Mayhem On The Mountain

by Bluecatcinema

Problems On The Peak

To the north of Equestria, somewhere along the boundary between the Crystal Empire and Yakyakistan, stood a mountain with an ancient monastery built into the right side. The monastery had been there for hundreds of years, undisturbed, its existence known only to a select few, it's purpose known to even less.

Inside this grand marble structure resided several monk ponies. Many had left their homes in more civilized areas in hopes of getting away from it all, of indulging their spiritual sides and living a peaceful, minimalist existence. Others still had lived there all their lives, raised on the rituals of their precursors, and thus knew the ins and outs of the building better than they knew themselves.

One such pony was standing in a secluded corner of the courtyard. He was a young Unicorn, with a pale yellow coat under white robes, a brown tail, his head clean-shaven, blue eyes shielded by a pair of simple glasses, and a cutie mark of a green stone hidden beneath his robes.

He was deeply focused, brows furrowed, holding his front hooves in front of them, an inch apart.

“Come on… you can do this, Relic.” The young stallion told himself, “The aura is with me…”

Suddenly, a small orb of some sort of energy began to manifest between the two hooves, and began to slowly grow in size…

“Oh… oh!” The pony named Relic lit up, “I’m doing it… I’m doing it!”

The orb started to become distorted, with small sparks erupting from the surface.

"No, no, no!" Relic panicked. "Don't quit on me now!" He attempted to overcome his panic and focus...

“Relic?”

“Ah!” Relic gasped, his lack of focus causing the orb to disappear to nothingness. The owner of the voice came by, being another monk.

“Relic, there you are.” The monk, a green Earth Pony stallion, greeted, “What were you doing just now?”

“Oh, um…” Relic murmured, “I was… I was inspecting this here wall.” Relic stared at the wall, giving an exaggerated squint with his glasses, “Thought I saw a big crack… turns out I was mistaken."

“Okay…” The monk frowned, nonplussed, “Anyways, do you know where the good rake is? the zen garden needs touching up.”

"I think it's in the southern storeroom." Relic replied, glad that his comrade seemed to have bought his deception.

"Thank you, brother." The monk bowed gratefully, then departed.

As soon as the pony was gone, Relic let out a sigh and looked at his hooves.

“...Next time.” Relic shook his head. “I better get to my daily duties.”

With that, Relic made his way through the courtyard. He strolled past several of his fellows, who were so deep in meditation that they didn't even notice his presence.

As he entered the archway on the other side of the courtyard, he encountered some ponies who were far more mobile; a mare and a stallion, both Pegasi, both wearing pale green robes.

"Good morning, Relic." One of them smiled. "And how are you, on this marvelous day?"

"Wonderfully sanguine, brother Go." Relic smiled back. "Thank you for asking." He looked to the other pony. "And you, sister Flow?"

"I am at peace, like a temperate spring morn." The mare nodded. "May such peace be with you this day, and all others."

"Thank you, sister." Relic grinned. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have duties to attend to."

"Farewell for now, brother." Go said pleasantly.

Relic continued onward, continuing to share pleasantries with whomever he came across, be it monks sharing cups of herbal tea, or the local acupuncturist taking a break between appointments. He knew them all well, and thought of them fondly, each and every one. Despite their order's isolation, Relic took pride in the fact that he enjoyed connections with so many ponies.

'If you want to know the measure of a pony, just count their friends.' He thought to himself.

Further inside the building, Relic passed by another group of monks who were deep in meditation. Unlike the other monks, their manes were not shaved, and some of their robes look ruffled, showing signs that they were not as disciplined as the others, but it seems they were taking to meditation well... to the casual observer at least.

However, as Relic walked by, he glanced at them. While they looked deep in meditation, there were some slight differences from the monks from before. One of them seemed to be nodding off, his head tilted slightly to the left, and another was drooling slightly.

The young stallion looked on, deeply concerned. He lifted a hoof, about to take a step forward… but then brought it back and shook his head.

“There’s nothing you can do, Relic.” He sighed, “May Faust watch over them…”

His own sense of tranquility undermined, Relic glanced out of a nearby window, looking upon the snowy peaks surrounding their home.

"Such beauty." He sighed. "If only all the world could be so beautiful..."

