Of Course

by RavensDagger

Eight Die Over The Course Of The Long Night

The sounds produced by the kitchen were unmistakable.

Plates and glass cups clinked together as they moved from counter to counter. A panoply of hooves tapped the ground in a completely random pattern. Trays clicked into place and silverware sloshed around in great sinks of boiling water.

Planner reveled in it all, allowing senses that had takens years of training to go searching through the sounds and smells and sights around him, picking up every nuance of the room Life, life truly is a wonderful thing. Sad, he thought as he began to move towards the doors, that it is now my duty to take it.

The light brown stallion slipped into the room, ears perked and eyes focused towards his singular goal: a silver platter covered by a gilded dome, untouched by the busy ponies around it.

And again, I am left to wonder about the abilities of the one above. The kind of magic that makes this possible, to see yet avoid an object, is interesting indeed. There’s a powerful hoof at play somewhere.

He picked up the platter, the silver cold to his teeth as he slid it onto his back. Thank Celestia it is on the side of good.

Weaving through the sea of waiters and cooks, the earth pony dove out and into the corridor, his thick and suspiciously heavy jacket swishing around him as he spun to the right and away from the long line of servants.

Few paid attention to yet another servant carrying a tray laden with food. Few would have thought of him as anything but that. Few ponies were ever right.

After turning around another bend, he arrived at a set of double doors, where he was met with a wall of cold air. Planner stopped, and then gently moved the tray from his back to the ground, quieting the rattle with a soft press of his forehoof. Let’s look at the unfortunate few, he thought as his jaw clamped onto the cover’s handle and pulled it off.

As the lid lifted, six goblets and a gaudy mug were revealed; the mug held a slip of parchment sticking out of its top. With a swipe of his hoof, Planner removed the paper and placed it within one of his jacket's many inner pockets.

As the stallion replaced the lid of the platter, a single shiver ran down his spine, one that made his entire body tense and his eyes narrow. Something’s coming, was the only thing his instincts told him.

The heavy double-doors at the hallway’s end exploded inwards, bucked open by a pair of burly guards as a shout rang out. “Search everywhere!”

Nearly a dozen armed ponies rushed in through the entrance. The glint of light on sharp spear-points and a gust of bitter cold wind was all Planner had time to digest before they reached him.

No, they can't have caught on that quickly! he thought as his heart sped up to a gallop. His eyes frantically searched for an exit, some escape from the ponies rapidly bearing down upon him, but there was nothing. He closed his eyes and tried to take a deep breath as the hoofbeats reached his position... and continued past him uninterrupted around the bend.

Planner swallowed hard before wiping a sheen of sweat off of his forehead. That must be the distraction I’m supposed to wait for. The others are doing their work quite well. I must get to my own...

He pulled the slip of paper out of his jacket, unfolded it, and quickly read the eight names scribbled upon it.

A smile crossed his lips, sardonic and lacking any true humour as he picked his first targets of the day. Shifting his back and balancing the platter, Planner trotted through the corridor and out of the still-open doors.

His thick jacket did little to keep away the cold biting wind beyond the bleak white walls of the castle. Nonetheless, the brown pony shrugged away the freezing temperature and trudged onwards, his path across the manicured lawn illuminated by a hundred lights from the building’s windows.

Across the yard was another edifice, this one of a darker stone that betrayed its intentions. With a quick hoof, Planner shortened the distance between himself and the guardhouse before sliding up to the door and knocking.

Almost immediately, a mare decked out in the armour of the royal guard opened the entrance and backed away, gesturing for him to enter with a quick motion of her head.

He complied, a swath of warm air enveloping him as he made his way into the barracks. “I brought you guys a little something,” he announced jovially, twisting his face into an innocent smile.

As his eyes adjusted to the relative darkness of the musky room, Planner could make out the shapes of weapons and armours hooked onto racks and the familiar form of bunk beds stacked atop one another at the far end of the room. In the centre, a wide staircase climbed up to the floor above.

“You brought us some snacks?” the mare asked, exchanging a half-smirk with the three other occupants of the building. “You’re lucky. Most of us just ran out, so you won’t have to run and get more.”

Planner touched a hoof to his chest, feinging indiscretion. “Oh, should I just go back then? I’m sure our esteemed guest would love to drink this wonderful wine and champagne instead of the likes of you...”

