Chapter IV: Six Friends
Chapter IV: Six Friends
* * * * * *
“My friends!” the first one said. “I have seen the glory of Six, and I know now the path I must follow for them! Our bond must be unbreakable, our love unflinching, and we shall know a true peace within the one Magic! My Kind Friends, I care for you. Long live the Six!”
And the second one said, “My Loyal Friends, I fight for you. Long live the Six!”
And the third one said, “My Honest Friends, I see for you. Long live the Six!”
And the fourth one said, “My Generous Friends, I create for you. Long live the Six!”
And the fifth one said, “My Laughing Friends, I smile for you! Long live the Six!”
And the sixth one said, “My Magic Friends, I learn for you. Long live the Six!”
* * * * * *
“Now where in the Web could they be?” Lady Violet said anxiously.
Proximo Hart couldn’t help but wonder as well. Both he and his lady had arrived only ten minutes prior, but it seemed like an eternity had passed while they had waited in the empty council room.
They were seated at a large, round table with a six-pointed star painted onto the center. Each of the points of the star reached towards ornate chairs that were placed around the table, all six of which were carved from a dark wood with different colored gemstones planted at their heads—aside from one of them, which was far larger than the others and exceedingly plain.
On the sides of each of these thrones was another, smaller chair, where the Wardens’ assistants sat during meetings that required their attendance. Of all the seats in the room, however, only Lady Violet’s and Proximo’s were filled.
“Perhaps they lost their way, my lady? They only come here nearly every day.”
“I’m serious, Proximo. It’s quite unlike them,” she said to him urgently. “Madelin and Jestin being late, certainly. Lillian, understandable. But our magic and honest friends? It’s inconceivable! Mars was the one who summoned us here — where could he have possibly gone off to?” She bit her lip in worry.
Now dressed completely, Lady Violet looked far different than she had earlier in the morning. Wearing a pure white dress and a golden necklace with a blue gemstone shaped like a pointed diamond placed on the chain, the lady was exceptionally beautiful, with almond-shaped eyes and long lashes, and thick, purple-dyed hair draped down her shoulders.
“I’m sure they’ll be along any minute now, my lady,” Proximo consoled her. “Still, I’ll admit it’s a bit odd. I’ve never known us to be the first ones to a meeting. When the others come in, they’ll think we’ve grown punctual overnight—I fear our reputation may be lost.”
He worried about other things as well, namely that the Dreamweave was involved with whatever they had been called for. Proximo knew the place well, but didn’t like to remember the time he had spent there — though that was more to do with who he had been, rather than the place itself. Proximo had been a far different person, before he had been dealt a fatal wound and died. And the Dreamweave is uncomfortably close to home, he thought for a moment before pushing the fear out of his mind. Nervously, he ran his fingers through his thick black hair.
“I mean, it’s not as though we didn’t take our time coming here,” said Violet, not responding to Proximo's reassurances. “First I had to get myself ready to leave, goodness knows that takes long enough, then we had to find and read over every report and statement and shopping list our agents in the Painted Sea have sent in the past month, and then there was the matter of crossing half the Citadel just to get here!” She turned quickly to Proximo. “You don’t suppose we read the message incorrectly, did we? Went to the wrong location or som—”
“Mornin’, friends!” a very loud, very familiar voice shouted as the doors of the room slammed open. As a startled Proximo turned around, he saw that the Warden of Loyalty had just made her normal entrance. Lady Madelin Artemelia Wright marched briskly through the doorway towards the table, wearing a stained blue shirt with long sleeves and a boiled leather vest over it, as well as a broad and cocksure grin.
Lady Madelin Wright hailed from the Land of Faces, the largest community in the Internet, and was every bit as boisterous and self-assured as most were in that place. The Loyal Friends she led were much the same: as the representation of victory, swiftness, and strength in battle, the Loyal Friend’s followers were largely fighters and sailors, both of which the Warden of Loyalty certainly was.
On her sleeve was the symbol of the Loyal Friend — a lightning bolt, colored blue, red, and yellow—while her belt had a pair of flasks on one side and a sheathed dagger on the other. Proximo was always surprised to see how short she was—nearly a head and a half smaller than he was—considering how loud and fierce she acted normally, spending most of her time boasting or yelling. Today didn’t seem to be an exception, as she stomped towards him and Violet.
“Sorry I’m late, everyone!” Lady Wright yelled while sharply stepping inside. “I figured you all probably started without me anyways, but you know how it is back in the Loyalty Wing. All fighting this and racing that and all of those new recruits begging to be beaten up!” She drew forward quickly, whipping her messy brown hair to and fro, having tied the shocking mane into a haphazard ponytail. “Anyhow,” she said while marching in, “where the Hell’s everyone else?”
“Not here yet, Maddy,” Lady Violet said with a smile, “but am I glad to see you. I was worried that no one else was coming! Being the first ones here is really quite unnerving.”
“Ha! Not that I’d know anything about it, V.” She gave a huge smile to the two of them while she walked closer. ”And how are my favorite fancy, prancy, purple people doing on this fine day?” she asked happily, before reaching over to Proximo and giving an extremely hard slap on his back that nearly sent his head into the table. Short as she was, Lady Wright had a wiry strength to her that surprised most people. Proximo needed no reminder of this, but the newly acquired pain in his back was proof nonetheless.
