A Baker, a Princess and Murder

by SPanDXltd

Chapter Two: The Last Drakon, master of spellcraft (and Homemaking)

This World was made by God.
This World was saved By Seven.
Six were Struck Down by war
The last slept forever under the world.

......................................................

The Drakon waddled brazenly, an armful of apples and a brown jute bag hanging from his claws in front, a spring in his step and a smile on his face.

He missed the concerned looks of the early rising Townsponies, all directed at that bag, used to peddle just one commodity in all of Ponyville.

Now, Ponyville is a single mare's town. Sure, it had a few couples sprinkled here and there, even some unions on the straighter side of the spectrum, and the ever-present herds.

Thanks to pony preferences, or rather the lack thereof, a mare needn't look far for a romp and temporary intimacy.

However, as for maternal urges....There were entirely too few children in Ponyville.

An adorable baby dragon, a colt at that was innocently carrying Big Mac's moonshine, presumably at the behest, or even on the demand of the strange unicorn from Canterlot, the one Celestia herself kicked out.

Almost every single mare up and about had found an outlet in him.

Spike, managing to remain worthy of the Title 'The Blind Mage', missed all of this and kept his smile, politely wishing them a good day, deep in his own thoughts.

Luckily for him, no mare in her right mind could bring themselves approach a little colt, and most herd stallions were stuck at their homes, preparing the things required again to wage the daily war called breakfast, before turning their ravenous partners and foals out of their warm beds.

And most of the mares who were not in their right minds tended to sleep in. In fact for most mares in general it was still unearthly hours.

Thus, the Drakon had free roam.

The old Drakon was mired in a world of his own creation. There were notes to make, training to execute, spells to craft and entirely too little time. And to top it of, his own form had grown very weak. Less of a problem for the Drakon of magic, but a problem nonetheless.

'I spent too little time in the Egg this time.'

But what was he supposed to do? Leave his only daughter alone for another half a millennia? No, when Twilight magic hit the egg, he used it. He took the out, bypassing the limits of his spell and turned it from a Commited to a Conditional spell.

It was enough of a change to alter the parameters without killing himself, properly attaching his mind to his soul and giving him a body that could be grown later.

Before he knew it, the Drakon was pushing the door to the Library.

The day would begin soon for little Twilight, and growing unicorns needed their breakfast, High Mage or not.

......................................................

"MASTER!", the dragon's bellowing alerted the others in the cave, looking up from their work only to see a splosh of red speeding towards them.

Most dodged the fast blot with practised ease, and those who didn't made sure to utter suitable curses as they were knocked out of the way, their pride and appliances in tatters, and their nascent
theoretical spell matrices destroyed beyond recovery.

"MASTER! MASTER!" The dragon, however, was single-minded, still rushing to the back of the cave into the Drakon's own chamber.

He smashed headfirst into the head of the enormous and very startled Drakon, in the process destroying the fledging theory of a Spell that the red dragon could not even begin to comprehend.

The Drakon's shock passed first, changing into concern, first to check if the Spell had properly fizzled, and then towards his student, currently picking himself up from granite's embrace.

"Now, now, little one. Breathe." A clawed finger unconsciously descended on the red dragon's head, gently petting the dragon. A small spell soothed the bruise that now existed beneath the red one's scale as the great Drakon waited for his student to gather himself.

This wasn't the first time such a thing had happened, and it wouldn't be last. His students were mostly an animated lot, prone to random bursts of genius or panic, and sometimes both in varying proportions.

The entire premise of Shunting, the safety measures for failed spells to vent magic stored in their matrices and properly fizzled, had developed because of this very reason.

A more sober student with bad naming sense came up with it and applied it on the spot, when some idiot decided to run around like a caffeinated spider in a test chamber, claiming that he had to charge the first dynamo.

Seeing as the said chamber was being used by a hundred strong chorus to channel a Commited spell near a hundred thousand Kilo Arcs, said idiot nearly took his findings, that section of the school to grave, and the creator of Shunting to the grave.