The other guards were all sitting around a table, one covered in cards and coins that bounced as they tapped the surface and laughed aloud. The mare blinked at him, her smirk becoming more prominent. “Oh come on,” the mare said with obvious discontent, “give us that, or we’ll have to arrest ya.”

Planner joined in on their easy laughter as he made his way into the room, part of him enjoying the warmth of both the building and the friendship of the ponies within. None of these will die today, thank Celestia, he thought as he trotted over to their table and quickly placed a few cups on it, gingerly avoiding the cards and stacks of bits. “Oh, and I have something for a... Corporal Hooves, a Lieutenant Strato and a... Major Fetlock. Do you happen to know where they are?”

Planner took note of the unease that suddenly appeared on the guards as he nonchalantly replaced his tray onto his back. “So...?”

“Hmm?” the mare said, blinking dumbly. “Oh, yeah, those three are upstairs,” she said, her gaze straying to the weapon racks then the beds for a few seconds before sharply focusing onto the stairs.

“I see, thanks!” With the same jovial grin, Planner pranced away and climbed the stairs, his hoofsteps sounding against the wooden planks that made up the staircase.

Planner felt a familiar revulsion rise up in his chest, the same one he felt every time he recalled the stallion that had ruined his life, the same he felt every time he thought of those sick few that were actively ruining the peaceful Equestria of his youth.

It was unforgivable.

He was going to do something about it.

The murmuring of a few stallions flowed around the large, open upper floor, emanating from three stallions who were sitting around an open fireplace, the orange and red light flashing across their faces and the wooden floor as it gave out a soothing heat.

One of the three twisted around, his rocking chair moving back as he swiveled around on his bench and looked at Planner. “Hello?” he asked, brows furrowing as he focused towards the shadow that held Planner.

“Hello, sirs,” Planner said as he stepped out and moved to them. “I have drinks, compliments of the Princess in white.” With a sweeping bow, Planner removed the platter from his back and placed it on the ground before tipping the lid back, hiding the cups from their view. “How are you fine gentlecolts doing this fine evening?”

The three shared a few smiles, evidently gladdened by the newfound source of alcohol. “We’re fine,” said one that Planner recognized as Corporal Hooves. “Just enjoying the quiet night, catching up on old tales and the likes. Now, what have you brought for us tonight?”

You’re not out there, with the others who are on duty, their lives on the line searching for our distraction? No, you three are here, trading tales of your cruel deeds and crooked ways.

With a quick swipe of his hoof within his jacket, Planner searched through dozens of small pockets before pulling out a tiny vial. Bending down, he ripped the stopper out and discreetly dropped it on the platter before emptying the vial in the three remaining cups. “Here you go, sirs!”

The three stallions accepted the drinks, quickly sniffing them before taking a few test sips. “Hmm, this is good. Nice and cool; refreshing,” the Corporal said as he leaned back into his chair, placing his cup on the top of his large belly. “What was that thing you put in there?”

One of Planner’s eyebrows shot up. He noticed? Hmm, impressive. “Just a little bit of poison to calm your nerves.”

The three froze in surprise, the temperature in the room noticeably dropping. “Pardon?”

“I poisoned your drinks. Really, it’s not the newest trick in the book, but it’s effective.”

Corporal Hooves pushed out of his chair, landing on all four of his flabby limbs with a booming thud. “What are you talking about? What sort of crude joke it this?” he asked, his face whitening in a matter of seconds.

No emotion played across Planner’s face as he next spoke. “It’s not a joke, Corporal. You’re going to die.”

The soldier took two steps forwards, his face twisting into a mask of anger. “Why, I’ll let you superio—”

With startling suddenness, the fat corporal crashed to the ground, his face ramming into the hard wooden floor as he bounced on the spot, the only sound escaping him a muffled oomph as the air in his lungs emptied.

Planner waited a few more seconds, counting to ten in his mind before he finally moved. That was rather anti-climatic, he thought as he went from pony to pony, picking up the glasses before tossing them into the fireplace. It was a little too easy. But easy is good. I don’t need a challenge in this, I only need it to work as planned.

“Why?” the fat stallion on the the floor groaned. His two companions shivered within their chairs, drool and foam starting to pour out of their mouths.

“Why? Because you’re scum. All of you. I’m certain there are more,” Planner said as he slowly picked up the tray and placed it on his back, as if there was no hurry. “Hopefully, they will learn from your example. You can only accept so many bribes before the consequences come around to bite you.

