Second Sunrise

by MagnetBolt

Chapter 2 - The Crown of Shardless

Berlioz looked at the office door and searched his memory. He must have done something wrong, and he wanted to prepare himself for it before he knocked. He would have felt more secure if he knew what it was all about, but Professor Sunburst had been very light on details when he came to get him out of class. Instead of actually giving an answer about what was going on, the pony had just laughed nervously.

It wasn’t a good sign. Now Berlioz was starting to worry that rather than being in trouble, he was going to find unpleasant news waiting for him.

He knocked. It was best to just get it over with.

“Come in!” Starlight opened the door for him, ushering him inside. She looked apologetic. “I’m sorry for pulling you out of class. We just needed help with something and you were the first person to come to mind.”

“We?” Berlioz rumbled, looking past Starlight to the pony sharing the office with her. She was a greying pegasus mare wearing a pith helmet that he'd never seen at the school before. He guessed she was either one of Starlight's friends or a new substitute that mostly taught during the day.

“Can you read classical Doggrel?” the pegasus asked abruptly.

“Some,” Berlioz said. “Doggrel does not translate well to pony language. Many words lose…” he struggled for a moment. “Feeling. Poetry. Depth.”

“That’s fine,” the pegasus said. “I just need a rough translation. When I asked around my usual haunts it turned out nopony had written a dictionary, so I can’t do it myself. Heard from an old friend there was a Diamond Dog student here, thought I’d give it a shot.”

“Mm.” Berlioz nodded. “You have rubbings?”

“Better,” the pegasus said. “I have the original.”

She started digging in her saddlebag, and Berlioz frowned. Doggrel was always carved into stone. “Slab is small enough for pony to carry? Is pony sure runes are in Doggrel? Doggrel is carved. Type of stone used is almost as important as words.”

“What does it mean if it’s not stone?” the pegasus asked, dropping a heavy square of wrinkled, ancient fabric on Starlight’s desk.

Berlioz raised an eyebrow and stepped closer to look, squatting down to the low level of the desk to see. It was an off-white square a little too small to be used as a foal’s blanket, with blocky designs and runes woven around the edge in darker, charcoal-colored fibers. Berlioz sniffed, and he could smell the rot on it. It was something that had been undisturbed for centuries, but the smell wasn’t from the fabric but just the air around it, lingering on it like the dirt and dust staining its creases.

He touched it gingerly, pinching the edge between two thick fingers and feeling the coarse weave.

“Asbestos,” he rumbled. “Rock fiber.”

“That’s what the trader who sold it to me said,” the pegasus agreed. “He couldn’t tell me anything about what was written, though.”

“Mm.” Berlioz gingerly turned the fabric, running a finger along the line of runes. “It is a burial cloth. Very old. Cloth was for king’s tomb. Runes are… not a story. Berlioz does not know words. The theme of a story. The emotion behind it. They say king was great, was loved, did great things, but do not say what he did exactly.”

“Does it have a name?” the pegasus asked, leaning closer, like she could pick out a name from the unfamiliar symbols.

“Name should be…” Berlioz skipped ahead. He froze when he read what was written there.

“What does it say?”

“Cloth is burial shroud of King Shardless. But that is impossible. No dog knows where tomb is.” He let go like the cloth might burn him. “Cloth would have to be… ages old. From the time before things became as they are.”

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say,” the pegasus said. “I’ll take him.” She nodded to Berlioz.

“Take Berlioz where? Where did pony find cloth?”

“I bought it from some traders down south, but I wanted to see if it was authentic before I made an offer on anything else,” the pegasus said. “I’ll need your help with that.”

“Woah, woah, you can’t just take him out of school!” Starlight said. “His class is going to the Crystal Empire. Education is important, as you should know, Doctor.”

The pegasus huffed. “This is sort of time-sensitive. I can’t wait around on this. I need to verify which pieces are real and which aren’t, and I need someone who can read Doggrel for that. Just, uh, consider it an alternate field trip.”

“Mm.” Berlioz stood up. “There is a legend dogs tell. King Shardless was first king of Diamond Dogs. Only one to ever unify all the tribes. King was centuries old when he died, buried in secret place outside of all tribes territory. Legend says someday, new king will come, wearing crown of King Shardless, and reunite all the tribes again.”

“Exactly!” the pegasus said. “This guy’s perfect! I’m glad I don’t have to explain the legend, because there’s something even more interesting than the writing…”

She picked up the cloth and started folding it along the wrinkles and creases. It was ancient, stiff, and had been as tough as burlap even when it had been brand new. The record left by the old folds showed how it had been lying for countless years, and as she carefully worked to avoid damaging the asbestos, a shape slowly took form.

Like an orange peel carefully reassembled to show the shape it had once been, the cloth, refolded the way it had laid for ages, was a ghost of what it had been used to wrap. The pegasus carefully set it down, and the stone fiber held its shape, an empty mold in the shape of a pointed, ornate crown.

Berlioz swallowed, his throat dry.

“If I’m right, I’m only one step from finding the crown,” the mare whispered.

Starlight sighed. “Fine. Look, Berlioz, if you want to go with her, you can. I’ll allow it as long as you write a report on what you learned when you get back. And I expect actual archaeology, not some tall tale about traps and monsters and magical artifacts.”

“You’d be surprised how often that kind of stuff crops up in archaeology,” the pegasus countered.

“If you’re taking one of my students along, it had better not,” Starlight said.

“Berlioz will go,” he said, still staring at where the crown wasn’t. He shook his head, forcing himself to look away. “This is dog business. Other dogs won’t listen to ponies, so Berlioz will go.”

“Great!” The pegasus patted him on the back, or at least tried, but he was a lot taller than her so it was a lot more like slapping his butt. “Don’t worry, kid. I’ve done this a hundred times.”

“Mm. Pony is doctor?”

“Yeah. I mean… you know who I am, right?”

Berlioz shook his head. She deflated a little.

“Figures,” she muttered. “Book sales just haven’t been the same since that stupid one about aliens. Kids these days just want to read about vamponies falling in love and swooning on couches…”

Starlight cleared her throat. “Berlioz, let me introduce Doctor Daring Do. She’s one of the most famous archaeologists in Equestria.”

“Your Principal grew up reading books about my adventures,” Daring Do boasted.

“Well… I was really more into romance stories,” Starlight said sheepishly. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "With vamponies."

“Everypony’s a critic. Just get ready to leave by tomorrow. We’ll meet at the train station.”

---

Berlioz wasn’t sure what to pack, and had ended up with a single shoulderbag with a few useful things. He’d assumed packing light was the right way to go and that Daring would provide whatever they needed beyond his expertise, but he found himself with extra baggage even before getting on the train.

