The Tome of Faust

by DungeonMiner

Chapter 14

Mouse woke.

He sat up, staring into the darkness around him, eyes wide. He heard something, he knew he had.

His eyes scanned the inn room, eyes already adjusted to the blackness around him. There was the table, the dresser, the foot of the bed, all standing silently in the room that appeared otherwise empty.

The walls offered nothing. The furniture, nothing. The shadows and the silence offered the same.

But he knew. Some preternatural sense had told him that something was here, and that something had woken him from his sleep. He glanced around the room once more, holding his breath as he tried to listen for the telltale sign of a living pony sharing this tiny space.

Still, he found nothing.

There were not many places to hide in this room, even fewer that could not be seen from the bed in the tight quarters of the rented room. Blank wall to blank wall was empty, leaving not even a shadow to duck into.

Of course, Mouse had spent enough time invisible to know that even empty space could hide a pony well enough. Especially if they had magic by their side.

Still, Mouse saw nothing. Not the shimmer of the spell. He even picked up his cloak with his magic and threw it out over his room, like a fisher’s net. He caught nothing, and the cloak’s soft folds revealed no invisible pony.

There was nopony in the room. There couldn’t be.

But something woke him up. He knew something had woken him up.

Mouse pulled his bag closer to himself, keeping it and the Twin Moons within hoof’s reach. It was too late to hide his intention now, so at the very least showing that he was armed might dissuade the attacker.

Or…

Or he could just be getting paranoid, and he was arming himself to intimidate the air.

As if to prove his point, a sound from the street outside rattled through his window, loud enough to wake the once-sleeping mare across the way, who was now demanding silence in a very loud, annoyed yell.

The noise passed, and Mouse began to sink back into his bed, alert, but slowly dropping his guard as he laid back down. His head finally touch the pillow, and his eyes finally closed. He sighed, and tried to fall back to sleep.

“Well, well,” a voice said, as Mouse leapt back up, reaching for his knives. “I have to say you sleep rather soundly for a murderer. I nearly had to yell your name to wake you.”

Mouse glared into the room, knives drawn, and from behind the dresser a figure appeared. A pale earth pony stepped into view, smiling widely as he stared at the ex-thief. A belt was wrapped around the pale pony’s barrel and chest, and something that looked like a book rested at his side.

Mouse looked the pale pony up and down, keeping the knives between him and his intruder. “I’m not a murderer.”

“Aren’t you?” the pale pony asked. “You killed a rival. Or is ‘rival’ too a strong a word? He was hardly your equal. Wouldn’t you agree, Mouse?”

Mouse said nothing.

“Regardless, a pony has died by your hooves.”

“I was defending myself.”

“You took a life, and it was your intent to kill. Defending yourself or not means nothing when a life has been cut short.”

“Not according to law,” Mouse pointed out.

The pale pony smiled. “Law,” he said, as though testing the word on his tongue. “If the law is the compass by which you guide your life, then doesn’t that mean you are an escaped criminal? That you are guilty by the fact that you are sleeping so soundly in this lovely bed? And what of the bits you stole, or these knives? What does the law say about those?”

Mouse looked the pony and up down, trying to avoid answering the question. “What do you want?”

“I want you to join us,” the pale pony said with a smile.

“Us?” Mouse repeated.

“My little family of murderers,” the pale pony explained. “Killers and assassins all.”

“Not interested,” Mouse replied.

“So you think,” the intruder said, “but you’ll change your mind.”

“No,” Mouse said, keeping his blades ready, “I won't. I’m leaving for Vanhoover tomorrow. I am going to get an honest job, and I am going to leave all this behind me.”

“An honest job? Oh, come now, that would be a waste of your talents. You can do so much better than that.”

“I am going to be an honest pony. That's all I want!”

“Really, because it seems to me that you want money for the finer things in life, like this goose-feather bed, for instance.”

“And I’ll get it honestly,” Mouse said.

“If you find a job,” the pale pony said, smiling all the way.

Mouse went silent for a moment. “I-I’ll find a job. There has to be one.”

“Oh, of course, of course. There must be one, just like there had to be a job here, in Canterlot, right?”

Mouse had no answer.

The pale pony shook his head. “You won't find another job, Mouse. It is not in your destiny.”