“It’s sad, really, that ponies like you, who have so much, choose to abuse it.” Planner shook his head from side to side as he walked away. “So very, very sad.”

He climbed down the stairs, interrupting the card game of the few guards still in the barracks. “Nice fellows,” he told them with a smile as he walked by and headed to the door. “See you, guys!”

Opening the door, Planner walked out, knowing full well that the ponies left alive behind him were more than a little confused. Just wait until they become brave enough to meet their leaders.

A light snow was falling, much to Planner’s pleasure, as the temperature had raisen during his absence. Without thinking twice, the stallion tossed the tray into a decorative bush, the metallic clatter swallowed by the thick vegetation.

Bending his head back, Planner scanned the skies. Through the thick layer of clouds a few stars twinkled, their faint light just strong enough to discern them from the multitude of falling snowflakes. In the centre of it all was, Luna’s moon, the celestial body radiating like a beacon in the night. A friend.

“I believe some would say ‘come hither, dear.’”

Planner broke his gaze away from the night sky and back to terra firma. Near the castle’s exit, a beautiful white unicorn was leading a stallion into the night, her long tail lightly touching his chest before flicking at his muzzle. She smiled at him, showing an impressive set of teeth beneath her half-lidded eyes. The mare was wearing a dress, long and elegant and made of a pearl-like material that flowed around her sensuous curves.

The stallion nodded, mumbling something incoherent as he followed her around the castle’s wall and into the massive garden beyond.

And so my next target appears all on her own. It is difficult to plan such good fortune, he thought as he began to discreetly follow the mare and her companion. The fresh snow cracked and barked at his every step, even as it clung to his hooves.

Slowly, he made his way to the edge of the marble wall and stuck his head around, eyes searching while his nose flared for any sign of the mare. He caught sight of her in the clean woods, her mane rustling as she bent to deliver the unwitting stallion a kiss to the neck.

Disgusting, he thought as he moved out of his hiding place and began following the tracks they left in the fresh ground. Back bent to keep himself low, the stallion snuck forwards, trying to make as little sound as possible.

As he approached, Planner heard the distinct sounds of a soon-to-be very happy stallion emitting from behind a swatch of bushes. Not exactly what I was expecting to see today. It’s actually rather embarrassing, he thought as he straightened out on the other side of the bush.

The stallion’s tail was sticking out, waving from side to side like an excited colt about to receive a great big present. “Oh, baby, you’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen!” he exclaimed in a squeak.

Planner blinked, one eyebrow raising questioningly even as the wagging tail hit the bush and sent a volley of fall leaves flying. Well... alright then.

He coughed, the sound piercing through the woods as it interrupted the otherwise intimate moment.

The stallion froze and backed away, his mane and coat standing on end as he searched with wide, embarrassed eyes.

“I really dislike saying this... sir, but I’d suggest you find another mare to... take care of that,” Planner said as he gestured towards the stallion. “That particular madam happens to be a thief and a swindler. Not to mention she’s likely to have some sort of disease.”

“I, uh, I...” The stallion looked between Planner and the mare that was prostrate on the ground in a rather vulnerable fashion. Her dress was split along its length by an ingenious series of hidden hooks and catches, a simple tool to aid her in her trade. “Um... I have to go,” he said before turning around and scurrying away with his tail between his legs.

Fleur de Lys’ gaze twisted from the departing stallion to Planner as it transformed into a full-on glare.

“What are you doing?!” the mare asked as she slid onto her hooves and stomped to him, crushing leaves and branches in her wake. One of her lithe, long limbs struck out, stabbing at Planner’s chest before he could move out of its way.

“Who the hay do you think you are?” she seethed, tossing a long lock of hair away from her eyes.

“A pony who happens to like purity and innocence, quite the opposite of what you are,” Planner said, his voice a deep baritone as he lifted his chin.

“Are you accusing me of something? You little piece of snot,” she said, looking around for anypony else that might have been hidden in the woods. “My work might not be pretty to a commoner like you, but it’s an art!”

Planner barked a laugh. “An art? Really? Rutting in the woods is an art now? No... but I suppose stealing from hundreds, blackmailing and the placement of quick words is.”

The mare drew up to her full height, pulling herself a few inches above the stallion’s head to look down at him. “You, you little piece of... Gah, I’m losing myself. Why are you here and what do you want? Are you one of Blueblood’s lackeys?”