“Deadset yer lucky I convinced th’ Principal to let me come along,” Arteria said. “Can’t believe you’d try and waggle off on yer own outside of earshot of anypony that could help!”

“Berlioz is just going on trip. Dog business. Pony does not need to go.” He’d said it a few times already, but Arteria was a master of not listening to what he said, despite her amazing hearing.

“Aw, everyone else is just going t’ the Empire. They defo don’t need listenin’ after. Can’t hardly get into any kind of mischief there unless they bring it along with. But you’re goin’ off into the great unheard with no drippin’ idea of what you’re gonna find! Ain’t right to make a stallion of any species go bushwise on their own without a mare keepin’ an eye on them. Won’t do for me honor to let you.”

Berlioz groaned.

“Who’s this?” Daring Do asked from the other side of the platform. “Marefriend seeing you off before your big trip?”

Arteria bristled like a porcupine who’d taken some deep personal offense and turned to glare through her sunglasses at the pegasus, but when she got a good look at the other pony she froze in total shock.

“Oath! Berlioz, you didn’t tell me you were going with her!”

“One of my loyal fans?” Daring asked, perking up a little while she walked over. “If you want, I’ve got time for a quick autograph or two.”

“Do you know who this is, Berlioz?” Arteria asked, excited. She raced over to look at Daring Do from every angle like she might vanish at any moment. “This is Daring Bloody Do!”

“Guilty as charged,” Daring said, smiling.

“The greatest thief of all time!”

“That’s-- what? I’m not a thief!”

“Oh ho, so says miss ‘Guilty As Charged’!” Arteria grinned, elbowing Daring in the side. “No wuckas, mate. Got plenty of sus blokes in me own family line. Goes with the territory, eh?”

“I am not a thief. I’m an archaeologist.”

Arteria snorted. “Sure, sure, fair dinkum. You go around t’ all sorts of places an’ just happen t’ make off with huge hauls of gold and gems. I’ve read the bloody books about you, they’re great fun! If y’ see th’ author sometime, tell ‘er I said she’s hangin’ stupendous. ‘Cept for the one with humans. That one was rubbish.”

“See, see, that’s what I told the publisher!” Daring said. “They pushed for it because there was that Twilight series spinoff with humans. Kissing Through The Looking Glass. I said it was too far-out and ponies just wouldn’t get it.”

“Well, it’s just a bit of a stretch, isn’t it? I get it’s mostly tall tales, but ain’t nothing wrong with that. Everypony does that sometimes. Fight a cave crab and tell it down like you were grapplin’ with some awful blinkin’ cave demon, right? Makes the story better!”

“I try not to exaggerate too much, but…” Daring shrugged. “I admit I think of better lines later. It’s hard to be witty on the spot.” She grabbed Arteria by the wing and held her in place, narrowing her eyes. “But I’m not a thief. I retrieve artifacts from rotting, forgotten corners of the world and bring them back to civilization so ponies can learn from them. If I was a thief I’d get paid a lot more.”

Arteria yelped at the grip on her wing. “Oy! Let go!”

“Please let pony go,” Berlioz sighed.

Daring let go after a few extra moments. “So who is this mare?”

“Duchess Arteria Carpals,” Arteria said, tilting her head up. “I happen t’ be a pretty important mare meself, you know.”

“Oh, well, I didn’t mean to offend,” Daring said, with the air of a pony who cared exactly as far as was required by law. “Nice to meet you, sorry to see you go, we’ll have to catch up sometime.”

“You ain’t goin’ anywhere without me,” Arteria said. “Especially now that I ken this here naive little pup would be left all alone in the wayback with a devious mare like you. Can’t have that without me there t’ keep him out of trouble.”

Daring sighed. “So you want to come along too, huh?”

“He ain’t going without me.”

“Pony--” Berlioz started. Arteria held up a wing, and he shut up. The two mares were almost nose to nose, staring at each other. Daring didn’t look terribly impressed, probably because she’d spent decades being glared at by ponies who were smart enough to do it without sunglasses in the way.

Arteria, though, had a stubbornness that only came with youth, something Daring was severely lacking in. The older mare sighed.

“Fine,” she conceded. “You can come. But you buy your own train ticket.”

---

“...is Pony okay?” Berlioz asked, looking up.

Arteria was perched on the ceiling, holding tight and looking unhappy.

“Bloody train is makin’ me shockin’ deaf an’ I can’t get me hooves to sit still. Everything feels like it's all twisty turvy. Ain’t anything okay about this blinkin’ mess.”

“Get used to it,” Daring said. “It’s a long ride. And sleep if you can. When we’re on the job there’s a good chance we won’t be getting much rest. Things always end up going sideways somehow.”

“Berlioz does not like the sound of that.”

“Sideways ain’t the right direction fer topside or anywhere properly roofed,” Arteria pointed out.

“Well, now that we’re out of town and away from your Principal, I guess I should start letting you in on the plan,” Daring said. “We’re after the final resting place of King Shardless.”

Arteria dropped down from the ceiling. “An’ then we’re gonna loot it, right? I swear on me tufts I won’t take nothin’ too important for meself, just a few little knicknacks.”

“We’re not going to loot it!” Daring groaned. “I’ll be happy just to locate it. The first place we’re heading is a trading hub, basically the crossroads of the south. We’ll meet up with the traders there - they promised to wait for me to get back, but we’re already pushing it on the timing, so we have to hustle. I’m guessing they found something in the Badlands, but we’re going to need better directions than my intuition can provide.”

“Why Badlands?” Berlioz asked.

“Until the whole changeling thing, you couldn’t poke around in the Badlands without disappearing. No proper archaeology has been done there, ever. If I was going to take a random guess where a pony might find a lost tomb? It’d be right in the middle of that big blank space on the map.”

“At least it’s a Diamond Dog tomb,” Arteria said. “Say one thing that resonates proper with the dogs, they know to carve things outta somethin’ already there and proper protected, not like ponies buildin’ muckin’ huge flimsy rooms in th’ middle of the big empty.”

“Probably underground,” Daring agreed. “But I know my way around a cave. However those traders found it, we just need to follow their hoofsteps and we’re golden.”

“Golden, eh? Just like all the loot! Am I right, Berlioz?”

“Tomb is important for Diamond Dogs,” Berlioz said. “Needs to be treated with respect.”

“No worries, I’m th’ most respectful bat this side of any side there is!”

Berlioz doubted this severely.

“Anyway, get some sleep,” Daring ordered. “Or whatever. I won’t judge. I was young once.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Arteria asked.