“Oh, we’re fine. A bit curious, though,” Lady Violet said pleasantly, ignoring the annoyed look that Proximo was sending Wright. “Have you any idea what Mars was talking about in that message? ‘Trouble in the Dreamweave, murder implication, come at once’ — it’s all very cryptic. I certainly hope it isn’t as serious as it sounds.”
“Not a clue, friend!” she said before scratching her chest. “Should be interestin’, whatever it is.” She looked down at Proximo while he was rubbing his sore back. “And how ‘bout you Proxi? Hair still poofy?” She leaned in closely with a grin, close enough that Proximo could smell an unwholesome mix of rough leather, sweat, and alcohol on her person.
“It would seem so, my lady,” he said as politely as he could, trying to fix said hair, which had gotten slightly mussed up after the slap to his back.
“Good, good! Glad to see you’re still as fancy as the last time I saw you. And that reminds me, I’ve got Flighter running up now: after hearing about all this business he went off to get some maps and things,” she said quickly while waving her hand back and forth. “Good kid, far as assistants go. Still a bit useless sometimes, though. Poor guy can barely tell his ass from his elbows some days, and don’t even get me started on how he does in the fighting ring. Sure, he can outwork most of the guys with a sword, but too damn slow, if you ask me! Say,” she said, turning to Proximo with an eager smile, “maybe you should come down and train some time! I’d say you need the muscle either way.”
Proximo’s hand instinctively went to the scar across his chest, an uncomfortable reminder of the last time he had been in a duel. The thought of it made the mark tingle slightly. You never fail to disappoint, Hart, he thought to himself. He had never even known the man’s name. “Thank you, Lady Wright, but I don’t think that would be a good idea. Us Generous Friends are built for words, not swords.”
“Lover, not fighter, eh? Ha! Well, suit yourself, Proxi, I understand why you’d rather not. Still, might do you some good, put something on those arms! Who knows, maybe you’ll be like your Auntie Maddy someday!”
Lady Wright gave a hearty and well-meaning laugh before delivering Proximo another slap to the back. Violet chuckled at him, while he tried his best to not roll his eyes. Being the Warden of Loyalty, Wright was admittedly a brilliant fighter, having practically led the offensive forces during the Brony rebellions on the Chan single-handedly. She had quite the reputation for capturing the Channic capital of Baysmouth, losing it, then capturing it again during the First Rise.
Proximo found the Hero of the Chan to be rather exhausting. She was far more fond of shouting and swearing than the people he was used to in the Generous Wing, and the only time she seemed to stop boasting was when she was having a drink. At the moment, she seemed to be switching to the latter activity, taking a swig from one of the two flasks she always kept at her belt while taking her seat and putting her feet up on the table.
Thankfully, Proximo was rescued from another series of jokes from Wright when they heard someone whistling in the hallway outside. A voice, light and airy as a cloud, chimed in over the jaunty tune, and sang a happy song that echoed into the meeting room.
“Oh take my hand, yes won’t you be
The one who’ll dance out on the sea?
Just leave your fears! We’ll all take flight!
Into the waves, into the night!
Across the starry, sun-down sea,
the moon will look on you and me!
And the Mare Who Waits will sing Her song,
and light will show what’s right and wrong!
The cadence waves, the tuning fish,
the beating hearts, oh how I wish!
Over the sea, where trebles end,
we’d dance out there, at the water-bend!”
Another group walked in, this time the Warden of Laughter and his own assistant. There was no mistaking the Laughing Lord: he was clad in the garish pink robes that all followers of the Laughing Friend wore, though Proximo could see the baggy pants and loose-fitting boots he wore under them.
Lord Jestin Jen was the one singing, a talent he had made good use of even before he had joined the Collective, while working as a Bard for the Tropers. Since the Laughing Friend was the embodiment of joy, music, and celebration, it had made sense for Jestin to join her followers, who made the music and organized the festivities of the Brony Collective.
Jestin strolled into the room cheerily, his gait so carefree that one would’ve never guessed he was one of the most important people in the Collective. He gave a shining smile to his friends.
“Heya, everyone!” Jestin said earnestly, his warm and friendly face lighting up upon seeing them. His appearance was casual, like most everything else about him, with a stubbly brown beard and hair that dangled down in curly bangs just above his eyes. “I know me and Algie are late, but someone was really excited about a new song back in the Laughing Wing, and I wanted to help 'em out a little before I came over.”
He walked to his seat, which had a blue sapphire built into the head, and jumped onto it. Rather than sitting down normally, he crossed his legs so that his knees sat on top of the arm-rests, and his body was suspended between them. His assistant, a portly and bearded man whom Proximo knew as Algernon Greaves, took the seat next to him, and seemed every bit as eager.
“It was about a dream across the sea,” Jestin continued, “and a bunch of friends on a quest to find it! Hopefully it works out for them. But yes, my sincere apologies for my tardiness,” he said with a solemn bow of his head.
