Chapter 8: Sunstone
Bit was not alone for long—only a few seconds. There were pounding hoof falls behind her, and Pathfinder appeared, catching up with her. "Then I'm going too! The Union might think I'm too unpredictable to lead a trade, but that doesn't mean I can't help in other ways. How can we really know we got everything worth taking from the palace if nobody comes back?"
He hesitated, retreating a few steps closer to her as they climbed. "I just hope you're sure, or I'll die too. And if that sounds like a reason to go back down, hopefully it is? I didn't last through all these winters to get killed by the evil king's old traps."
Bit glared at him for a moment, then realized she was imitating the king's own expressions, and thought better of it. She sped up, hoping to lose him in the winding steps. But while she didn't tire, he was an earth pony, and kept pace without much difficulty. The crystal of the palace conducted magic, and wouldn't weaken him even as the earth grew further away.
"I do not care what happens to me so long as I can accomplish my purpose," she said. "Technically, I am not alive. I cannot maintain my own system, and I do not have a desire to reproduce. Therefore, I cannot die."
"Maybe you haven't met the right pony," he said, in a tone she didn't quite recognize. "I've known ponies who took a long time to find someone. It used to happen more in the old days, I think. Before the revolution needed so many hooves, and anything other than productivity was selfishness. But you're from the old kingdom, so it makes sense. Or... are you? You said you were made here. But that can’t be true."
They reached the first landing, where the guests and invited visitors of the palace would have passed the castle's vast gates. Only when suitably impressed and inspected by the palace guard would they be allowed to enter the palace proper.
The gates were shattered now, and there were bits of broken armor and lose white stones littering the ground. She'd seen a few of their like in the tower before, though she couldn't quite identify them.
Apparently they weren't good, because her companion stayed well away, dodging along behind her in the narrow corridor between bits of debris. "I was made here, in the wizard's old wing. He lived here until the evil king made life too difficult, and he moved to the tower. But my memories from those days are fuzzy, I don't know the specifics."
"Memories from..." Pathfinder's expression became even more distant and confused. "You look as young as I am, Bit. You were born after the revolution, weren't you? You can't be old enough to remember the king. There isn't a single pony alive in Zircon old enough for that."
She shrugged. "I am not a pony, I look like a pony." She avoided the spacious entry stairs, and the further sign of damage that ran along it. Too much debris, some of it fresher looking than the rest. There were a few lumps that vaguely resembled motionless ponies up that way. Never a good sign.
But there was a servant's passage to the left, the only parts of the palace she was supposed to use. She tilted a candlestick slightly to the left, and the wall slid aside. Another benefit of restoring power to the capital district. "If you're going to come with me, then this way. But I cannot protect you. I'm not a guard."
He followed her. "You knew that was here. You say you're impossibly old, you aren't afraid of heat or cold. Are you an Equestrian princess?"
The servants' passages had taken far less damage than the vast entryway behind them, though part of that was just a matter of there being so little to lose. There were no paintings to tear down here, no sculptures to shatter. It was just plain dark crystal, obscuring anything that passed through it from the noble eyes that lived in the palace beyond.
"No!" She turned back to him, feeling another flash of impatience mixed with frustration. Annoyance, it was called. "Equestria has only one princess now, tyrant of the sun Celestia. She's an alicorn, a pony with wings and horn and strength of earth. Though she is reported to be ageless, and perhaps properly immortal."
She turned back, hurrying up another set of steps. Pathfinder might be an uninformed idiot, but the suggestion accidentally led her towards a useful theory. Maybe the secret to alicorns' power was no secret at all—maybe they were crafted that way, like she was.
She slowed as she reached the first sign of conflict in the passage. An exterior wall was cracked, and bits of ice had formed over the openings, piling up in the interior until half the tunnel was obscured.
The reason for the damage was a fallen automaton, broken into many pieces.
In some ways, the automatons were the same kind of machine as Bit, crafted from crystal and animated by magic. But as the king always said, they weren't built in the likeness of ponies. The castle's defenders stood on only two of their identical limbs at any time, with a narrow torso that allowed them to roll and adjust themselves to any configuration at will.
Their titanium internal skeleton emerged from the tips of their limbs, with spikes that could slide delicately over crystal or crack it to give them the purchase to fight on any surface.
This one had been beaten to pieces, its crystal body shattered so badly that the delicate metal clockwork within was visible. It didn't move, not even a twitch in their direction as they walked past it.
"Zircon below, they're real." Pathfinder nudged it with one boot, perched delicately on his other limbs. But even if he expected attack, there was no need. "The evil king really did have evil machines. Monsters he could send into the city to kill anyone who organized against him."