“Nothing. Just try to be quiet about it.”

Arteria huffed and stormed off all the way to the other side of the train car.

Berlioz looked at Daring Do. Daring shrugged and sat back, tugging her hat over her eyes.

---

“Stop growling,” Daring whispered.

“Not growling,” Berlioz mumbled back. “Bad smell. Trying not to breathe.”

The end of the line ended up being Kludgetown, and from the smell of it, Berlioz was sure it was built entirely out of open sewers and dead fish. The reek of coal smoke and garbage was almost enough to disguise it.

“Sorta reminds me of home,” Arteria said. “Cept for the filth everywhere. Oy! Don’t give me that look, fish-boy, I weren’t yappin’ about you! I meant th’ garbo everywhere, but th’ more I look th’ more I think maybe yer gob belongs--”

“Don’t start a fight,” Berlioz sighed. He picked up Arteria by the back of the neck like a kitten and pulled her away from the fish-person she’d been yelling at.

“You know come to think of it,” Daring Do said. “I don’t think I’ve ever gotten out of this town without ending up in a fight at some point. I’ve been kicked out of every bar in Kludgetown at least once.”

Berlioz put Arteria down once she stopped looking like she’d pounce on anyone looking at her funny.

“Mm. Prefer not to fight.” Berlioz patted Arteria on the head. “Bat pony here to keep me out of trouble. Do not want to disappoint her.”

Arteria scoffed. “Got a point. Can’t keep a lug like this rockhead outta th’ drink if I don’t keep on my lace and garters and act like th’ fine shockin’ lady I am. Gotta be th’ voice of reason, as usual.”

“Indeed,” Berlioz said, with infinite patience.

“So where’s th’ shockin’ traders you’re here to crack on about?” Arteria asked. “When I said this place reminds me of home I didn’t mean it in any good way. Less like th’ low district an’ more like th’ kind of place foals get sold off to aboleths.”

Daring Do looked back at her. “When this turns into a book, I am not even going to try writing the way you talk.”

“Ain’t my fault you topsiders don’t understand regular lingo. Right, Berl?”

Berlioz considered his options, remembered that while Daring Do was objectively right, he had to live with Arteria, and simply nodded.

“Yeah, I’m just old and out of the loop,” Daring agreed. “Anyway, this should be the place.” She stopped in front of a building with no sign and a ragged curtain instead of a door in the somewhat-uneven doorframe.

Daring started pulling the curtain back, then stopped and looked at Arteria and Berlioz.

“Don’t say or do anything unless I tell you to do it,” she said. “Touch nothing and stay close to me.”

Berlioz nodded.

Arteria smirked and put a hoof to her chest. “Don’t worry, I’m the very picture o’ courtly behavior.”

Berlioz swallowed. For some reason he was more nervous now. Daring Do stepped inside, and Arteria stepped up, coughing lightly until Berlioz held the door for her, such as it was, and lifted the curtain to let her pass.

Inside, a cloud of smoke from burning cloves and incense knocked the awful smell of the city out of the air. Berlioz sneezed at the strength of it, but even as eye-watering as the spice was it was a welcome change. The space was cluttered, halfway between walking into someone’s very lived-in space and a pawn shop.

“Welcome, welcome!” A tall pony wrapped in silk stepped out of the back. “My old friend, Miss Daring Do! It has been too long!”

“It’s been two weeks,” Daring countered, stepping up to hug him.

“Ah, but the dates on the calendar are sweeter when they are shared with friends,” the tall pony said. “And do I have the pleasure of hosting more of your friends?”

“Something like that. Kids, this is Samba. I’ve been doing business with him for years.”

“Kids? Yours, perhaps?” Samba asked.

“I’ve told you before, I don’t have kids and don’t want them,” Daring said. “Berlioz is a translator. The thestral is…” she hesitated. “Anyway, I brought a translator this time, so don’t think you can pass off forgeries.”

“Daring, I was just as shocked as you to find some of what I sold you was forged,” Samba said. “I assure you, what I have is genuine. Or so I am told.”

“Or so you’re told,” Daring repeated. “You told me you dug this up yourself!”

“It was a metaphor!” Samba said. “If it proves genuine, I can put you in touch with the source.”

“You were supposed to be the source,” Daring huffed. “I don’t like being led around by the nose, Samba.”

“And I have kindly held onto these items despite several very tempting offers, because we are old friends. And are old friends not granted some small amount of trust?”

Daring scoffed. “Just bring them out so I can see what I might be buying.”

Samba bowed and motioned for Daring to follow him. Berlioz started following her, paused to accidentally bump Arteria to keep her from touching a squat silver idol of a monkey, and tried to look apologetic when she told him to be more careful.

The back room was a stark contrast to the front. A white cloth was draped over a wide table, and a half-dozen artifacts were laid out carefully on it.

“Okay, kid, do your thing,” Daring Do said.

Berlioz nodded. He squatted down to look at the first thing, a chipped amphora, and shook his head.

“Not dog artifact. Pony. Handles wrong.”

Daring nodded. “Yeah. You can find those anywhere. The old Romaine Empire used them for storing olive oil. Which Samba should have known.”

“Call it a small test of your expert’s credentials,” Samba said.

Daring rolled her eyes. “Next?”

“Bone flute is from dogs, but not old enough,” Berlioz said. “Rest is trash, except this.” He pointed to a smoothed stone, lightly etched with faded lines.

“What is it?” Arteria asked, putting her forehooves on the table and leaning closer to the rock.

“Type of map. But…” Berlioz frowned. “Strange. This is water.” He pointed to a patch cut into crosshatches. “Lines show passages, but no rune for depth, and passages do not show branches. These parts, also strange. Berlioz does not know this symbol.” He pointed to a distinctive shape, like a triangle pointing up with the tip broken in a crooked lightning-bolt shape.

Daring gasped. “That’s because it’s not a symbol! You said the tomb was outside the territory of all the tribes, right?”

Berlioz nodded.

“Diamond Dogs all live underground. The reason there aren’t any depth markers is because this is a map of the surface, and that--” she tapped the triangle. “--Is a mountain! They tried to draw the shape of the peaks!”

“Mm. And map has shoreline.”

Daring Do nodded. “Which means we can figure out where to start just by looking at maps. We might not know much about the Badlands, but we’ve got good maps of the coastline. Not bad, Samba. I’ll take the lot.”

Daring Do started rummaging around in her saddlebag.

“Ah, I’m afraid there is a small problem,” Samba sighed. “You see, somepony else has already made an offer.”

“Better than mine?” Daring asked.

“Double your offer.”

