Chapter 51
Chapter 51
Incomplete, tattered document found in the possession of the First Pontiff, identified in future documents as ‘Cozy Glow’. Date is unknown. Sometimes referred to as the ‘Fear Doctrine’.
…umans do it all the time. They’re the experts. They’ve done it with political ideology, with religion, even with the color of their furless hides. It’s surprisingly easy and it works. In the end, the group you single out doesn’t eve...n matter.
Obviously we’re using unicorns. It’s an easy jump for ponies to assu… [a large torn section is missing]
…trick is to isolate ponies from their guilt. Give them an excuse to hate, a reason. Make them feel good about hate. Take away the target group’s uniqueness. Take away their humanity. Or equinity, I guess. It’s not ‘that unicorn down the street that helped me with my mail when I was on vacation’, it’s ‘another unicorn, just like all the others’. It’s so much easier to hate a monolithic group than an individual.
But one group won’t be enough. As time goes on, things change, and you’ll need a way to… [another section is missing]
…suggest leaning on current events. Find somepony to blame for…
…all sorts of examples. There’s so many different groups you can ‘other’. Just pick one that’s in the news, and make sure everypony hates them. You’ve always been great at shifting mass opinion from the shadows, I’m sure you’ll come up with…
…’ll be gone for a few decades, probably. If you’re not around when I get back, I’ll just say good luck. It’s been a true pleasure to work with you.
1113 AF, New Canterlot City
Steadfast Word hated being wrong.
It was a nasty sensation, a crawling feeling in his gut. He had miscalculated. He’d known it for weeks now. Months. The hurt, the shame and regret just wouldn’t go away. Until he fixed things, that is.
He stared down at the paper on his desk, a mostly blank piece of a dragon fire scroll. He held the quill in his hoof, pausing with naked potential over a page that contained only two words.
Dear Emberglow-
There was nothing more. He had no idea where to go next, or how he should even begin.
A sound came from his bed, a groggy sort of moan as Mercy Song shifted about under the covers of his king-sized bed. Steadfast tried not to sigh. It was morning, specifically the morning after a wonderful night. That meant she’d be devastated and guilty. He’d had the same conversation with her a hundred times the morning after, when she woke up in his bed. He was sure he’d have it again, this morning.
He heard her sit up and turned to look in time to see her back to him, her hooves wrapped around herself as she clutched the bedsheet around her naked form. He watched as Mercy deliberately kept her eyes from him as she ran a hoof through her emerald mane, and he had to keep himself from sighing again.
“Good morning,” he called out, and saw her whole body twitch. “Did you sleep well?”
“I did, thank you,” Mercy Song whispered. Her voice was mechanical and coolly polite. Every time they had this conversation, he longed for the sound of passion in her voice, the lustful need as they both sought comfort in each other’s bodies. It never happened after, only before, when the lust was so strong it overrode her guilt.
“Would you like breakfast?” he asked.
“No.” It was the same thing Mercy always said. She slid out of the covers and onto the floor, on the other side of the bed from him, keeping her back to him as usual. He couldn’t help himself; for a brief moment, he let his eyes linger on his sometimes-lover’s curved, athletic form, her sleek sky blue fur, the joined eighth notes of her cutie mark. It may be impolite to stare at a mare’s flank, but she was his…
… whatever they were for each other. They never talked about it.
“I would love for you to stay.”
“I can’t,” she shot back, barely giving him time to finish. “You know that.”
The shame of being wrong gnawed at him again. He hated the feeling, but nopony ever accomplished anything if they weren’t willing to use the resources at their disposal. And he had one resource here, right now, putting on her undergarments and robes and about to flee his chambers for several weeks, until her own desires overcame her guilt again and they’d fall back into bed together for another mistake.
“I could use your help.”
“You’re just trying to get me to stay,” she muttered. Finally she turned to look at him, and her eyes twinkled with just the slightest hint of amusement.
“True,” he admitted. He pointed at the letter he was working on. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t need your help anyways.”
“Working on your announcement?”
“No. Brushed Copper is handling that. I’m just supporting him.”
“As if nopony who knows anything doesn’t realize you’re pulling the strings, there.”
“Why not?” Steadfast shrugged. “I have this position. If I can’t use it to make positive change, then why did the Saints put me here?”
“So what are you working on then?”
He slid his chair back from his writing desk and gestured with a hoof again. “Come look.”
Mercy Song paused and eyed him, stopping in the act of pulling her robe over her head to shoot him a skeptical look. But curiosity won out, and she trotted over to the desk. When her eyes rested on the paper, she gasped.
“Emberglow? You’re writing to Emberglow?” Her gaze darted between him and the paper, face suffused with shock. “Steadfast, why? I’ve told you. She’s beyond our help.”
“That’s probably my fault,” Steadfast said. “I pushed her before…
“Probably?” Mercy scowled at him. “You ‘pushed’ her? Steadfast, you had her tortured. And then you sent Brightblade to bring her back! That’s not pushing, that’s…” She trailed off with a huff of frustration. “Idiocy.”
“I know. And you’re right. I miscalculated. And now I need to salvage the situation.”
“Salvage the situation?” Mercy gave a bitter laugh. “Steadfast, your relationship with Emberglow is over. She may have seen you as a mentor once, but you didn’t see the fear and disgust in her eyes when I mentioned your name. I don’t know if you can salvage that.”
“I have to try. Any advice?”
Mercy’s head tilted to the side, her tail swishing idly as she considered. “Apologies won’t mean horseapples. That’s not to say you shouldn’t apologize anyways. Maybe… tell her what you’re doing today?”
“You mean what Brushed Copper is doing today.”
“Fine,” she huffed again. “Tell her what Brushed Copper is doing today. What he wouldn’t be doing without your support. And approval. And manipulation at every single step of the way.” She shoved him gently with a hoof. “But don’t leave the page blank, silly. I’d find a less expensive piece of paper to start, though. Draft the letter a few times before you put it down on the dragon fire scroll.”
“I don’t draft letters,” Steadfast rolled his eyes in annoyance.
“Yes, you’re an arrogant fool who always gets things perfectly right the first time.” She was teasing, but it still burned. “Do it this time anyways, and I’ll look the letter over for you.”
“You mean… you’ll come back? Tonight?” He didn’t bother to keep the hope out of his voice. She looked at him with big, wet eyes, and finally nodded reluctantly.
“Yes. Yes, I’ll come back tonight.” Her voice was resigned. Steadfast wished she could sound at least a little happy about it. He wished there were anything he could say.
“It’s not doctrinal,” he muttered, and Mercy closed her eyes and shook her head. “Your oath. There’s no reason…” They’d had this conversation before too, a dozen times, and it still made him upset.
“Honesty is doctrinal,” she shot back. “Oath breaking is a sin, Steadfast. I…” she opened her mouth and stood there for a few breaths, before closing it quickly. “…I’ll see you tonight.” There was nothing more she could say. There was nothing more to say to her.
Steadfast waited silently as she picked up the last of her things, strewn about the floor in a moment of passion, before politely walking her to his door.