Mouse frowned. “And what do you know of my destiny?”

The intruder smiled, like he was waiting to be asked, and pulled the book from his pouch. A simple, brown volume with a strange cover. A white silhouette of divine figure, having both wings and horn, stood against an auburn field. Before the figure of the goddess was an inkwell, and a quill, waiting to write a tale unlike any that came before. Otherwise, the book had no other marking. No title graced it's cover or spine, just the alicorn, the quill, and the inkwell.

“This,” the pale pony whispered reverently, “this is the tome of the mother of the gods. In it is written all of reality, past, present, and future. I have seen you come to us, and so I know that you shall.”

Mouse stared at the intruder for a moment, before nodding. “Sure…”

“You don't believe me,” the earth pony stated with a smile, before he opened the book.

“No, no I don't,” Mouse said, trying to judge the pony in front of him. This talk of reading the future was—

“This talk of reading the future was causing him to doubt the intruder’s sanity, if not intentions. Then Mouse's doubt turned to shocked disbelief as the new pony read his thoughts aloud, almost as if narrating Mouse's internal monologue as he himself thought it.”

The pale pony looked up from the book, and smiled. “Shall I continue?”

Mouse merely stared.

“I have read your destiny Mouse. You were meant to go to the thieves, that's why you couldn't get a job. What the thieves call bad luck, I call destiny. If you leave for Vanhoover, you will not find a job. You will go without until you come to us. Such is your Doom.”

Mouse shook his head. “I...Luna…”

“But there is good news, Mouse. We know that ponies rarely turn to murder so easily, so we offer you a very special contract.”

He wasn't going to do it. He wasn't going to do it. He was going to leave in the morning, and he’s leave this all behind. Sard his damned book. He was not going to do it.

“We offer you the Canterlot warden as your first contract.”

Mouse was silent for a moment. “The...the warden?”

The pale pony smiled, and pulled a small package. “The same that had you imprisoned for most of your life. I will even offer a gift, information, all you need to succeed is right here,” he said motioning to the package as he set it on the table.

“All you need do is take your revenge and wet your blade in blood, then you will have a place at our table, and a place to call home. Your precious wagons are delayed I’m afraid, and will not arrive until the next day, so you have plenty of time to think it over.”

The pale pony smiled once more. “Happy hunting, my little murderer,” he said, and then he disappeared.

Mouse was tired by the morning. The rest of the night was spent tossing and turning. When he finally got up, he had hardly slept at all and was threatening to nod off during breakfast.

“Did you have trouble sleeping, Mr. Mouse?” Cinnamon Stick asked as she brought him a cup of tea.

He nodded slowly, trying to focus on the food in front of him. “Yeah...the...the mare screaming across the street woke me up last night.”

“I am sorry about that, Mr. Mouse,” she began.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Mouse said, “it’s not like you can control your neighbors.”

She smiled. “Well the least I can do is offer you some free tea to try and wake you up.”

Mouse nodded, and smiled. “Thank you very much, Miss Cinnamon.”

“You can just call me Cinnamon,” she said, smiling.

“Then thank you, Cinnamon,” Mouse said, before she walked away and left Mouse to his plate and thoughts.

If there was ever a pony that needed to die it was the Warden. He was a coward, a fool, and a bully, quite frankly. He didn't care if the ponies in his care were guilty of murder, or merely a debtor, they all suffered the same under his rule.

The guilty were all guilty. The guilty deserved what they got.

A blade through his throat was the least that the Warden deserved. The prison itself would become better once he died, Mouse couldn't deny that. He also couldn’t deny that he had thought of ending the Warden for years.

He shook his head.

That’s not what he wanted. He wanted an honest life. He was going to head to Vanhoover, he was going to get a job, and he was going to live like a normal pony. No more sneaking in the shadows. No more hiding. No more running from the guards.

He was going to ignore the crazy, pale pony. He was going to ignore that crazy book, and he was going to leave.

“The old man cursed the warden with his dying breath.”

He wasn’t going to do it. He was going to Vanhoover.

“You can bring justice to the innocent.”

By becoming a murderer! That was not living honestly. That was becoming a crazed maniac in the name of some misplaced sense of vengeance. That was not what he wanted. He was going to be an honest pony and that’s that!

