier today, as well. It’s a custom stretching back to the days of Devio himself that a certain amount of celebration be offered, even in circumstances like this. However,” she said admittedly, “a party like this is no doubt more to give a show of extravagance than anything else. They may claim to be giving consideration to the Moderators and us, but it is an ample time to show off their own prestige and wealth as well. No doubt as a means to intimidate us.”

“They’ll succeed with me, I’m afraid,” Prim Enproper said mournfully. “I’ve been party to several parties, and few end well for me.”

“Even good times are politics here,” Lady Violet said dryly. “So, we shall need a bit of extravagance ourselves, won’t we?” She looked over to Proximo Hart. “I think some new clothes are in order, Mister Hart. Something with jewelry, without a doubt.”

* * * * * *

“After the first initial weeks of confusion, the Brony War began in earnest upon the Chan, reaching far beyond its original point of inception to affect every part of the isles. Whereas before the two sides—the Bronies on the one and the opposing anonymites on the other—were largely disorganized bands engaging in riots and sporadic violence, now the parties were beginning to form closely into true armies. Most of these forces were not even close to official militaries, led instead by charismatic amateur generals or enraged locals that simply joined other groups out of solidarity, they nevertheless fought fiercely against one another. In Comchan, towns and settlements began to fall one after another to the Brony converts, and though they met strong resistance in the other provinces the south was soon under their control.

“It was at this time that the first major figures in what would be called the Brony Collective emerged. The first was a woman from the Land of Faces, by the name of Madelin Wright: a sailor by trade and a talented fighter, her charisma and daring won several key victories for her followers, and soon a considerable force formed underneath her. The only thing she loved more than ships or swords were her new-found friends, and in turn they came to greatly admire her courage and loyalty. The second was another of an altogether different character: Feylen Mars, who gained a smaller but more intense reputation as not a military leader, but rather as a thinker and speaker. His lectures on the Brony idea not only won converts, but helped in binding the isolated factions together into one fandom—this would be an invaluable help later on.

“Wright was undoubtedly the most famous figure at the time, however, due in no small part to her bold actions in the early stages of the war. Hearing of the rising Brony presence in Greatchan and seeing opportunity, she gather a loyal band of followers and crossed to the larger island, meeting up with other Bronies and beginning her campaign. A series of lightning attacks on ill-prepared Channic outposts and towns that had declared opposition to the Bronies sent the anonymites reeling and provided the Bronies with much needed arms and equipment. The early success was due in no small part to the muddled and slow response given by the current Mootking, known by the maskname ‘Vaed,’ who made little effort to actively oppose what he saw as a minor nuisance across his “kingdom.” At any rate, the Brony attacks had been crippling several regional rivals, and the holder of the Baymaster’s Mask saw no reason to bestir himself in stopping them—the factionalism and in-fighting of the opposition forces, unable to unite behind a common cause, would prove an enormous advantage for the Bronies in the war. Rather than march out, the Mootking Vaed decided to issue pseudo-decrees that proclaimed his own dedication to resist the Bronies, and then allowed the problem to sort itself out.

“While the Mootking drank and cheered in Baysmouth, the Bronies continued to press their successes. More converts streamed into the fandom, mostly young men that were dissatisfied with the complacent cynicism that the Chan was so often mired in and sought a new opportunity. The novelty of the new fandom was a great aid to recruitment, as was the solidarity and amicability that members showed one another, each calling the other “friend” and singing while they marched. The masses of Bronies in Greatchan began to resemble a proper army: they donned blue uniforms, used captured money and supplies to arm and equip themselves in armor and horses, and waited solely on the orders of the “Lightning Lady,” as they had come to call Madelin Wright. The anonymites fighting against her preferred the name “Half-Devil” for her short stature (as well as other more obscene titles). Wright relished all of this, and each victory against the poorly organized Channic made her bolder than the last.

“Wright had little experience in war when she first began fighting, but proved herself to be an natural tactician and an even stronger leader—men under her command refused to be led by anyone else, so great was their respect, and her generous rewards to those that impressed her made soldiers fight all the harder to win her attention. One band of men that captured an anonymite town were awarded a huge commission of money, while one man that alone survived an enemy attack was given command over 200 soldiers on the spot. She was once so amused by another soldier that had somehow contrived to capture 50 barrels of wine on his own that she not only let him keep the entirety of the goods, but also made him an officer and invited him to dinner. Eventually, despite still being outnumbered, she had 3000 loyal men under her command, and continued to sweep through the Channic moors to destroy the opposition. Her greatest move yet, however, was only just coming to fruition.

“Emboldened (and some say cocky) after a series of smaller, easier victories, Wright decided to make the last move anyone expected—the capture of Baysmouth, the Channic capital. Her closest officers were shocked when she proposed the plan: even at their current strength, they could not hope to win the city through force, they claimed, and it would take weeks to pacify the population even if they won. Wright, however, saw an opportunity. The Mootking had already declared against them, but was more famous for his parties than his skill in battle, and was not popular among certain citizens. Brony converts had secretly begun emerging in secret cells throughout Baysmouth, despite attempts at persecution from their fellow Channic, and though strong fighters the forces at Baysmouth still had little in terms of organization or command (recall that a Mootking of the Chan has only the power that his fellows allow him, and they otherwise will not follow any kind of order). She would not win the city through force, but through guile.