It took a lot of effort to keep a building full of spies from knowing about his affair. It helped that Steadfast, at least, had nothing to fear from their discovery. The Knights Mystic had no oath of chastity; they didn’t care who he was romping in the sheets with. Besides, he was the boss now. And perhaps it was petty, but Steadfast would make sure any of his Knights who tried to use their affair to hurt Mercy would end up regretting it for an awfully long time.
He stared at the paper before him for several more minutes before finally giving up with a sigh. He’d take Mercy’s advice. Of course he would, just like a drowning pony would reach for anything that might pull them out of the water. He’d really messed up with Emberglow, after all, and it was essential that he find a way to bridge the gap that he had created.
She was the Element of Honesty, after all.
Even after everything that had happened, the thought filled him with such pride, and he found himself grinning. Emberglow, his Emberglow, the mare he’d been meeting with, guiding, teaching, and standing beside for years now. He’d felt so betrayed when he was convinced she’d turned on him. But he’d turned on her. Of course she wouldn’t have betrayed him if he hadn’t betrayed her first.
“Today…” he whispered, looking at the two words he’d written on the page. “Today is for you, Emberglow.”
Of course it wasn’t just for her. Emberglow wasn’t the only shining light to be dimmed or snuffed out by stupidity and ignorance. But she was the pony who had finally forced his hoof, made him take the step he’d been thinking about doing for years now.
There was a knock on the door. Steadfast stood up from the desk in his private suite, moving out of the bedroom and into the small parlor, to the door that led to the rest of the residential complex. When he became the Grand Master of the Mystics, he could have gotten an estate somewhere outside of the city, some sort of manor house, but instead he’d simply asked for larger quarters in the same building he’d lived in for years.
The pony at the door was a servant, pushing a cart topped with a plate of fruit and a large, steaming mug of coffee. He was one of those employed by the Mystics to see to the needs of the Knights who lived in the building. Their service was a luxury, and one he’d reluctantly agreed to when he took this role. It was nice to have breakfast delivered, though.
“Thank you, Cufflink,” he said, and the servant smiled slightly to be called by name. Steadfast had always possessed a head for names and faces; he only needed to meet a pony once to remember them forever. He took the tray with the mug, closing the door behind him as the servant bowed in farewell. He carried breakfast into his room, setting it down on the writing desk as he pulled out another sheet of paper, this time a mundane sheet rather than the enchanted scroll he’d been looking at earlier. He idly picked up an apple with one hoof and began munching it as he wrote.
Dear Emberglow
Words cannot express how sorry I am that I…
No. That wouldn’t do. How sorry he was that he had her tortured? There was no way to make that sound sincere. He scratched out the line and started again.
I am so sorry for what I did. I was wrong. If I had realized…
Steadfast scratched the pen across the lines again, growling with frustration. If he’d what? If he’d known she was an Element, he would have treated her differently? That came off as horribly manipulative.
Steadfast was fairly certain she already thought him to be some sort of sociopath, a power-mad manipulator and tyrant. When she’d come to him, in Camp Borealis, he’d been taken by surprise, off guard. He’d improvised, and it came off wrong. And then, of course, in his anger he’d turned her over to Brightblade.
It was true, though. He was manipulative. He was power mad. The Saints had made him that way, had paved his path and set his hooves so that he could be the one to lead the Diarchy back to its true destiny. He realized other ponies couldn’t see what he saw, though, and he wished he’d realized what Emberglow was thinking before he let his anger take over. Before he reacted.
I have no excuse. What I did to you was a mistake.
A mistake? Steadfast flinched hard. It was a terrible word for what he’d done. Not that he would have done anything different, if it had been anypony else. But Emberglow…
Emberglow deserved more.
This time he only scratched out one word.
I have no excuse. What I did to you was a grave injustice.
Hmm. That was better. He kept writing.
I have known you since you were a young foal. You always had a bright, eager mind, ready to learn everything you could get your hooves on. It’s why I have so much respect and admiration for you.
Emberglow, I always intended to share with you everything we spoke about that dark day.
This was true. She was his… well, not his daughter. But he saw her as family. Steadfast had truly meant for her to be part of his plans, a central part. Perhaps even an heir, though that would have been easier if he had managed to convince her to join the Mystics instead of the Radiant. Then again, the very stubbornness that kept her eyes on that goal was one of the main qualities that made her valuable to him, and to the entire Diarchy.
No wonder she was the Element of Honesty. It was written that Lady Applejack had her own stubborn streak a mile wide.
I never meant for you to find out in the way you did. I was taken off guard, and I made some assumptions that were unfair to you and unworthy of me. I owe you an apology, though no mere words of mine will ever undo what I have done to you.
Mercy Song, your friend, has also informed me that by sending Brightblade to beg you to return, I almost certainly compounded my mistake.
That was true, though a bit of a euphemism. He still could hear Mercy’s lecture ringing in his ears, her unleashed fury as she told him of just how well Emberglow had reacted to Brightblade’s presence in Jubilation.
He flinched again. Brightblade was… slowly becoming a liability. In the beginning, when he’d first started keeping an eye on Hollybright’s brother, he was sure that the stories must be exaggerations. Surely, if one twin was a genius the other must have some hidden talents, too? And while Hollybright had seamlessly rebuffed all of his attempts to befriend and guide her, Brightblade had seemed like the perfect alternative.
But Brightblade had none of his sister’s genius, none of her creative thinking skills. Brightblade, he’d been forced to admit, was a brute. He was incapable of nuance, of lateral thinking, and as time passed he was letting more of his anger and his zealotry drive his every action. Once again, Steadfast felt the gnawing, crawling sensation of a miscalculation worming about in his belly. He never should have used Brightblade to get rid of the old Grand Master. Or Brightblade’s own sister.
I must beg you to return. I need you, Emberglow. The Diarchy needs you. Don’t let my failure damn us all. Something is coming. Something…
He scratched that last bit out. He couldn’t commit that to a letter. Not even one to Emberglow. He didn’t even know how much he could trust the voices in the Machine. The things inside wanted out, it was clear. But they were just as afraid of the things they were keeping out of the Diarchy.
Steadfast shuddered. He didn’t want to think about the Hall of the Machine right now. But he knew he’d have to go back soon. It had a draw.
Besides, that’s where he kept his most prized possession.
Steadfast shook his head. He had a letter to write. He glanced down at the page, his mind buzzing with thoughts of the voices in the Machine, of the growing problem of Brightblade, of just how much he missed his regular chats with Emberglow.
He already missed Mercy Song’s warmth, the feel of her lips on his.
Most of all he missed his Peridot.
* * * * *
Freshly showered, breakfast eaten, and a half-finished letter left alone on his writing desk, Steadfast finally abandoned his apartment for the fresh air on the way to the Starshine Memorial Building.
He struck a quick pace, heading for the main headquarters of the Knights Jubilant. The press conference wasn’t for another two hours, but if he knew Brushed Copper, the stallion would already be nervous.
