Golden Age of Apocalypse - Book III: Legacies

by BlueBastard

Chapter 22 - Two Wrongs Make a Right

Chapter 22

Two Wrongs Make a Right

Sable Loam stepped out of the board room into the halls of Canterlot Castle, finally allowing the yawns he’d been stifling to escape. The only sleep he had gotten over the past two days were a couple of uneasy hours aboard the Super-Electric en route back to Canterlot right after Lost Chord. If he had known about the utter political shitstorm that awaited him upon his return, he probably would have tried for a few more hours.

The entire afternoon since returning to Canterlot had been one series of meetings after another as the Navy’s board of inquiry worked to piece together the full extent of Tumblehome’s corruption. Sable was pretty sure he had met with every single individual with meaningful authority in the Fleet over the course of the afternoon well into the evening, and he had to give the same retelling of the mission’s events to each of them. Suffice to say, when he was finally finished for the day, it was a big relief.

He hadn’t even had a chance to see his girlfriend since returning from the mission (he had, however, made sure she knew that he was alive and well). That was something he planned to rectify immediately.

“Adm. Loam!” a familiar voice called out to him from down the hallway, and he turned to see an equally exhausted looking Raspberry Beryl coming to meet him. For a change, she was in the formal robes of her position, giving her a striking appearance.

Considering the presence of top naval brass filing out of the conference room with him, Sable decided to follow protocol with a salute. Normally there was no need for such formality around the incredibly personal pony, but both of them recognized its necessity in this instance. Giving him the command to be at ease, Razz asked for his company as they walked through the halls back towards the residences.

“How have you been holding up?” she asked when they had more privacy.

“‘Bout to pass out,” Sable answered. “Unless Tia has other plans for me tonight.”

Razz laughed. “Fair enough.”

“How about you? I take it the rest of your day was as busy as mine.”

“Yeah. Both with the investigation and...other matters.” Razz’s look turned distant then.

Sable wasn’t exactly well versed in the history of this land, but from what he knew, everything involving the cult of Sombra was pretty personal to her. Wonder what my old friend would think of having a tyrannical equine counterpart?

In the beat of silence that followed, Sable noticed a rather panicked looking guardspony run past. Probably late for his shift. Somebody is getting an asschewing.

Returning his attention to the pony beside him, Sable said, “I take it these ‘other matters’ are what’s on your mind right now?”

With a nod, Razz said, “Yeah. I still don’t know what I’m going to do with Corner Shot. I promised her I’d help her, but it doesn’t look like I’m going to be able to do anything.”

“Hmm. She’s that assassin, right? The one who nearly killed Ms. Pie?”

Razz nodded again, and Sable said, “Maybe that’s for the best. She’s dangerous. And after everything she’s done, I can’t say she doesn’t deserve to be locked up.”

Razz was about to answer, but paused as she and Sable had to step aside so more guardsponies could run past. “That seems to be the popular sentiment, but I don’t know…she did help us in the end.”

“Only to help herself, the way I understand it,” Sable countered.

“That may be true, but I still don’t think she’s a bad pony,” Razz said, and when Sable gave her a skeptical look, she elaborated, “She was taken into the Covenant from an early age. She didn’t get a say in what kind of life she was going to lead.” Sable opened his mouth but Razz continued. “I know, I know. It doesn’t excuse her actions. But still...I think it’s worth some consideration.”

Sable nodded, and took a moment to consider what she said. “Well, if you still want to help her, I suggest another angle. Maybe you can’t get her off the hook for all the crimes she’s committed, but...maybe there’s a way you can make her punishment more proportionate.”

Razz mulled this over for some time, then looked up at him. “Okay. I’ll have to think of—oof!”

Another group of guardsponies came around the corner in a clear hurry, and one of them accidentally jostled into Razz as they ran by.

“Sorry, ma’am,” the armored stallion hastily apologized, briefly dipping his head before resuming his run with the others.

Something about this didn’t sit right with Sable. “What’s going on, guardsman?” he asked.

Turning back to the two of them, the guard said, “One of the high-level prisoners escaped the dungeons. I don’t have all the details, but apparently he’s holding one of the humans hostage!”

Sable exchanged a look with Razz, his blood running cold. He was still wearing his sidearm, and his hand unconsciously drifted toward it.

“Lead the way!”

“You what?” Halbard and his senior staff looked at the pony sitting across from them.

Yuma Spurs, senior agent of the agency, looked at him. “Yes, I’m serious. I want the 15th Infantry, Company Gamma, reassigned from the Army to the Agency.” She gave him a grin. “Look at it this way, General: they’ll be out of your mane.”

“And gladly so,” he admitted. “But I’m wondering why you want the G-Team. Yes, they’ve been effective—Cannonball, Visage, Burdock Root and Miss T are some of the best soldiers I’ve ever seen. But they’re...well, they’re unpredictable. Especially the time they broke out of the stockade for a crime they were accused of committing. They went and found the actual guilty parties and proved their innocence.”