“She ordered that the largest portion of her troops remain north of the city, just far enough away that it did not appear to be threatening the city, and ordered them to move aggressively towards different areas—Channic scouts would report the Bronies moving in every direction but south, and they naturally assumed that only a fool would attempt to take the Channis capital with so small an army. Meanwhile, a small force moved quickly and secretly towards the Baysmouth. Getting in contact with Bronies with the city, they found their ways within the walls, disguising themselves as ordinary citizens or merchants. Soon enough, they were ready to move.

“They sent word to the main army, less than a day’s ride away, telling them they were ready. Getting the news, the Bronies wheeled south, moving like lightning towards the city. Surprised but not worried, Mootking Vaed ordered his fellows to prepare to defend the walls… only for the Bronies already inside to begin their own attack. Taking up arms, they swiftly attacked the anonymites, burning down guard barracks and breaking open the gates on the night before the main army came. The defenders were so surprised that little resistance was possible despite their greater numbers, and by the time that the Wright’s main force arrived it was long too late. They swiftly overwhelmed the damaged defenses and captured the city. Panicking, the Mootking only barely managed to flee the Slouch-Hall before Wright herself marched inside, and escaped Baysmouth only by abandoning his mask and disguising himself—a mark of incredible shame for an anonymite.

“Wright’s army—what would later be called the “Loyal Friends”—was thrilled by their relatively easy victory. Yesterday, they had been a mere curiosity that could only match small Channic settlements, but now they had captured the greatest city in the isles. The anonymites were scattered, and their palace was occupied. Some were so confident after their success that there was talk of crowning Madelin Wright the new Mootking—there is no evidence that she supported this notion, but at the same time she never spoke against it. Across the Chan, the Bronies cheered.

“It was not to last, however. The Channic were stunned by the sudden loss of their city, but the rage it produced would be enough to win it back. Vaed, desperate to earn back his title and home, prayed to the Beast in the Bay and did what was unthinkable for any man of the Chan: he wrote to the Moderator Authority and asked for aid. The Mods had been looking on the war from a distance: they did not sympathize with the Bronies, seeing them as brigands and profligates engaged in an illegal revolt, but at the same time the Authority were not welcome to intervene in the Chan—the famous hatred between the anonymites and the Moderators had led to the Mootking refusing to allow any interference with his reign. Now, however, the gloves were off, and the Authority began preparation to invade on behalf of the opposition forces. Mootking Vaed was left to desperately try and assuage his outraged supporters, who were furious at both his loss of Baysmouth and having the gall to invite their most hated enemies to their land.

“The next morning, the Mootking was found in his bed… with his throat slit. A new Mootking was swiftly crowned, and this time there would be no delay or hesitation in dealing with the Bronies—the war would be won. Thus began the reign of the Mootking Rohd, a man famed for both his cunning and ruthlessness. The new ruler, however, did not chose to reverse his predecessor’s decision regarding the Authority, however: in order to crush the rebellion, they would need their aid. Two weeks after the First Battle of Baysmouth, an Authority force landed on the Chan. The true Brony War had just begun.”

— Excerpt from The Brony War, by Lorelove

Comments

[Glenn]

I'm enjoying this story, but you seem to be presenting this city as if it's a powder keg just waiting for a spark to explode.
There is no money for needed repairs,
An entire district of the city has been abandoned despite the rest of the city being overpopulated,
The dungeons are overfilled to the point where they couldn't easily push a lot more prisoners in even if they needed to,
The leader's brother is a walking cliché: The evil tyrannical sadist who couldn't be doing more to discredit the existing leadership if he were trying,
The leader's wife is foreign, presumably so she can be a focus for resentment amongst those who might otherwise feel some loyalty to the traditional ruling family. "It's all the foreign woman's fault; she's the one misleading her husband!"

You're pushing this theme so hard, I'm starting to find it hard to believe that the characters don't seem to see how unstable the situation is. If I were a Moderator in this situation, I might be wondering if the Bronies were plotting to seize control of the city, and if I were a Brony, I might be considering doing just that.

[Yami Vizzini]

Don’t worry though, you’ll have plenty of company, including my two favorite prisoners—isn’t that right, Favorite Prisoner One?

Eww... even more skeezy than when Azula said it.

I'm suddenly curious about just how far back this recorded history of the Web actually goes; if it was in "real time", those early wars wouldn't be out of memory of the older inhabitants.

I really dread the thought of something else arising to serve as a pretext for tossing Violet and/or other (apparently) innocent members of the delegation into the clink. But we'll just have to see....

[Brother_William]

What didn’t they do? Stairs killed my entire family, I’ll have you know. They were going to a reunion that was up a flight of stairs, and the evil thing tripped them. It was like dominoes, but with people dying.

This had me rolling. Prim Enproper would always be welcome in my home, if he always used language like that.