It wasn’t long, though, before the other reason for Steadfast’s quick pace showed up. Steadfast tried not to roll his eyes as he saw Brightblade waiting for him, standing as if at attention just across the street from the door to his apartment building. Without saying a word, Brightblade trotted up alongside him, just a few hoofsteps back. Like his own personal shadow.
A shadow Steadfast sometimes wished he could get rid of.
“Everything is ready for your press conference, sir?” Brightblade asked. There was a vein of disgust in his voice. Steadfast refused to react to it.
“It’s not my press conference. It’s Brushed Copper and the Knights Jubilant today.”
“And you could do nothing to stop it?” Brightblade whispered, whipping his head back and forth. The street had a few ponies moving about their business, but nopony was glancing their way, or even paying any real attention to what they were saying.
“No. Why would I? I approve. As you well know, Brightblade.” They’d had this conversation before. Almost every day. “Why are you here?” He flinched as soon as he said it; his foul mood from this morning was making him rude.
“Just… trying to understand, sir.” Brightblade muttered. “Why we have to go through this farce.”
“Because something terrible is coming,” Steadfast said. He glanced to the north, where the Starshine Building loomed over the surrounding structures a few blocks away. He couldn’t help but think about what was hidden beneath it. “And we need to be focused on the things that matter. Not on petty sins. Or vendettas.”
This was also another topic they’d spoken of before, and Brightblade froze in his tracks. Steadfast glanced back at him. He was trembling with rage, his jaw clenched tight. For perhaps the hundredth time, he wondered how hard it would be to send Brightblade away.
It wasn’t practical. It wasn’t possible. Brightblade had to be kept close. All because Steadfast had been impatient.
For the upteenth time, he felt the crawling burn of his own mistakes deep in his stomach. At the time, it had felt so necessary. Hollybright had begun looking too closely. The voices from the Machine had been urgent. Insistent. Now was the time. Now was his chance.
Maybe so. But now he had to deal with Brightblade.
“Do you have any more news from the Northern Empire?” Steadfast asked. He needed to change the subject. He saw Brightblade take a deep breath and then resume his pace.
“You know paperwork was never my strong suit. I need to be out in the field. Find a way to send me there, and I’ll have more for you.”
“You know the Empire won’t allow a Mystic.”
“Then lean on their embassy here!” Brightblade tossed his head angrily. “You have leverage. You know the ambassador helped those fugitives escape. The Tale scion, and his foal.”
Steadfast cringed. More crawling in his belly. That had been another mistake. He should have kept a much closer eye on the Tale stallion, especially since he had a connection to Emberglow. The news that his grandfather had been the one to help Emberglow find him had come too late.
“So what would you have me do?” Steadfast mused. He didn’t want to have this conversation. He’d tried before to lead Brightblade in his thinking, but it was often a lost cause. “Arrest the ambassador?”
“Of course!” Brightblade demanded obliviously. “Those heathens have to learn that they’re here on our grace. They can’t just come in, help fugitives escape, and not expect any consequences!”
Steadfast closed his eyes and slowly counted to ten. “Brightblade. Do not worry. The heathens will see justice for their actions. But we can’t act to that end right now.”
“Why not?”
“The latest intelligence from our Embassy puts Emberglow in the Northern Empire. If she’s not there now, she will be soon.” He watched as a storm of fury and bloodlust slid over Brightblade’s face. “We need our own embassy to stay open. We’ll need a line of open communication if there’s going to be any chance of returning the Element of Honesty to the Diarchy, where it belongs.”
He knew that was a bit of a low blow, and Brightblade reacted predictably. The younger Knight hung his head in shame. “I failed you again.”
“Perhaps.” Steadfast wanted to grind it in. Of course the incompetent fool had failed him again. Steadfast never should have drawn Brightblade into his circle, made him one of ‘his’ ponies. But hindsight was much clearer, and he still needed Brightblade. “I have a new task for you, my friend.” Something to keep him busy.
“Whatever you need.”
“I need you working with Joyful Sound, in Research.” It would keep him out of the way, and it might lead to something. “Weapons development.”
“You know I’m not the best at spellwork, sir.”
Steadfast lowered his voice. “This is more than normal spellwork, Brightblade. The fate of the nation may be at stake.” That wasn’t an exaggeration.. The writings of wise Tirek, the Machine’s creator, hinted at what might come if the Machine ever failed. “Joy needs an assistant, a facilitator. Somepony who can work with her and get her what she needs.” He stopped and turned to Brightblade, looking him in the eye. “I need some of my best ponies looking for ways to fight against the Northern Empire’s princess. What little we have on her suggests she might be a frightful opponent.”
Tirek’s writings on alicorns were incomplete and fragmented. But he was clear about one thing: if the alicorns returned to Equestria, it would mean the end of the Diarchy. And Steadfast would not allow his home to be destroyed at the hooves of some mutant monstrosity.
“We need a way to fight back, if she decides to take the field against us. Can you accept being placed under Joy’s command, testing any weapons she creates with your combat skills?”
“Whatever I can do for you, sir.” He seemed less enthusiastic this time. But Steadfast knew he’d obey.
Steadfast tried not to think of the Knights he’d collected as his supporters as ‘his’. But he still couldn’t help it. And Brightblade was more ‘his’ than anypony else. He was Steadfast’s most loyal ally, despite his flaws.
“Report to Joy this afternoon. She’s set up in an auxiliary office right next to Storeroom Twelve.” High ranking Mystics knew what Storeroom Twelve meant. Brightblade shivered a little but nodded. “I’ll expect good progress from the two of you.”
* * * * *
The atrium of the Jubilant headquarters was abuzz with reporters, pink-robed Knights Jubilant, and curious civilians. The crowd parted respectfully before Steadfast as he made his way to the podium, where several Jubilants and a few civilian workers were setting up chairs, arranging a podium, and even setting out glasses and pitchers of water. That was a little surprising; it implied there would be a question-and-answer session. Brushed Copper had been nervous about that aspect, but it looked like he was moving forward with it anyways. It made Steadfast proud.
Above the stage spread a large banner that read ‘Time of Renewal’. It was Steadfast’s idea, but one he’d cleverly managed to introduce through ‘his’ ponies. He’d never wanted everything to come from him, after all. And the Diarchy needed a renewal of faith, a renewal of dedication, a renewal of duty and righteousness.
He walked up on stage, and hailed a Jubilant he didn’t recognize, a mare who looked so young she should probably still be in Seminary. “Excuse me, miss? Could you tell me where I can find Sir Copper?”
“Sir Copper?” The girl was focused on plugging in some wires for the radio microphones. “He’s…” she finally looked up, and her eyes widened. She gulped. “Sorry, s-sir! He’s back in his office. I heard something about relaxation routines? I can show you if you like.”
“I know the way, young lady,” Steadfast said. “Thank you.”
The hallways were just as packed as the atrium, though once again ponies recognized his face. He’d been in the newspapers a few times, recently, and it was starting to show. People knew who he was, what he was, just by looking at him. It afforded an unexpected bit of influence, and one that he would use as much as possible.