“But they caused a whole lotta damage in the process,” one of Halbard’s aides commented. “They destroyed a civilian airship by crashing it into a train in order to stop a bunch of griffin brigands! The amount of bits we had to spend to cover everything was enormous!”

“And it looks like they’re willing to do anything to capture their quarry,” Yuma commented, waving a spring green hoof in the air. “We need that sort of agent, General. You need earnest, straight-laced stallions and mares. And with the massive amount of recruiting that all branches of the service need to do, as well as the reorganization and, dare I say it, cashiering, we’ll find out that some ponies in one branch aren’t best suited for it.” She reached into a briefcase and pulled out a list. “These are the ponies that the Agency has been working on issues better suited to the Army than our needs. The Director is proposing that we do a trade: these people for your G-Team and any of your other, ahem, ‘interesting’ units.”

“You sound like you’re about to do something that would stain military honor,” Halbard said matter-of-factly.

“Let’s face it, General: you, the Navy, and the Guard are the squeaky-clean end of Equestria’s spear. The Guild makes up the weird part, and somepony has to be the dirty end.Between us, the Hooves and this new Special Initiative, we're going to be the solution Equestria needs, because in a span of a few years, Equestria has faced crisis after crisis, and we cannot take any more. We’ve seen wars, changeling invasions, werewolf invasions, and insurrection. The Agency needs to go back to its roots—and those roots mean finding, enveloping, and strangling those threats as soon as they appear.”

Another aide adjusted his glasses nervously. “That’s not very ponylike.”

Yuma looked him straight in the eyes. “Neither is dying or capitulation.”

Her heart pounding in her chest, Celestia could only watch as the box closed in around her and her captor. They hadn’t gotten very far from Tumblehome’s office when the first group of castle guards appeared, armed and ready for a fight. The pony standing on his hindlegs behind her gave them a good look at the knife in his hoof, as well as a colorful description of what it could do. It was enough to make the guards keep their distance, but they clearly weren’t backing down.Her captor then backed down an adjacent hallway, making sure to keep Celestia between himself and the squad of guards.

Another squad of guards appeared at the other end of that hallway, so the pony (Celestia was pretty sure at this point he went by Barkeep) repeated his earlier spiel and ducked through a door to the side. The room inside appeared to be a dining room with all of the furniture either cleared out or covered in tarps, a fresh coat of paint covering the walls. Barkeep had tried to take them through the connected kitchen, but the trio of maids cleaning it quickly brandished a set of weapons and Barkeep pulled her back into the previous room.

The tense standoff now took place inside the freshly-painted dining room, with Barkeep’s back pressed against the far wall, the large room very quickly filling up with guards (and a few more of those armed maids). They were keeping a distance from her and Barkeep on his demands, but they also made it clear they weren’t going anywhere either. So Celestia stood there, no more than a human shield between this madpony and an entire platoon of armed guards, whose desire to keep her alive was all that kept her so.

Celestia tried not to think about the body of Tumblehome back in her office, but it was etched into her mind like one of those old instant-photos; the more time passed, the clearer it got. The blood from her wound, the unnatural shade of blue that her coat around it had turned. The purple in her face, her bulging eyes. The traces of dried foam on her chin. The poison on the blade supposedly acted fast, but that was the only solace Celestia would find if this Barkeep decided to use it on her. She knew that her death would be agonizing and horrific.

All Celestia could do was stand there, while her fate rested in the hands—or hooves—of others. She hated feeling so helpless.

“In addition to the fully-equipped phaeton, I also want a bottle of some decent rum fer the trip,” Barkeep said, going over his demands. He claimed that once he had a phaeton to fly him to an unspecified location of his choosing, he would release her unharmed, but Celestia doubted that very strongly. “Let’s see, what else? Uh...oh! Any of you by chance have a copy of issue #147 of Playcolt Magazine? It’s the only one from last decade I don’t have. No? Anypony?” Barkeep sighed. “Worth a shot.”

Keeping the tip of the knife resting firmly under her chest, Celestia felt Barkeep’s free hoof begin to idly stroke her hair, causing an involuntary shiver to run through her.

“Huh...there is something uncannily familiar about you,” Barkeep said. “Yeah, did I threaten and/or insult you recently?”

“No, trust me. I have a pretty good memory for pathetic psychopaths,” Celestia retorted.

“Ugh, even your voice sounds familiar! Yeah, I’ve definitely heard that prissy, self-important tone recently. What’s yer name, missy?”

Before Celestia could answer him, a new figure joined the guards that caused her voice to catch in her throat.

“Sable….”

Celestia locked eyes with her boyfriend. She saw that Raspberry Beryl was with him, and as soon as they both registered her predicament, started charging up a spell and drew a sidearm respectively.

“Let her go,” Sable demanded, his deep voice as cold as ice.

“Well, look! If it isn’t my favorite Scion! And, uh...Sable, is it? Like Sombra’s famous werewolf captain? That’s a fun coincidence!” Barkeep then looked back and forth from Sable to Celestia and grinned. “Ooh...I’m detecting some chemistry between you two. Just lookit them sparks!”

