The Tome of Faust

by DungeonMiner

Chapter 17

Another week had passed, as had another week of training. Demon was a vicious teacher, but effective, and Mouse was quickly picking up what he taught.

Mouse dragged his blade across dummy, splitting the leather beneath before he dared a kick at his false opponent’s body. His hooves slammed into the wood, canvas, padding, and leather with a thud, and Mouse dared a glance at his teacher.

Demon answered with a slap from the flat of his longsword. “Keep your attention on the enemy, Ghost. Do not look away.”

Mouse bit his lip and bore through the pain, but he managed a smile now that he knew that his teacher approved of using his body as well as his blade.

Mouse continued his assault, remembering to draw his blade against his opponent’s “flesh,” as Demon had taught him. The earth pony in his dark red coat watched on for a few minutes longer before he spoke. “That's enough, Ghost.”

Mouse stopped, continuing to hold his blades ready.

“I’ve broken your worst habits, and your form is decent enough, it is time for you to take a greater challenge than wood and straw. Stand ready, and try to land a blow on me, for the glory of the Void.”

Mouse blinked as Demon slipped into a stance, the long-handled blade resting in his mouth. Still confused, Mouse hesitated a second, and that was far too long for Demon.

He launched forward, blade swinging as the handle of his sword spun around Demon’s muzzle, attacking Mouse on the left side rather than the right. The blow, now unexpected in both timing and direction, bit into Mouse's side and drew blood.

Roused from his daze, and now fearing for his life, Mouse swung into action. His small, crescent blades swung from both sides at the larger pony. Demon merely leapt back, almost lazily stepping out of the way.

Mouse continued to apply pressure, slashing at Demon, who had simply transformed into a blur of speed and steel. Mouse would make quick strikes at the pony’s flesh, only for Demon to disappear under the blade, leaving the moon-shaped knife to slice at nothing but air.

It quickly became apparent to the novice assassin that he was outmatched. Perhaps even outmatched was a poor term. Demon did not attack, he didn't even try as the pair of blades chased him around the room. Only twice did his blades strike Demon’s own, and with both parries, Mouse saw the longsword come dangerously close to his neck, only to be pulled away at the last second.

Mouse had a very rapidly growing suspicion that if Demon had tried, he would be in pieces on the flagstones.

Another swipe at now-empty air, and Demon slapped him the flat of his blade. “You are looking to where I am, not where I will be.”

“Oh, is that all?” Mouse thought. “Of course! All I need to do is see the future.”

Mouse made another swipe, only for the quillons of Demon’s sword came down on them like a hammer. The dagger was ripped out of Mouse's magical grip, and Demon closed the distance between them, spinning through the air before landing on Mouse's back.

In the time it took to blink, the longsword was between Mouse's neck and the floor, and the smaller pony felt Demon's massive hoof on his back. The larger pony pressed, and Mouse felt his head slowly drop until his neck was pressed against the blade, before he was finally released.

“You could have done better, Ghost,” Demon grunted.

Mouse put a hoof to his throat, checking to see if it had been sliced against the razor-sharp sword blade. “Glad to have your vote of confidence.”

“You are decent,” Demon said. “Your form is primal, but your hoofwork is good, but you will always be mediocre if you cannot learn how to read your opponent. As you are, you can take a guard in a duel, and it will be hard fought for you if did not use the tricks I know you can perform. Yet, until you can learn to read your enemy's body, you will not be able to fight a great number without years of training. I can make you learn to be aware, but if you cannot be aware with the small things, then you have no hope of learning the larger things.”

Mouse nodded, half listening to the pony lecturing him.

Luckily, the lecture was cut short when a new voice filled the room. “Hey, Demon,” a unicorn mare said from a balcony. “Take a break with the swords, Oracle wants me to work on his spells.”

Demon looked up and shrugged. “Perhaps you’ll make him a better agent for the Void than I,” he said simply.

As the unicorn mare with a ghostly blue coat walked down the stairs, she spent every step glaring at Mouse. Mouse met her stare, even as Demon walked away. She stared back, nearly growling as she closed the distance.

“Can I help you, Wraith?” Mouse asked.

Ever since he had arrived, the mare had been incredibly cold. She had barely spoken to him, and when she had it was with a terrible glare that would put off most stallions.

Wraith continued to glare, leaving Mouse’s question hanging in the air, before she finally asked her own question. “Who sent you?”