“Tell you what, let me get a rubbing or two and I’ll give you--”

“The offer was not on the artifacts,” Samba said. “It was, in fact, for you, and whatever expert you brought with you.”

“Oy! You double-crossed us!” Arteria said, jumping up on the table.

“I double-crossed her,” Samba said. “I have no idea who you are.”

“Technically, it wasn’t a double-cross. It was blackmail,” said a voice behind Berlioz. He turned slowly to look. A young brown pony with a stark white mane stood there holding a crossbow with the casual ease of somepony who was very comfortable threatening other ponies with it. “I told him I’d burn down his shop with him in it if he didn’t cooperate.”

“Sorry, Daring,” Samba said.

“It’s okay, Samba,” Daring sighed. “I should have expected something like this.”

“Yes you should have, Mother,” the pony spat.

“I’m not your mom, kid,” Daring said. “I don’t know what your father’s been telling you, but we’ve never been all that close, trust me.” She glanced at Berlioz and Arteria. “Let me introduce Codigo. He’s Caballeron’s son and for some stupid reason he thinks I had something to do with that.”

“Go ahead and deny it, but I know the truth!” Codigo shouted. He took a deep breath and smoothed back his mane. “You will be coming with us, Daring Do.”

“Says you and what bloody army?” Arteria snorted.

---

“Okay, it ain’t me shockin’ fault that he had a whole shockin’ army in th’ next room,” Arteria said. “It were one of them reformical questions.”

“Rhetorical,” Daring corrected, as they were led up a rickety gangplank.

The airship at the other end had seen better days. Berlioz wasn’t an expert by any means, and couldn’t even guess at its age, but it was like a house that had been built cheaply and poorly decades ago and was only holding together thanks to constant maintenance and work. Either the owner had sunk so much money into it one replacement plank at a time that they couldn’t bear to see the bits wasted, or it had so much sentimental value the bits didn’t matter.

“I ain’t a fan of this,” Arteria hissed. “When do we kick flank an’ show these bludgers that we’re tough as a rock conker champion?”

“We need an airship to find the tomb anyway,” Daring said. She was calm, if unhappy. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Or do!” Codigo called back. “I don’t need the bat. If one of you steps out of line, she’ll be the first one to pay the price.”

“Oy, come over here and say that to me face--”

Berlioz covered Arteria’s mouth with a wide paw and shook his head.

“It’s an incentive for you to stay on your best behavior,” Codigo said.

“Why do you want King Shardless’ crown anyway?” Daring asked. “Let me guess -- you’ve got a buyer lined up already to turn a tidy profit.”

They stepped onto the slightly-uneven deck, and Codigo sighed.

“It is a mission of mercy,” Codigo said.

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Daring snorted.

“Believe this,” Codigo said, motioning to some of his thugs. They ran belowdecks. “You see, while you might deny quite a bit about yourself and my father, you cannot deny you two knew each other quite well.”

Daring shrugged. “Unfortunately.”

The thugs returned, wheeling something between them.

“Also unfortunately, my father has not held up against the years as well as you have, Mother,” Codigo said.

Doctor Caballeron sat, half-slumped, in a wheelchair, a blanket covering his rear legs. He didn’t seem to even notice the ponies around him. Daring Do blinked in surprise.

“Years of adventure caught up to him,” Codigo said. “Perhaps it was all the curses he labored under from time to time, or the traps you tricked him into. Or simply age.”

“We all get old,” Daring Do said, her throat dry.

“But not all of us stay that way,” Codigo hissed. “The Crown can fix this! Legend says that whoever wears it will become as flawless and perfect as King Shardless! A life measured in centuries, eternal youth!”

“These things don’t usually work out the way you think,” Daring warned. “You can ask your dad about trying to mess with artifacts you don’t understand.”

“It will work!” Codigo shouted. “And he will have the last laugh!”

Daring shook her head, but knew better than to argue with an armed, unstable pony.

“We set sail immediately!” Codigo yelled. “All hands, cast off!”

“What’s the play ‘ere?” Arteria asked, getting close to Daring Do so she could whisper.

“We enjoy the free ride and wait for the right moment,” Daring muttered.

“Somethin’ wrong aside the shockin’ obvious?” Arteria asked. “Yer starin’ at that bloke in a wheely bin like you ain’t seen circles before.”

“No, just… we all get old,” Daring sighed.

---

“It’s so shockin’ boring!” Arteria groaned, wiggling all four hooves up in the air. “I’m a blinkin’ hostage an’ even that’s shockin’ dull!”

Berlioz sighed. “Want to go up on deck?”

They had the run of the ship, which Berlioz hadn’t expected. He’d assumed being a prisoner would mean being, well, imprisoned. He’d been ready to spend the trip in a cell, but instead, they had a small cabin and the only lock on the door was a warning from some of the crew to stay out of the way while they were working.

“Out into the middle of th’ big empty? I didn’t plan on tradin’ dead stone boredom fer ten kinds of nightmares, pup.” Arteria sighed. “You know I’ve read a bunch of them Daring Do books an’ they don’t include all this doin’ nothin’ for days on end.”

“Where is Daring pony?” Berlioz asked.

“Helping them try an’ find the right spot,” Arteria shrugged. “Fer somepony supposed to be their enemy it’s awful sus, ain’t it?”

“Hm?”

Arteria flipped over and stood up, pacing around the cabin. “Put some inside ears towards it, right? She didn’t act very shockin’ surprised to see that Codigo bloke, right? Weren’t angry none an’ didn’t even try to put up a scuffle.”

“Fighting… not always good idea, pony. Lots of them. Not lots of us.”

“Okay, yeah, we were pretty scarpin’ outnumbered but we coulda put up at least some kinda dance an’ not had them lead us away like cave woolies to the harvest. In th’ books Daring Do fights off dozens of thugs like them bleeders! An’ with me t’ back her up, shoulda been a done thing.”

“Maybe more complicated. Maybe pony afraid we would be hurt.”

“Mm. Maybe.” Arteria nodded. “Or maybe she was afraid somepony else would get their knees scraped.”

“Codigo?”

“He said he’s her son,” Arteria said. “Yeah, she says she isn’t, but…”

“Daring Do would be pony to know if she had foal or not.”

“Trust me, Berlioz. I’m in the nobility. Sometimes… things happen. Ain’t always so simple as having a foal. Sometimes it’s with th’ wrong stallion, or at th’ wrong time, or they can’t let nopony know. Mare goes on vacation for a bit more’n half a year, and comes back after losing some weight and alone if you get what I mean.”

“Very cruel, for ponies.”