Bit nodded. "Machines, yes. Evil, no. The automatons aren't capable of evil, any more than a lever or a generator can be evil. The royal guard were perfectly loyal to their instructions, to the end." She stepped over the fallen machine, almost reverent. But it had no head, no way to judge what it was looking at or how it saw the world.
They can't see, they hear and sense magic.
"The king was evil," Pathfinder insisted. "He oppressed all of Zircon. He hoarded wealth for himself, he stole the labor of his ponies. He didn't provide them warmth in winter or food in summer. He used his machines to keep ponies from rising up. If they're used for evil, that makes them evil too."
Bit considered that. She turned towards the opening in the crystal wall, squinting down at the makeshift settlement in the streets, and the buildings of her home slowly crumbling. "He was evil," she said. "I do not know about the things you say, but my master told me he was evil. The Wizard would never tell me something untrue, so you must be right."
"Your master," he said. "The one you're looking for in the old palace. But as smart as you are, how can you not know? There's nothing alive in here. We won. If you were a slave to someone who lived in this palace, then you're free, just like the rest of us. You owe no loyalty. They won't come to capture you again. It's over."
Free. Bit considered his words, reviewing their definition in her mind. But though she knew the meaning, she could not comprehend it. Her Master had not understood it either.
"I must find him," she said, leaving the broken machine behind to continue up the steps. "We're very close. I know these halls. His father left his quarters empty when he left to work in the tower. They would be the perfect place for him to shelter all these years. The palace has an extensive nuclear backup buried in the stone below, which would keep critical systems running even when the substation failed."
In some ways, Pathfinder seemed to understand her just as little as she understood him. But he did latch onto a single phrase. "Your master was the son of the king... Bit, were you the personal slave to Prince Crimson Zircon?"
She shook her head, glaring back at him. "That is the second time you have used that word improperly. I was never a slave to anyone. Ponies can be slaves, and other creatures. But someone must be alive for their ownership to be defined in that way. A machine like myself is possessed, not enslaved.”
It wasn't reaching him. She could see his expression shifting deeper into confusion, in shades that she could no longer even quite name. The way the Wizard sometimes looked when his father spoke about her. "Then did Prince Crimson possess you, or not?"
She nodded curtly, stopping directly in front of one door among many. "This was his wing. But he stopped living here after his father made the palace unwelcoming to us, and he moved his accommodations to the tower full time. Princess Ochre invited him back in later years, but he never returned. It took a failure like mine to drive him back here. I will have to think of a way to apologize."
She touched a flat panel of wall, otherwise indistinguishable from the others, and it slid down, revealing a security console. Her heart surged with hope at what she saw: the security protocol was still functional. Six servitors, laser protection grids, nerve gas.
"He's not going to be in there," Pathfinder said, watching the screen over her shoulder without recognition. "It was too long, Bit. Even if he hadn't died in the revolution, he'd be at least... what, two centuries? Ponies don't live that long."
"The wizard wasn't just my master. He mastered time, matter, life, death, and forces. When you meet him, you'll understand why he is so deserving of loyalty."
She recited her usual security pattern into the keyboard, and the red lights went green. The door before them clicked, drifting open. "It's important that you remain close to me and do not touch anything," Bit said. "If the automatons see you as a vandal, they would usually take you down to the dungeons. But with the castle under siege, the war-protocols are active. They will not take you prisoner."
She pushed the door open, then stepped out into her master's quarters. "Crimson,” she yelled. "I'm sorry it took me so long to figure out where you've gone, but I'm here! I've finally come!"
His quarters were in ruin. Bookshelves were toppled, screens shattered, and windows cracked. She passed the ancient study, where she sat beside him reading from the illustrated children's encyclopedia, devouring on every word he said. Now the pages scattered to the air around her like snowflakes, barely covered up the flashes and cracks of malfunctioning circuitry.
There were several royal guards fallen near the proper entrance, shattered and broken just like the others they'd seen so far. There was no trace of the ones who had broken them.
"This was the beginning of the revolution," Pathfinder said from behind her, his voice slow and gentle. "The winter of deep tears, when we rose up at last. The fervor was so great that not even the palace servants were spared. If he was here, he's dead.
"We could go back, talk to the elders. There are some who probably remember. I know they dug up the dead king, the Union burned him with the princess. Not sure about... I know there was a prince, but I don't think he was very important.”
Ponies could be wrong. Crimson wasn't just important, he was the most important pony in the whole world.