As he gazed out at the pristine environment, he suddenly saw a most unusual sight for this part of Equestria: a messenger pigeon was flying close by the window.

Immediately, Relic was filled with dread.

“Oh no…” Relic gaped.

The pigeon flew by, and in a panic, Relic rushed along the hallway, hoping to catch up.

“Nononononononononononono-” Relic stammered repeatedly.

Quickly, just as the pigeon passed the last window in the hallway, Relic used his magic and grabbed the pigeon and brought him inside.

"Squawk!" The pigeon yelped with outrage. Despite Relic's efforts to be as kind as possible, it did not much like being removed from its flight path.

“D-Deepest apologies, feathered friend.” Relic said curtly, out of breath, as he gently removed the message from the pigeon’s leg, “But I’m afraid I must see this message you’re carrying.”

Releasing the pigeon (which indignantly flew out of the window), Relic unfurled the message. As he read it, his eyes widened in shock and horror.

“Oh, Faust, not again!” Relic panicked, “Oh, this is not good! I must inform Mantra! Mantra!”

Relic made a frantic search through the monastery, seeking one monk in particular.

"Has anypony seen Master Mantra recently?" He asked one group of monks, who were shocked by his frightened expression, “I must speak with him immediately!”

“Um, I think he went to the east wing a few minutes ago.” A Pegasus monk answered, “He might be in the greenhouse.”

"Thank you, brother." Relic said curtly, before continuing his search.

“...You’re welcome?” The monk frowned in confusion.

Meanwhile, in the said greenhouse of the monastery, a dark green Unicorn in grey robes, with pale blue eyes, a brown mane (and matching short beard) was in the middle of many different varieties of flowers, pruning some roses. Though it was hidden under the robes, his cutie mark was that of a lotus.

"Hmm-mmm-mmm, hmm-hmm-mmm..." He hummed to himself as he tended to some roses.

He stopped when he noticed one rose bush was growing too big. It towered over its fellows, and its blossoms were almost pushing against the glass wall.

“This certainly won’t do. Can’t have you taking up too much of the soil’s nutrients. It’s as the Japonese proverb once stated: ‘The nail that sticks out gets hammered down’.” Mantra frowned.

Mantra held up his shears, ready to do some serious trimming, when Relic came rushing in, clearly in a panic.

“AH!” Mantra flinched, the shears flying out of his magical grasp and embedding in the roof of the greenhouse, twanging.

Mantra looked up in annoyance as he then glared at the panting Relic.

“Relic, I thought I made it clear to you and the others that I do not wish to be disturbed when I’m in the greenhouse.” Mantra growled, “It is the one place of solace I have, being the master of this temple.”

“Many apologies, master.” Relic bowed sorrowfully, “But I must speak with you right now.”

“What? Did one of our new arrivals get lost again, brother?” Mantra rolled his eyes.

“No, it’s much worse.” Relic grimaced, as he held up the scroll, “We got another letter… from you-know-who.”

“Another letter?” Mantra frowned, “Are you certain?”

“I checked the contents myself.” Relic explained, “...And I must be honest with you, sir, it is much worse than the last one.”

“I highly doubt that.” Mantra gave a small chuckle as he took the scroll, “Honestly, this is just the work of some 14-year old playing some prank. Like a crank call or a ding-dong-ditch.” He unfurled the scroll and perused it, “I’m sure it’s nothi…” His brow furrowed slightly, a bit taken aback, “Oh. Oh my.”

“I told you.” Relic frowned.

“...Well, I will give this prankster some credit.” Mantra cleared his throat awkwardly, “He is getting... creative in his wordplay.” He then shook his head as he rolled the scroll back up, “...Oh well, just burn it like the rest.”

“What?! But Mantra-!” Relic protested.

“Master Mantra.” Mantra corrected coldly.

“...Er, Master Mantra.” Relic bowed in apology, “We have to do something about the sender of these letters!”

“Do what? It’s just a childish prank. Nothing more.” Mantra scoffed.

“Well, with all due respect, ‘master’, I don’t believe a child would go to the effort of sending four hundred letters to a monastery in the middle of nowhere.” Relic challenged.

“You counted?” Mantra blanched.

“Yes. And every single one has contained threats of bodily harm to you, and everypony in this temple. Mostly you.” Relic pointed out, “How are you not concerned by this?”