“Ain’t usually all that bad. Usually some orphanage ends up with a basket on their doorstep an’ a large donation. Most ponies ain’t awful enough t’ toss ‘em into the wild as soon as they can walk an’ tell ‘em to go in a straight line and don’t come back.”

“Nobility sounds… difficult,” Berlioz mumbled.

“More than most ponies know,” Arteria said. She sat down, looking at her hooves. “When you’re the big bat it means you gotta make decisions for everypony. Prolly the same for the old mare that dragged us on this trip, huh? But…” she looked at the door, her ears twitching.

The door burst open, and Daring Do flew in, obviously excited. She grabbed her bag from where it was lying against the wall.

“We found the spot,” Daring said, barely even taking the time to glance at them.

“We finally bustin’ out of here?” Arteria asked, excited. “Been ready to pop a few of them in the snout for a stalag’s age!”

“We’re not escaping,” Daring said. She adjusted her hat.

“Why the shock not?! Don’t tell me -- you’ve got a soft spot in your skull for that crazy pony that says yer his mum!”

Daring turned on Arteria and stepped up to her, annoyed. “While you’ve been relaxing and trying to act cool, I’ve been working. Do you know where they found the cloth and stone map? In the middle of a battlefield, and they haven’t figured out yet that all the gold and gems around them might have been perfect for financing the trip but they also means no one walked away from that fight!”

“Is map… cursed?” Berlioz asked.

“Maybe. There’s more than one type of curse,” Daring said. “I’m thinking it’s the kind where you have to watch your back. Actually, you’re new at this. Watch each other’s backs.”

“What about you?”

“Eyes on the prize, kid.” Daring winked. “Now come on. We need to get moving before our hosts get stabby.”

---

Berlioz followed the ponies down the ramp, shielding his eyes from the sun as they stepped off the wood and onto the dust-covered stones of the valley floor. The sandstone was stained red like unfired clay, soft winds blowing motes and drifts of grit across something that had been a riverbed ages ago and hadn’t seen much water since.

“It’s beautiful!” Codigo yelled. “Get my father down here so he can see it!”

“Working on it, boss!” two of the thugs slowly worked the wheelchair down the ramp, careful not to let it slip. Berlioz glanced back at them, almost tempted to ask if they needed help, but thought better of it. Something about the crippled pony unsettled him, and he couldn’t put a pawpad on it.

“We got lucky,” Daring explained. “I was worried the paths on the stone showed trails overland, and after a couple thousand years they’d be totally gone, but the dogs were smarter than that. See, these tunnel markings, the ones with no depth? They’re actually the shape of valleys between the mesas. Trails will have vanished, but the landscape doesn’t change that quickly.”

“Mm. Makes sense,” Berlioz said, nodding. “Still paths through stone, even if above surface.”

“And at the end of that trail…” Daring said. “Is this.”

It was cut into the side of the mesa, carved by sorrowful hands lost in mourning. The scale of it was immense, every inch of the living rock sculpted into columns and statues.

“It’s invisible from above. They didn’t even touch the top of the mesa,” Daring explained. “It’s no wonder it was lost for so long. Even the changelings don’t hang around out here, and they’re the only creatures that have spent any real time in the Badlands in the last few centuries.”

“That’s a shockin’ wonderful history lesson, but any brainwaves to get a roof over us?” Arteria asked. She wiped her forehead, trying to pretend the sweat was from the heat. “Shoulda brought a bloody brolly with me just t’ keep from lookin’ at the empty.”

Daring nodded. “Come on, let’s get in the shade,” she said, escorting them to the deep arch of the doorframe, and once they stepped under its overhanging shadow Arteria visibly relaxed. Daring leaned closer to her. “Don’t handle the outside well, do you?”

“Ain’t no shockin custom of yours,” Arteria huffed.

“I knew a couple thestrals. They’re probably the reason you got my books. None of them liked the outdoors either. You’re actually handling it pretty well. You’re not having panic attacks and trying to hide under my hat.”

Arteria looked away. “Well… I ain’t some blushin’ vestal to outings. Gotta do what’s right when you’re the big bat and a pup like Berlioz gets dragged away on somethin’ like this.”

Berlioz examined the runes to give himself something to do besides listen to what Daring and Arteria were saying, and stumbled over something. Literally, something more solid under the dust catching his foot and almost sending him tumbling. He looked down and paled.

“Ponies,” he said. “Look.”

“What’s wrong?” Daring asked.

Berlioz knelt down and poked at the bundle he’d tripped over. “Old bones,” he said. He picked one up and it crumbled in his grasp. “Only here because rock protected them from wind.”

“That ain’t a good sign, is it?” Arteria asked.

“...We knew we weren’t the first ones to find this place,” Daring said. “Someone had to bring that cloth and map back.”

“Don’t look like everyone who came here left,” Arteria muttered.

Berlioz nodded slowly. “Bad feeling about this.”

“Enough chatting!” Codigo shouted, storming over to kick the bones aside. “I have no interest in those that failed. Get us inside!”

“Right, boss, I’ll get right to work on that,” Daring said, giving him a mock salute.

“If you don’t take me seriously--”

“Boss, there’s somethin’ wrong with your dad’s chair!” one of the thugs shouted. “It won’t roll!”

Codigo groaned. “I have to do everything myself… figure out how to open this door before I get back!”

He stomped off and started shouting in several languages at the thugs, only a few of which they understood well enough to be insulted by.

“So speakin’ as the one most likey to have her knees bashed in if he don’t get what he wants, got any ideas how to open a giant rock door?” Arteria asked.

“Well, I’ve been thinking about that,” Daring said. “So we know creatures have been here before, after it was sealed up.” She looked up at it. The door was divided into panels, each of them showing scenes of death, mourning, and war. “But the door’s closed. What’s that mean?”

“They closed it behind them cause they weren’t raised in a tavern?” Arteria suggested.

Berloz snorted.

“It means the door closes by itself,” Daring explained. “That means it’s got some kind of mechanism. Probably something with water moving from one tank to another. Seen it a million times.”

“Conkers,” Arteria said. “So? I got a shockin’ mechanism in me wingwatch.”

“Since your principal told me to take this seriously as an archaeology trip, I should tell you it’s a wonderful example of how long something can last when built robustly and protected from the elements, but the more important thing is that there are also a bunch of bones around and the usual reason for a resetting mechanism is to get a trap ready for the next bunch of idiots to come around.”

“Mm. Us.” Berlioz rumbled.

“Exactly,” Daring agreed. “Got any insight on what kind of traps diamond dogs like?”

“Pits. Falling rocks. Snares.”

Daring looked down and scraped at the ground with a hoof. “I’m pretty sure I can get the door open the wrong way. You two step way back in case I’m right.”