Still hiding most of his frame behind Celestia, Barkeep’s head popped behind her and emerged on her other side like some demented whack-a-mole game. Indeed, even Sable didn’t feel confident that he had a clean shot at him.

“Missy, why don’t ya tell the nice Scion and yer coltfriend there about my special toy?”

“It’s a poisoned dagger. Fast-acting, too,” Celestia said, swallowing audibly. “He killed Tumblehome with it.”

“Wait, Tumblehome’s dead?” Razz said, not bothering to hide her shock. She did, however, have the presence of mind to stop whatever spell she had been about to cast, lest she spook this madpony into sending Celestia to an early grave. “Why?”

“Sombra needed her removed from the picture for reasons that are sure to become apparent soon,” Barkeep explained. “Have to say, I’m kind of surprised to see you here, Miss Beryl. Thought for sure the resurrection ritual required the death of all the Scions.”

“Yeah well, there was no ritual. It was all a lie!”

Barkeep blinked. “But… that’s impossible! Sombra has returned, I can feel it!”

“Believe it or not, it’s the truth. Sombra’s not back. It was never a possibility to begin with!”

“Liar!”

Celestia felt the tip of the knife press harder against her stomach, and she had to suck in a breath to keep its poisoned tip from penetrating her flesh.

Sable turned to Razz with frantic eyes betraying his otherwise stony facade. “Maybe we don’t try to agitate the maniac with a poisoned knife to my girlfriend.”

Her ears going flat, Razz muttered, “Right, sorry!”

Barkeep cleared his throat. “Now, you’ve all heard my demands, and they are well within yer means. I’m gonna give you until the bells ring on the next hour to deliver, and if I’m not on my way by then….” He concluded with a crude sound from his mouth that Celestia assumed was meant to be a stabbing sound effect.

Terrified for her life, but not wanting this bastard to get away either, Celestia asked what has been on her mind since he first made his demands. “How do we know you won’t just kill me as soon as you’re safe?”

“Ye of little faith…” Barkeep said with a roll of his eyes before turning to Sable, Razz and the gathered guards and Hooves. “Tick tock, boys and girls!”

With a resigned sigh, Sable turned to a nearby guardspony. “Make the arrangements,” he directed, and the pony silently saluted and took off to do her duty.

Razz met his gaze. “You sure?”

Not answering the question, Sable returned his attention to the ongoing situation. “Celestia, look at me,” he said, and Celestia did. “It’ll be okay. Alright?”

Celestia could only give a trembling nod, but behind her, Barkeep let out a breath. “Celestia? Celestia?! Now that is a fun….” Barkeep’s voice trailed off, and Celestia’s veins ran cold as she felt him run a hoof through her hair again as he muttered breathlessly, “Coincidence….”

Celestia knew that somehow, this terrible situation had just gotten a whole lot worse as Barkeep leaned past her to look directly into her face. He was wearing the kind of playful grin worn by a child who had just found his hide-and-seek partner.

“Princess...is that you?”

A haze-gray hoof held an unsteady coffee cup. “She’s...dead. Celestia’s sake, I hated her, but I never wanted anything bad to happen to her—just for her to be forced to retire.” Adviso set down the cup and looked at the guards posted at the door, knowing another pair were just outside the door as well—given the situation, all service heads were now under 24-hour guard until further notice.

She got up and walked to the window, adjusting her glasses. Stormy blue eyes looked out the window of her office at the Navy Yards in Aquasteed Bay; unlike Tumblehome, Adviso made regular use of her office here as well as her one in Canterlot. “They say that because of what happened, in twenty-four hours, Princess Luna will have to promote me to full admiral and I’ll be officially made the First Sea Lord. Normally there would be a waiting period, but given everything that’s happened….” She sighed. “I’m not ready for this.”

“You’re ready, sis.” A burly earth pony sat across from her, wearing an Army uniform. He was Col. Fusillade, a senior Army officer as well as her younger brother. “You come from a military family, and you make our parents proud.”

She laughed. “I doubt that—Mom and Dad were career soldiers, so I committed the ultimate sin of joining the Navy.”

Fusillade shrugged. “Nothing’s perfect. But I’ve been following what you’ve been doing. You’ve been pushing for the Navy to modernize and get out of the same rut it’s been in for what, decades? Hell, you’re still wearing uniforms that were made the same century as the uniforms the Army, Guard and Guild all retired decades back. And I’ve heard wonders about that little crack unit of human commandos you’ve been working with.”

“Yeah. They’ve turned out to be more of an asset than I ever expected them to be. The admiral in charge of the Special Initiative has given me so much to work with. Within a decade, I could put the Fleet at the tip of the spear, technologically advanced in ways other countries would only dream of. And yet….”

“And yet?”