“Because it is nothing. Whoever is sending these letters is blowing hot air. These letters have been coming and going, and yet they have not shown themselves.” Mantra said dismissively, “Nothing but empty threats.”

“But what about who’s sending them?” Relic fretted, "We don't exactly have much in the way of neighbors, let alone those who actually know this monastery exists, or for what purpose. Whoever wrote this letter and all those before it knows who we are and what we do here.”

"That doesn't necessarily mean there is trouble on the horizon, brother." Mantra said fairly. "You may be worrying about nothing."

"I beg to differ, master." Relic countered. "What if whoever sent this is someone truly awful? For all we know, this could very well be coming from the Forefathers.”

“‘Forefathers’?” Mantra raised a brow.

“Some of the new arrivals talked a bit before initiation.” Relic explained, “From what I am told, they’re a group of murderers and thieves that hide in plain sight within our societies. And I know for certain there are some things in this temple they would surely kill to get their hooves on.”

“Okay, I am going to stop you right there. You are overreacting.” Mantra said bluntly, “This letter is nothing, as were the other 399. And I doubt that it is these ‘Forefathers’. And even if there was a threat to our home, everypony here would be able to defend it and it’s secrets within.”

“It’s not just our home I’m worried about.” Relic shot back, “Many of our brothers and sisters came here to find inner peace, to get away from the drudgery and dangers of modern life. If we do not take this seriously, we’re putting not only the monastery at risk, but the lives of all our brethren, old and new. If anything happened to them, I wouldn’t forgive myself. Would you?”

"You worry too much, Relic." Mantra shook his head. "Worrying so much about what might happen is not good for the soul, or the body."

“I’m sorry, master, but if you aren’t going to do something, I will.” Relic said firmly, “I will send out a letter to the proper authorities.”

“And have them do what?” Mantra challenged, “Stand around on a mountaintop waiting for some non-existent threat? Ignoring that nonsense, you know the rules: it’s frowned upon to bring in outsiders who do not wish to become monks. To go against the rule that the old master and his masters before him had placed could result in expulsion.”

“I know but I don’t care.” Relic glared, “Even if I have to walk down this mountain and get help myself, I am going to see to it that our way of life as well as everyone within it is safe and protected. If you have nothing to say to that, then I will begin my packing.”

Relic didn’t even have a moment to turn around before Mantra spoke up.

“Wait.” Mantra said, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh, “If you are this serious about it, let me save you all the trouble. I will arrange for a request of assistance to be written and sent to the authorities effective immediately.”

“Really? Just like that?” Relic frowned.

“Look, Relic, we may have our differences, but you were always one of Chakra’s favorite pupils.” Mantra declared with a hint of warmth, “And you always had the monastery’s best interests at heart. And I suppose it wouldn’t be the worst thing to have a helping hand from the outside world, for at least a couple of days.”

“Well, thank you.” Relic gave a small smile and gave a bow, “I’m sorry if I overstep some bounds, master. I know I can come off as a worrywart, but I prefer to err on the side of caution. It's better to be safe than sorry, after all."

"Of course." Mantra nodded.

“Now then…” Relic straightened up, and with the glow of his horn, he pulled the shears from the ceiling, and passed it to Mantra, “I think I’ve kept you from your gardening long enough.” He glanced at the flowers, “Your roses are looking very healthy, by the way.”

"Thank you." Mantra said humbly. "I do my best."

“Of course, that’s just like you, Man- master Mantra.” Relic nodded, “Now, if you excuse me, I got to get back to my chores. I will see you at supper time. Till then.”

With another bow, the young monk left the greenhouse. Mantra waved him off, smiling widely... until he was sure Relic was out of sight. At that point, the smile dropped, replaced by a dismissive scowl, as he then flung the shears into the ground blade first.

“Damn little twit.” Mantra clenched his hoof, “How he ended up in our ranks, I will never know… and now, I have yet another problem.”

Mantra departed from the greenhouse in a huff, seeking a particular member of the brotherhood as he walked through the corridors, he wasn't quite as friendly with his fellow monks as he passed by, responding to their greetings with small nods and quiet replies.

"Glorious day to you, brother Mantra." One monk declared.

"Morning." Mantra said flatly.