“What?” Mouse asked, confused.

“Who sent you here? Who told you about us?”

Mouse blinked. “Oracle approached me.”

“But did he? Oracle’s losing his mind. He could have been manipulated. He could have been driven to you. You could be here to split us apart.”

Mouse blinked. “That’s...I’ve lived next to some truly insane inmates, but that is some proper crazy right there.”

“Who sent you, and who do you work for?”

“You’re paranoid,” Mouse said.

“And that’s why I’m still alive, so what’s your point?”

Mouse sighed. “Did you come here just to interrogate me?”

“Sadly not, I have to treat you like ‘family’ until I can proof you’re out to get us,” she growled. “So you’re going to get some magic lessons.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll go to Ghoul if I want to learn magic,” Mouse said.

Wraith laughed. “Ghoul? Ghoul’s too caught up in his ‘art’ to care about magic. All he cares for is the disguise and deception, magic is secondary to him. He doesn’t kill with magic, I do. That’s why you’re going to learn from me.”

“Great.”

“The feeling is mutual,” she growled, before walking up next to a table. “So I’m going to assume you know basically no magic beyond telekinesis.”

“I know a lockpicking spell and an invisibility spell,” Mouse said.

“And you must have misheard me, because I told you I’m going to assume that you’re completely incompetent.”

Mouse stared at her.

She glared back.

He sighed. “Fine.”

The magic lessons were actually incredibly useful, but Mouse didn’t dare say that. He would not give that woman even the slightest hint of satisfaction.

Wraith made an excellent teacher, or at least, had short bursts of being a great teacher, followed by massive interludes of being a paranoid hack that was trying to prove that he was some kind of infiltrator here to dismantle this little conclave of assassins piece by piece.

Despite her semi-coherent rants, an actually brilliant mind shone through in her teaching. In just a few lessons, Mouse control had improved by no small amount, and already he was sure that he could cast his invisibility spell more frequently and faster than ever before.

With her training, Mouse was sure he could reliably cast it three times before magical exhaustion robbed him of his control.

Well, okay, maybe three times. On a good day. It was theoretically possible.

Still, he could remain completely unseen for nearly half an hour, and that was nothing to scoff at.

The only downside was that he had to work with Wraith. Her paranoia made the lessons tedious, as each time she began, she needed to debate with herself on what she would tell him, and what she wouldn't. What lessons she did provide felt as if they were missing pieces, and she frequently left him alone to “practice.”

Practice, of course, translated more accurately to “figure it out on your own,” which was probably Wraith’s attempt at hindering him if he actually was some kind of traitor.

It must have eaten her up inside when he did figure it out, though.

He sat in front of a small desk, working on the latest tidbits of magical theory, when a voice spoke out behind him. “The living ghost consumes knowledge, slaying parchment with pen and bleeding with ink.”

Mouse turned to see Oracle standing over his shoulder, and reading the page he was working on. “Oracle to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“The paper bell tolls, another life must be claimed.”

“And I’m the one to carry the sentence?” Mouse asked.

Oracle grinned.

Mouse sighed. “Alright, what’s the job?”

“Come to my office, I will tell you what must come to pass,” the earth pony said, before slipping away into the darkness of the sanctuary.

Pushing himself up, Mouse turned and began the short trip over to Oracle's office, which was little more than an alcove With a shrine to the strange mish-mash creature that everyone called the Void.

Why the great and powerful Void was represented by that, Mouse would never know.

As he stepped into Oracle's alcove, Mouse was surprised to see Ghoul waiting for him, grinning at the sight of his empty flank.

Of all the members of this little clique of assassins, Ghoul was the member that made Mouse the most uncomfortable. Demon was intimidating, Phantom was distant, Specter was outright flippant, and Wraith was annoying, but Ghoul was unnerving. Every look the smiling unicorn sent Mouse's way was so oddly predatory and eerily ecstatic that it took every ounce of his courage not to run from the room.

“Hello, my little canvas,” Ghoul cooed as he saw Mouse walk through the door.

Every ounce of courage.

“Welcome, Ghost,” Oracle said with a sudden burst of lucidity.

“What do you need me to do?” Mouse asked.

“A noble must die, in the city of Manehatten,” Oracle explained. “You will be joining our employer, Baron Jet, as a uniconian noble, that sadly will not be arriving.”