"He's here," she insisted, shoving past him to a set of crystal stairs. They'd been badly damaged, someone had tried to hammer them down. But the crystal only cracked, it was still strong enough to support her weight. Bit climbed up to the second floor, and the royal bedchamber.
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I really like Bit, but this will end in tears. I hope she lerns about what Happen to her fahter and that she is truly alive...
poor poor Bit. I am crying at the loss she has yet to find...
She's going to be devastated once she finds out what bones are. Her master's lay in the tower, tossed asside like strange stones by hooves none other than hers
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I hadn't even realized.
Excuse my swearing but fuck
... Pathfinder, buddy. You need to stfu and try to locate either an ounce of diplomacy or even just a bit of self-preservation. Or common sense.
It'll only be that much harder when Bit finds enough evidence of Crimson's ultimate fate. When that happens, we can only hope she will find a new purpose for herself.
I have to be honest, I have mixed feelings about pathfinder. He seems to care about his people (including bit) but he just irritates me. Maybe it's the way he talks that annoys me, idk. Still enjoying the story, keep up the good work.
10639535
He really did a disservice by not teaching pony anatomy and longevity. Apparently didn't want to teach her death....
Oh dear. Bit can only deny it for so much longer. And I dread seeing what she does when the truth breaks through.
Meanwhile, Pathfinder is so far out of his depth that he may end up getting crushed by the water pressure. Seriously, guy, maybe stop echoing the party line while escorting the crazy imperialist golem.
Poor Bit :(
btw,
Unnecessary "on"
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“The prince must be just around this corner.”
“Nah fam we killed him and his family. Oh! I know, maybe some of our elders can tell you how they desecrated his corpse!”
10639786
He probably doesn’t have many chances to talk to new ponies. Though I feel like he’s just reciting a lot of what he’s been told over the years about the past that Bit experienced while also trying to acclimate to the sudden shift from just normally travelling about the Union Encampment to scurrying through the ruined palace of an ancient tyrant strewn with the corpses of others who tried and failed to explore the structure.
Sure ya did buddy, wonderful paradise you've got here.
Now, that is just a denial.
So the bones she thought were stones from a previous chapter. But I would imagine a skull would be obviously organic? Or did they behead the wizard in the tower and thus no skull was left behind? I would guess she would be able to recognize a skull, so I don't know.
Interesting bit there about the 'nuclear backup'.
Yikes.
Please don't be Sombra.
Damnnnn, he's one smooth operator
Ah yes. More "white stones"
Oh? She recognises that that's not a good sign? Interesting.
...Nerve gas? Ew.
This is very sad. Well told, but she is just so blind to the truth...
10644713
There's been no mention of Radiant Hope, then again, Sombra being capable of love ruins the idea of him being 'pure evil' which nobody wants to hear, everyone wants their enemies and villains to be pure evil and never to have contributed anything good to society.
As a friggin' CHILD, Quisling corrected errors in his school mathbooks, and was even included in the bibliography... after he was executed for treason, they changed it to 'a boy', they couldn't even let him have that!
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At this point, with no real historical records, it's all myth at this point.
The crystal of the palace conducted magic, and wouldn't weaken him even as the earth grew further away.
The lack of quantification for Earth Ponies was annoying in show.
"Equestria has only one princess now,
So this does take place after banishment... And these ponies have been fed so much propaganda they think Celly's evil incarnate even though they realized their leaders were leeches... The question is if anypony in the outside world even remembers them.
Maybe the secret to alicorns' power was no secret at all—maybe they were crafted that way, like she was.
We try to frame the infinite by what we know.
So the automatons are humanoid dragon in shape?
Slave is something alive that is bound against its will.
She is neither alive by how she defines it, and she does this of her own will (as such as it exists).
A machine like myself is possessed, not enslaved.”
Not to mention that he never once treated her as a slave, at worst she was his lab assistant.
what, two centuries? Ponies don't live that long."
Granny Smith, "HUMPH!"
The fervor was so great that not even the palace servants were spared.
In other words your fellow oppressed?
but I don't think he was very important.”
If Bit had more equinity in her right now, she'd have slapped him for that.
Mmmmmm... no. I would argue that something that has no will of it's own could never be truly evil, nor could it be truly good. It simply is.
A knife is not a weapon. It is a tool that could be used for evil means as a weapon, but a knife is not inherently evil; it did nothing by itself for evil, but rather was used for that purpose.
Yes, I'm aware that I'm arguing with a fictional character, and no, I don't care that it's a fictional character; I'm right, dagnabbit!!!