There was so much at stake, after all. Why not use every available resource?
He’d been to Brushed Copper’s office quite a bit, recently, as they prepared for this press conference. He was well used to the meticulously organized space, so when he slid the door open without knocking the abject chaos inside caught him by surprise. There were papers everywhere: on the floor, spread out on the chairs, and even a few that had somehow gotten caught on one of the light fixtures. The dark-furred stallion himself sat facedown on the desk. His long ponytail was falling apart, with strands of copper colored mane sticking out in all directions. Steadfast could hear him hyperventilating.
“Copper? Everything—?”
“Sir Steadfast!” Copper’s head shot up, sending a few more papers fluttering to the floor in his haste. “I’m glad you came!” His eyes were bloodshot, but his smile was genuine.
“Of course I was going to come, silly,” Steadfast carefully stepped between discarded sheets, trying not to trample Copper’s notes.
“Yeah, but you came early, sir.” Copper quickly shot out of his chair and rushed over, wrapping Steadfast in a hug. “How’d you know I needed it?”
“You’ve been a nervous wreck for weeks, Copper,” Steadfast laughed, patting him on the back. It was the strangest thing. He’d known Copper since the stallion was in the Ivy Seminary, back when Steadfast taught there briefly. He always seemed to be on the knife’s edge of crumbling under pressure, but nevertheless always performed when necessary. It was one of the reasons Steadfast had taken Copper under his influence. “You’re always a nervous wreck right before something big. You never sleep before you preach a sermon, you always used to practically melt down right before a test at the Seminary, and you’ve practically exploded your office now.”
“You’re right. I am a mess.”
“You’ll do fine. I just stopped by to remind you of that. We’ve prepared for this for months, Copper.”
“Yeah. Everything’s going to change, after this.” Copper breathed deep, his eyes hazy and distant. Steadfast pursed his lips.
“Not everything, young stallion.” He felt compelled to put in a reminder. “Just because certain things won’t be in focus any longer doesn’t mean they’re not sinful.”
“I know that,” Copper’s face flushed. His eyes met Steadfast’s. “You and I are going to have to disagree on that, though. I know how the Saints made me. And they don’t make mistakes.”
Steadfast had to agree with that much, at least, even though the rest of it was probably not true. In the end, though, it hardly mattered. It was time for the Diarchy and the Knights to start focusing on what really mattered, not petty infractions.
“Well.” He stepped back from his companion’s hug. “Is there anything you need before you start?”
“Honestly?” Copper laughed. “Just this. A visit from an old friend.” He took a few deep breaths. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine. It’s the question-and-answer section that’s got me completely flustered, but I’ll be fine.” He gave a nervous laugh. “As long as I keep telling myself that, right?”
“I’ll be in the audience, Copper,” Steadfast reached out and patted him on the shoulder. “If it starts to get too much, just find me in the crowd, and meet my eyes. I don’t know if I can give you my confidence, but I’ll do my best.”
“Of course. Thank you, Steadfast.”
Steadfast bid his farewells and made his way back down to the atrium, thinking. Copper might have thought he needed Steadfast’s reassurances, but Steadfast wasn’t so sure. He imagined even if he hadn’t shown up, Copper would have done just fine. The Knight was on the fast track for leadership in the Jubilant, and Steadfast wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. Today’s press conference would make him even more of a celebrity.
And if Steadfast got lucky? Someday he might be able to claim two other Grand Masters as ponies under his influence, rather than just one.
The preparations were starting to wind down, and a few ponies were finding their seats, so Steadfast did just what he said he’d do and found a spot near the center. For a few moments, he closed his eyes and let his mind drift as he thought some more about what he’d write in his letter to Emberglow.
If he was honest, today was as much for her as it was for his friend Brushed Copper.
“Is this seat taken?”
The voice, familiar and unwelcome, jerked him from his meditation. He opened his eyes and forced himself into a polite smile.
“Grand Master Fairy Light. What a pleasant surprise. I admit, I didn’t expect you here today.”
He met the eyes of one of his oldest and most inscrutable antagonists. Grand Master Fairy Light was just a few years older than himself, though she’d aged with grace. Her pixie pink hair was streaked with just a few strands of grey, and it spilled artfully over powder blue fur and immaculate white robes. She fluttered her wings just a bit as she moved to sit in the seat next to him.
“Of course I came, Steadfast. Wouldn’t miss it. I was told this press conference was going to change the world.” She laughed, as if she didn’t believe it. “Seems a little dramatic, if you ask me, but then again, the last few weeks have been full of world-changing announcements, so why not this one?”
“I’m sure you won’t be disappointed.”
“Of course you would know what’s going on,” Fairy said, not looking at him. Inwardly he rankled. What was her goal, here? “From the rumors I’ve heard, you’ve been shut away with Sir Copper for weeks now sorting out whatever this is. Makes me wonder what’s important enough for the Mystics to be involved, but not important enough for you to take your share of the credit.”
Steadfast fought the urge to sigh. Speaking with Fairy Light was always frustrating; a mix of blunt statements tossed casually into the open, followed by subtle digs for information. Of all the ponies he knew, the pegasus who led the Knights Radiant was the hardest to read.
“Copper simply needed some help ensuring that his coming announcement was doctrinally sound,” he said. “Nothing for me to take credit for, really.”
“Hmm.” Fairy Light tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Interesting that a Knight Jubilant would go to the Grand Master of the Mystics for doctrinal questions. Especially seeing as how that’s their purview. And I may be wrong, but Brushed Copper is fairly highly ranked. It’s just curious to me that he’d even need your help. The Orders are supposed to be autonomous, after all.”
“I was just doing a favor for an old friend, is all.”
“Of course. And you’re always such a dear about it, too.” She reached down and patted him on the knee with one hoof. “Oh!” her eyes snapped open, as if surprised. “Speaking of old friends. Have you heard from Emberglow recently?”
Steadfast nearly choked. He didn’t want to talk about Emberglow. Officially, she was still missing in action. Publicly declaring her a heretic would have problematic consequences when he did finally manage to bring her back to New Canterlot City, where she belonged. It was why her parents were still safely living their lives instead of squirreled away in one of his black sites.
“Why do you ask? She’s your Knight.” Answer a question with a question. Clumsy, but it often worked.
“No reason,” Fairy shrugged. “I only met her the once, shortly after she was Knighted and before she got whisked away to help Delver Deep hunt pirates.” She sighed. “What a waste. That stallion will be missed. He died on the same mission that Emberglow disappeared, right?” He stayed silent. “Tell me, Steadfast. Did you ever find the Element of Harmony you were looking for? Either there or along the griffon border?”
This time it took all of Steadfast’s willpower not to react to her jab. He kept his eyes fixed on the ponies scurrying about the stage, behind the podium, taking a few short breaths to calm himself and gather his thoughts. How in all the holy bucking Saints did she know what he was looking for? And why would she reveal it just like that? Did she have spies in his own organization?