“And yet, my first year is probably going to be a purge of all of her toadies and that’s going to be hard enough with the purge we’re already doing because of the Covenant’s plants in the ranks. It’ll be hard enough to justify the cashiering of dozens of deckhooves; how much more so for someone like Rear Adm. Cashbox, who’s served as Fleet Supply Officer for a couple of decades and probably has enough bribes and kickbacks hidden that it’ll take our investigators ages to sort it all out? Or the building of Yards—this is the only one the Navy owns, and for decades we’ve been farming stuff out to civilian yards. That’s a waste of funds, if not something else. We’re looking at a massive hairball, to say the least.”

“Then you’ll get through it. With good friends and good allies. You know the Army’s got your back. Gen. Halbard has always advocated for your wisdom.”

“Yeah, but there’s advocation—and then there’s reality.” She finally walked back to the desk and unceremoniously chugged the cold coffee. “And do you know what really bites about all of this?”

Fusillade shrugged and Adviso plopped in her chair. “Because the board of inquiry will never happen now, she’ll never be removed for cause. Under the current regulations, she’s died in the line of duty, which means her family will get a stipend for that.”

“Is that really such a bad thing?” Fusillade asked. “Whatever Tumblehome was, her loved ones at least deserve to be looked after, right?”

“Perhaps, but she’ll get a hero’s funeral instead of what she really deserved. And worst of all? When all of this becomes public, this is going to bite Princess Celestia in the plot, hard. And from what I know, that’s the last thing she needs right now.”

Just then, a flash of starlight appeared before them, and a second later, a scroll appeared on her desk. She quickly opened it, noting Princess Luna’s wax seal on the scroll.

“It’s official?” Fusillade asked.

In response, Adviso went to the far side of her office and opened up a hidden closet. Removing her current coat, she then reached for a hangar and slipped on a new coat—the coat of a full admiral. She’d had the coat made in the event something ever happened.

That time was now—and it was the last thing she wanted.

“How lucky is it that the person I took hostage just happened to be the Princess Celestia!” Barkeep exclaimed before his audience of guards, and Celestia swore he was gripping her even tighter now. “Truly the work of—dare I say it?—Fate!”

“I told you, I’m not Princess Celestia!” Celestia exclaimed, trying her damndest to get her terrified trembling under control. “I’m clearly human!”

“You certainly look human, yeah,” Barkeep argued. “But such magic is well within your means, isn’t it, princess?”

Her heart now racing faster than if she’d just run a mile-long sprint, Celestia said desperately, “No, I am not the princess!”

“Humans all have identical counterparts in this world,” Sable argued, trying to keep his voice calm even as Celestia saw his finger drift closer to his gun’s trigger. “She just happens to be Princess Celestia’s.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you’ve both thought of a very convincing cover story for when you’re in this form,” Barkeep mused. “Y’know princess, I always believed the rumors that you like to go out disguised as one of us commoners, but this? This is a surprise!”

Her breaths coming faster now, Celestia pleaded, “No, you don’t understand, I’m an educator! Not a princess!”

“Have to say, I respect how much you’re committing to the bit,” Barkeep said before leaning closer to whisper into Celestia’s ear. “Is human sex really that good? Asking for a friend!”

Sable took a single step forward and pulled back the hammer on his pistol. “I don’t really give a damn if you believe she isn’t the princess. But you can believe this: if you hurt her, I’ll shoot you dead here and now!”

“I can believe it,” Barkeep said, and try as she might, Celestia couldn’t force down the terrified whimper that escaped when he pressed the poisoned knife against her again. “But the chance to personally end Sombra’s greatest enemy, here and now?” Barkeep grinned madly. “That would actually be worth dying for!”

It’s over, Celestia thought, shutting her eyes. I’m as good as dead!

“STAND DOWN, ACOLYTE!” a new voice, imperious and commanding, filled the room.

Celestia opened her eyes and saw that half of the guards in the room had turned to meet a new figure. She was a tall unicorn mare, perfectly white in coat, with a mane of orange and pink. Her cutie mark from what Celestia could make out was a complex pattern vaguely resembling a butterfly. Her calm green eyes studied Celestia curiously for a moment before looking past her at Barkeep.

“Oracle Dynamine!” the stallion exclaimed, an air of reverence entering his voice.

This Oracle Dynamine took a step forward, and two of the nearby guards attempted to block her with their spears, but with a single gesture from Razz, they stood down.

“What they’ve told you is true,” Dynamine said as she pushed her way through the throng of armored ponies. “That is not Princess Celestia. She is what she appears to be, so stand down. Live to fight another day.”

Whoever this pony was, Barkeep clearly had great faith in her, because he started to lower the knife. But then he hesitated. “Exactly what are you doing here, Oracle?”

“That is not your place to know, Acolyte,” Dynamine said. Barkeep was clearly unhappy with the answer, so she said with a smile, “What’s wrong? Haven’t lost your faith, have you?”

“My faith in our Lord is absolute,” Barkeep said, but Celestia didn’t like his wary tone. “You, though…something isn’t right.” He looked from Dynamine to the guards all around them; the guards that, on Razz’s order, made no move to stop her. “You’re not the Oracle! This is some kind of trick!”