“Even after he received his invitation, nonetheless,” Ghoul chuckled.

“Okay…” Mouse began. “So I’m imitating this noble? I’ll have to disguise myself?”

“That’s where Ghoul comes in,” Oracle said, turning to the unicorn.

Ghoul smiled. “While I may not have the skill in bloodshed as our brothers,” he said, grinning all the while, “I have a talent that is equally if not more important. I am a master of the art of disguise.”

Mouse nodded, listening while trying to ignore the discomfort that was growing every second he spent staring at the unicorn.

“I can transform you,” Ghoul said. “Coat, eye color, I can change them all with a touch of magic that will last days through water, sleep, wind and dust. I could make you anypony with just one flaw.”

Flaw? If it's flawed then why is it so great?

“By magics that I don't truly understand, I cannot change a Cutie Mark.”

Mouse blinked, before checking his own flank. Ghoul’s fascination was beginning to make sense.

“At best, I can disguise a Cutie Mark, but it takes many hours, and the shape remains. You, however, are in a very special position, my dear canvas.”

Ghoul spun in his seat and threw back his head, staring upside down at Mouse like a lovesick schoolgirl. “With you, it changes. No more hiding skulls or daggers, no longer must I change vials of poisons into potions. My suffering has finally come to an end. At last I have freedom!”

Mouse blinked, before he turned to Oracle.

The pale earth pony shrugged. “He has been waiting for you for a long time.”

Ghoul smiled wider. “You have no idea.”

“Okay…” Mouse said, “so how do I do this?”

“Leave that to me, my dear easel. Leave that to me.”

For the next week, Mouse was taught how to act. Hold your glass like so, eat like this, say that, but not this, do this but not that. Mouse trudged through the dizzying instructions, trying to form a proper image of a unicornian noble in the short time he had, while Ghoul perfected his new appearance.

The training was grueling, with Ghoul delivering a slap for every word uttered with the incorrect inflection or every step with a poor posture. It continued on into the evening, where Ghoul would watch him eat, and check and recheck his form and manners.

Each correction was reinforced with a ringing slap, and Mouse had to endure it all until his hooves and flank were red through his fur.

Specter and Phantom offered their condolences.

Slap after slap, Mouse endured his pain and correction, until finally, finally, it was time.

It was still in the wee hours of the morning when Mouse was pushed from his bed and forced to his hooves. Oracle and Ghoul stood before him, staring down at him before pulling him to his hooves. “We have no more time, Ghost,” Oracle said. “You must go.”

“You’re not ready,” Ghoul said, as he prepared his disguise spell, “hopefully the disguise will make the difference for you.”

Before he knew it, the ring of magic rang in his ears, and a warmth spread out across his entire body. A bright, white light stabbed into his eyes, and once he blinked it away, he was surprised to find himself a yellow-coated unicorn with a scroll on his flank.

Ghoul grinned at the sight. “It’s perfect, just like I had always dreamed.”

“Another time,” Oracle said, before he handed Mouse one of the Shadowgate keys. “You can wait no longer, Baron Jet is waiting for you on the other side of the gate. You must go now.”

Mouse was barely awake, and hardly registered the fact that he was being shoved out of the room.

“You know your target, yes?” Oracle asked.

“Lord Emerald,” Mouse muttered.

“Good, all hail the Void!”

And that was the last thing Oracle said to him before he was shoved thought the Shadowgate.

He fell and tumbled through the darkness of the gate, crossing hundreds of miles in seconds, before he was dropped onto hard, cobblestone street.

He groaned, pain flooding his face as he slowly picked himself up.

“So you’re the one Oracle sent,” a new voice said.

Mouse looked up to see a unicorn, both taller and wider than he ever was, with a coat that was as dark as his natural color. The pony’s eye were narrow and hard, he did not smile, and he did not grin.

“Baron Jet, I presume?” Mouse asked.

“Who else?”

Picking himself up, Mouse dusted off his new, yellow coat. “Yes, I’m the one,” he said.

“You’ve done much to inspire confidence, I must say,” the Baron said.

Mouse looked down at the cobblestones where he landed, and sent a scowl back at the Baron. “I’m not used to traveling by gate, yet, but I assure you I know what I’m doing when it comes to wetwork.”

“Unfortunately, I must take your word for it,” Baron Jet replied. “Now come, Lord Scroll, we have a ball to get to.”