Briefly he considered Mercy Song. Could she have…
But no. She had everything to lose from their relationship, while he had nothing. She wouldn’t betray him to Fairy Light. Besides, she had no idea what he’d been up to at the griffon border, or what he’d eventually found up there. Or rather, what he hadn’t found.
Steadfast still burned with fury that a damned griffon, dead for a thousand years, had gotten one over on him. Hey idiots. I never had it. That’s what the stone tablet had said, the one laid to rest on top of the dust that was all that remained of the legendary creature.
“We didn’t, actually.” He briefly considered denial, but that would have been immature at this point. Fairy knew more than she should, and he wouldn’t waste either of their time by pretending otherwise. He’d just have to discover how she found out. “Their locations still elude us.”
“Surely not all of them, though?” Fairy Light’s voice was innocent, and again Steadfast had to wonder what her angle was. “It strains disbelief that after a thousand years, we don’t know the location of a single Element of Harmony. It’s as if they really are ephemera, figments of myth and imagination.”
“You don’t believe that, do you?” Steadfast scoffed.
Fairy Light laughed. “Of course I don’t. But it makes more sense for them to be legends then for us to have not found any of them at all. Or for us to have had them once, then lost them.”
By the Saints, how is she doing this?
Mercy didn’t know that part, that he’d been in possession of the Element of Honesty before it had been stolen by Rarity and then passed over to Emberglow. There was at least a small part of him that was pleased at the evidence that Mercy Song wasn’t the leak in his organization.
“I can assure you, Lady Fairy Light, that the Elements are truly real. To believe otherwise would be to suggest that the Book of the Saints is inaccurate.”
“I would never.” Fairy Light gave out a scornful laugh. “The very idea is ridiculous. Why, do you know, the other day I heard the strangest rumor. That Saint Rarity herself was a unicorn, not an earth pony. Of course, you Mystics are probably well aware of those sorts of unlikely words.”
She was fishing for something, and he’d be damned if he could figure out what. If it were anypony but the Grand Master of one of the other Orders, he would be arranging to have her picked up for questioning by now. But there were protocols for arresting the head of another Order, even an order as small as the Radiants.
For the merest second, he considered the same solution he had applied with Hollybright, and with Nickelplate. But he dismissed the idea. There was already heat on him for that, from his own Order. The rumors were still going strong, despite all attempts to discredit them. Besides, he didn’t have any truly highly placed Radiants among his circle of ponies; Mercy Song was the highest, and she was only a Knight Captain.
Suddenly he realized she was staring at him, expecting some sort of response while he’d been considering. Steadfast tried to assemble her last sentence in his mind, silently cursing himself for not paying attention. While verbally sparring with Fairy Light, one had to stay on one’s hooves.
He should have known better.
“Lady Fairy Light, can we cut through the subterfuge? You can just ask what you’d like to know.”
There was a merest hint of a smile on her muzzle, the tiniest upturning of amusement as he realized he’d gotten impatient, and she’d won. At least she thought she had.
“Very well, Sir Steadfast. I want to know where Emberglow is. I think you know. And I think you’ve chosen not to tell me, for some reason.”
“Are you going to share why this is so important to you?” Steadfast shot back.
“All of my Knights are important, Sir Steadfast. There’s so few of them, after all.”
It was a non-answer, but it was all he was going to get. It looked like the press conference was nearly ready to start, and he silently reveled in the interruption to their conversation.
A wizened earth pony mare, Lady Diamond Dot, took the podium. She was Brushed Copper’s immediate superior, and according to the grapevine, would soon be retiring and recommending Copper for her position as the Confessor General. One of the highest in the entire order. She held up her robed hoof for a moment, and Steadfast noticed the gauntlet attached. The buzz of the crowd muted to a soft hum as Dot began to cast a voice-amplification spell, centered on the podium itself. It was a clever move; the spell would amplify the speaker’s voice beyond the podium, but wouldn’t interfere with the radio recording microphones set up at the podium itself.
“Attention, everypony. Please settle down, the press conference is about to start.” Despite Dot’s advanced age, her voice was still strong and commanding, and it took only a few seconds for everypony to find their seats. She waited for the crowd to still while she watched over them all with a patient smile, much like a grandmother waiting for her unruly foals to calm down so she could tell them a story.
“Thank you all for coming today. As you know, the Diarchy has entered into an unprecedented era of both turmoil and opportunity.” There was a frantic scribbling noise as dozens of reporters’ quills began to write away. “Our enemies are restless at our borders, and hostile weather threatens our northernmost towns and cities. Meanwhile, diplomatic victories, such as the opening of an embassy in the Northern Empire and promising trade negotiations with Jubilation show the hooves of the Saints in all we do.”
Steadfast had to squint to avoid rolling his eyes. The Northern Embassy, a victory? He’d thought so, at first, before spending more than ten minutes talking to Ambassador Ruby Blade. The crystal ponies weren’t dumb; they’d agreed to the embassy for the same reason he’d pushed for it. The whole point had been a thin excuse to get a group of ponies into the Empire, to begin enacting his plans there. He was sure Ruby Blade, or the mysterious Princess Flurry Heart who pulled his puppet strings, was thinking the same thing.
If it weren’t for the fact that one of his ponies, Turquoise, would be put in danger if he did so, Steadfast would have placed the entire Embassy under arrest for heresy ages ago. No, that little nest of vipers would have to wait until Turquoise and her team could accomplish all he needed them to. Then they could bring down the heathens in their mix.
Steadfast had drifted off into his own thoughts, he realized, and Diamond Dot was just wrapping up her introductory speech, stepping down from the podium as Brushed Copper walked up. At first, when he stood, it looked like he was shaking just a bit, but as he reached the podium he locked eyes with Steadfast and his step became confident.
“Good morning. Thank you all for coming today. My name is Brushed Copper, and I am the director of the Knights Jubilant half of the ‘Time of Renewal’ campaign. We called this press conference in order to advance a very radical change in how we approach doctrine, and how we view doctrine over time.
“I have been working closely with our counterparts in the Knights Mystic to understand one of the most brutal and unstudied moments in Diarchy history; a time period known as the Great Want. For years, documents, stories, and accounts of the Great Want have been hidden from the general public. Many Mystics of the past determined that these truths were too difficult for some of our little ponies. But with the support and permission of Grand Master Steadfast Word of the Knights Mystic, and my own Grand Master, we believe that the time has come for ponies to learn about the struggles of their ancestors, so they can hopefully gain strength and insight into today’s problems.”
“Isn’t this interesting,” Fairy Light muttered from beside Steadfast. He glanced over at her, trying to read her expression, but there was nothing more than an intense stare at the stage. He burned with curiosity. What was she thinking?
“The Great Want was a time of much difficulty, where pony kind nearly became extinct. It was a time of famine and drought, of natural disasters and illness. We lost much of the progress made during the time of the Saints, and the Diarchy very nearly didn’t survive. For nearly fifteen decades we struggled and toiled, and finally overcame this great trial of our faith.