“Blueblood’s lackeys? That’s rather curious... but no, I’m here for my own reasons.”

“If you want to copulate, you can forget it, unless you happen to be very, very well endowed. And I mean monetarily.” With a huff, the mare twisted her head around, acting with full dignity.

She’s rather frank about it, and prideful. Is this truly what Equestria has become? Filled with high-class, snobby nobles and their concubines? Despicable.

“Trust me, I want nothing to do with a dirty wh—”

Fleur de Lys swung her hoof around, his jaw catching the blow as his head snapped around. “Don’t ever speak to me like that!” she screeched. “I worked too hard to get where I am to be insulted by the likes of you. I’ve lost too much.”

And now, you lose your life. Too bad. You could have been a good mare; a great mare in fact, but this society turned you into what you are. This world, and your own greed.

Planner sighed, reached into his jacket, and pulled out a syringe: the wicked needle at its tip glinting with the light of Luna’s moon as he prepared himself. “I’m sorry.”

Fleur blinked and jumped to the side, her flexible and long body rolling out of Planner’s path with an awful sort of grace.

It didn’t matter. Twisting on his hind leg, Planner sent himself tumbling over his own side, head over hooves. His forehoof shot out, and with it, the dart-like needle of the syringe.

The tiny medical tool stabbed itself into the mare’s chest, prompting her to cry out in pain before she ripped the blood-tipped object out of her coat. The mare glanced at the object, then at Planner, who was rising from the ground and wiping snow and leaves off of his jacket. A tear collected in her eye.

With the same grace she had forced herself to show her entire life, Fleur de Lys fell.

Planner stood.

Gently, he walked over to her, examining the beautiful mare as she lay on her side, chest pumping up and down in a broken rhythm.

She murmured something, a tiny sentence that the stallion failed to understand. “Could you repeat that?” he asked in a gentle voice.

“Am I pretty, mommy?” she asked before sniffling.

The single tear ran down the length of her muzzle before dripping off of her nose.

It twinkled once before splattering on the ground.

“I’m sorry,” Planner said, a deep pit forming in his stomach. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Never like this, he thought before turning around, and walking away from the dead mare.

The castle loomed above the lonesome stallion as he slowly trudged towards it, mind reeling between a sense of finality, sadness and the urge to move on and accomplish his mission. I wonder who’ll be next.

As he reached the entrance of the castle, he could hear the faintest murmurs of a single smooth voice from within.

He opened the door and reveled at the warmth that escaped from within to meet the cold fall air. The muffled voice became clearer, until he could make out parts of syllables and the simple, motherly accent it used.

Planner peeked through the long hall that led to the main ballroom. Not a soul was in sight as he began to walk across the corridor, the voice becoming louder and louder.

"...Now please, endeavor to keep the spirit of friendship with you tonight as you join in the festivities of this celebration. Let this night be one of love, of compassion and of empathy!”

Planner shouldered the door to the ballroom open and slipped in, blinking his eyes as he tried to adjust to the change in lighting.

Every single guest, from the richest and most imposing noble to the simplest and lowliest member of the staff. Each and every one of them, regardless of rank and stature, looked up with respect towards their magnificent Princess.

“Let this be a night for all to remember with nothing but happiness! Please, I ask all of you to take this moment to remember all that it means to be a true pony...”

Planner trotted up to the back of the crowd, head low while his eyes scanned the ponies on the stage. Ah, so there you are. Nice and safe.

Blueblood shifted his weight from hoof to hoof, then sat down, a forehoof reaching up to hide a deep yawn. He was bored, the dull emotion playing across his face as his glazed-over eyes scrawled over the crowd. Behind him were two other ponies, both wearing perfectly tailored suits that fit over their hunch-backed frames.

One of them cast his greedy eyes over a pocket watch that he had removed from within his jacket. The other giggled silently at him, his gem-studded monocle falling off of his face.

Moneybags and Gemstone. Blueblood’s rich little friends and a bunch of despicable creatures. And look at them, the position of honour. Planner’s focus shifted from his three targets, to the stage and the multitude of guards occupying it that were twitching nervously.

And they get to live just a little bit longer. I can’t afford to go after them like this. Patience will be needed.

“To remember that no matter how bad some ponies may seem, it is never acceptable to sink to their level..." The Princess stalled her speech for a moment as a mare in guard’s uniform ran into the room with a thick blush on her features as she ran past the other guards and climbed to the Princess’ side before whispering something into the monarch's ear.