“Don’t trouble yourself with it, friend,” Lady Violet said. “You haven’t missed anything yet, considering half of us are missing.”
Jestin Jen looked puzzled and peered over to the other chairs, as though he had only just noticed this. “Well hey, look at that! Weird, normally it’s me or Maddy who come in late. Even Honesty isn’t here, and he’s always on time.”
“It’s a real mystery, isn’t it?” said Proximo. “And speaking of mysteries, I don’t suppose you know what this emergency is all about, do you?”
“Nope!” Jestin said with a carefree smile.
Algernon leaned in. “My lord, didn’t you once visit the Dreamweave?”
“Sure did! I stayed there a few days when I was a Bard Errant. Terrible tippers. But it was fun!”
While Lord Jestin chatted with the others, Proximo heard other voices coming for the hallway outside, and turned to see another group walk in the door — three people, to be precise. On the right was Lady Wright’s assistant Flighter, wearing the blue robes and six-colored rainbow hood of the Loyal Friends, who wore a very tired and exasperated look while carrying a dozen large rolls of paper in his arms. On the left was another assistant, a small woman with short blonde hair named Hanna, who served the Warden of Kindness.
Between them was the Warden herself, Lady Lillian Semmer of the Kind Friends. She was a tall, slim lady, standing nearly a foot over Flighter and more so over her own assistant. She had very long, very dark hair that tumbled out of her upturned pink hood and down to the belt of her yellow robes.
“... Are you quite sure you don’t want help with those?” Hanna asked her loyal counterpart as he struggled to keep the papers in his arms.
“You shouldn’t concern yourself, m’lady, and you didn’t need to the last few times you’ve asked either. I can handle this, really!” Flighter replied unconvincingly, as one of the maps fell out of his arms and bounced onto the floor. Lady Semmer slowly bent over to pick it up, giving Flighter a reassuring smile as she carried it towards the table.
“I’m sorry for being so late,” Lady Semmer said to the rest of the room. She had an almost sing-song accent that Proximo had always found hard to place — he suspected it was southron, but had never found the nerve to ask.
She moved over to her chair with such grace that she seemed almost to float, wafting in like a breeze that was utterly unattached to the ground below. “There were more people in the Kind Wing that were needing my attention than I expected, and Hanna and I wanted to accompany Mister Flighter after we ran over him on the way here.”
“Ah, so it was this one who kept you!” Lady Wright chortled teasingly while wagging a finger at her assistant. “Ha! Shame on you, kid! Holding up a Warden of the Collective like that is a serious offense—I hope you didn’t cause her any problems on the way!”
“No, m’lady,” Flighter replied, still struggling to keep the rest of the papers intact on his way over.
“Good to hear it! Now,” Lady Wright said as she slammed a hand onto the table, “do you have any idea what this business is about, Lil? I was about ready to run around a little more when I got the news, and thanks to all this waiting — oh, for God’s sakes, Flighter, just put them down on the table and sit here before you kill yourself — sorry, all this waiting has got the anticipation killing me! Really, would it kill Mars to be a little less cryptic for once? If I have to start sharpening swords and sailing ships at things, I’d rather know now!” She slammed her hand onto the table again, as though it were one of her recruits that had ventured some kind of personal insult against her.
“I’m sorry, Maddy, but I’m sure I don’t know any more than anyone else,” Lady Semmer replied. “But the message mentions the Dreamweave, and that is worrying me. One of the Kind Friends was sent there not long ago, and one of the Generous as well, if I’m not mistaken. I certainly hope this hasn’t anything to do with them.”
Her eyes, filled with concern, were cast across to Lady Violet. The Lady of Kindness did not stare directly at Proximo, but her gaze was close enough for Proximo to feel just slightly uneasy. It was an absurd feeling, considering who the owner of that look was, but Lady Semmer’s eyes had always struck him as odd: they were dark, doe-like, and strangely large, as if they were a half a size too big. They glimmered like water at the bottom of a very deep well, and sometimes Proximo thought he might fall in, should he look too close.
“So do I,” Violet replied, though she seemed unsure. Proximo shared that feeling: though he hoped otherwise, the only reason he could think of as to why the Wardens had been called so urgently about the Dreamweave was if something had happened to their diplomats.
Flighter finally managed to work his way into his seat next to Lady Wright, half-placing and half-dropping the maps and charts onto the table. “Balefire!” Wright exclaimed. “I hope it wasn’t too hard to carrying all that nonsense from the Loyal Wing, ‘specially considering I sent you out for them. You alright?”
“Just fine, m’lady. Only a little tired from the running,” he said as he fell back into his chair.
“Good! I’ll need you set for fighting later—don’t think all this excitement’s getting you out of training!” Grinning, Wright took a swig from her flask before giving her assistant an affectionate punch to the arm and a hearty laugh, with her weary assistant flinching slightly at the blow.
Proximo gave a sympathetic smile and bow of the head to him. “I hope you’re well, Flighter,” Hart said as he raised his head back up, “and you too, Hanna. I trust everything is settled in the Kind Wing?”
Hanna smiled. “Things are fine, Mister Hart, but there’s always work to be done. My lady was making her rounds through the infirmary when we received word to meet, but there were still patients in need of attention. Sorry again about taking so long to get here,” she said apologetically.