Mantra soon found his target in the cloisters: a hulking Earth Pony in blue robes. His coat was dark purple, with a green tail, bald head, mud brown eyes, and a Cutie Mark of a yam under his robes. He was chipping away at a stone block with a pick and hammer, a crude form of a pony being discernible from his progress so far.

“Ube, there you are.” Mantra said curtly, “I should've known you'd be here."

"Good morning, master Mantra." Ube said respectfully, “How are you-”

Ube didn’t have time to finish as he was magically grabbed by his collar as Mantra continued walking.

“Wha-hey!” Ube grunted, dropping his hammer and pick, “What gives?!”

“Walk with me, Ube. We have a problem.” Mantra scowled.

“Problem? What’s going on?” Ube glared as he started walking, Mantra releasing his magical grip.

“We got another letter from our mysterious malcontent.” Mantra snarled.

“Again? What is this, like fifty letters?” Ube gaped.

“Four hundred.” Mantra corrected, Ube gaping at the number. “And this one was more threatening than the last.”

“So what? I thought you told everyone to burn any more letters.” Ube scoffed.

“I did. But that didn’t stop Relic from intercepting this one and reading it… and now I have to send out a letter to the Equestrian authorities.”

“A letter? To outsiders?” Ube gaped, outraged, “Why?!”

“Look, I didn’t have much choice in the matter.” Mantra seethed, “That fool was going to send for help no matter what I said. Sending out a letter myself was the only way I could placate him.”

“Faust damn it all.” Ube growled, “Why do we keep him around? That boy is becoming more trouble than he is worth! Worse than-”

“Do not speak his name in my presence, Ube.” Mantra glared hatefully, shutting the bigger stallion up, “You forget, Relic’s the one who has been keeping the other monks in line ever since I became master. If something were to happen to him, it would risk mutiny. And I think I speak for both of us that we do not want that.”

“But we can’t have outsiders here!” Ube protested, “They’ll find out about everything! The fountain, the old master, our-”

“I am well aware, Ube." Mantra said testily. "But my hooves are tied. But I do believe that as long as we remain cautious, cooperate with whoever arrives here, and keep quiet about certain elements of our life here, everything should be just fine. I mean, whoever is sending these letters has been threatening us for years yet they never showed themselves. We keep them entertained for a few days till they get bored and send them on their way, and then things will go back to normal."

“Well, I still don’t think this is a good idea.” Ube crossed his hooves petulantly.

“Well, you aren’t kept around for your brains, Ube.” Mantra scoffed, “Now listen carefully, this is what I need you to write…”

A few days later...

At the RDL headquarters, Triage and Survival were tending to Black and Sterling. While Black’s injuries were not as severe as Sterling’s, being able to stand and walk, the internal bleeding and bruises from the few hits he took from Silas was enough to bench him for a while.

Sterling unfortunately had no such luxury, being confined to his bed.

“Hmm, you seem to be recovering nicely, Sterling.” Triage noted, “In another week or so, we might be able to move you on to physical therapy.”

"Still can't come soon enough." Sterling groaned. "I'm bored out of my mind just lying here, day in, day out..."

“I know it sucks, Sterling.” Black grimaced, as Survival examined him, “It’s not fun being out of the action.”

“Easy for you to say, you can move around.” Sterling frowned, “Silas just about busted my ribcage.”

“Well, it couldn’t be as bad as when I fell off that cliff all those years ago. About every bone in my body was broken, not to mention I still had a bolt in my left eye.” Black gestured to his prosthetic eye, “If Belle hadn’t found me all those years ago, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“Wait, for real?” Survival perked up, glancing at Black. Despite having been briefed on Black’s backstory upon his joining, he still didn’t know all the details, “Yet you were still able to perform your duties all these years?”

“What can I say? We Paladins come from a line of war horses.” Black shrugged, “I have taken many beatings over the years. While this one in particular was kinda bad, I've had wor-” Black cringed, a twinge of pain surging through his body, “Ow…”

“Worse or better, Black, you still took a serious beating. Be thankful you weren’t reduced to paste when that monster slammed you into that wall.” Triage chided, “While not as extensive as Sterling over here, it will take some time for these wounds to heal.”

"Yeah, yeah..." Black muttered sourly.