Planner wasted no time diving into the crowd, keeping his head low as he snaked deeper and deeper into the mass of ponies. Already? Perhaps this will be a challenge. I still have four to rid off the face of Equestria.

The brown stallion stood back up, trying to be nonchalant. Some of the ponies around him moved, opening a tiny space right in front of him that allowed him a perfect view of the nearby Princesses.

Biting his lip, Planner pushed ahead, bumping into a bright yellow mare as he snuck forwards.

“Sorry, kid,” the mare said. “No time for autographs.”

Planner paused, twisting around to cast a quick glance at the pegasus mare. She too looked at him, her auburn eyes blinking at him before she returned her attention to the stage. The stallion took a step back, forcing himself not to smile at his luck.

“Are you... are you Miss Spitfire?” he asked in a low hush.

The mare rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m Spitfire. Look, I told you, I don’t have time to sign an autograph or hug your kid. Just let me watch the Princess, alright?”

“I can’t believe it,” he whispered. “I was going to spend quite a while looking for you. I was thinking of saving you for last. And now you’re here, amongst this random group of ponies.” He laughed to himself. “Someone’s smiling down at me.”

Spitfire opened her mouth to release a sigh, one that would have been followed by a berating argument were it not for the coughing of Princess Celestia.

The white alicorn was quiet for a moment, looking out gently across the crowd gathered before her as they stood still in anticipation. With a gentle, motherly smile, she carried on. “These are dark times, and bad things are happening to the best of us...”

Bad things indeed, Planner agreed as he reached into his jacket. But as for whether it’s to the best of us, that is debatable. Leaning to his side, he addressed the famous mare once more. “So, how does it feel, to sink a candidate in favour of another, just because the one has a better family? Or to create a charity only to keep the bits for yourself?”

She whipped around to him, her lightning fast reflexes doing little for her as her mind reeled. “What are yo—” Spitfire began to say.

Planner swiped his hoof at her ankle, cutting a thin gash along the limb with the tip of a tiny blade. Spitfire yelped and pulled her hoof back even as Planner began to back away, his face expressionless as he gave the mare a final glance and was swallowed up by the crowd.

That was interesting, to say the least, and now my load is lighter. Once more he looked at the stage, and at the three ponies on it. But how will I reach them?

“I-I can’t feel my hoof,” Spitfire said aloud, her exclamation lost in the throng of ponies. “And my wings...”

Satisfied that she had gotten her point across, Celestia concluded her speech, "And now, My Little Ponies, it is with great joy that my sister and I welcome you all to Canterlot's five hundredth and first Grand Galloping Gala!"

A cheer went out, every pony in attendance clapping their hooves onto the marble ground and shouting; the sound and vibrations making the nearby buffet tables rumble and the chandelier shiver.

Planner reached the outer edge of the assembly and stumbled out, shaking his head against the oppressive sound.

It finally began to abate as Celestia waved at them to still. “My Little Ponies, let us eat to our ful—”

“I shan’t pheel my whingsh!” Spitfire shouted from amongst the crowd. Immediately, a circle formed around her as ponies moved away, looking at the mare as she stumbled forwards and crashed to the ground.

Air wheezed in and out of her as she panted madly, her hooves and wings kicking out at random. She gurgled, a sound of desperate pleading escaping her even as the Princess finally snapped into motion.

With a sweep of her great wings, Celestia dove over the crowd and clattered to a stop atop Spitfire, her horn glowing as she looked down at the pegasus. A moment passed, then another as beams of the alicorn’s power fluctuated over the inanimate mare.

All eyes were on the pair, except Planner’s. Instead, he looked up to Blueblood and his two companions. The trio glanced at one another before Blueblood said something beneath his breath.

“She... she’s dead,” Celestia announced, falling into a seated position as her shoulders slumped.

A single whoosh escaped the crowd as almost every pony gasped at once. Some began to cry, fitful tears escaping them, while others simply stared at the carcass on the ground and stood, rooted with shock.

Planner began to move towards the stage, using the opportunity he had created to pass by the first of the guards without their notice or care. Just as the stallion reached the very edge of the stage, his hoof lightly touching its surface, the three ponies that were his target turned around, hurriedly leaving under the spurring-on of Blueblood.