“Don’t worry about it!” Lord Jestin leaned in and replied. “It’s not like we were ready to start, anyways. Just a lot of boring waiting!”
“I’m surprised to see,” Lady Semmer said while looking around the room, “that Mars and our honest friend are not here yet.” She seemed as puzzled as the rest of them had been. “It’s not like them to be tardy.”
“Agreed!” Wright yelled, before taking another drink. “Where’s my young old friend, or Sir Stick-in-the-Mud?”
It did not take long for Lady Wright to get her answer, as the sound of another man walking slowly to the door echoed into the room. Everyone turned to see the Warden of Magic walking slowly into the room, holding a stack of papers in one hand.
Lord Feylen Mars had gained the title of Warden and Lord of the Six-Pointed Star before any of the Collective’s other leaders had claimed their own positions, and had held it for longer as well. It had always been strange, then—to Proximo at least, who ranked appearance as one of the most indicative qualities of a man — how little he seemed to fit his role.
He wore the lavender robes of the Magic Friends, matched by a violet hood fastened with a golden pendant shaped like a six-pointed star. Oddly enough, the robes he wore never seemed to fit him properly, as though they were made for someone three sizes larger than him. He looked young, of similar age as Proximo or perhaps slightly less, but something about his appearance made him seem strangely older. The Warden of Magic walked forward slowly, his left leg lagging slightly as he moved.
Once the others noticed he had come, however, they all rose to greet him, bowing their heads to the first among equals in the fandom, the young elder himself. Lord Mars returned the gesture graciously, and approached his chair, cringing slightly as he lowered himself into it. There was an air of delicacy about him, like a pile of sticks that a firm hand or a breeze of wind could knock down.
“My apologies, friends, for my absence,” he said to the others. He spoke softly, barely above a whisper, but everyone else in the room was completely silent in order to hear what he had to say. His figure was near as thin as his voice, almost unhealthily so, with bony, grasping fingers, limbs as thin as broom-handles, and wispy brown hair and hollow cheeks where his deathly pale skin clung tightly to his skull. “There were a great many matters to look over in the past few hours, and I let time slip away from me. I’m afraid Lorelove will not be with us today, as the past few hours have given her more than enough to do as it is. Rest assured, my assistant has already been briefed on the matter we’re to speak of. I trust that my summons didn’t startle you all too much?”
“Not at all, Mars,” Lady Violet reassured. “Although I’ll admit it has us concerned. What’s all this business about?”
“I’ll explain soon enough, Violet,” he replied respectfully, “but it seems that my honest friend has yet to arrive. I would not wish to exclude him from what we’re to talk about—it may well concern him closely.”
Proximo wondered if the Warden of Honesty would offer the same courtesy to the others if they were late to urgent news. Somehow, he thought not. There was little point to speculating however, as Lord Mars spoke up again.
“I should, however, apologize again for not providing more information in my message to you all.” He rubbed his right wrist, then moved his hand to a ring on his right hand, a silver one studded with the six stones of the Six Friends. He turned the band over on his finger, twisting it softly around as though to keep a hyperactive hand busy. “Perhaps in my haste to write it, and my desire to be… let’s say, succinct, I gave you a bit too much to speculate on. Needless to say, there is a crisis on the Dreamweave, and it concerns us more closely than I should like.”
“Is it a threat?” Lady Wright asked, her flagon stopped in front of her face. “I can have the Expeditionary Force out-and-about immediately, Mars, and don’t think I won’t join them.”
“I wouldn’t doubt that for a moment, Madelin,” Lord Mars said with a small smile. “But I don’t think it’s that kind of threat yet, and I pray it won’t come to that. Now then, where is the Warden of Honesty?”
“Here.”
Eyes went to the entrance-way, and Proximo saw that the Giant of Honesty had arrived at last.
‘Giant’ was the perfect description for the Warden of Honesty, along with a few other choice words. Striding in from the doorway, looming above those beside him, was a man more than a head taller than anyone else Proximo had ever seen — seven feet high, at least. As the Warden walked over to the table, Proximo could see that the arms at his side were as wide as tree trunks, and his legs like stone pillars that moved mechanically across the room.
Every inch of his body was covered in muscle and metal. He wore solid plate armor all over, so thick and heavy that Proximo doubted anyone else could lift it, let alone wear it. But despite marching forward quickly to take his seat, the Warden did not seem to make a sound. Behind him was an orange cloak, billowing gently, clasped at the shoulders with a golden hood, and displaying an emblem in the middle in the shape of an apple.
What hair the Warden had was gold as well: though his head was completely shaven, he had a finely trimmed beard flecked with grey. His left eye was the same color, gold and illuminated with a cold, angry, suspicious fire. His other eye was missing, just a black patch that wrapped around his angular head and covered whatever remained. He was not a comely man by any stretch of the imagination: his face was harsh, his skin leathered like a callous and pale as a whitewyrm. His nose was nose flat and crooked, as though it had been broken several times and not set well. Half of his right ear had been torn off.