“I just hope Fletch and the others can handle themselves without us.” Sterling mused, “It’s bad enough that Silas is out there causing havoc. The last thing I want is for that filth to-”

“Right now, your main concern should be getting better.” Triage urged, as he was finishing up, “Now then, your checkup is complete. Black, you’re free to go, but do not participate in any extraneous activities. Sterling, we will be back in a little while to change those bandages.”

“Oh, joy.” Sterling rolled his eyes.

“See you soon, Sterling.” Survival declared as he and Triage departed.

Now it was just Black and Sterling, in the calm, quiet recovery ward.
‘
“Why are you still here, Black?” Sterling turned his head to him, “They said you could go.”

“Yeah, but I figured you would still like some company.” Black smiled, “I don’t really have much to do today, what with my injuries and all.”

“...Thanks, Black.” Sterling gave a small smile, “It’s been tough, just laying here, especially listening to how bad the other guys from the raid had it. Especially that one kid.”

“Oh yeah. Triage told me he’ll probably be laid up for months. Said it’d be a miracle if he ever sees the field again.”

“Dammit.” Sterling sighed, “...None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for me.”

“Come on, Sterling, I already told you it wasn’t all your fault.” Black urged.

“It’s not just that, Black. Silas has it out for me, and the rest of us as a result, because I used him in Project: Maelstrom.” Sterling reminisced glumly, “When I met him, I thought he was just an arrogant blowhard who couldn’t tell his head from his ass, somepony who couldn’t hurt a fly… if I had just told him to pound sand, he wouldn’t have joined forces with the Forefathers, and he wouldn’t have stumbled upon that miasma that turned him in that thing.”

“...I felt the same way, Sterling.” Black shook his head, “You probably know about what happened to Sacred Dysley, right?” Sterling gave a small nod, “At the time, I just saw him as just another pawn in the Forefathers’ forces, just doing their biddings. Never did I realize that he had a wife and son, much less a lover like that Somnus. I know now that it wasn’t my fault, but I still think if I hadn’t caused Sacred’s injuries and death, Secret wouldn’t have found his way into the Forefathers and did away with that hospital…”

He turned to Sterling.

“But what happened, happened.” Black continued, “And we will stop Silas. He will pay for what he has done to us and our comrades.”

"That's the spirit." Sterling smiled. "We'll find some way around those powers of his."

"We sure will." Black nodded. "And as a last resort, we could throw some of your homemade spicy hayburgers at him. No living thing could survive those."

"Don't think just because I'm laid up in bed, looking like an extra from a cheap mummy movie, that I won't come over there and smack you upside your head."

The two let out a laugh.

Meanwhile, Survival and Triage made their way into Triage's office.

“Well, I gotta say, I am relieved that Sterling and Black are doing alright.” Survival admitted, “Sterling especially. After seeing how bad he looked, I was worried he was going to be out a lot longer.”

“Elite chose them for the Alpha Force Squad for a reason, Survival.” Triage pointed out, “Black was already a tough S.O.B. even before the team was formed, as was Sterling.”

“Yeah…” Survival agreed… though a frown grew on his face, “I just hope I can live up to those standards.”

“What do you mean by that?” Triage asked.

“Sorry, it’s just… it’s weird, having been recruited into a militant group despite having no training. I mean, Black, Fletcher, and Caboose were RDL and Royal Guards while Fury and Sterling were self-taught. I know they can all hold their own in a fight, but me? I barely survived the two encounters I had with Forefather agents.” Survival explained

“You sell yourself short, Survival.” Triage declared, “You were trained as a survivalist, weren’t you? How else would you know your way with a knife?”

“That is true…” Survival admitted, “But then again, I think when they were training me, they thought it would be for when society collapsed and the world was overrun by either machines, raping misogynist caribous, or zombies. Not for agents of a terrorist group.”

“I hope you don’t mind me asking… but what of your parents? Did they ever realize that the world is still okay… er, relatively speaking?” Triage asked, morbidly curious.

“Sadly, no.” Survival sighed, “Every time ‘the day the world ends’ comes and goes, they go and write letters to other preppers and learn about another apocalypse and decide that’s when the world ends. They just wouldn’t accept that there was nothing bad, or at least world-ending coming. Somnus theorized when I told him that they either had some undiagnosed mental problems or were simply too embarrassed to accept that they wasted their lives for nothing.”