They traversed the platform, heads held high as they trotted away from the ghastly scene without a second thought, only avarice playing across their features.

In stark contrast, the ponies in the room were touching hooves to their hearts, crying to themselves or being escorted away by one another, leaving the Princess alone above the body of the yellow pegasus.

Planner turned around and began to walk away, beelining for the same exit that his three targets were using off the stage’s side. Around him, mares and stallions were walking around aimlessly, some of them trying to breathe life back into the party.

Empathy, exactly what the Princess wanted. He looked over his shoulder and at the alicorn as she was escorted back by a group of her guards. Another group was standing around Spitfire, loading the lifeless body onto a stretcher. One of them turned, the very same mare he had seen that day.

Their eyes locked, then Planner walked into the corridor, losing sight of her. Empathy, but for the wrong ponies. I hope with all of my heart, he thought as he marched through the brightly-lit corridor, sconces and wall-mounted torches flickering on either side of him, that some will learn from what has happened tonight.

At the corridor’s end, Blueblood’s tail flicked past the door before disappearing from sight, followed shortly by the door thumping closed.

The lone brown stallion began to gallop, his breath coming in controlled pants as he charged across the narrow and long room. With a shove of his shoulder, he jumped outside and was immediately assaulted by a flurry of light snowfall that clung to his mane.

To his left was a paved path that lead to the castle’s main gate, while ahead of him was another path, one he knew would lead him to the famous Canterlot mazes. Finally, to his right was a row of parked carriages and shiny, new automobiles.

Where are they? he wondered, head flicking from side to side. If they live through the night, they’ll become secretive and low; it’ll prove that they can survive this. I need to end this, and soon.

A carriage rolled around the corner, its tall wheels rocking over every uneven stone as it pushed forwards, pulled by two young and strong stallions clothed in livery. Through the swells of snow around the carriage, Planner caught the faintest glimmer of a blond mane and pale white coat.

Blueblood.

Immediately, Planner began to gallop after the vehicle, hooves clacking loudly on the stiff and frozen ground.

Above the carriage’s gilded baggage rack was a tiny window, one from which a startled Gemstones stared. The noble’s head disappeared, soon replaced by Blueblood’s.

As Planner slowly cut the distance between himself and their carriage, Blueblood called to the ponies pulling his cart. “Go faster you bloody mules! We’re being chased!”

A bullwhip floated out of the vehicle, encircled by the unicorn’s magic. With a wicked crack, it snapped forward and caught one of the pullers on the flank, causing the pony to yelp, and the carriage to jerk forwards.

I can’t lose them, I can’t! Planner thought as the distance before him grew millimeter by millimeter.

The gate was quickly approaching, two towers of brilliant white marble that rose up above him. Two towers occupied by an army of armed guards. Two towers filled with guards who were starting to pay attention to Blueblood’s loud yelping and incoherent shouts of anger.

They watched, all the guards blinking dumbly at the spectacle as it crossed the gate. The carriage and the noble hanging out of its side, waving a whip at his drivers while yelling at them to “Go faster!”

None of them saw the light brown stallion gripping the carriage’s underside.

Planner swallowed hard as the cart hit a bump on the road and bounced up, bringing his head low enough to smell the snow-covered trail.

Gingerly, he placed one hoof before the other on the rack, pulling himself up while using its structure as a ladder.

Wet, soggy slush splashed onto him from every side, matting down his coat and mane, filling the inside of his jacket. Groaning as quietly as he could, Planner pulled himself up another rung, the tiniest bit of light from within the cabin flashing across his features.

They hit another bump, the entire carriage jarring from side to side on its suspension as Planner’s rear hooves lost their grip.

His rear limbs slid across the ground, burning his skin and chaffing him until he forcefully pulled his hooves back and placed them on the rack, one at a time. Biting back the searing hot pain, Planner push forwards and up, carefully avoiding the small opening as he slung his forehoof onto the rooftop.

With a massive heave, the stallion pulled himself up and rolled onto the rooftop, panting madly as he desperately tried to catch his breath and quell his shaking nerves.

Soft flakes of cooling snow landed on his face, instantly turning into sloppy beads of water that slipped into all of his crevices.

“How much did you get?” asked a voice from below him, muffled by the wooden walls of the carriage.

With a bit of effort, Planner turned his head and listened.

"Not much. Maybe a few hundred thousand, and the border-crossing alone will cost me a fortune."

“New taxes?”