"Now, from the beginning. What were you saying?" Said the Drakon, as the dragon mostly composed himself.

"Master, I went out to practise a transmutation spell I've been working on, and- and I saw you, but it was...." The dragon slowed down, considering his next words.

"It wasn't you. It was a Drakon- there's another Drakon outside! He.... he wants to meet you." The dragon stopped suddenly, exhaustion finally catching up with him.

The Great green Drakon was quite surprised.

"So, it's a visit? By brother? That is certainly new."

Something was not right here.

......................................................

Something was definitely not right here.

It reeked of purposeless magic. Light altering, mental reconditioning, and emotion magic, to name the most distinct flavours.

The specific ratio told Spike that they were discharges from a failling spell matrix, some version of Drakon's Dissuadence alliteration 5, probably the 12th alteration with an overloaded matrix. And it wasn't just one of them.

He still remembered crafitng that particular alteration. It was for him, considering his lonley circumstance at that time. It was a spell that had been fashioned by a rare nostalgia, for others, not for himself.

The spell could be cast with a mere 15 centi-arc ( centi-Arcane units), a miniscule amount considering it's strength. It had the added benefit of having an overload resistant matrix, the flow cycles adjusting automatically for mistakes in ratio and input. Upto 100 centi-arcs of wasted excess could be accomodated.

It was perfect practise for Novice mages with barley a few arcs of magic and and E-class control. It was a spell Spike considered a personal achievement. A spell usable by many, amongst a plethora of spells developed that were useful only to him.

'Irony definitely has a real taste.'

"One night. I'm gone one night, and she pulls this stunt?" The Drakon's good mood dampened , as he walked up the spiral staircase into the study. There, a simmering mirage of the dying spell was trying to hide the culprit and the mess around her.

The 12th alteration has drawbacks. The matrix itself isn't exactly the picture of efficiency, lasting for not more than 3 hours with perfect casting, and diminishing in ratio to the amount of excess power is poured into it.

Even with a perfect cast, it needs to be touched up every three hours, or it will start fizzling at 3 hours and 42 seconds and will be gone at 4 hours, 1 minute and 11 seconds, becoming a simmering mess in that interval.

Spike waved the spell away, revealing a sleeping lavender unicorn hunched over the study table. Immediately, he saw that she had drained her entire magic pool, all 10 Kilo-arcs of it. However...

'Oh bollocks.'

She had gotten into his private stash.

Around her, parts of the room and the various illicit objects were obscured by various illusory spells, and there were ten failed spell matrices of Drakon's Dissuadence Allit 7/ Alt 2, a highly complicated spell that costs 492 arcs and will fail if a even single milli-arc so much as thinks of leaving it's flow lane, let alone it being miscast or misdirected.

As he moved closer, be noticed that she was using his clawwritten original 'Alliterations and Alternations of Drakon's Dissuadence', a virtual treasure tome some mages were willing to kill and have killed for, as a pillow. She was drooling into the chapter of the spell which had knocked her out.

Adorable as that was, Spike had a sudden urge to dip into the brown bag still in his hand and take a deep, long swig from the bottle.

"Now, now Spike. Such things are for the night." Spike held himself, setting down the bag too, on a newly visible chair. Drugs, drinks and lust, mortal vices were fun, but they were dangerously addictive given his lifestyle.

It was the failed spell matrix of a 3 Kilo-arc spell that seemed to have been the nail in the coffin, draining her magic and knocking her out cold.

"So she tried casting spells within her power limit, but above her control level. Why am I not surprised?" Spike couldn't help but let out a wry chuckle. It was a typical occurrence for him, back in the day, with his own adoptive daughter.

Tia had warned him that her precious student could be eager. Well, like teacher, like student.

Spike shook his head, casting the smile away.

'It stern time now. I have to look disappointed. '

He placed his hand on Twilight's back.

"You didn't notice your magic draining, did you, Twilight?" Dropping the basket of apples onto an invisible desk, the Drakon wiped away the spells, absorbing what magic remained.