“Hmm, that is rough. I can’t imagine what it’s been like. Especially for you.” Triage sympathized.

“Well, it’s not like they were abusive or anything.” Survival declared, “If anything, they were just overprotective. But it did really mess with me. I was stuck in that underground bunker for most of my life. I didn’t even see the actual sky till I was five. And that only really happened because I snuck out, wanting to see what the outside was like.”

“Yikes.” Triage cringed, “When did you actually get out?”

“I was sixteen.” Survival declared, “Around that time, I’ve been questioning whether the world really had ended and the sanity of my parents. But every time I tried to have an honest conversation, they would either ignore me or change the subject. They wouldn’t even entertain the thought of leaving the bunker. It wasn’t an easy decision, but I knew if I didn’t get out now, I was sure to turn out just like them.”

“Survival…” Triage frowned.

“It was tough at first. All the knowledge I had of the world was limited to some outdated history books and encyclopedias and an old-timey radio. Imagine my shock that we had four Alicorn princesses instead of one.” Survival gave a small chuckle, “Fortunately, after talking to some ponies from the welfare system, they were able to get me housing and schooling, and before I knew it, I had a degree in psychology and was working for…”

Survival went silent, as Triage knew what he was going to say.

“Brightdale…” Triage finished, “You still miss your friend, don’t you?”

“I do.” Survival admitted, “I never told the others this, but I met Hamm while still going through college. He loved going to this bar near the campus. I was still trying to catch up on all the things that happened when I was in the bunker, and Hamm was happy to help me, didn’t even blink at me being in a bunker for sixteen years. He told me everything, like the marriage of Celestia and Shine Paladin, the Daring Do twentieth anniversary convention, the disastrous yak breakdancing tournament... he even helped me get a job at Brightdale, introduced me to Somnus.”

“...He sounded like a great pony.” Triage said simply.

“He was.” Survival declared softly, “...I never honestly thought that one day everything I come to know would be gone. That my hospital would be massacred, that my best friend would be killed in cold blood, that my boss was an elite member of the terrorist organization responsible for both of these events, or that my mentor was part of the same group and had essentially brought back Nightmare Moon…”

“Yeah, it sounded like a pretty rotten week.” Triage admitted, remembering the period of self-doubt he was going through, before adopting a firm glance, “But you got through it all, and now you’re one of us.”

“But what if that is not enough?” Survival fretted, “What if when I get out on the field, I end up getting the other guys killed? The last thing I want to be is dead weight.”

“Survival, a soldier who doesn't know a combat knife from a comb is a dead weight.” Triage said bluntly, “If the way our lessons are anything to go by, you are far from that description. You’re a smart lad. Maybe not up to Master’s level, but you show a lot of potential. I mean, you’ve been breezing through all of my lessons like it was nothing. Almost makes me regret not taking on a pupil sooner.”

“Well, I did have a good teacher.” Survival shrugged modestly.

"Just keep at your training." Triage encouraged him. "Study, and build up your skills. You'll have your chance to shine soon enough. And on that day, you'll everycreature exactly why you're a part of Alpha Force Squad."

"That's the plan." Survival nodded, cheered up a little (though still a bit doubtful).

"Wonderful." Triage grinned. "Now, it's time for the weekly blood bank check. We need to make sure we have enough to go around if anycreature loses too much."

"Right behind you." Survival followed Triage out of the room. "Just another day at the office..." He joked.

Meanwhile, Elite was in his office, sorting through the morning's paperwork. As the head of the RDL, he received many reports, updates, memos, and more. He spent most mornings organizing them, and today was no exception; he placed the more important forms out of the towering stack into his 'high priority' file, to be tended to as soon as possible. The rest were sorted into "low priority" and "archive"; one for less important files, and another for the RDL's records…

And to the side of the desk was a trashcan, with a piece of paper taped to it, being labeled ‘political bullcrap’, with a crudely drawn caricature of a particularly rotund zebra mare, the drawing greatly exaggerating her weight.

