The Forging of Harmony

by The Sweezlenub

Interlude - Refugees

“How many?!” Asked the Grandmaster, looking up from the box of cereal he was reading. “How many did you say?”

“It looks to be over a thousand, sir!” Said the guard standing down below in the main council chamber. He looked a sight. However, the chamber looked as immaculate as ever, draped with its red banners, bedecked with black-bordered posters, and with every seat in perfect formation.

“Speak up, dear boy!” Commanded the Grandmaster. “Not a word was heard!”

“Sir, I can’t yell any louder!” Cried the guard.

“Ah. That’s better.” Said the purple unicorn, as he removed his earplugs. “Now, try again.”

“There are over one thousand refugees crowding the city gates!” Roared the guard.

“Well, calm down!” Shouted the Grandmaster. “Shouting won’t help worth a damn!”

“But,” stammered the guard, completely bewildered.

“And we’re indoors. Try to be civil, would you? I—”

“Sir, I just—”

“How dare you interrupt me?! You should know better than to go around interrupting everypony!”

“I’m sorry sir.” Said the guard. “Very sorry. I know I should never, ever interrupt any—”

“Whoa, boy!” Said the Grandmaster. “Slow down, fellow. You should never, under any circumstances make absolute unconditional statements. You’ll live to regret it.”

“I will?” The guard wondered vaguely if he was being threatened.

“Why would you ask me a rhetorical question?” Inquired the lunatic on whose head sat crown. “What, are you stupid?”

“Do you want me to answer that?”

“Should I want you to?”

They stared in silence at one another.

The guard started again. “No.” He said, suppressing the urge to shout. “For the love of all that is good and holy, you should not be concerned with that. You should be concerned with the thousand refugees outside the gate!”

“A thousand referees?” Asked the Grandmaster. “Whatever are you playing? It sounds dreadful!”

The guard was flabbergasted. “They need help. And they’re not referees.”

“Clearly they are not,” remarked the Grandmaster. “If one thousand of them still need help.”

The guard, thunderstruck, did not speak.

“Very perceptive of you,” continued the purple unicorn. “I’ve got my eye on you, boy. What do you think they’re really after?”

“Erm, food, water, and shelter. For starters,” said the guard.

“Or so they claim.” He raised his eyebrow. “They want chaos, is what they want. So many referees—it’s perfect. The perfect plan. Absolute chaos. Everypony will be arguing about the rules.”

The Grandmaster sat in thought for a long moment. But suddenly he looked up with ferocity. “Let nopony through the gates!” He cried. “Sound the alarms! People, we are at war!”

“It’s only me,” said the baffled guard.

“Then you heard me.” Whispered the Grandmaster. “Total lockdown.”