13 - Mare is Wolf to Mare
Restricted Code’s title of “High Ritualist” was a bit of a misnomer. It called forth ideas of some grand priestess holding dominion over vast swathes of the devoted populace and communing with the gods daily. But while that may have been true in the past (Code didn’t know), most rituals had been standardized, parameterized, bureaucratized, and miniaturized. There was a protocol to get your ritual looked at by experts and certified for safety. It wasn’t against the law to perform uncertified rituals, but only in the sense that it wasn’t against the law for non-pegasi to swan dive off Canterlot’s platform. It would help to know that your funky new method of mass enchanting wasn’t going to call forth one of the Horses of the Apocalypse by accident (no matter how chill they were).
It didn’t help that the Royal Ritualist Commissioned Division was nigh-perpetually understaffed. Not by much, but whenever there was a cut in need of a budget, the Ritual Division usually took the hit first. After all, if ninety-five percent of what rituals did could be accomplished by unicorns, nopony would use rituals, so why bother keeping so many ponies who knew rituals? It was the same kind of rectal-cranial-insertive thinking that prevented the Guard from being ready whenever some new Big Bad Evil Guy was stomping around. (At least Twilight was making steps to change that.) Code technically qualified as a colonel, but mostly in pay grade and very rarely in authority.
And so, in spite of her “lofty” title, Code often had to get involved in certification and look over small-scale rituals, like ongoing ones to make houseplants extra colorful upon blooming when a pegasus didn’t have any earth pony friends or family to do it for them. She didn’t mind at all; it was a good contrast to when she was investigating equine sacrifices and had to wade through tables of average mana saturation density for horns and each tribe’s blood based on age. Or when she was waiting for the proper murder reports in the Mearhwolf investigation.
Shoreline was the houseplant-loving pegasus in question, sitting in front of Code as her ritual was looked over. She’d gone through all the proper, rarely-used channels and waited patiently, which elevated her a little in Code’s eyes. Most ponies weren’t patient enough for anything this small. Shoreline must really like plants; Code had double-checked to be sure she didn’t have a plant-related cutie mark (it was a wave).
After the last step had been checked, Code cleared her throat. “So you made this on your own?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Shoreline said tentatively.
“And this is just for growing plants, correct? It’s quite inefficient.”
“Um, ma’am, I only want-”
“Yes, that’s all it’ll do, but- You just looked up the basics of magic circle theory and didn’t read much further, didn’t you?”
“Well… yes.” Shoreline folded her ears back.
“This is decent, for what it is, but it’s like using a chisel to bore a hole when there’s a drill or awl right next to you. It’s- If you want to use this, it will work. But if you come back tomorrow, I’ll have a version that’s a lot simpler and does the same thing. If you want to read up on magic circles more, take a look at Ring Around the Rosicruce. Major Arc, 953. It’s one of the best beginner’s guides out there.”
“I thought about it, but then I saw Fundamentals of Geometric Magic, and that was by Starswirl, and-”
Of course. Biting back a groan, Code rubbed her temples. “Other wizards besides Starswirl and Twilight exist, you know. As smart as he was- as he is, the bulk of Starswirl’s magical knowledge is over a millennium out of date. The fundamentals will still work, but many of his techniques are woefully roundabout compared to modern ones.”
“Oh.” Shoreline licked her lips. “I, in my defense, it’s not like this sort of-”
The window exploded inward, glass flying everywhere. Shoreline yelped and threw her wings and legs up to shield her face, while Code instinctively ducked below her desk for protection. She didn’t think they were being attacked, not this deep in Canterlot, but her mind was already racing as to possible suspects; maybe they were trying to take advantage of Princess Twilight’s inexperi-
“What the…?”
Shoreline sounded baffled, but unhurt and relatively unpanicked. Code looked up. No arrows or bolts or other projectiles were in her office — incoming or otherwise. Instead, the twitching body of a raven was sprawled among the glass shards on her desk. There was an unnatural kink in its neck, maybe from smashing into the window. Code carefully prodded at the body; a slightly larger twitch than usual, but nothing more. What in Equestria would cause this?
Then Code saw the first alu inked on its wing, the runes glowing a pale blue. This wasn’t an ordinary bird.
The raven suddenly snapped its wings inward and jumped onto its legs, prompting another yelp from Shoreline. It cocked its head at her, blue flames now glowing in empty eye sockets, still with the kink in its neck, then hopped around to face Code. “Follow!” it croaked. “Follow!”