Though there remained only one eye in the Warden’s head, it wasn’t the only one he had. As he approached the table, Proximo could see that his armor still bore the Warden’s personal symbol on the front: a golden eye, with six lines coming forth from it. Members of his inner circle, the most trusted of the followers who practically worshiped the “Great Honest One,” took the same symbol as their own. The Warden’s assistant, Rolf, who sat next to the Warden’s huge and undecorated chair, wore the same eye on his robes. It always made Proximo uneasy to see the symbol, particularly on the robes of the Honest Friends, which were more often bare.
“We are late,” the Warden said matter-of-factly while taking his seat. His mouth was clenched tight, and when he spoke it seemed to wrench itself open only just long enough for him to say what few words he had before clamping shut once again. It was a mouth perfect for a man who never laughed, and seldom smiled. “Our fault. Things to attend.” Honesty looked to Lord Mars at the front. “Apologies,” he said with a bow.
“There’s nothing to apologize for, friend,” Mars said. “We were only waiting for your arrival for a short while.”
“You sure weirded me out though, Baldie!” Wright said with a teasing grin. “Never known you to be late — what was the hold-up?”
“Talking with someone,” the Warden of Honesty said, seeming vaguely irritated. “Guest. This one.” He gestured behind him. There was a man there that Proximo didn’t recognize, wearing the orange robes of the Honest Friend, with red hair and a round face that was remarkable only in how utterly plain and ordinary it was. He seemed uncomfortable, whoever he was, and gave an awkward bow to the table of Wardens.
“Ah, hello,” he said, obviously trying to compose himself.
“Can wait outside,” the Warden of Honesty said flatly, not acknowledging the guest.
“Oh, don’t mind him!” Jestin said, smiling at the man. “I’m sure you can stay here. You came all the way from Reddit after all.”
“How did you know that?” asked Lady Wright, tilting her head.
“Just a feeling.”
“I agree,” Lord Mars said, after considering Jestin’s words. “I don’t see any harm in letting him listen. Everyone in the Citadel will know about it soon enough, anyways.”
The Warden’s golden eye narrowed. “Fine,” he said curtly. He spoke again to the guest, not bothering to turn his head and face him. “Sit in back. Do not speak unless spoken to.”
The man hurried to the back as fast as his legs could carry him. While he moved, the Warden of Honesty put the message he had received on the table. “What is this?”
“It seems to be a piece of paper,” Proximo replied sarcastically.
Wright and Jestin laughed, but Violet elbowed her assistant and gave him a dirty look. Honesty didn’t even glance at him, just looking at Lord Mars.
“It,” Mars said, “is a problem. And a grave one, at that.”
He sifted through the stack of papers with his bony fingers, pulling out several pieces. Reaching over the table, he took one of the maps that Flighter had brought in, giving a courteous bow to the assistant in the process, and laid it out in front of the Wardens.
“We received three messages last night. The first came from the Dreamweave,” he said, pointing to a small dot on a map of the Painted Sea. “It’s a city-site, located on an island not far from the Devien Isles — traditionally, it’s been involved in the arts that the Painted Sea has always made, but they’ve come into a fouler practice more recently. They’ve been working against the Collective for some time now, ejecting any Brony groups, banning any art, and denying any traveller pledged to the Six.
“You may recall an incident a few months ago,” Mars continued, “after which we sent diplomats to try and open the Dreamweave, while the Authority sent its own negotiator to do the same.”
Proximo still remembered the day, though it had been more than three months before. He still shuddered at the thought of how desperate a person must be to drive them to such a sacrifice. They said that the Brony had burned himself alive in front of the city gates, protesting the ban. He wanted someone’s attention, Proximo thought, and that’s precisely what he got. He only hoped that it had been worth it to the poor man.
The others in the room seemed to remember as well, and a silence went over the room. Wright looked almost guilty, and Proximo suspected she had forgotten the incident. The Warden of Honesty showed no emotion at all, and simply stared forward.
“At any rate,” Mars continued solemnly, “the reason I called you here concerns these diplomats. The first message,” he said while showing them a piece of golden-lined paper, “was sent by a nobleman of the Dreamweave — one Aureliano Martes.”
Violet leaned in. “What does it say?”
“Threats and demands, for the most part. Though there were some more troubling pieces of information that arrived as well. That’s when I read the second message, a datagram sent soon after.”
Lord Feylen Mars showed the second paper to the room. It was less ornate than the first, plainly printed, but at the top was the symbol of a white shield with a black hammer inside. The mark of the Moderator Authority, Proximo thought, uneasily.
“It was sent by the Knight Censors in the Dreamweave,” Mars continued, “and it states that our diplomats have both been accused of murder.”
The words were heavy in the air while the people in the room processed the words.
“Murder?” Lady Semmer asked, alarm clear in her voice.
“Yes. That’s not the worst of it either,” Mars said gravely. “They’ve been accused of either murdering or participating in the murder of Sir Harald Corey, the leader of the negotiations, and his squire.”
Proximo looked at the message, stunned. He couldn’t claim to know the two men the Collective had sent to the Dreamweave well, but entering a place as a diplomat and murdering the one presiding over it was a despicable crime. It couldn’t be true, he thought, could it?