Standing, Mouse, under the guise of Lord Topaz Scroll, followed after the Baron and his guards.

Mouse began to walk in stride, following along with the Baron and his men, as he took in his surroundings. Like Baltimare, Manehatten was filled with stone buildings that spoke of permanent settlers taking residence along the river. Fishing poles and trading ships sat in the water, raising and falling as the waves of the sea crashed into the brackish water. The salt air was a pleasant scent, and the call of seagulls was like an old friend calling his name.

After a quick look at his surroundings, he was forced to ignore them. A noble could not busy himself with the lesser ponies about him. He had to keep his eyes forward, on the mansion that they were heading to.

It stood on a short hill, surrounded by a massive wrought iron fence. Ponies milled about through the yard, and music wafted in the air above them down the hill. Honestly, Emerald’s home was certainly opulent, which only made sense considering what he knew about his target. It was nice, however to see a noble sharing for once.

“Are you ready?” Baron Jet asked, glancing over at Mouse with a raised eyebrow.

“But of course, my lord,” Mouse answered as he tried to act the part he looked. “I am always ready.”

“I’m sure,” the Baron replied. “Just remember, this act will strengthen Unicornia’s position, and with proper knights patrolling the land, us unicorns can truly act without limitation.”

Mouse blinked, but said nothing. He didn't have time to question his employer, and what his plans were.

But he had to admit he didn't like it.

He kept walking forward, his mind retracing Oracle's instructions. Lord Emerald was an arms dealer, one who sold magical weapons and gems to Equestria and Unicornia. This wasn't a problem, since neither country was fighting each other yet. No, the problem was that the Baron discovered that Emerald was also selling to Pegasopolis and Earthonia. Selling to all sides, peace or no, was frowned upon by the Baron, and that was why he wanted Emerald dead.

His job was to sneak into the party, get Emerald alone, and dispose of him by a poison that was only manufactured in Earthonia. If the poison can't work for whatever reason, then Emerald had to die in the open so as not to implicate the Baron.

It would be relatively straightforward, especially if he can catch the Lord unaware. Now if only—was the Baron staring at him?

He turned to Baron Jet, who stared at him with his his squinting, angry eyes. “Oracle hasn’t told you, has he?”

“No, not really.”

“Yet you’ve dedicated yourself to this cause?” the Baron asked.

“I didn’t have much choice,” Mouse replied.

The Baron continued to stare, before he finally spoke again. “Interesting.”

With that final word between them, they walked into the yard.

The party was agony.

Every second of it was spent watching himself, trying desperately to keep his cover as he spoke about endless, meaningless dribble to a hundred different nobles. Every time he took a step, he felt a phantom slap and quickly corrected himself, almost automatically.

It was actually starting to hurt.

Between that and the absolute mindlessness of the conversation, Mouse was ready to kill somepony.

Luckily, that’s exactly why he was there.

It didn’t take long to figure out how to lure Lord Emerald away from the party. A promise of female company and some nicer, subtler narcotics was all it took to bring the unicorn who thought he was younger than he was to the upper rooms. A goblet was pressed into his hoof, and he took it eagerly.

It was no surprise that he drank deep, and was only a surprise to the lord when his throat began to constrict upon itself.

And as he stared into the eyes of the unicorn, the lord who betrayed both the old, and the new world, Mouse felt no pity.

Throwing the body into the commode to buy him a few minutes—or hours, depending on how often Emerald partook—Mouse quickly made his way back to the party. He was back to the yard and in amidst the partygoers within seconds, and before long, he was back next to the Baron, enjoying a drink courtesy of their gracious, but dead host.

The Baron sent him a glare. “Shouldn’t you be taking care of something?”

“Already taken care of, Lord Jet,” Mouse answered with a smile.

“Already?”

Mouse nodded, and secured himself a drink. “Yes, It’s done, and they won’t find him for quite some time, I’m afraid.”

Baron Jet nodded. “I’m impressed, you’ve done well.”

“I’m glad to have pleased you, sir,” Mouse replied.

“No, you have done more than that, you have done much more than that, good sir. Much more than that.”

“Oh? And what have I done?”

“You’ve earned the right to know what I’m doing.”

“Everything you do is just a bit easier, more instinctive, more satisfying. It is as though you had suddenly developed keen senses and instincts.”