“The Great Want taught us many things. It taught us how to come together, how to refocus our dedication to survive a greater threat. There were ideas and laws put into place to guide the ponies through this time of disaster, ideas that may not be as relevant to our current difficulties. As such, the Jubilants, along with the Mystics and a select team of Vigilants, have taken a hard look at some of our practices and policies, deciding which need to be strengthened and shored up, and what policies can maybe be cast aside as distracting and perhaps outdated.”
Steadfast was proud of the way Copper had worded everything. To his right, Fairy Light had a small, smug little smile on her face; the grin of somepony who knew more than she was letting on. So Copper’s little dance around the issue wasn’t fooling her. He wondered how many others in the crowd were picking up on the subtext.
“Our Jubilant theologians have determined that many of the struggles we face now are a result of dwindling faith and failing dedication to the Saints. So these changes will reflect our desire to help ponies get their lives right with the Saints, in the ways that matter most. We wish to refocus our loyalty towards the Diarchy, to encourage ponies to give generously and honestly of their time, talents, and resources to the cause of the Saints. Our kindness will flow out to all nations with our renewed strength, and soon our rededicated faith will fill the world with joy.
“Each member of the press today will be provided with a summary of the changes being made to law enforcement and to the Confessional process. Certain sins, such as disloyalty, speaking ill of the Knights or Confessors, or promoting heresy, will see renewed, harsher attention, while other sins regarding personal behavior will be less of a focus. Keep in mind that this ‘refocusing’ doesn’t mean sin will stop being sin. It does mean, however, that the Knights and the Confessors will be approaching them differently.”
“Good for you,” Fairy Light whispered, her eyes on Copper. She grinned as she looked at Steadfast. “Did you know that boy came to me once, back when I taught him at the Seminary, and asked if his condition could be cured?”
Again. Again she was teasing him with information he didn’t understand how she could possibly know. What was her angle?
“A new shifting of our resources, though, will allow the Mystics to further purge the stains of heresy and weakness from our citizens. It will allow Confessors and Knights Jubilant to work on improving loyalty and devotion within our communities. It will allow all of our Knights to strengthen our borders against the threats of the dragons and the griffons. It will give us a needed morale boost in this time of trouble.
“Now. As I said earlier, I have provided each member of the press with a document that details specific changes being made in policy. I can tell that many of you have questions, but most of those questions are answered in your paperwork. Take a moment to go over your papers, and then I will be happy to answer whatever additional questions you may have. Up here on the podium with me are Lady Diamond Dot, head of the Confessor General’s office, Sir Hexagon of the Enforcement Division of the Knights Vigilant, and Lady Mirabelle of the Knights Mystic. They have all been instrumental in making today happen and are here to help me fill in any missing information.”
The questions began almost immediately, but Steadfast tuned them out. He was much more interested in the mare beside him.
“I must say, it’s rather wonderful to see some inter-Order cooperation going on,” Fairy Light said. “After years of bickering and politicking, I’m sure this is making the Saints smile.”
The compliment came with no hint of a hidden barb, so Steadfast tried not to look confused. “That was part of the goal of today. I thought you were above that, though. I haven’t sat on the Council of Five for long, but you always seem to manage to keep you and yours out of petty political squabbles.”
“I can still mourn the disharmony,” Fairy Light said. “This is a good thing you bring to the Diarchy today, Steadfast.” This time he didn’t try to argue and pretend it wasn’t him, that it was Brushed Copper instead. She smiled at his silence.
“Thank you.” She sounded sincere, which left him even more confused than before. It was time to change tactics.
“What do you really want, Lady Fairy?” Steadfast asked bluntly. Her smile widened with victory.
“I told you before, Sir Steadfast. I want to know where my Knight is. Nothing more than that.”
Steadfast considered for a moment. It may be time to throw her a bone. “The last time one of my Mystics saw her was in Jubilation. And she’d painted yellow stripes on the shoulder of her armor.”
“You lie!” Fairly Light suddenly hissed, fury twisting her face. Steadfast recoiled.
“Not at all, Lady Fairy Light,” he said stiffly. “I shouldn’t have even told you that much, but I thought perhaps it to be a professional courtesy. But now I must ask, why are you so certain that Emberglow could not have joined the heretics?”
Fairy Light stood up, breathing hard, as a mask of neutrality slid over her face until all the fury was buried in her eyes. “I’m sure you would have dug out all my secrets by now, Sir Steadfast. But if you must know: Emberglow will play a role in the Day of Hope. It has been prophesied. The Discordant will return to the fold and become the Angelic again, at the hooves of Saint Rarity and her daughters.”
“The Day of Hope is a myth. Pure vanity,” Steadfast said bluntly. “I don’t care what that oracle of yours told you.”
“Don’t be so faithless, Sir Steadfast,” Fairy Light sniffed, and trotted away, ignoring the reporters and more junior Knights in the audience that had to hustle out of her way.
* * * * *
The conversation with Fairy Light had killed Steadfast’s good mood. He had informants in the Radiant, of course. Mercy Song for one, though she was not highly placed. There were servants as well. And lastly, the Shrine of the Generous in Old Canterlot was usually only occupied by a couple of Radiants at a time. If he truly wished, he could easily sneak one of his agents into that basement of theirs. But what was the point? The oracle only spoke to Radiants and their squires for some reason. Mystic Grand Masters in the past had tried what he was now considering, to no effect.
The loss of his mood also heralded the loss of his appetite. He skipped lunch, instead opting to head for the Starshine building. Fairy Light’s last words echoed in his head.
Don’t be so faithless, Sir Steadfast.
It was a condemnation, and it pounded into him. He wasn’t faithless, he knew that. It had been ages since he was a literal believer, like Brightblade was, but he knew he was stronger for it. More… steadfast. The Knights needed some ponies like Brightblade, rocks who refused to even consider alternative beliefs. But it needed to be led by ponies like him. Ponies of nuance and shades of grey. Ponies who understood that sometimes, things were complicated. Sometimes you had to prioritize. Sometimes, you had to make a deal with a devil. Sometimes you had to refocus, like Copper had said in his speech.
He needed to go to the basement again. He needed to sit at the hoof of The Machine.
It wasn’t comfortable. It wasn’t relaxing. It was, in fact, terrifying. But it always served to remind him of what he was doing, and why.
The entry hall of the Starshine building was full of reporters and Knights. Apparently the press conference today had created quite a bit of a buzz, and curious ponies were not content to just read the list Copper had provided. Several of them noticed him approach, and dashed over, eagerly brandishing quills and notepads.
“Sir Steadfast, what do you think about the press conference Sir Copper held today?”
“Sir Steadfast, does this mean that homosexuality is being decriminalized?”
“Sir Steadfast, what about relations with other races?”
“Sir Steadfast…”
“Sir Steadfast! A moment!”
Flashbulbs were going off, filling his vision with spots. He resisted the urge to hold a hoof in front of his eyes, and instead stood his ground for a few moments, silently waiting on them to stop jabbering their questions. It took longer than he would have thought.