Her expression impassive, Dynamine said, “When I first recruited you to the Covenant four months ago, you were nothing: a violent bum living in Oatmaha with no direction. When I offered you a place among our ranks, you wanted to know what was in it for you. So I told you that you could do more than work as muscle for petty criminals. I promised you would bring change to an Equestria that so desperately needed it. Because the difference between a thug for hire and a genuine force for change was in one word: faith. Faith that we all serve some greater purpose. Do you remember?”

With a raspy sigh, Barkeep said, “I remember. Forgive me, Oracle. I thought….”

“That I was an imposter,” Dynamine finished. “I know. But I really am the one who lifted you up that day and brought you into the fold. I need you to understand that in order to hear what I’m going to say next.”

Barkeep listened to her with rapt attention, seeming to have forgotten all others in the room...even Celestia. He was still clinging tightly to her though, one hoof still firmly grasping the poisoned knife. Celestia might be able to wrest it away from him while he was distracted, but didn’t want to take the risk. Not with death still hovering so very near.

“Because you are right: I’m not the Oracle, and this is a trick.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I told you that you could bring about great change through faith because it was exactly what you needed to hear,” Dynamine explained. “Because I needed a skilled enforcer to carry out my plans, and you showed great potential. Except I didn’t want someone whose loyalty could be bought and paid for. I wanted someone who could be molded into a loyal acolyte, and after closely studying your psychological profile, I knew that pony could be you.”

“What are you saying?” Barkeep asked, sounding less and less like the raving psychopath he had been mere moments ago.

“I’m saying that I used you for my own purposes, Barkeep. Just like someone else is now using you for theirs,” Dynamine sneered. “My plan from the beginning has been to destroy the Covenant of Shadows from within, and you were instrumental to that plan. You followed orders so blindly, all thanks to the seed of faith I planted in your mind.”

Celestia could hear Barkeep’s breathing getting heavier, and now he was the one who was trembling.

“Y-you...you...you….” Then he seemed to calm somewhat. “You’re testing my faith. Now I see!”

But Dynamine shook her head. Behind her, Razz, Sable, and all of the assorted guards stood, watching the confrontation unfold with bated breath. “No,” Dynamine said. “I’m confessing.”

With that, Oracle Dynamine changed. A plume of green fire enshrouded her, and out of it a different figure emerged altogether. A figure who, Celestia realized with shock, was human. A girl, no older than thirteen years, with twisted features of black chitin beneath a tattered teal dress. A girl whose soft green eyes betrayed a lifetime of pain and suffering.

“What...how…but you’re…” Barkeep sputtered.

“Not the Oracle. There is no Oracle, and there never has been. Everything of Sombra that I told the Covenant were either lies, or things that I knew from personal experience with him.” The tattered girl gestured to herself, up and down. “He made me this way. Used and abused me. Destroying the Covenant was to be my revenge, as was killing his four Scions.”

The girl then glanced back at Razz, who was watching the scene unfold with a healthy amount of concern, but also...Celestia thought she detected a hint of pride on the little equine’s face.

“Now, though...I know better. Raspberry Beryl and the others...they’re not the true Scions of Sombra.” The girl returned her attention to Barkeep. “You are.”

Then with speed far too fast for Celestia’s eyes to track, the ruined girl grabbed Barkeep by the hoof holding the forgotten poisoned dagger. Celestia braced herself to feel its kiss, but it never came. With impressive strength, the girl was slowly twisting the blade away from her...and redirecting it towards Barkeep.

“Without intending it, I ended up molding you into the living embodiment of all Sombra was. His petty rage, his hate, his sadism, and of course, his inflated sense of self-importance. You are his modern-day reflection.” The girl had twisted Barkeep’s hoof to the point that the blade of the dagger was now a hair’s breadth away from his neck. “Come to think of it, killing you may be the closest thing I’ll ever have to finally avenging myself upon him.”

The girl lingered like that for a few moments, with the knife’s blade trembling just before the madpony’s neck. Then the girl let go, sending Barkeep collapsing to the floor.

“But I’ve already spilt enough blood in the name of revenge.”

Barkeep looked up at the girl standing over him, who for her part, stood there impassively. Barkeep gripped the knife, and the girl gave him a look. It was a look that invited him to use the knife on her. To put her out of her misery once and for all. Instead, Barkeep released his grip on the dagger, lying back on the floor with a despondent look. Celestia could almost swear the girl looked disappointed.

Then the guards rushed forward, swiftly apprehending the knife and taking both Barkeep and the girl into their custody. It only occurred to Celestia then that she had been released from Barkeep’s clutches nearly a minute ago. So she turned, and was immediately met by Sable, who wrapped his arms around her. Celestia returned the embrace all too eagerly.

“You’re okay...” Sable said, reassuring himself and her in equal parts as he rocked her back and forth. “You’re okay.”