“I won’t believe it for a moment,” Violet made plain. “I know both of those men, and they would never stoop to something so… vile!”
“I agree,” Lady Semmer added, clearly concerned. “Greenglade is a dear friend, and I chose him to go myself. It can’t be true.”
“I pray you’re right,” Lord Mars said sadly. “But unless we can prove that, the Moderators will have no mercy. To murder a knight is bad enough, not to mention a squire, but to do so while under the Authority’s trust? As a guest, and a peace envoy at that?” Mars shook his head.
“Then we send our own advocates,” Violet said, looking at her fellow Wardens. “If we need to prove their innocence, then we’ll send investigators and representatives, so our case is heard.”
But Lord Mars shook his head again. “Those were my thoughts as well. But I’m afraid it’s grown more complicated than that.” He picked up the third letter, also plain black and white, and began to read it aloud.
“To the Wardens of the Brony Collective. Stop. Two of your followers, called Greenglade and Dabrius Joh, stand accused of the murder of Sir Harald Corey of the Order of the Guided Hand and his squire. Stop. If found guilty, their punishment will be an immediate Ban on Existence, followed with execution by hanging. Stop. In addition, the leaders of the Collective are charged with possessing both knowledge and complicity in the crimes of the accused, having known their intentions and having aided them in their execution. Stop.
“The Wardens of the Collective are to travel to the Dreamweave immediately and submit to a formal investigation conducted by the Authority, after which the innocence or guilt of the accused will be ascertained. Stop. Failure to comply will regarded as treason, and be punishable by Existential Banning, followed by execution. Stop. Signed under the Shield of Law and the Hammer of Order, the Lord Moderator Dyren Halforth, OGH. End of line.”
The room erupted into shouts. The Warden of Honesty, who had stayed silent until that point, stood up in anger.
“They accuse us?” he said, mouth twisted in fury. “Insult must be answered. Send us. We will see it is.”
“Amen to that!” Lady Wright shouted. She kicked out the chair from under her, and slammed a hand on the table, making a stunned Flighter jump back. “Give me the word, and I’ll have the fleet outside the Dreamweave before you can blink. We’ll see how well they can talk like that to my friends when I get there!”
“Then it would be war!” Lady Semmer said aghast. “Death and red ruin for our friends! If we go out for blood, then they’ll pay it back to us—we must find another way.”
“Agreed.” Violet Brushshape spoke up, looking to Wardens of Loyalty and Honesty. “Madelin, I’ve never doubted the strength of the Loyal Friends, but if we start a war with the Authority then it’ll be the death of all of us. If we know that we’re innocent, then let’s prove it. If we explain to the Lord Moderator our own s—”
“Walk into Authority hands?” the Warden of Honesty said, glaring at Lady Violet. “Foolish. Accusation made to shame Collective, not truth. We will show them truth.”
“Lady Violet is right.” Proximo said, standing beside his mistress. “A new envoy is better than trying to stare down the Authority, at any rate.”
“I’ll go,” Lord Jestin said, looking serious. “If someone needs to talk to the Lord Moderator, then I’ll do it.”
“A threat, not singing competition,” Honesty said flatly to the Warden of Laughter. “Not suited for you. Do not walk into trap.”
“And I suppose you would rather go?” Proximo said, angry to see his friend talked down to. “Along with a hundred or so ships? Or would it just be you alone, off to kill everyone in the Dreamweave and the Authority as well?”
“Friends!”
Everyone stopped talking, and looked to Lord Mars, who had raised his voice for the first time. His deep, blue eyes, normally so rheumy, were locked on all of them. He sighed, and spoke to them softly again. “Arguing like this will get us nowhere. Sit down, all of you.”
Lady Semmer went first, then Violet and Proximo soon after her, though he still glared at the Warden of Honesty. Lady Wright slouched back down into her seat next, and only the Wardens of Magic and Honesty were left standing. Honesty only stared forward, but looking at Mars made him bow his head to the little man and return to his seat.
Looking over his friends, Lord Mars spoke slowly. “Madelin, Honesty, I understand your anger. You’re right about one thing, and that is that this accusation is a threat not only to our diplomats, but to us as well. But we cannot start a war with the Authority. Perhaps you think it won’t lead to that, but there’s still a more delicate way around this.”
“Sorry, Mars, but I don’t mean for all six of us to just walk into the Dreamweave, where they’re free to do God knows what while the Collective loses its leaders!” Wright said, clearly speaking carefully so as not to offend the Warden of Magic. “There’s plenty of people in the Authority with a good reason to hate us, and I don’t like the way this ‘Aureliano Martes’ is talking either. And Dyren Halforth, the Lord Moderator… I don’t know much about the Painted Sea, but that one has a fearsome reputation.”
“I agree. Which is why we’re not going to do that. This datagram,” he said while holding the message, “asks for the Wardens to come to the Dreamweave and answer to Lord Halforth. It doesn’t say which ones, or how many.
“Violet,” he said to the Warden of Generosity. “You have a great deal of experience in negotiation. You’re from the Devien Isles, and you work closely with our members in the Painted Sea, so you’ll have more contacts there than any of us. I want you to assemble an envoy to travel to the Dreamweave and find out what is happening. Testify to our innocence, prove our friends did not murder Sir Harald, and make sure that this misunderstanding goes no further.”