“No, more bribes.” Laughter filled the cabin.

A quiet filled their cabin, one broken up a few moments later by Blueblood. “So, that assassination, because that’s clearly what it was, what do you fellows think of it?”

One of them hummed. “It’s an opportunity. We can freely fire any one of the guards and place our own there. Maybe Corporal Hooves is due for a promotion, hmm? He was useful in hiding my, hmm... play room, last time.”

“True, true,” agreed a deeper voice. “How goes that room, anyway?”

“Hmm, not bad, it’s quite amusing. I got a shipment of little foals brought in from Manehatten; quite, hmm, innocent and amusing.”

Planner cringed in disgust as he rolled around. Sickening, he thought as he pushed towards the front of the carriage, bitter wind whipping at his features. Hanging his head over the front, the stallion observed the two workhorses pulling them along, noting the deep scars on both of their backsides.

Reaching into his jacket once more, he felt past sharp blades and filled vials until he found what he sought: the long thin tube of a blow dart. Pulling the weapon out, he brought it to his lips, took a deep breath, and fired twice.

Two tiny darts wedged themselves into the backs of the pullers and both stallions immediately wavered and veered off to the side. May Luna save the innocent.

With the screech of tire on pavement the carriage slid to the side of the road, onto the sidewalk and then its overhanging side rammed into a streetlight, sending magical glimmers of light sparking everywhere as it bounced and crashed into a small shop.

Splinters of wood and pieces of the finely-crafted vehicle went flying in every direction; the cacophony of sound alerting every pony still out at the late hour.

Planner tumbled off the side, thumping to the ground hard enough to punch the air out of his chest. Still, with a valiant effort, the stallion stood and looked around him at the tiny disaster zone before he stumbled forwards.

Both carriage-pullers were lifted in the air, kept there by the long poles that were gripped to their backs. Reaching into his jacket one last time, Planner fumbled around until he pulled out two identical syringes, both of them with the word Heal on their sides in an ancient cursive.

Rearing up on still limbs, the stallion stabbed and injected both ponies in the flank before falling back to all fours. There, that should keep them going for a long while, he thought as the serum went to work, visibly healing scars both old and new.

With a sigh, Planner turned around and walked up to the carriage’s side, noting the massive emblem of a unicorn engraved on its door before he bucked it open.

Within, three pairs of cowardly eyes looked at him with battered and scratched faces. A monocle rolled along the carriage’s carpet and toppled to the ground, smashing into a million pieces of twinkling glass.

“Hello, boys.”

Planner smiled.

Author's Note:

Edited by:
-Cpl Hooves
-StapleCactus
-Fred the Saiyan
-Fluttersyke
-JustAnotherTimeLord

Or something like that. Lots of people barge in, huh? Good folks.

Comments

[RavensDagger]

1935088

I'm an idiot.

[JustAnotherTimeLord]

Alright. Nicely done everyone, nicely done. And you aren't an idiot Raven. I mean, if you were, we would still love you, but your aren't, therefore you are more loved.

[DerpieDoo]

Nice, very nice, another fantastic chapter. You sure have a masterful way with words!

[JustAnotherTimeLord]

I am sorry, but that one part still makes me cry...

[RavensDagger]

1925138

Thanks.

[statoose]

Damn, that was quite the chapter. I was very moved by Fleur's death, both because of how you portrayed her and because she's a favorite background chactater of mine. I almost cried, and I hardly ever cry at stories. On that note, it kind of breaks me heart to see you write characters like Spitfire as corrupt villains. Oh well. (Still though, Fleur? Really? That silly, loveable, posing pony? :( )

Also, I think you need to discipline your editors; I noticed a few mistakes throughout this chapter. :P
(I'd point them out, but I didn't write them down.)

I continue to eagerly await the next chapter.

[StapleCactus]

1949160

This is because one of the editors on that list (i.e. me) was without internet for the vast majority of the editing process for this chapter and Raven had to publish it to keep up with his timetables. I apologize for the mistakes and will be fixing them shortly. Please continue to enjoy the story.

[paintom_phan]

I have this feeling like Planner is going to go overboard and betray the cause or something. Seems like the obsessive type.

[SIGAWESOME]

Whoa. That certainly is different casting Spitfire and Fleur as villains.

Spitfire's death reminds me of the last scene in Ian Fleming's From Russia With Love and the Fugu poisoned shoe dagger.