Celestia just held him tightly, taking in the safe feeling of being in his arms. She then looked over his shoulder, where the now listless murderer was being led away...along with the girl who saved her. The two of them met eyes, and Celestia mouthed thank you as she disappeared out of the room.

Somehow, the terrible situation had been resolved without bloodshed, and Razz let out a breath she realized she’d been holding the whole time. Sable and Celestia were embracing each other tightly, and Razz decided to let them have their moment. She did, however, order a unicorn medic to scan Celestia for any traces of the poison in her bloodstream...just in case. With that done, Razz exited the room and cantered down the hall after the procession of guards leading the two escaped prisoners away.

“Hold up!” Razz called out, and the guards stopped and turned to face her, giving hasty salutes. Crisalide looked up from the floor and met her eyes briefly, then looked away just as quickly. “I’d like to have a few words with her,” Razz said. “In private, please.”

The guard who seemed to be in command glanced at Crisalide briefly before saying, “All due respect ma’am, I don’t think that’s wise.”

“She won’t go anywhere.” Razz then looked at Crisalide. “Will you?”

The girl shook her head, and the guards, having learned the futility of trying to argue with the Archmagus at this point, moved a fair distance away, securing both ends of the hallway.

“First of all, I just want to say that was a good thing you did,” Razz said when they were alone. “Whatever happens, I’ll always be grateful for it.” Razz then nodded in the direction they came from, where Sable was leading Celestia away. “So will they.”

Crisalide looked after them, a hint of longing in her eyes as she smacked her lips. “It’s warm and sweet…” she muttered.

“Come again?”

“Nothing. Forget it,” Crisalide said with an errant shrug. “I didn’t do it for her or her boyfriend.”

Clearing her throat, Razz said, “May I ask, then...why did you do it?”

Shrugging again, Crisalide said. “I guess I just wanted to see if you were right. About the two of us not being damned by our progenitors. About...not being too late to be better.”

Razz nodded. “Right.” The two of them were silent for a moment before Razz said, “You know, this little incident is gonna give the interrogators about a dozen new questions to ask you.”

“Oh goody.”

“Maybe you can save them—and yourself—a few headaches later by answering some of them now?”

Crisalide spread her arms. “It isn’t like I have somewhere to be.”

Nodding, Razz said, “Well, first thing’s first: How did you get out?”

At that, Crisalide grinned. “You might want to tell the warden to hire smarter guards.”

“Noted.”

Crisalide’s grin vanished. “Although, considering the warden was the one who let Barkeep out in the first place, you may just have to replace the whole lot.”

Razz matched Crisalide’s frown with her own. “I see.” Just how many Covenant spies were still left in their ranks? After taking a moment to collect her thoughts, Razz asked, “You wouldn’t happen to still have all your Covenant contacts, would you?”

“Need my help with your changeling hunt?” Crisalide said, her cruel chuckle indicating she did not miss the irony of the turn of phrase. “Trust me, the Covenant ponies in your ranks weren’t exactly master spies. Now that you know what to look for, they should stick out like a sore horn. I’d honestly be surprised if you haven’t caught most of them already.”

“Even so, somepony is clearly still calling the shots,” Razz said. “You must have some idea of who ordered the hit on Tumblehome.”

“The Covenant of Shadows is dead, Razz. I deliberately orchestrated things so that their entire command structure was in the cave when I delivered the coup de grâce.” Crisalide then waved over the guards, who for their part had no objections to returning what they considered a dangerous enemy of the state to her cell. “Trust me, whoever ordered Tumblehome’s death was not with the Covenant—they’re far too smart.”

There was a heartbreaking shortage of decent, classy restaurants in Percheron. Naturally, this only meant that Highfalutin’ had to get creative, and she was nothing if not enterprising. When she heard that a group of three griffon brothers—Equestrian citizens all—were trying to start up their very own restaurant just down the street from her office (styled like the high-class establishments along Restaurant Row in Canterlot no less) Highfalutin’ saw fit to give them the support they needed to get off the ground. It did wonders for her public image, showing just how much she cared about supporting small local businesses and legally immigrated citizens, and gave her somewhere decent to eat close to work. Of course, it also gave her partial ownership of the establishment, which in turn let her treat the restaurant employees like her employees.

Thus, she sat at the table in the private dining area that was always reserved for her, enjoying an exotic meal. Ponies weren’t carnivorous by nature, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy the odd cut of meat every now and then, and the griffon owners could cook a steak that Highfalutin’ found to be quite palatable. Of course, meat was still hard for a pony to digest, so Highfalutin’ took it slow, devouring her steak one tiny bite at a time. She was the very picture of poise as she indulged herself in this bit of barbarism, elegantly dabbing her chin with her napkin whenever the red juices dribbled from her lips.