“What if he objects?” Violet asked with a tilt of her head. “If he wants all of us there, wouldn’t he demand it if I were the only one who arrived?”
“I don’t think so. From what I know about Lord Halforth, he’s a man of the law, not political concerns. He may want us there, but once he sees we weren’t willing to all come, I believe he’ll let it go for the sake of going through with the trial. There’s only one way to know for certain, though, and I’m sure that you should be there when we find out.”
“Then I’ll go gladly, my lord,” Violet said with a bow of her head. “I’ll start putting my team together immediately. Proximo,” she said, turning to her assistant, “would you be so kind as to accompany me on this perilous mission?”
“I’m yours to command, my lady, and I follow where you lead,” Proximo said with a smile. Inside, however, he felt slightly uneasy: it had been a long time since he’d been to the Dreamweave, and he had been a far different man then. Not to mention that home is so close, he thought, his hand instinctively going to the scar across his chest.
“Wonderful!” Lady Violet said. “I’ll find some more suitable volunteers. Jestin, Lilly, I may need some suggestions for people from your branches as well, if you don’t mind. We can leave as soon as possible.”
“And the Warden of Honesty will accompany you,” Lord Mars said.
Wright laughed out loud at that, but stopped once she saw that Mars was serious. The rest of the room just looked towards the Warden of Magic in equal parts surprise and confusion. Jestin tilted his head at the order, but then smiled and returned to rocking back and forth on his chair.
Proximo's mind were racing as he looked fearfully at the Warden of Honesty. He’s no diplomat, he thought, and no negotiator. ‘Negotiate’ wasn’t part of the Warden’s limited vocabulary, as far as Proximo knew. He wanted to ask Lord Mars what he was thinking, sending the Warden of Honesty on a mission so unsuited for him, but he couldn’t summon the words.
Seeing that no one was going to speak up, Lord Mars continued. “My honest friend,” he said to the Warden of Honesty, “I want you to form an honor guard to escort Lady Violet and her team to the Dreamweave, and protect them for as long as they are there. Your guard will work with her in proving our friends innocent, and, if possible, finding the truth of what is happening in the Dreamweave. Will you do it?”
If the Warden of Honesty was capable of surprise, Proximo imagined he was feeling it then. At first, the Warden did not answer. After a brief pause though, he bowed his ugly head. “We obey,” he said to Mars.
Lord Mars nodded, and stood up. “My friends,” he said, “I believe it is not just our two friends on trial, nor just ourselves, but the whole of the fandom. The future of the Authority’s stance towards us may be decided in the coming weeks. I urge you all to be careful and cautious. Six and One,” he said to them, raising a hand.
“Six and One,” all in the room repeated.
The Warden of Magic gathered his papers together, and looked to his friends. “I would like to speak with all of you privately, in the Magic Wing. I would appreciate everyone being there in a few minutes.” Lord Mars glanced up to the man the Warden of Honesty had brought in. “Including you, sir. I apologize that we could not meet under better circumstances.”
The man was clearly startled that he had been addressed, but before he could reply the Warden had already walked off, stepping beyond the doors marked with a six-pointed star into the Magic Wing. Wright looked at the doors, then to Lady Violet, then to the Warden of Honesty, before giving a laugh and walking off to the exit as well, with Flighter in tow. Lord Jestin sprang up from his seat, whistling a happy tune to himself and Algernon as they followed her, while Lady Semmer and Hanna went as well, whispering to one another.
The Warden of Honesty glanced over to Lady Violet, as though he were about to say something. “Hrm,” he murmured instead, before looking up to his guest. “You,” he said to him, “follow.” The man bolted over to the Warden, and followed closely behind him. Rolf walked next to the poor man, saying something that Proximo couldn’t quite catch.
Lady Violet watched as the Honest Friends left the room. Proximo thought she looked slightly nervous, but that may have just been him. “Come, Proximo,” she said, “we must catch up.”
Proximo said nothing, just watching as the Warden of Honesty stepped out of the room, moving his hulking body in way that reminded the assistant of some giant glacier. The Warden put a massive hand on the door and pushed it open, nearly allowing it to hit Rolf and his guest as it closed behind him.
“Of course, my lady,” Proximo finally said, running his fingers through his hair before walking behind her to the Magic Wing. Though he tried to hide it, he couldn’t help but feel far less optimistic about their mission than he did before.
* * * * * *
“It would be impossible to say exactly who the first to call himself ‘Brony’ was. Too many followers of the Six joined and perished during the First Rise (called the Brony War to some in the Chan, and the Wars of Brony Succession to others) to be certain, but it is known that it was in the Chan that the fandom began. In the city-streets of Comchan, where the anonymites of the Great Fandoms fought and bled for their idols, strange men and women began to appear, whispering words of ‘Six Friends’ and ‘Faust’ in hushed tones. They grew louder and larger as time went on, until an explosion of activity in eastern Comchan led to riots and civil strife.