As though to end his argument, he shoved his food into his mouth in frustration. He nearly swallowed his eggs whole as he ate angrily, staring forward as though to dare his internal monologue to speak up again.

Nothing.

Good. Maybe he could eat in peace now.

Mouse drank his tea, trying to breath slowly as he tried to resist seething in fury against this horrible, horrible idea.

“Could you imagine his face?”

He could. The shocked, wide eyes that slowly went dark after shining with recognition. Watching him struggle to breath like the prisoners that had been shanked by the more violent convicts. A strange, poetic justice of him dying the same way that his own corruption had killed others sang from the image and he—

No! He was going to be an honest pony.

Mouse sighed.

He needed to get out of here.

The carts had been delayed.

The cart to Vanhoover had not yet arrived, and they did not know when they would arrive.

Just like the crazed pony and his book had predicted.

This thought, that refused to go away, along with the continued intrusion of the sweet, sweet image of the warden’s dying face turned his mind back to the pale pony’s offer.

“I am not going to become an assassin.”

But think about it. Who hires assassins? People like you who can't work in the law. You’ll be helping people.

“Until they need me to kill Princess Platinum…”

Hey, the pale pony did not wear one of the cloaks with that weird star thing. The ones who want to kill for power probably already have their own killers.

“And how do you know that the pale guy isn't already in someone's pocket?”

We can't. Not without joining them.

“Not going to happen.”

Then why are you still carrying the package he gave us?

Mouse had no answer for that. The envelope filled with the Warden’s schedules, addresses, and even a key to his office sat tucked into his belt. At first, he had stuck it there, telling himself that putting the envelope there made it easier to get rid of, in case one of the guards decided to search him. Yet, the more he carried it, the more he felt it press into his side, and the more it hung in the back of his mind.

“I-I just can't get rid of it, what if it leads back to me?”

Now that's a good excuse…

“It's not an excuse!”

Oh, of course not, and you’re definitely not keeping in case you meet the good Warden either, right?

“L-look, I’m not going to find the warden. It’s not going to happen.”

As the thought finished, a pony walked into view. About half a dozen yards away, crossing the street right in front of him, was an old, brown-coated earth pony.

Mouse blinked when he saw him. “There’s no way…”

Sure enough, it was Pad Lock, the warden of the Canterlot Dungeon, walking across the street like he owned it. Mouse immediately felt his hooves twitch as the thought of killing rushed through his mind like a hurricane.

It took a second, a long second, for Mouse to keep his composure, and he nearly leapt in the earth pony right then and there.

You can do it.

You can get him.

No one can stop you.

It’s all his fault.

He took a deep breath, his hooves shaking as he watched the pony responsible for everything wrong with his life.

Honest ponies didn’t kill for money.

He wanted to be an honest pony.

Mouse watched as the Warden walked across the street, shoving a pony out of his way as headed for what appeared to be a bank.

Ponies like Pad Lock just made it very, very hard to stay honest.

-----------------

Mouse was back in his room, and night was starting to fall. Despite his best efforts he was not falling asleep, and he found himself staring at the ceiling for another hour.

He wanted to be an honest pony, really, really, he did. Yet, Pad Lock walked as a free pony, and Mouse knew that he was anything but honest.

Mouse knew that the honest weren't necessarily innocent, but the fact that he was free to do what he wished dug at him.

It wasn't right.

Yes, he knew that there was no end to the hypocrisy. How dare he talk about what was right and wrong? Still, the idea that he shared freedom with a pony like Pad infuriated him.

What was the point of being honest when ponies like him were free? Could he live in the same world as that monster? Could he?

Mouse sighed, rolling over to face the package on his nightstand. It sat beside the unlit candle, almost as if it were waiting on him. Mouse’s eyes lit upon it, and he could imagine the contents within.

The package simply sat there, waiting.

He sighed, sitting up in his bed, and stared at the small parcel, picking it up in his magical grip. He opened it, staring at the key to the warden’s office, and the schedule that was all laid out for him. It was all there for him.

They waited.

The warden was in his office right now, according to the schedule, performing some late-night work. Before going home for the night.

He was right there.

He finally came to a decision.

His magic grabbed his cloak, and his bag, dressing himself quickly before he moved to the window. He threw it open, stepping into the stone windowsill, and leaping to a nearby rooftop.