Berlioz let Arteria lead him to a safe distance and watched. Daring looked back at the group of thugs working to get Caballeron’s wheelchair unstuck, waited a few moments, then shoved hard at the middle of the door. A hidden seam opened, revealing the panels two sides of a twin door. Daring took to the air like she knew what was going to happen next.

The ground rumbled and dust flew into the air as it collapsed down, taking two of Codigo’s minions with it. They fell into rushing water and vanished as the full size of the pit was revealed, the width of a buckball field and twice as long. The roaring water deafened the ponies around it, but Berlioz watched the group of thugs pointing and gesturing at the pit, obviously worried about their… friends was a stretch after what he’d seen on board, but co-workers fit as a term.

Codigo shook his head, then finally slapped one of them, yelling to be heard over the torrent. Berlioz only caught the last of it as the water slowed to a trickle.

“...split it ten ways instead of twelve! You should be thankful!” Codigo finished. He reached down and touched something on the wheelchair, and suddenly it could roll freely again. “I have to do everything myself!”

“Lucky that old pony did not go into pit,” Berlioz muttered. The wheelchair had been stuck less than a hoof-width from the edge.

“Yeah. Lucky.” Daring said, setting down.

“Daring Do, if I didn’t know better I would think you did that on purpose,” Codigo said, approaching with a sharp smile. “Of course, that would be absurd. You would never throw a pony into a deadly trap.”

“There’s a decent chance those ponies that got swept away are still alive. That probably empties out into the river we passed over.”

“A mile away in rushing water when I’m not sure they could even swim.”

“You almost sound concerned about them.”

“I’m not. And neither are you. Perhaps something I inherited?” Codigo smiled and shrugged. “Now, if you do that sort of thing again, there will be a price to pay.”

“If you’re that worried, maybe you should lead the way,” Daring said. “If you’re not afraid to look bad in front of your daddy.” She looked over at the approaching wheelchair.

“One of the first good ideas you’ve had today!” Codigo laughed, slapping Daring on the shoulder like they were old friends. He strutted inside, head held high. Daring waited a moment, then nodded for Berlioz and Arteria to follow her.

“Looks like some of em’ decided to stick around,” Arteria said. The area right inside the door was littered with skeletons.

“Doors swing in,” Berlioz explained. “Very tight fit. Close by themselves. Get trapped inside, nothing to pull on. Can’t get out.”

“The way they’re hinged, it’s like a dam,” Daring noted. “Pressure from this side shuts them tighter, and they’re thick stone. Help me jam them open.” She tossed a wooden wedge to Berlioz and he nodded, grabbing a loose stone to serve as a hammer. It only took a moment and a few quick swings to wedge one door into place. Daring did the same on the other side.

“Gonna have an earache until me next cakeday at this rate,” Arteria said, rubbing her sore ears. She hovered above the ground, trying to keep her distance from the skeletons that seemed to be everywhere.

“What’s wrong? Are you scared of a few dead dogs? We’re in a tomb!” Codigo laughed again. “That’s where the dead belong!” He pulled a flashlight from his pack and switched it on, light bursting into the tomb for the first time in endless years.
Inside, it was like a grand temple or throne room - in Equestria the two were more or less the same. Columns carved out of the stone supported a roof that was so high it had to almost be breaking through the top of the mesa. The geometry of the room, the paths and statues and carvings, all came to a single point, a throne on top of a high dias. It was even larger than Celestia’s throne, and when the beam of the flashlight swept over it, it glinted and shone, even through the dust of endless years of decay.

“Is that made of diamond?” Codigo whispered. “They said the King’s throne was made of a single giant diamond!”

“Well, could be quartz or some fancy glass,” Arteria said. Daring shushed her.

“And that means…” he focused the beam on the withered shape that sat in it, half-collapsed and near-skeletal. A crown sat upon its head, jagged and tough and perfectly clean and shining despite the state of everything else.

The figure moved and looked up.

“Oh, that’s not good,” Daring said.

The withered form barked something.

“That means ‘intruders’,” Berlioz translated.

“I could have figured that out on my own, but thanks,” Daring said.

The boney forms around them started shifting and lurching to life, or at least a mockery of life, endless exhaustion evident in every motion. A few pulled rusting blades from broken ribcages. Others wielded their own broken limbs like clubs. Many just reached for the intruders with empty claws. All of them stared with empty eyesockets, moaning silently.

“Oh stalags and star spiders,” Arteria swore.

“If you’ve read any of my books you really should have expected this,” Daring said.

“I thought it was th’ author spicing things up!” Arteria said. “Like how they cut out all th’ borin’ bits of sittin’ on a train or airship fer days!”

“I wish,” Daring said. She kicked one of the approaching skeletons, and it fell apart. “They’re not so tough! We can-- never mind.” The skeleton reassembled as she watched, lurching back to its bony feet.

“Berlioz, try yappin’ at them!” Arteria said. “Maybe they’ll listen if another dog gabs some at them!”

Berlioz hesitated and yelled for them to stop. They hesitated for a moment before the mummified horror on the throne raised a paw and pointed, barking out orders. The endless ranks of the dead lurched back into motion.

“Defend my father!” Codigo shouted, falling back.

“Standing here’s a bad idea,” Daring said. She glanced up. “For once, my wings are in decent shape. Let’s get out of here!”

“Tops!” Artiera agreed. “I got you, pup!” She grabbed Berlioz and strained, trying to gain altitude, her wings practically buzzing. “You need to drop some shockin weight, pup! When we get back yer goin’ on a blinkin’ diet!”

Daring grabbed Berlioz’ other arm and hefted, and working together they managed to get into the air just before the undead closed in on them.

“I’ve seen this kinda thing before!” Daring yelled. “We need to figure out what’s animating them! Otherwise they’ll just keep coming back!”

“Fair dinkum, my bits are on the bloody crowned bloke in the chair who looks shockin’ crossed about us lettin’ ourselves in!”

“Yeah, safe bet,” Daring admitted. “Makes me wish I still had that blessed solar symbol Tia gave me as a favor for not telling ponies when I dug up her old bedroom.”

“You did what?” Arteria asked, cackling.

“Turns out she had a goth phase. The marauding barbarian kind, not the ones who dress in black. Anyway, what we need to do is-- AH!” Daring gasped in pain, one of her wings going limp. What lift they had vanished, and the three fell, Arteria only barely managing to turn it into a controlled landing instead of a bone-breaking crash.

“What happened?” Berlioz asked.

“It’s my bucking trick wing,” Daring said through gritted teeth. “This always happens when I push myself too hard.” She tried to lift it and stumbled, almost passing out from the pain. “I’m not getting back into the air until a doctor sets it.”