“To this day, it is still difficult to discern who cast the first stone: the anonymites claim it was the Bronies, eager to continue their expansion, while the Bronies point to the anonymites, who saw the new power as a threat to their coveted values. Whoever it may have been that started it, the conflict quickly grew out of control, starting with protests, then riots, anonymite-led purges, then violent attacks against both sides. Fighting spilled out of homes and onto the streets, then into the countryside, then across all of the Chan. Brony-related conflict was seen at every corner of the isles, but it was Greatchan that soon saw the worst of the fighting — as the de-facto capital and the most populated area, the island was soon engulfed in the struggle between the desperate fandom and the Channic who opposed them.”
— Excerpt from The Brony War, by Lorelove
* * * * * *
“Have you ever heard the old saying ‘The portal to hell is opened with the incantation of good intentions?' If there was a moral to their story, I guess that would be it.”
— Excerpt from “Fallout: Equestria,” by Kkat
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6897557 I imagined the Bronies relationship with Celestia, Luna, and other side characters being closer to revered figures than elder gods. Keep in mind that the reason that the Brony Collective adulates the "Six Friends" so much isn't necessarily because they are the main characters (otherwise we'd probably see separate branches for Spike and the CMC as well) but because they are Elements of Harmony - symbols of an ideal. The other characters are given a huge degree of respect as well, just not to the same level as the Six - sort of like saints in Catholicism.
That isn't to say that they don't show an enormous degree of respect to Luna and Celestia, though. In fact, the Bronies in this setting have named their sun and moon after the two princesses, and the Summer Sun Celebration and Nightmare Night are both considered major Brony holidays.
6913482 Oh, I see. I just wanted to understand their relationship because most mythologies, and in your story you make the MLP universe sound like one, have some form of Elder Gods vs Gods, like the Titans and the Olympus. I thought maybe the Two Sisters and the Main Six have somthing like that
! Also, you mentioned the Faust faction in the bronies, so does that make she a founding member of the bronies collective? Or she from the mlp universe and is the Goddess of Creation? If the answers spoil the story then you dont have to answer
So, the Painted Sea. Is that an actual sea, or a metaphorical location that gives inspiration to the inhabitants of the Devien Isles? Or perhaps both?
Also, what group(s) is Dreamweave supposed to represent? I understand it's anti Brony, but is that the collective whole of the Anti-Collectives in the Isles?
And finally, is there a specific area of the Devien Isles where the monsters created by Deviens are imprisoned and/or trained to defend the Isles in times of Inter-Fandom War? Or do they enforce Fandom Neutrality?
I apologize if I ask too many questions, but your world is boundlessly expandable.
6914637 Well, the setting is divided into two halves: the "World Within the Web" - being the Internet that the story takes place in - and the "World Beyond the Web" - meaning reality. Within the story, the two are seen as parallel to one another: to the Internet, the World Beyond is a higher plane of existence, from which ideas and creations spread and influence the World Within. Faust and the other show-makers are thought of as people who are able to bridge the gap between those two worlds - akin to prophets, they share the vision of the Six Friends with the World Within the Web, offering a chance at enlightenment. The Bronies in-universe see her as the creator-source of the fandom, the one who is most responsible for it existing to begin with and the one who first channeled the power of the Six Friends.
6914907 The Painted Sea is a real, physical location - the eastern portion of the Internet, where most of the sites dedicated to artistic achievement are located. One of those sites is the Dreamweave, but I admit that they are not based off of any particular real website - I felt that a fictionalized one would be easier to represent for the plot's sake. Nevertheless, it does represent in part several places I know of on the Internet.
The Devien Isles practice, as you state, Fandom Neutrality: all of the different groups are allowed to practice and create freely, so long as they adhere to Authority law (don't start fights, make sure any inappropriate art is confined to a red-zone, etc.). Wars are very uncommon in the Devien Isles - most people prefer to solve problems man-to-man, as it were, through dueling. If you want monsters, though, the best place to look would be the Deep Web...
This is weird.
In a good way
Specifically, the sudden switch of perspective to Proximo was very... unexpected? Not the word, but yeah, that. The first switch to Coin Counter was basically required, as of the death of Sir Harald and his squire, but doing it again a second time was not foreseen... I have a feeling I'll see this trick a few times yet, too
On another note, is spoiling stuff required if it happened in a previous chapter?
On the third and final note, it's pretty tiring pointing out tiny little errors on the mobile platform, but know that there are still a few minute flecks of oil on this otherwise pristine white sheet
8329215
Yeah, this story does a bit of the shifting POVs. Not many, mind you: I think that by the end of this there will only be around 5 POV characters, counting Dale in the prologue. Mostly Coin and Proximo, so it probably won't be too jarring or anything.
Eh, you're probably fine, especially since this is all stuff in the really early-on chapters. I doubt anyone would have the story ruined by me telling them that Sir Harald and co. die in the Prologue. Heck, that's in the story description!
Thanks for going on the hunt for me: I appreciate having readers who can ferret out all the mistakes I leave behind. Though you shouldn't tire yourself out on my behalf -- those oil stains are my responsibility, after all. Can't deny it's better to have a helping hand with this sort of thing, though!