A lengthy history of working at Canterlot Castle, particularly in recent years, had long since dulled Code to the bizarre, so the question of “Why is a raven talking to me?” obediently shuffled down to the bottom of her list of new priorities. What she was more concerned with was: “Follow? Why?” She was already trying to make a stab at it, but she didn’t know which target to aim for. There were too many possibilities.
“Amanita!” the raven screeched. It flapped over to the door. “Follow, Code! Trouble! Follow!”
Code nearly jumped over her desk. “SorrybutIneedtoleaverightnowtalkwithmysecretary,” she said to Shoreline as she raced out.
She galloped through the halls, slid around corners. Flecks of spit trailed from her lips as she panted like a steam engine. Everybody who recognized her immediately gave her a wide berth to let her gallop on. All the while, the raven flapped after her. She knew a few things, one of them being that when you were working with a necromancer to reduce the impact of a spree killer and an enthralled raven came crashing through the window to tell you — you personally — to follow, you followed. The fact that Amanita hadn’t come herself — and neither had Phalanx — meant something bad had happened, and while it wasn’t so bad that she couldn’t enthrall a raven, there was still a good chance it was time-sensitive. If there was even the slightest chance a ritual was involved, she needed to get suited up and get it under control as soon as possible, before it could do any damage.
Code jinked through the corridors of the castle, found the door to her destination, and only with great effort managed to rip it open rather than plowing straight through it. The door was lucky it wasn’t locked. On the other side, Captain Dauntless Vanguard was standing in front of various officers at a conference table, pointing out something on a map of northern Equestria, just south of the Crystal Empire. Whatever he was talking about, it came to a halt when the door slammed against the wall and everyone jumped.
“Excuse me?” one of the brigadiers snapped, whirling on Code. “Who do you-” Then she recognized who had entered. “Apologies, ma’am,” she said quickly, leaning back in her chair and out of the spotlight.
Code ignored her. “Captain, I need Task Force Ehwaz gathered immediately,” she gasped at Vanguard.
The Captain General of the entire Equestrian Royal Guard saluted. “Right away, ma’am. Your armor will be ready in fifteen minutes.”
The High Ritualist at a dead run outranked everybody.
Bitterroot’s first thought was: I gotta get me one of those knockout potions. They’d be a lifesaver for unruly bounties.
Second thought: Ow, my head.
Third thought: OW, MY HEAD, WHAT THE STOTTING NIGHT SOIL.
Fourth thought: Screw those potions. Never mind. Cruel and unusual for bounties. My HEAD.
Bitterroot blinked her eyes open against her pounding headache. She was lying in a posh but barren room — in Gloss’s mansion, maybe. She instinctively stretched, only to be stopped by something rattling. Rattling? Like- She looked at her legs. She wasn’t just bound, she was full-on manacled, rusty old fetters and chains and everything. Yeesh. She even had a mask on her muzzle, one that would enable her to talk without using her mouth for anything dextrous. But while her front legs had been bound together and her back legs had been bound together, they weren’t bound to each other. That was something, at least. “Hey!” she yelled out, wincing at the way it made her head throb. “I’m awake!”
No response.
Bitterroot awkwardly pushed herself up to her hooves, even though it made her head spin. Her wings had been bound as well, the rough rope scratching against her feathers. She followed the chain from her fetters to an iron ring drilled into the wall. Great. She investigated the link between the chain and her fetters more thoroughly. Nope; it was the old-but-strong type.
There was a window in the room; Bitterroot hobbled over and peeped out. She was on the second floor, overlooking the courtyard; she took the opportunity to re-examine the magic circles. Up close, they had even more details she’d missed before. Hard, angular sigils were circumscribed on the circles, tracing out ever more elaborate shapes. Gems inscribed with runes lined the outermost circle, and each of the cardinal ingredients had minute runes scrawled into the dirt around them. Yesterday, Bitterroot would’ve been dumbstruck by it. Now she just wondered how badly they were messing it up.
“We told you to leave, you know.”
Bitterroot hopped around. Gloss was standing in the doorway and was giving Bitterroot a disappointed look. “You could’ve left,” Gloss sighed, “and this all would’ve been over for you already. Even if you’d hung around, we’d’ve let you go. But, no, you had to stick your muzzle into somepony’s private places. How rude.” She squinted at Bitterroot. “A bounty hunter, I presume. No other pony is quite so invasive. Even if you weren’t, we saw all those pictures. We can’t let you go.” She shook her head, tsking. “Still, I guess this means we don’t have to go out looking for somepony tonight.”