“Oath, that just figures,” Arteria said.

“You need to take out the leader,” Daring said. “At least we landed near the throne.”

“Mm. Berlioz will do it.” He stood up. “Keep Daring pony safe.”

“On it,” Arteria said, pulling Daring behind a sarcophagus.

Berlioz turned and looked into the ancient king’s eyes. They were just pale flames set in empty eye sockets, burning stars of unnatural power. And in them he saw endless exhaustion. He saw a dog pushed beyond their limits, beyond life itself, by the weight of duty. Honor that couldn’t be satisfied, and rest that wouldn’t come until it was.

The king stood, tossing something underhand to Berlioz. Berlioz caught it on instinct, and realized he’d been thrown a sword. It was that kind of ancient iron that never seemed to rust but was almost as much stone as steel, like it had been fossilized. The edge was chipped and scarred from use but still gleamed with deadly purpose.

Berlioz hefted it in both paws and held the sword up defensively. The king nodded, lifting his own sword and saluting Berlioz. Berlioz glanced to the side. The skeletal ranks of the dead were staying away, keeping a wide ring around them clear.

“Mm. Fair fight?”

The king didn’t understand his words, but seemed to grasp the meaning from his tone. It nodded and took up a stance, motioning for Berlioz to take the first swing. Berlioz swiped the sword, testing the weight with the attack, and the king blocked it dismissively, sparks raising where the blades met.

The king barked in approval, and the fight began.

The king’s movements were slow, but he had so much strength that blocking the swings was like trying to stop a runaway train. Berlioz was forced back, his paws scraping through the dust covering the floor. The mummified dog was stronger, actually knew how to use a sword, and at any instant could call for its horde to turn on Berlioz.

Berlioz, though, was fast and had a reaction time that wasn’t measured in seconds.

He dodged a big swing from the king instead of blocking, and the king was thrown off balance. Before he could recover, Berlioz struck at his leg, slicing into the bone. It was too tough to cut through entirely, but the ancient femur cracked, and the king stumbled.

Berlioz jumped back, wincing as a wide swing caught his side, just barely cutting into him.

“Pup!” Arteria shouted.

Berlioz held out a paw for her to stay where she was. “Not deep,” he said. “Looks worse than it is.” He circled as the king got back up, favoring his undamaged leg. He seemed to be grinning now, despite his lipless fangs being fixed in a rictus. Something about the way he moved didn’t speak of rage, but joy.

Berlioz lunged forward, and the king parried his blade, edges sliding back along each other and opening a cut on Berlioz’ forearm. He winced in pain and backed off, watching the king move. The skeletal form stumbled, the damaged femur cracking more as it tried to follow him.

Instead of pressing the advantage, Berlioz stopped, taking up a stance. The king recovered, looked at him, and barked with laughter, taking up his own stance.

“What are you doing?!” Daring shouted. “You could have had him! Keep making him turn to put pressure on his leg!”

“King wanted fair fight,” Berlioz said. “Need to give respect.”

“Respect isn’t going to get us out of here alive!” Daring yelled.

“Honor is more important, sometimes,” Berlioz said. The king waited, not striking. Berlioz caught his gaze and had a moment of perfect clarity. The king wanted to rest, but he couldn’t do that on his own.

Berlioz rushed him, and the flames in the king’s eye sockets flickered, like he was closing his eyes. Instead of lowering his sword to guard himself, the king raised it further, leaving himself open. Berlioz smashed his sword into the king’s chest, staving in ribs. It would have been a fatal blow to a normal dog, but the king was just driven to one knee.

He tried to stand, and the cracked femur finally gave out, shattering.

Berlioz hefted the sword and panted, trying to catch his breath. The fallen king looked up at the young dog, nodded, and lowered his head. Berlioz brought the blade down on the mummy’s neck. He felt resistance for a moment, but once the cut started the king’s body collapsed, bones and dried flesh dissolving almost instantly into dust, as if the only thing holding him together on an atomic level had been willpower.

The crown rang out like a glass bell and rolled across the floor like a coin on edge until it stopped at Berlioz’s feet, falling over and gleaming up at him.

The skeletons that had frozen in place slowly collapsed, piece by piece, until they were just piles of inert bone again.

“Looks like it’s over,” Daring said, groaning and leaning on Arteria for support.

“Is pony okay?” Berlioz asked, dropping the sword.

“Pulled her wing right outta th’ socket,” Arteria said. “I could pop it back in right quick but some reason she don’t trust me to nurse her right.”

“Funny, that,” Daring mumbled.

“Wonderful work!” Codigo shouted, clapping slowly. “Now, if you please, the crown.” He held out a hoof. “While that skirmish did take a bite out of my minions, you’re still outnumbered more than two to one, and Mother is in no shape to fight. More importantly, now that we’ve found the artifact, I don’t need you alive, though I’m willing to be generous enough not to have you shot in the gut with crossbows and left to die if you give me the crown.”

“You can’t just turn it over,” Arteria whispered. “We gotta figure out a way through this!”

“This is the way through this,” Berlioz said. He picked up the crown and stared into the jagged, faceted surface. It was a single, flawless gem. Part of him didn’t want to give it up. That part wasn’t one he listened too, though. He walked over to Codigo and gave it to him.

“Good,” Codigo said. “I knew bringing you along was the intelligent move. You’ve proven useful, and kept your friends alive.”

“Mm. Be careful. Old zebra saying -- crown won through violence is not one that stays on brow.”

“We’ll see about that,” Codigo said. He looked at the crown, admiring his reflection. “It’s beautiful. I can almost feel the power in it! Imagine it, an artifact so powerful it kept that ancient king from dying for this long. Bringing back the dead, an entire army at his command. At my command…”

Codigo’s eyes glazed over as he thought about the possibilities.

“I thought that crown was for your dad, to try and fix him,” Daring said.

“There are other ways to heal a hurt pony,” Codigo said. “This, though… Imagine what I could do with it! I could carve out an empire! Instead of selling a few bits and pieces for profit, I could be a king by my own hoof! I deserve that, don’t I?”

He raised the crown above his head, grinning.

“I can rule where others have failed! I can--”

He crumpled. A greying hoof caught the crown before it hit the ground. Doctor Caballeron sighed, dropping the club he’d been holding.

“That’s more than enough of that,” Caballeron said. “I’ll be taking that crown for myself, thank you.”

“I knew you were faking it,” Daring said. “Your wheelchair stopping right at the edge of the pit? You spotted that trap the same way I did.”