“The Knights Mystic fully support our brothers and sisters of the Knights Jubilant. Sir Copper, Lady Diamond Dot, and Grand Master Layer Cake all have my complete confidence. As you all know, the Knight Orders are autonomous. None of them need to seek my permission to accomplish their duties.” Oh, but if they did…
“In this matter, Sir Copper and his team had the support of several of my best Knights. He kept me informed of his progress, and of his plans. For any further questions, you’ll have to ask him.” He was surrounded by reporters, but as he boldly stepped forward they had to part before him or be trampled. None of them chose the latter. He made his way to the elevator, where a Mystic in armor held back the gaggle of reporters with a baleful gaze and a tightened grip on his spear. He saluted Steadfast as he passed.
The elevator doors slid shut, and Steadfast reached into his robes to retrieve a small key. A hidden latch behind the panel that held the floor buttons slid aside at the touch of his hoof, revealing a single key hole. He slipped his key inside and turned it, and the elevator rumbled to life and began sliding down.
The trip down to the Mystics’ classified vault was always intimidating. Even years later, Steadfast felt the invisible pressure of the walls, the way the light faded almost imperceptibly as the elevator car slipped under the earth, with only the pale light of a single bulb in an iron grate above him.
The door opened, and he stepped out into the landing. The classified archives were a place of austere functional practicality. There were no adornments or pictures on the grey cinderblock walls. A single guard station sat at the bottom of the elevator. The Knight inside didn’t even have enough security clearance to go any further than his small cubicle.
“Sir Comet Flare, any news?” he asked the armored earth pony sitting inside the guard station. The guard saluted.
“Nothing to report, Grand Master, sir!”
“Who’s on the floor right now?”
“Lady Joyful Sound in her office, and Lady Paperclip in the archives, sir!”
“Thank you, Flare.” It didn’t really matter if ponies knew how often he visited the Hall of the Machine, but he didn’t like too many ponies knowing just how much time he spent down here. He waved to the guard, and moved down the grey passageway towards the Hall.
On the way, he glanced at the door to Joyful Sound’s temporary office. He realized he should probably stop and apologize for dumping Brightblade on her. But the ominous steel doors, closed and locked at the end of the hallway, beckoned him. He’d stop in later.
Each hoofstep brought a sense of dread. This walk wasn’t for the weak. Most Mystics never even set hoof in this hallway, and never even laid eyes on the door. Only the highest ranked (and now, select ponies Steadfast knew he could trust) ever made it this far. He approached the door and reached out a hoof to brush across the iron surface.
At his touch, the powerful magic permanently etched into the door flared to life. Glowing orange runes covered the surface. When he’d first taken the rank of High Inquisitor, Steadfast had tried to study the runes. He didn’t even know what half of them did. The half he did know terrified him. The combination was the strongest form of warding and shielding magic known to ponykind. And even so…
…the whispers were already leaking into his head.
He pressed the runes on the door that his mentor had shown him decades ago. Press the wrong ones, or in the wrong order, and he’d be waking up a week from now in the hospital, with the brain capacity of a squirrel. But by now it was old news for him. Every rune he pressed turned white, until the correct sequence of ten was shining upon the door. Then he hurriedly reached out and grasped the handle, pulling the door open. The disengage sequence would only last a few seconds, after all.
Pulling the door open brought a rush of freezing cold air. The Hall of the Machine was always uncomfortably cold, but recently it had started to get worse. He regretted not dressing more warmly than just his robes, but that might have raised questions. He slipped inside, ignoring the sinister voices already crawling their way into his ears.
…rip and tear, rend the flesh, eat the bones, crush the eyeballs between the…
…hate is the light in the darkness hate is the star at night hate is the cold warmth that fills gut…
…Steadfast Word is back he’s back free us let us loose we will rend your enemies and grind them into…
…freeze the flesh from his bones and scrape the knife against…
It was almost always nonsense. He usually tuned it out, but sometimes there were crumbs of truth. He didn’t trust the voices. He never could. But they knew something. No matter how insane, sometimes he felt like he could almost talk to them.
The Machine filled the room with its baleful monstrosity. Steadfast stepped out onto the balcony that overlooked the mass of steel ribbons and hoof-thick wires that spanned between the two parts of the Machine. There was a steel orb, wide enough to fit a dozen ponies inside, or more. The steel ribbons wrapped around it and suspended it from bolts driven into the walls. Even a thousand years later, the black metal had never rusted, and the orb was still as shiny and reflective as it had been when the first Mystics had begun studying it.
He tried not to get close to the orb any longer. The first time he had, he could have sworn he could see, behind his own reflection, the rage-twisted faces of screaming ponies, with clenched maws full of jagged, icicle-like fangs.
The orb floated over the other part of the Machine; a hexagonal ring of black crystal, set into the floor far below the balcony. Six stone plinths, set at each corner of the ring, held it a few hoof lengths above the floor. Both the ring and the orb above it shimmered with silvery blue runes.
Steadfast gave one last glance at the door behind him, making sure it was closed. He didn’t want anypony accidentally wandering in. Not that there were tons of ponies down here, of course. After that, he began a slow, methodical walk down the spiral staircase that led from the balcony to the floor below.
Steadfast is here, Steadfast is here, tear out his mane and rip through his torso, so much warmth to spill and suck…
Did you kill them all, yet? Like you killed Hollybright, and Nickelplate, and Peridot, and…
Blood on your hooves blood on the floor blood on your clothes blood in your mouth in your stomach…
The worst part was, he couldn’t ever tune them out completely. Because sometimes they had good advice. Like the time they’d directed him to a forgotten box, buried deep in the secret archives. A box where he’d found two gems. One shaped like an orange, and the other like a six-pointed star.
Come learn at our hooves, pupil, and we will rend this country together from north to south, from the eastern sea to the western shores…
You are weak and flawed, you can never survive.
They are always watching you they know they see your guilt your shame your sin your blood kill them before they can…
Each step down the staircase was agony. The steel was so cold he could feel the pain through the keratin of his hooves. But he was strong enough. He could endure. He was Steadfast.
The floor on the bottom was made of tile and did a much better job of insulating the cold. Still, Steadfast was shivering almost uncontrollably when he stepped off the final rung of the stairs. Ahead stood the ring itself, and at the foot of it was a small pillow, complete with a stack of books and a quill case.
As far as he knew, nopony else came down here. He’d never seen any evidence of his little study area being tampered with by others. But still, one couldn’t be too careful. It helped that most everypony else who knew about the secret he’d found was dead.
He sat down on the pillow and pulled the top book off of the stack. It was a copy, one he’d made in his own hoofwriting a decade ago. The original was sealed away in the archives itself, too fragile to be taken into the Hall of the Machine. But he felt like he got more insight reading Creator Tirek’s words here than in a stuffy library. It was Tirek who built the machine, after all. For perhaps the thousandth time, Steadfast wished he knew more about the mysterious pony who had dedicated his life to constructing the technology that kept the Diarchy safe: their rune gauntlets, the divine alchemy that created Knights, their enchanted armor. And of course, the Machine itself.