Sitting across from her was Trapper, who dug into his fish filet with the hesitant methodical movements of someone unaccustomed to high-class dining. The Abyssinian was still decked out in his knives and hand-crossbows—Highfalutin’ wasn’t expecting trouble, but Trapper was always ready for it, which Highfalutin’ appreciated. As they were finishing up their dinner, Highfalutin’ heard the telltale chime and felt the vibrations of the astralpresence machine—something she brought with her expecting a call.

Highfalutin’ leaned over to Trapper as she set the machine on the table and ordered, “Make sure we aren’t disturbed.”

The tall Abyssinian stood and went to the door, his presence alone sure to deter any staff from entering. Highfalutin’ then clicked open the astralpresence machine, and the image of an unfamiliar pony in Royal Guard’s armor appeared before her. Highfalutin’ knew who it was immediately.

“I trust you had no problems, then?” she asked.

The guard mare shook her head. “None. The patsy eliminated the target as planned, and I removed anything she had that might lead back to you from her office and quarters. I was able to easily extract from the castle while the guards were dealing with the hostage crisis he created.”

Highfalutin’ chuckled. “Our boy performed better than I expected! Now, the artifact that I used to teleport you to Canterlot only works one-way, unfortunately. You’ll have to return by train.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Redeye stated.

“I thought not. See you in a few days.”

Nothing more to be said, Highfalutin’ shut the device and put it away. She didn’t even need to call Trapper back to the room. He had good intuition for when his mistress needed him close—another thing Highfalutin’ appreciated.

“So when do we move to the next stage of the plan?” he asked, his coarse accented voice like a soft purr.

“Patience, Trapper. For now, we must lie low. We hardly need to take any action for now anyway,” Highfalutin’ mused, idly swirling the red wine in her glass. “The pieces have all been set for Celestia’s downfall: killing Tumblehome actually accomplished two objectives. The obvious one was to silence her, of course, but the scandal her death will create is sure to stir the pot in Canterlot further.”

“Hrmm, I’m not sure I understand,” Trapper said.

“And you don’t have to; that’s the beauty of your job. No need to concern yourself with the nuance of political maneuvering.” Highfalutin’ sat back in her seat and took a sip of her wine. “Celestia’s removal is all but certain now, and her sister will likely take over her duties when she’s gone.”

Trapper bared his feline fangs. “Nepotism at its finest.”

“Indeed. We’ll need to think of a way to deal with Luna next, but all in good time.” She looked down at her plate, where a single bite of her steak remained. “A coup against such creatures as alicorns is a lot like eating a good steak—ponies like me can’t do it all at once. We have to take little bites, one at a time.”

With an impatient frown, Trapper asked, “How long do we wait?”

“As long as we have to, I’m a patient mare.” Highfalutin’ stabbed the small bite-sized morsel with her fork, brought it up to her mouth...and took an even smaller bite and set the rest of it down. “It may be years before the next opportunity presents itself, but I’ll know it when I see it.”

With a polite knock, one of the griffon brothers—Highfalutin’ honestly couldn’t tell which, they all looked the same to her—poked his head in. “Is everything to your satisfaction tonight, Miss Highfalutin’?”

Highfalutin’ smiled at him, this time not bothering to wipe the red away from her chin. “Everything is delicious.”

The rest of the evening following the hostage situation and the subsequent investigation of Tumblehome’s murder had taken up a good portion of Razz’s time, and any hope of sleep had been obliterated by the extra paperwork she had to do, both for the investigation and the regular Guild issues.

She groaned and rubbed her horn; the most recent update from internal affairs implicated forty-seven mages, including some of her senior staff, amongst them Chromatic Swirl, the Senior Mage in charge of the Oatmaha office; Lavaburst, the Senior Mage in charge of the Hoofalulu office; and Rowan Wand, the Senior Mage in charge of training new inductees into the Guild. That last one shocked Razz the most—when she first became Archmagus, it had been Rowan that had been in her corner.

What had happened to turn him against everything? she wondered, though no answers came.

She ended up getting only a hoofful’s worth of fitful sleep at her quarters at Guild HQ, when a knock sounded at her door. “Go away,” she groaned. “I only went to sleep two hours ago!”

The knock occurred again. “Learned One?” a voice called out, the sign of a new initiate. “You have a guest.”

Razz was about to ask this early in the morning? but then recalled she’d been up after the sun rose. “Okay, I’ll get up. Have the guest moved to my office.”

A pause. “No, Learned One. They asked to have the meeting in our Silent Room.”

That caught Razz’s attention. The Silent Room was where most of Equestria’s most dangerous artifacts were stored—stuff so dangerous that it couldn’t be held in the vault in the castle proper. In hindsight, Razz had mentally kicked herself for not putting the Alicorn Amulet in there as well, as much of what happened recently—including Octavia’s maiming—would have been avoided if it had been under Guild lock and key instead of leaving it unattended in her quarters. Thankfully, it had been destroyed and the remnants were buried under the massive pile of rubble that was the changeling hive the Covenant had used as their headquarters.

The other thing about the Silent Room was that due to its size and the sheer number of protective spells on it, it was often used by senior Guild staff as a conference room for extremely classified topics. The room was staffed by trusted initiates and had its own astralpresence device and had even been used in the war effort, as she understood it.