Four Kilo-arcs of magic gathered in his grasp. He supplemented it with some of his own, making it equal to his student's pool.

"YEEEEEEE!!" Immediately, the unicorn sat ram-rod straight, then toppled over from the chair and to the ground below.

"Whaaa- what happened?" The sudden awakening sharpened her primary senses and butchered her common sense. Her eyes swiveled rapidly in alarm, her breathing on the verge of hyperventilation.

"Good morning, Twilight. Nice to see you up and about." Unfortunately, Spike had burnt all of his ire with that statement and was now currently failing to look disappointed.

"Spike? What..... You have cigars! And a pot pipe thing!" Twilight shot right up, and stared straight down at the Drakon.

'Father long dead, give me strength! Not this again.

With the grace of eons lived behind him, Spike tried to to think of a good response.

"Ughhhh...."

To be fair to him, hookahs were only a few hundred centuries old.

"And you have one of the Drakon's spell books!" Twilight pressed on, coming to the main question on her mind, much to his relief. "How in sweet Celestia's name did you find one of these? Only thirty of these books exist!"

This again? Better than here first question though.

"Thirty? There are three hundred and forty two books. And I didn't find it, Twilight, I wrote it. I wrote all of them. I only have this one because it's a work in progress." That part was lie. He'd actually lost interest a while ago and never completed it, but the rest was true.

He had, infact, told her this already. He had spent seven years on and off looking after her in the castle, while he adjusted to modern life and tracked down his allies.

Infact, he had set most of Twilight's magic syllabus, half of which Tia ignored completely as was her wont.

"You mean those silly stories? The Drakon isn't actually real, Spike!" And therein lay the real trouble. To Twilight, the fanciful fables of nigh uncastable spells and beings who could erode away pieces of reality had always been fiction.

She accepted the currently popular consensus, if marginally so. The 'Drakon' was a group of close knit powerful mages using a Hive mind spell, most of whose work was lost, despite the Drakon himself trying to convince her otherwise. If Twilight couldn't see it or prove, it was either wrong or not true.

Spike sighed. That was one aspect Tia was better in.

"Look, that doesn't matter. Instead..." Spike brought his palms together, actual fatherly concern now letting him look only disappointed, but not mad. ".... How about you explain to me what made you stay up all night?"

A goddess used to, and still does wilt under that gaze.

The young, barely mare unicorn had no chance.

"Twilight, didn't I tell you to go to bed? Or to not try any new spells?" He asked sternly.

"Oh. Uh.... Well..."

Spike sighed some more.

"You know what? It doesn't matter." He turned back towards the stairs and let himself out, leaving her to stew.

Just like Tia, Twilight does what Twilight wants. Nothing would change that. There really was no point. She'd feel bad for a while, then go straight back to it.

"Go back to sleep, Twi. I'll wake you up at 6:30." He began pull out all the sundries needed for a healthy and balanced breakfast as a dejected sort of muted clattering faded with distance.

' Atleast she didn't ask about the Hookah.'

......................................................

It was quiet in the ancient cave. Only a single drakon lived in it now. Alone. Nearly two million years had passed before he lost track of time.

It grew lonely. So lonely. The Drakon regretted it heavily. Not a single one of his students survived the chaos of battle. Seven Great Drakons against the Creator of all things, it wasn't a battle the Drakon had expected to survive.

Then again, he had been better equipped than the rest. His arrogant brothers, so sure of victory, so sure in their brute strength, they were dead. He was born weak. And it cemented his survival.

Magic and spells, study and research, they are not good company. But they were the only company the Drakon kept.

Until today.

"So, tell me, what is it exactly that you do here again? In actual Draconian this time?" The centuries had burnt away the Drakon's desire for actual living company, despite his loneliness, and this annoying new creature did absolutely nothing to help rekindle that desire.