He was only going to clean the streets a bit. This was a delay, noting more. He would be an honest pony one day.

One day, but now he had work to do.

The warden’s office was sequestered away in a large, municipal building that stood only a few yards from the castle that sat at the foot of the massive mountain for which the town was named.

Or was the mountain named after the town? Mouse wasn’t terribly sure.

The municipal building was three stories tall, jettying at each floor so it became ever so slightly larger than the one before, and Mouse knew, thanks to the package, that the warden’s office was on the second floor.

From his perch on the house just across the street Mouse could almost stare into the warden’s window. Now the the problem was getting there, the space between them was too far to jump, and climbing down would probably get the attention of the guards. He’d have to make his way around, and the only real way to do that was to go around.

He had a few choices, none of which guaranteed that he’d have his legs in one piece by the end of it. After running through those ideas, he came to the conclusion that he wasn’t going to get to the warden’s office from his perch, and would have to drop down to the street.

Of course, the question is was it any better to approach from there? He’d make it to the base of municipal building, but then what? Did he simply go through the front door? The wattle and daub walls didn’t offer any hoof-holds for climbing, and the house next to that was likewise difficult to climb.

He really wished he had some rope. He had some once, but sold it because he was going to be honest pony, so he didn’t need it, or so he thought. Regrets would have to come later, he was doing enough to regret tonight, anyway.

He’d have to go down to the street. That was his only choice right now, and that was not what he wanted to do, either.

He could go home, right now.

He could go back to his room, leave this crazy idea of killing the warden behind, and move on with his life.

Or he could bring some long-overdue justice.to the warden.

Down to the street it was, then.

Mouse leapt down, swinging from the roof, down to the street, and cast his spell, becoming invisible as his hooves hit the cobblestones. He ran across the street, staying as silent as possible. He nearly slammed into the door of the municipal building, taking only enough time to see if there were any guards before opening the door.

The room had a desk, a set of chairs and tables, but was otherwise empty. Mouse shut the door behind him, thankful that no one was in here, and offering prayers to Luna for protection.

That was dangerous. He should have checked the room first. Looked through the window, or something.

He’d remember that for next time. For now, he had a job to do.

Pad Lock sighed as he filled in another request form.

Curse Princess Platinum and her sudden interest in prisoner care.

Who cares if the prisoners are standing in six inches of water because the cells have leaks. Since when did it matter? They were criminals, scum, and otherwise undesirable. They deserved whatever treatment they got.

You wouldn’t find this kind of whining back in the Republic of Earthonia. If there was one thing that the landowners were good at, it was dealing with with criminals. Sending them to the rune witches, death by hanging, cutting off ears, gouging out eyes, cutting off tails, anything that put the fear of Discord into them without making them useless in the field.

See, that’s why the Ex-chancellor should be put in charge. She’d know how to whip the criminals into shape. She’d set up the landowners owners again, keep them straight, and set up a new republic, the kind that Equestria deserved.

He signed another form, approving “better living conditions” for the prisoners, finishing his signature with a flourish and a sigh.

“Curse that Princess,” he muttered to himself, before he looked up.

His door was open.

He blinked, before standing up and working to the far side of the room. Did he leave his office door open? He didn’t remember leaving it open. In fact, he had a very clear memory of closing his door before he went to work on his paperwork.

Pad Lock pushed the door close, listening to to click as the latch slid into place.

That was...odd…

He turned, only to be thrown to the ground.

A flash of steel shot before his eyes and he felt the wind knocked out of him.

“Hello there, Warden…” a voice said as he felt something sharp press against his throat.

Pad Lock stared up at the pony that was straddling his chest. A thin, razor sharp blade was at his throat, and the unicorn glared down with angry, burning eyes.

“You know...now that I’m here, I think this is going to be worth it.”

Pad Lock didn’t answer.

The unicorn looked familiar, but Pad Lock couldn’t put his hoof on it. A criminal probably, they were the only ones who wanted him dead.

“Oh, look, it’s scum. What are you doing here, Scum?”

The unicorn’s face twisted. “I’m scum? Well at least you’re going to make this easy for me.”

“What, you’re going to kill me?” Pad Lock asked, his eyes dancing around the room.

“Yes, because you’re an awful pony, and you deserve to die.”