But the most important thing about the Silent Room was that all but a few ponies knew of its existence and if somepony was asking to meet there? They had both the knowledge of it and the authority to request so.

“Sure,” Razz said, not liking this at all. “Escort them there and I’ll be along shortly.”

Five minutes later, after a quick refresher spell and a hastily-done brushthrough, Razz came down in her mage robes to find Bon-Bon, of all ponies, sitting there. The chocolatier wore a black blazer, white shirt and black tie—the de facto uniform of Agency field agents. But why would…?

Then she remembered back to the war and Bon-Bon’s presence by Luna during the astralpresence contact during the war with Tirek. Suddenly the pieces slid into place.

Unaware of the unicorn’s thoughts, the earth mare gestured to a small tray of donuts and coffee. “Picked them up from Donut Joe’s on the way over. Figured you didn’t get much sleep either.”

“So, Bon-Bon, when were you going to tell me you were Agency?” Razz asked.

“It’s not exactly something that comes up in everyday conversation and I still have a lot of secrets I have to keep—especially when my best friend is incapable of it,” Bon-Bon groaned. “Lyra aside, though, I’d already retired when we met and the war forced me back temporarily. But now, I’ve had to come back permanently, because...well, I’m sure your branch is having the same issues we are.”

“Forty-seven so far,” Razz stated.

“586 and counting,” Bon-Bon said glumly. “And that’s part of the reason I’m here, actually.”

“Well, sorry, but I already have a day job. And besides, I really wouldn’t be a good fit for the Agency.”

“You’d be surprised—believe it or not, after the issue with Blu in the court case, he’d actually considered offering you a slot in the Agency, at least until it was clear that you were going to end up in Twi’s circle,” Bon-Bon noted. “But no, I’m not here to recruit you. But I am here to recruit somepony you know, and I could use your help with that.”

Razz, thanks to a couple of crullers and a cup of coffee, was now more awake. “Okay, I’m listening: who is it you have in mind? One of my mages? I can recommend a few that I know are personally trustworthy, and one of them has even worked with the Agency on an assignment.”

“I’ll consider that, but I’m not actually talking about any of them right now.”

“Okay, who are you discussing then?”

Bon-Bon told her.

Razz spat out her coffee. “ARE YOU INSANE?!”

Bon-Bon picked up a napkin and wiped the splashed coffee off her blazer. “Y’know, Razz, I prefer my crystalberry double mocha inside me, not on me.”

“No! We’re talking about somepony that’s successfully assassinated dozens of ponies, and maybe other species, too—she nearly killed Pinkie!”

“I know, and yet you’re busy trying to turn her back to the path of friendship, as expected of one of the Court of Friendship. But the fact is, the Agency needs ponies like her: those that don’t play fair and don’t play by the rules. Hell, we’d have even recruited that Barkeep psychopath if we thought it was worth it—"

“Please don’t tell me that you considered it.”

Bon-Bon shook her head. “He’s too far gone even for our needs. Look, Razz, you would say that what the SIRENs do is necessary and not ‘by the rules’, quote unquote, right? And you’re still friends with a couple of them, correct? Would you call them evil?”

“I don’t call Corner, evil, either,” Razz corrected. “What she does, or rather did, is...misguided. Understandable, but nonetheless misguided.”

“And yet she’s just the kind of pony we need in my new division.”

“New division?”

“You’re now looking at the new Assistant Director of Direct Intervention,” she said. “My job will be handling the...well, I don’t want to call them assassins, but jobs that require a hooves-on sort of thing, if that makes sense.”

“I’m not liking this.”

“You don’t have to. I already have Luna’s authority,” she said, sliding over a sealed scroll. “I just need you to come with me when I go talk to her, because she will probably appreciate a friendly face.”

“She doesn’t exactly consider me a friend. And your statement doesn't imply you plan to be one.”

“Sometimes Equestria needs an outstretched hoof. Sometimes it needs one to buck a baddie. Guess which one we need to be?”

Razz sighed. She was liking this less and less. “Okay, let’s get going before I change my mind.”

Comments

[Starcat5]

Looks like the Warden is going to be tried for treason and sentenced to life imprisonment for a crime he did not do. Maybe he can be a mid-series addition to the G-Team later.

[RolkFlameraven]

I understand where they are coming from, but I can see how Highfalutin is going to be able to use much of this against Luna.

Twilight might be forced to step up, and soon. That might even be the plan, well not The Plan, but B or C.

Sunset can't stay, her job on Earth is far from done, if it ever well be and Candace's place in the line of succession has always been cloudy.

[Darkstory]

The case of Corner Shot et s not that different from the Sirens. They have been recruit young and have never knew nothing than killing and finally the Sirens have find friends and a family moré important than what they knew. Corner simply didn't get this chance.

[Teraunce]

I'm glad Corner Shot is finally getting her chance at redemption.