"I have been speaking in Draconian, creature. I don't know the modern variant. So if you wish to converse with me," The Drakon didn't pause his work, changing and molding his spell, as he turned to look at the Human. "this is what you get."

Unfortunately for the Drakon, the human, the creature trying to hold a conversation with him, was als ancient and experienced as himself. Despite vastky superior magical skill on his part, the human was skilled with his innate magic.

Thus, attempts to remove or outright kill the pest was met with failure. Throwing him out made him come back. Blowing his body to smithereens just made him pull himself back together, atom by atom. Endless illusions were purged. Portals to the Edge of reality were sewn shut or clogged. All by his versatile control over his innate magic.

It helped the human's case that the Drakon wasn't really trying. The human knew it too, and it led to the current situation where the Drakon had to suffer the human's chatter.

"You've been speaking in indeciferable magic lingo, not normal speech. Changes in Draconian don't have anything to do with it." The human piped up again, crossing his legs. For reasons unknown to the Drakon, the human had impaled his over sized club into the cave wall and was sitting on it half a mile off the ground to keep eye contact at his level. "Hell, I can't understand about a quarter of what you're saying."

The Drakon narrowed his eyes. He had been trying to explain the spell he had been working on. It was a refinement of the Flash sword. A very, very powerful refinement of a useful spell. It wasn't​ particularly draining. To use his system of magical measurement, it took​ 100 kiloarcs of magic, distributed 19.56: 1.75 : 49.53 : 29.15684 manifested as Rage, a low power high frequency oxy-electron circuit, a spirit fire transmuted as a blade and Greater pyrokinesis to make sure the spirit fire does not defuse.

In hindsight, the Drakon understood that it may not have been the best conversation matter.

Regardless, he pressed on.

"So, you can understand three quarters of what I'm saying?"

"Oh, definitely. Despite how I like to present myself, I'm not an idiot." The human raised his foreleg, closing his dextrous digits into a fist. Immediately, a powerful flash sword appeared along his arm, the large blade parallel to his fist, glowing a crimson red.

The Drakon wasn't necessarily surprised by the chaotic replica itself. It wasn't unusual or unheard of.

No, what surprised the Drakon was the amount of magic wasted. Namely, almost none. It was a 97% efficiency spell. It put the human's control of his innate magic in the highest limits of S-class, just a few steps behind the Drakon himself.

While the human seemed to rely on innate magic similar to the Drakon's now long dead brothers, he wasn't arrogant about his power. Instead of relying on brute magical force, he used the Chaos in collected and inventive ways, maximising the usefulness and minimising actually magic expended.

"I mean, yes, it's a chaotic construct, and I may not be able to summon it in a fight, but I can make a flash sword." The human let go of the chaotic spell. "While we're at it, let me go one step further."

He summoned a purely magical flash sword.

The Drakon immediately froze.

There was no mistaking it. A high power low frequency electron circuit and a oxy-magical fire. It was a horrible waste of energy, 10 kiloarcs being fed into the spell every 5 seconds, at a horrendous 12% efficiency.

'But it is a flash sword.'

The human could do it. There was no doubt about it. Gears began turning in the Drakon's​ mind and the Ancient creature tried to make sense of the situation, until he looked down at the enormous runes he had scratched into the cave floors.

His eyes widened. The matrix of the flash sword created by the human was too similar to the one he was creating, with the same basic idea.

The human could somewhat understand the runes.

"Figured it out?" The human asked.

"How?" The Drakon save his claw, pushing aside the literal mountain of notes and scrolls he had been using, putting fifteen layers of wards on them while he focused his attention on the human.

The human smiled an anxious smile, turning his gaze to stare at his own feet. For a few moments, he reminded himself of what ​he was here to do. Gathering his courage, he asked a question in a clear, concise voice.

"What was it that you told your students, friend?"

The resulting silence was almost tangible.

The Drakon stiffened, his eyes turning cold. The human was poking at a deep, old wound.

"I forget. Refresh my memory." The Drakon scathingly replied, not bothering to hide the attack spells he was readying. It was a implicit reminder for the human to choose his next words with great care.