“Me?” the warden asked. “I made sure that scum like you rots.”

A quick kick from the earth pony sent Mouse flying, and he landed in a heap against the far wall.

Mouse scrambled to his hooves, his knives in his grip while the warden grabbed a heavy-looking stick off the wall. “Now I have the unique pleasure of putting scum like you down.”

They leapt at each other, Mouse keeping close to try and protect himself from the earth pony’s swings, while the warden went for the horn, smacking it with his hooves to disarm his opponent.

Mouse’s hind leg swung beneath, and the two of them went down in a mess of hooves and fur. The makeshift club was useless, and Mouse kept trying, with single-minded focus, to pull his knives close with his magic. The only thing that stopped him was the warden’s constant attacks to his horn.

Blows traded back and forth, and Mouse’s head began to ring as the warden’s continued assault on his Mouse’s horn. “Scum like you’s not going to kill me! Do you know who I am! I’ll make sure you never see the light of day again!”

Mouse’s horn rang to life, only to be bashed again by Pad’s hooves.

“You’re not going to kill me! I’ll kill you! You and all of your scum friends are going to die!” Pad Lock yelled, pushing Mouse on his back and raising the club over his head.

And then Mouse moved, grabbing the knife he had been moving closer and closer to his hoof. With the blade in his hoof, Mouse swung, slicing the sickle-like blade across the Warden’s belly.

The warden recoiled, closing on his stomach to protect himself.

“You need to pay more attention,” Mouse said, before he went for the throat.

He pushed up, leaping into the air, blade swinging hungrily for Pad Lock’s blood. It sliced through air and flesh alike, and in a single, fluid motion, Mouse’s knife slit the warden’s throat.

The two ponies stared at each other, Pad Lock reaching for his neck as blood began to seep out and pool at his hooves. Mouse glared as the warden looked up, horror frozen on his face.

And then Pad Lock fell to the ground, and was no more.

Mouse blinked, that was...faster than he thought.

And then the pain flooded his brain.

He clenched his teeth and screwed his eyes shut. That...that hurt a lot. He slouched as a migraine smashed over his skull, his “clever ploy” to catch the warden unaware with a blade in his hoof rewarding him with only pain.

Next time, he was just going to stab them in the back, making the warden stare him in the face didn't help at all.

It also didn't make him feel any better about throwing away the one thing he wanted.

Mouse returned to his room, and wasn’t even surprised to see the pale pony sitting by the dresser waiting for him. “Welcome back, Mouse. You’ve done well.”

“I don't want anything to do with you!” Mouse growled.

“So you’re going to let your kill go to waste?” the pale pony asked. “That seems dangerous…”

“I’m not...wait...dangerous?” Mouse asked, interrupting himself.

“The warden of Canterlot’s jail was murdered in his own office, magic residue will be found there, and by the morrow, a pony is going to be leaving town for Vanhoover. If caught and questioned, they are going to find that the magicks match with said pony, and you will be hanged.”

Mouse blinked. “Y-you’re blackmailing me?”

“Oh, no,” the pale pony said, shaking his head as he drank from a silver goblet that Mouse was fairly sure didn’t belong in his room. “We would never treat a family member like that.”

“I’m not your family!” Mouse growled.

“Oh, on the contrary,” the pale pony said. “You signed the contract.”

“What contract? I didn’t sign anything!”

“You took the warden’s life. Taking his life was sealing a covenant. The manner of execution was your signature, with Pad Lock’s blood as the ink. You have signed contract, brother. You are family, whether you recognize it or not. Of course, if you don’t live under our roof, then we can’t offer our protection.”

Mouse mentally cursed.

“You had to do it. You just had to kill Pad.”

“But it’s your choice,” the pale pony said with a smirk. “You can stay out, if you want. You can risk it, but be warned, the guards know how to find one who’s killed one of their own.”

The pale pony quickly stood. “If you change your mind, head to town of Tall Tale, nestled in the Smokey Mountains. We’ll find you, and we’ll take in you with open arms.”

Mouse said nothing.

“See you soon, brother,” the pony said, before walking out of the room.

Mouse waited for the door to close, and then he yelled.

“Sard it all!”

Comments

[Durnstaros]

Is he going to spend his entire life in the clutches of someone else?