"Low priority, archive, low priority, high priority..." He masterfully filed the papers. He then frowned as he glanced at a paper bearing a reminder that he was expected to attend a fundraiser for a particularly obnoxious Pegasus senator angling for a re-election. "Political bullcrap..." He threw the paper into the trashcan. "The work never ends..." He sighed jokingly. "...Just the way I like it."

Just then, Ballista entered the office.

“Hey, Elite. How goes it?” Ballista asked.

“Oh, you know. Just oodles and oodles of paperwork.” Elite shrugged, as he tossed another piece of paper into the trash (this one reading "Vote 'Yes' on privatizing parsnip farms!"). “How’s Sterling and Black?”

“Triage says Sterling will be beginning therapy next week and Black himself will be back out on the field in a couple of weeks.” Ballista declared.

“That’s good. The sooner we have all our best men in tip-top shape, the sooner we can devise a plan on how to deal with our new adversary.” Elite glared.

“You said it.” Ballista agreed, before noting a big book sitting on the corner of his desk. On the spine, it read: Esoteric Magicks and Where to Find Them. “Taking up some light reading, I see?”

“Oh, that.” Elite turned to the book, “I was thinking on what Black said during our comm session with the others. If magic did have some sort of effect on Silas, then maybe there’s a particular type of magic out there that could help penetrate that miasma body of his.”

“Not a bad line of thinking, but maybe we’re overthinking this.” Ballista surmised, crossing his hooves, “The way I see it, perhaps all we need is a whole lot of Unicorn firepower. I mean, Caboose alone seems to have quite a bit of oomph behind his magic from what Black told me. Put a couple more Unicorns on him, and they might blow him away.”

“Caboose is powerful, I’m not doubting that.” Elite shook his head, “But I do not want to place all our bets on just him alone. If he goes down, then what do we have?”

“Well, you got me there.” Ballista admitted.

“Yeah. Unfortunately, I didn't have much luck in finding anything substantial in the texts.” Elite sighed, “Doesn’t help that the book drags on at parts. I’m probably gonna need Master’s help on breezing through it.”

“Well, since we’re on the topic of reading, I did come in here to give you something.” Ballista reached into his jacket.

Ballista pulled out a weathered scroll and set it down.

“A scroll?” Elite raised a brow.

“Yeah, we just got it a few minutes ago.” Ballista explained, “But get this, this came in by carrier pigeon, not magic.”

“Carrier pigeon?” Elite gaped, “That’s… peculiar. I didn’t think ponies still used them since dragon flames and unicorn magic became a thing.”

“Yeah. And it looks like they both came a long way. The poor thing was exhausted.” Ballista said sympathetically, “I got it some water and a little bird seed before sending the little blighter on it’s way.”

Elite examined the scroll, seeing a peculiar wax seal on it, bearing a symbol of what appears to be a fountain within an orb.

“It must be very important if they applied a wax seal to it.” Elite surmised.

“Come on, don’t keep me in suspense.” Ballista urged, “Open it and see what’s inside.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Elite rolled his eyes as he broke the seal and unfurled the scroll, “Let’s see…”

The director perused the scroll, his eyes gliding across the scroll, his curiosity giving way to a look of concern… before his eyes lit up in recognition.

“Elite? What’s up?” Ballista frowned.

Elite wordlessly set down the scroll and grabbed the book, opening up to a bookmarked page, and scanned the page, the recognition returning to a deeper concern.

“Ballista, have the Taskforce and the remainder of the Alpha Force Squad contacted immediately. Announce an emergency meeting.” Elite ordered.

“What? Why?” Ballista gaped, “What did the letter say? Is it serious?”

“Definitely.” Elite said grimly, “If this letter is who I think it’s from, then that means we might just have a way to find the location of one of the supply tunnels that will take us to the Forefathers’ headquarters and Father himself. As well as helping us with our current Silas problem.”

“Whoa, slow down.” Ballista held up a hoof, “What are you talking about?”

“I will explain later. Get everyone to the meeting room posthaste, and hurry.” Elite declared.

“Alright, then. I will get on it, I guess.” Ballista frowned, confused, before heading out to make the call.

Elite was left behind, as he glanced at the scroll again.

“If this is for real… this could very well be the key to finally stopping Father for good..." He said to himself.

Comments

[Starlight Nova]

Which one of your stories is the previous story?

[Bluecatcinema]

10893299 "Fear of a Child".