"'Preserve my Legacy.', or something along those lines, wasn't it ? " The human raised his head to meet the Drakon's​ stare directly.

Confusion crept into the Drakon's face. "Go on."

"Your students took it literally." The spells Sparkled dangerously as the Drakon lost concentration, but Fizzled away as the Drakon Shunted the magic. It told the human that he chose well enough.

The pair stayed in the silence for a few minutes, the human waiting for the Drakon to finally piece together the puzzle and to climb down from his shock.

"By the heavens above! They passed down Runic?" The Drakon finally asked. "How? When?" For the first time, the Drakon regretted sealing himself away for a reason other than boredom.

"There are stories, Drakon." The human stood on his perch."Stories of seven great Drakons, rising up to challenge the apocalypse. Of all Drakons slain." He jumped off, landing lightly on the ground. As if on instinct, his magic pulled the sword out and flew it into his hand.

"The Drakon of magic, the weakest of the Six, survived the battle, but he was wounded." The human hefted his sword, waving around to gesture at the Granite walls. "He crawled into this cave, cast thousands of warding spells, and then never came out."

To hear about himself like this. As a legend, not a being? The Drakon remembered the day of the war. And slain? The word wasn't the best to use here.

"Twenty miles out, there is an ancient temple dedicated to you and the study of magic. All based upon hurried scribbles one of your students left behind. Of spell theory, of all basic safety and casting concepts, of excersizes to increase magical might. All written in his own blood, and preserved in stasis."

The Drakon was at a loss. And it showed on his features. Magic was not dead. There were others who wished to learn. Others who could be taught!

"Well, that's the speech. You coming or not?"

"...No."

"Goo... What?"

"No."
.
.
.
.
"Well, why not?"

"I have ... The mag... I don't. They don't need me."

"That's not true; and I'm not saying that placate you, either. You should see some of the retarda...."

'Oh bollocks.'

"The legend is wrong." The Drakon cut him off.

"...It is?" The human turned around, confused.

The Drakon was confused as well. He wasn't sure why he had felt the need to say that, and why he felt the need to say more.

He sighed. He had already started.

"They weren't 'slain'. My brothers were idiots. Powerful, brash, arrogant idiots who were created with strong innate magic. They shaped the features of this world, and felt a self righteous sense of ownership here. When father got bored and decided to wipe the board clean, they decided that they would wage a crusade. Even I came out into the world to protect my students."

They words flew easier from the Drakon as muted emotions now began to free themselves after an eternity.

"To say that my brothers were slain would be to say that I slayed my useless scrap parchment. They were dead in seconds. There was no crusade, only a fight. A bloody, furious and deathly fight between my father wielding his innate magic, and me, using the mana pools of my dead brother, spells that took me centuries to complete, and my studies of magic."

And the Drakon talked. He spilt everything that he had bottled up, everything that he had supressed, proudly talked the about achievements of each of his students, laughed along with the human as he animatedly spoke of the antics of the Dynamo Kirin, somberly recounted the scenes of death and devastation he found when he returned to the caves that he used as schools.

He talked and talked and the human listened, sometimes quiping in, sometimes breaking in to tell of the world outside, but mostly just sitting and listening with rapt attention.

They would became the best of friends over the next few weeks. The human would tell him of his own travels through worlds, and then lead him out side. The tales of their friendship would be the stuff of legend one day.

But not today. Today they were just people animatedly talking, gesticulating, laughing, without restraint and without care. Two strangers to the world who found solace in each other.

Author's Note:

Story is back.

I may end up using concepts if I find them in the comments. I'll credit them. I've already poached RGRE concepts because they aligned with my head cannon of the world, with a 3 to 1 ratio of mare to stallion. It will add some spice to story and more importantly actually help me think about the story.

Criticism is a appreciated, again.

Comments

[SPanDXltd]

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I remembered what you said, started writing the chapter, and then forgot about it. It's here now though.