[Lord Max]

7341662

Ha, well I'm glad to hear that Prim is finding some friends! I'm certain that, if he were here, he would offer his thanks and then imagine all of the ways that it would inevitably go wrong for him. If you're fond of his character, I can say that you'll likely enjoy the chapters ahead.

7340811

Well, within the universe itself the oldest period of the Internet - such as the excerpt here about the Web prior to the Authority - happened long, long ago, enough to make it ancient history. Time flows strangely in the World Within the Web, when comparing it to the World Beyond: events which took only years or even seconds in "real life" might be stretched out for centuries to the denizens of the Known Internet, while others might happen more or less in the same span as in our world. To be honest, I mostly kept such time-scales vague for plot purposes, but events like the Authority's founding happened far in the past. There's no one alive now that would have seen such a time.

Well, no one human, anyways.

7340708

Yeah, hopefully I'm not laying it on too thick. The Dreamweave is a troubled place, and that shows itself in multiple ways, some more subtle than others. As far as people noticing that tension, however, I can certainly tell you that it has not gone unnoticed, and certainly will not go unaddressed by the main actors in the crisis. It's hard to miss a powder keg when you're standing on it, so to speak.

[Seraphem]

Well, that's the entire royal family... I don't like them.. at all, but that was intended.

Aurelio seems to just be a weak, spoiled brat used to having his own way, and who has become blinded by the fact no one in his 'kingdom' dares say anything against him, delude him into seeing himself as some all powerful figure who is never wrong and so smart and wise etc.... all while everything goes to shit around him. Latching onto any source he can blame for things, in this case the Bronies.

Arcadio is even worse, a sadistic bully that is essentially still an adolescent who things pulling wings off flies is the height of entertainment. Who has likewise gone so long with no one daring to counter him, he's over stated how 'powerful' he is and becomes convinced he is unstoppable and right. Neither of them really getting how weak and pathetic they really are. "Big fish in a small pond" type deals.

Overall between that and just what a shit hole the Dreamweave is in the first place.. leaves me wondering.. why the hell was this ever an issue? Why would anyone want to be allowed to trade here bad enough to self immolate? Seems more like the place "Oh you don't want us? Whatever." and just, not worth worrying about, just let it keep killing itself. This is a collapsing, worthless speck of dirt with seemingly nothing worth coming there for and no actual future beyond steadily decaying away till it's all but forgotten... why would things ever have gotten that heated just for the rights to come try and sell stuff here when there are SO many better places and no real benefit to doing so?

Everything about this screams "Shithole dystopia" and.. maybe going just a bit to cliched with Arcadio, everything is clear on what he's meant to be, power mad, insignificant little sack of feces bully who by luck of birth has just enough power to make other miserable for his amusement. And deluded enough to see it as perfectly right. Failing to see the difference between the kind of real power the Wardens have, authority coming from their followers belief in them and who are followed willingly and beloved, inspiring devotion, loyalty... and simply being such a sadsitc fuck people are to afraid to go against you, and having no real power outside your own little pond. But maybe JUST enough self awareness to see some hints of this, and so hate the bronies and see them as lesser, if nothing else, because they won't do what you say.

Got off topic, but yeah Arcadio.. comes across maybe a tad to cliched in how idiotically corrupt and vile he is. Enough to loathe, but not enough to really hook in and make you LOVE loathing him. Not enough complexity and it's mostly just wait around till we can enjoy seeing him finally get what's coming to him. Closest I could compare this too to make the distinction and show done well is Salrath. (If you do not know who that is... why the hell have you not read Days of Wasp and Spider!? It is freaking AMAZING! Especially if you liked FOE.) But Salrath was much the same, a full on Sadist who reveled in what small authority she had as a member of Security to inflict what pain she could on any others. But still had more complexity to her, and was far far more blatant and direct in what a sick, evil fuck she was, versus trying to pretend it's all justified and play nice.

Just, again not bad but, maybe a tad to spot on for what they are meant to be.

Still what he's doing..... yeah do not get the idea, no matter what he things, Lord Halworth will take kindly to this information.

Also their entire case agsint them is one of them saying something in anger, and then a confession obtained through torture..... I can fully buy this is their plan and they see no reason to doubt they need more, since by this point, they are so used to reality being what they wish it to be and everyone just agreeing with them. So the question remains, was this ALL their plan from the start? Or are they just pawns in some larger scheme? it seems a bit to elaborate for either of them to come up with on their own.. maybe the Lady but, not sure about her yet. This.. again... I could see this most likely being them being used in some larger scheme.. especially with the opening synopsis making it clear, The question is, are they part of the larger scheme, being used in the belief it would give them more power, or just pawns themselves, being trusted to trump things up this much to create a distraction?

7340811 Oh I could so see them trying something like that.. but here's the issue.. to actually DO it.. they have to get through Honesty. And the rest of the Collective has their entire nearby fleet ready to come save her if somehow that isn't enough.

[Seraphem]

Oh addendum, that ending bit of test... MOAR! LOVED IT, Just, so want to learn the whole, full story behind this, all the details, everything... so exciting!