“I couldn’t allow my son’s incompetent minions get me killed just to keep up the act,” Caballeron said. “I thought this would be a useful ploy, but in the end I have to do everything myself, as always.”

“Why’d you tell him I was his mother, anyway?” Daring asked. “We’ve never been that close.”

“It motivated him,” Caballeron said, shrugging. “He’s smart, but not quite smart enough. Otherwise he’d realize his mother was just some mare I seduced as part of a plan. I can’t remember if it was to get the Amulet of Lumios or the Black Octarine. I suppose it doesn’t matter. I don’t remember her name, and even you didn’t bother putting her in your books.”

“I tried to skip over the less savory parts where you used and abused ponies,” Daring countered. “The last thing they needed was to have their names dragged through the mud.”

“Very kind of you. Now, for my reward.” Caballeron held the crown high. “Behold, as the power of the Crown restores me to youth and gives me endless life!”

He put it on and shivered.

“I can feel it! I can feel…” He paused and frowned. “I can’t feel anything.”

“Crown is just a hat,” Berlioz said.

“Impossible!” Caballeron said. He adjusted it, as if the fit was the problem. “I should be filled with power! I should be young again! Strong again!”

“Crown is only powerful when worn by the right person. Power comes from duty, from other creatures willing to follow. Without followers, a ruler is nothing, and a crown is just a fancy hat,” Berlioz said.

“No, no…” Caballeron whispered. “There has to be some kind of secret! There has to be!” He pulled a knife out of a hidden sheath. “You’re going to tell me--”

“Sneak attack!” Arteria yelled, dropping down from above and kicking Caballeron full in the face. The older pony crumpled, knife skidding across the stone floor. “Gottem! Which one of you blighters is next?!” She grinned and looked at the thugs.

The thugs looked at their fallen bosses. One of them stepped forward.

“Look, we’re just hired muscle,” the thug said. “I don’t think either of them’s gonna pay up. At this point, I just wanna go home and not get eaten by monsters.”

“I think we can manage that,” Daring said. “Tell you what, if you give us a lift back to civilization, I can see if I can swing a little something for your troubles.”

The thugs looked at each other and nodded.

“Tie these two up and put them in the hold,” Daring said.

“You sure you wanna take them with us?” Arteria asked.

Daring sighed. “I might not like them, but I don’t leave ponies to die, no matter what Codigo thinks. I hope being betrayed by his dad knocks some sense into him and he turns things around. He did a pretty good job - if he’d found a translator on his own, he could have found this place himself.”

Arteria picked up the fallen crown, thinking.

“You know, the legend about this thing says when it’s found, it’ll be returned by a worthy dog to be a new king and reunite the tribes,” she said. She looked at Berlioz. “The old king seemed to think you were worth somethin’.”

She offered Berlioz the crown. He shook his head.

“Not worthy,” Berlioz said. “Crown is for dog who wants power. Wanting power got all these dogs killed, got ponies killed today. If crown comes back now, other dogs will argue about worth, will fight over it. More dead, because of a hat.”

“That kinda thinkin’ is why yer more worthy than most,” Arteria said.

Berlioz shrugged. “Dogs not ready for king. Maybe will be, someday, when dogs can solve problems with talking and friendship instead of violence. Then dog tribes can be united. Until then, crown would only bring war. Berlioz does not want to unite tribes with force. Crown needs to go somewhere safe.”

“We can’t leave it here,” Daring said. “We sort of got rid of what was protecting it. The next creatures that come across it are going to snatch it up.”

Berlioz nodded. “Can’t stay here. Do ponies have a place where crown can be hidden until worthy dog is found?”

Daring smiled. “I know just the place. There’s this huge warehouse where-- well, let’s just say we’ve got a spot we put things ponies aren’t ready for.”

“Good,” Berlioz said. “Dogs not ready either. Will be, someday.”

Arteria shrugged and gave Daring the crown. She pulled the shroud out of her saddlebags, carefully wrapping the crown up in it, just like it had been for endless ages. “Perfect fit,” Daring noted.

“Mm.” Berlioz breathed a sigh of relief. Now that the beauty of the crown was covered, it was easier to ignore the greedy voice inside calling for him to take it. “Berlioz is ready to go home.”

Arteria slapped the back of his leg with a wing. “Same. Too bad, though. If you were royalty like me…” She trailed off.

“Hm?”

Arteria blushed fiercely and shook her head. “Nothin! Just be good to have more royalty around that I were friends with! That’s all! Let’s get back to the blinkin’ ship.”

“By the way, I’ll need you two to sign release forms,” Daring said.

“Release forms?” Berlioz frowned.

“Well, you want to be in the next book, right?” Daring smiled.

Arteria gasped. “In the book? Bloody oath, yes! But we gotta talk about my parts. I wanna make sure you make them as shockin’ beautiful as I am.”

“Don’t worry, I know how to tell a good story,” Daring promised. “And this is going to be a best-seller.”

Comments

[Spamotron]

So this is going to be episodic? Chapter one was “episode one,” of a “season,” that won’t be followed up on until later?

[MagnetBolt]

10485276
Yep! Don't worry, Luster Dawn would never let a mystery go.

[TCC56]

Turns out she had a goth phase. The marauding barbarian kind, not the ones who dress in black.

Shockin' beautiful.

[Ri2]

Out of curiosity, how does one judge when a people are 'ready' for something?

[Thought Prism]

Glad I skimmed the prequel again before reading this, it's nice to see more of Berlioz and Arteria bouncing off eachother. Also digging the return of the episodic narrative style. My only nitpick so far is that, unlike as shown here, Caballeron retired from villainy in the show.

[howard035]

Of course Arteria will be written as beautiful in the next book! Daring only let her come along so she could steal marketshare from Twilight by having her next adventure prominently feature a forbidden romance between a noble vampony and a were-dog.

[Dorath]

There’s this huge warehouse where-- well, let’s just say we’ve got a spot we put things ponies aren’t ready for

Gotta wonder how the Alicorn Amulet never got in there ....

10486298 Usually by when it would be most convenient for the one doing the deciding.

[redmar]

This was a great chapter and I loved all of it. It's nice how the hired help simply changed loyalties when it was clear their bosses weren't going to pay them. On a personal note I didn't think Kindom of the Crystal Skull was so terrible, better than the Temple of Doom but not much more. Also I would think Starlight to prefer books like Karl Marx's Communist Manifesto rather than romance trash like the Twilight Saga.

[Super Trampoline]

10505770
Even us commies have our guilty pleasures :P

[Arkonfleight]

Berlioz, though, was fast and had a reaction time that wasn’t measured in seconds.

Ah, and the Dark Souls reference.