He cracked open his book to the same section he read every time he came down here. It was worth reminding himself. Everything he did, every plot, every maneuver, every conversation, came down to this one goal.
The Machine is the last defense we have against the Alicorns, he read. In his mind, he wasn’t seeing his own hoofwriting, but rather the precise, almost mechanical script of the legendary inventor. When it fails (and someday it will fail, because nothing lasts forever) it is likely the Diarchy will fall with it. The creatures that power it hate us, and the Alicorns will stop at nothing to tear down everything I have built. Everything I have struggled and fought for these long years.
To whoever reads this after I am gone, be it Cozy’s successors or Adagio: nothing we can do can stop the prisoners from eventually breaking loose. We will be under threat from outside and from within. All we can do is prepare. Unity is the only defense against either.
He’d memorized the words, but reading them had a way of cutting through the chill. Tirek had foreseen the impending disaster. But he had also seen a path through, a ray of hope. Unity. Faith. Dedication.
And you will be the one to bring it. Gather all the prey together so we may feast.
“No,” Steadfast whispered, clutching Tirek’s words close to his chest. “We will defeat you. And the alicorns. And whatever else stands in the path of our destiny.”
Behind his stack of books was a small sewn sack, full of paperweights. One of the earliest things Steadfast had learned was that when you wanted to hide something important, you hid it in plain sight. He pulled out the sack and spilled the paperweights onto the floor. There was a small snowglobe with a pegasus ballerina, a small pewter figurine of a sailing ship, a lacquered piece of weighted driftwood, and a lump of uncut purple crystal. He picked up the last, staring at it, clutching it with his hooves.
He’d long ago given up trying to will the crystal to do something. It had only reacted to his touch once, when he’d first found it. That’s when it had changed from a six-pointed star to the lump he now held in his hooves. It’s when he’d seen a vision of Saint Twilight, a mere flicker of an instant, but he was sure.
It is also when, for the briefest second, he’d thought it had started to take the form of his own cutie mark, before it had melted into the lumpen form it held now.
“We’ll throw you back to whatever Tartarus you came from,” he said to the voices, to the mysterious alicorns, and to anything listening. “Once I get the rest of the Elements at my side, nothing will stop me. I swear it by my Knighthood, and by the Element I bear.”
In his hooves, the Element of Magic remained quiet.
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Oh my, so many revelations.
Those whispers really like cold, hate and sucking warmth from others, don't they? Something tells me that they're Windigoes
Aight, a Steadfast Word chapter. That's a bit of a surprise, and a bit of a bummer after the cliffhanger from the previous chapter...
I take it back, holy fuck that is such an incredible twist. Steadfast Word, an Earth Pony, being the Element of Magic is so blind-siding that it's borderline fucking perfect! Well, not really perfect, he likely only thinks that he's the Element of Magic. And while its amazing that it even attempted to try and change into his cutiemark I would hope that he could possibly change himself enough that he could possibly become worthy, but I think he's probably far beyond redemption now... The hurt he has done to others and sins committed, even if he thinks is justified, I feel is too much unless something world-ending occurs and he sacrifices himself to prevent it. There's also the fact that I highly doubt that Emberglow would even be able to forgive him, and that alone cuts his connection from being friends with the other bearers... Still though, he may be bonded to it but is unable to perform the role, so the Element may be useless until his death (which I would assume would break his bond from it) and lead it to find a new bearer.
Regardless though, I do almost wish he becomes the bearer of the Element of Magic in some form somehow... I get that it doesn't make much sense at this point unless something drastic happens or changes him but its such an incredible reveal. I don't know about others but to me it seemed like the Element of Magic bearer would've been Rarity or Sunset Shimmer, and if not either of them then some random new OC. Hinting it to possibly be Steadfast Word right now feels so out-there in an incredible way to me... Well done on writing this chapter I must say! Bravo!
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I read things as he had the potential when he first touched it, but was weighed, measured, and found wanting. It's a cool twist, and I do appreciate this chapter filling him in a lot as a character because he was just a bit too generically evil up to this point, but I strongly doubt he'll end up as the element. As you said, he's just deluding himself. I have little doubt it'll be anyone but Rarity given her basically turning into a studious mini Twilight, struggling to find her place in the group, and literally smelling like books once.
My only nitpick of this whole chapter is it sorta feels a tiny bit like back-peddling on Brightblade and to a lesser degree the diarchy as a whole. It's been obvious Brightblade was out of control for a long long time. Now, all of the sudden, after him having basically free reign for what feels like forever, Steadfast isn't just having doubts in him, he's completely throwing him under the bus as a total idiot and wishing he could get rid of him. Maybe he's been having these feelings for a while and we just didn't know about it, but he really couldn't have been given more leeway up to this point so the shift feels jarring. Also, the diarchy suddenly becoming more tolerant seems... odd. I get we're trying to introduce Steadfast's real motivations to stir up some nuance so it's not just 'diarchy is comic book evil', which I do very much like. But the almost alien oppressiveness of it was what made it, well, it. Living in fear that your neighbor would get you disappeared just for hugging your same-sex friend for too long, or not knowing who you could trust to hear your doubts about the saints was what made it such an interesting society to read about and imagine. After all this time it's wayyyy too late to change anyone's opinions about the diarchy as a whole, reader or character, so I'm not sure what the motivation here is besides the author having some regrets and trying to dial it back in the 11th hour. Either way great chapter though and looking forward to more! Keep up the great work!
Steadfast certainly see himself as the hero of his own story, I wonder if he realizes he the villian in many others stories
Welp, he's enthralled by the windigos. I wonder who'll be the final bearer, Rarity or Sunset?
Well I kind of figured this was the way things were going to go. I think it's hilarious he thinks Tirek was a Pony though. I think Steadfast believes that once he gets all the other Elements on his side the Final Element will be his.
I think the final Element is reserved for Rarity. The magic power boost and being a former Element herself? It would be coming full cycle. The Sun and Moon will Sunsets. But not the Elements. Of course it could also go the other way and Rarity and Emberglow will ascend and Sunset will return through the mirror. The time difference between the two worlds might mean only a few weeks to a few months will have passed.
How long do we have to wait for more? I need moar! MOAR!
Also, I hope Sunset turns Steadfast into ash.
This fic is absolutely addictive, i just binge-read the entire thing in the past 2 weeks. What a fantastic ride so far
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Yeah, definitely feel the same. It's hard to put down.
thought him to be some sort of sociopath Yeah, I wonder why...
Most of all he missed his Peridot. ...anyone could possibly think something like that of him.
…rip and tear, rend the flesh, eat the bones, crush the eyeballs between the… Oh shit, it's Isabelle...
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At this point in the story I don't think Rarity is ready. She is becoming too disconnected to her friends.
Edit :I'm still reading through the chapters. I have yet to catch up fully.
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a week? feh, childsplay
a true master would be able to get to this point in a day
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See he’s still on the wrong side though. He recognizes that there is something wrong but doesn’t realize that it’s the Diarchy that is the issue. The Diarchy must end for the world to begin to heal.
uhhhh......good luck with that steadfast