Looking for somepony. Bitterroot’s blood ran cold. Somepony to kill for the last sacrifice. Her. Probably at midnight. Maybe, if Gloss didn’t know it wasn’t working- “You’re messing it all up,” Bitterroot said quickly. “The death ritual.” Gloss twitched back in surprise and blinked; Bitterroot kept talking. “I’ve talked to several experts, and they all said-”
But once she recovered herself, Gloss snorted. “‘Experts’, you say, as if those churls in the Ritual Division knew a thing about real magic. Their lead officer is an earth pony, for Celestia’s sake! I could understand if she were a unicorn, but an earth pony? She knows less about magic than a foal.”
“You really think that?” Bitterroot unconsciously tried opening her wings, but the rope stopped them. “You’ve got all these ponies whose job it is to know rituals, and you think you know better because…?”
“Because I’m willing to try new things,” Gloss said airily. “Rituals have been performed the same way for centuries. Have you read any books on ritualism? Some of the symbology hasn’t changed since it was first used in the Three Tribes Era! Those ponies are inflexible, caught in the ways of the past, unable to jar themselves out of their ruts, taking tradition as truth. You yourself knew it was a death ritual, so it must be correct. They’re either blind to reality or have their heads in the sand.”
So much for that. Bitterroot had plenty of different responses, but knew they’d just get shot down with “logic” that assumed that because it was new, it was automatically good.
“If it’s any consolation,” Gloss said quietly, “I really am sorry it has to be this way. If I could’ve done it without any death-”
“Jumped pretty quickly to death, though, didn’t you?” snapped Bitterroot. “What was it, your second choice?”
“This is important,” Gloss snapped back. “When wood is chopped, chips fly.”
“Good thing you’re not one of the chips, then. How convenient.”
“If I needed to die for this, I would gladly offer myself up!”
“But only if you needed to die, right? You never thought about offering yourself up to minimize collateral?”
Gloss glowered at Bitterroot.
“Pfft. Coward.”
Gloss’s eyes burned with anger and her horn glowed. Bitterroot’s legs were yanked out from under her and she smashed her face into the floor. Before she could get up, Gloss was crouching down next to her, breathing heavily into her face. “I suggest,” Gloss hissed, “that you hold your tongue, or else I’ll-”
Bitterroot smirked beneath her mask. “What’re you gonna do? Kill me? You need me alive at midnight.”
“I need you alive. I don’t need you intact. The death of a jawless hextuple-amputee will work just fine. And there are over twelve hours until midnight.”
No more smirking. Bitterroot’s skin crawled.
Gloss stood up again, giving Bitterroot a good shove. “Guards!” she yelled. Immediately, three guards filed into the room: an earth mare, an earth stallion, and a unicorn stallion. “Keep watch over her,” she said. “Do whatever you want with her, as long as she stays alive.” She fired a disgusted look at Bitterroot and stalked out.
Bitterroot swallowed as the guards loomed over her. Whatever Amanita was up to, she hoped it was better than this.
Phalanx stared at the big, black hole in his chest. “Am I dead?” he asked, wiggling a hoof into it.
“Undead, actually,” said Amanita. She smeared a little more raven eye jelly beneath the dead pegasus’s eyes. She had enough, she could afford to be more than cautious. She might need to, given her thoughts were still aching from Phalanx’s revivification. “And undergoing healing. Your body’s magically repairing itself, but the only things working are your voluntary muscles.”
“Huh. Not even my brain?”
“Technically, no. It’s complicated.”
“So if you cut my head off-”
“I don’t want to test it yet,” Amanita snapped. She tied the paper with the rebirth stave around one of the pegasus’s legs and ran over the words of the ritual in her mind again.
“Yet,” muttered Phalanx.
Amanita closed her eyes, gathered her magic, and began chanting. After enthralling the raven and bringing back Phalanx, she had fewer ingredients than she’d hoped, but she could make it work. She pushed her magic into the ritual’s framework, danced across fates like she had with Cobalt, and added a timeline to restore the pegasus’s body over time. More work for her, but less material needed. When she fell back into physicality, her horn ached and throbbed with the magic she’d pushed and she tasted effort. After the mild backlash of Cobalt’s resurrection, this one hit like a hammer to the face. The fact that she was still recovering from bringing back Phalanx didn’t help at all. She lurched forward, barely catching herself with a leg as the world spun around her. Her gut heaved; a few drops of black bile coursed up her burning throat and dribbled onto the floor.
“Oh, yeesh…” Phalanx was quickly at her side, steadying her. “Do you need any-”
Amanita snatched up a ready glass of water from the floor and downed it. “Water,” she rasped, wiping her mouth down and shoving the cup at him. Her spit was slimy, downright rubbery. Why did this ritual always leave her feeling thirsty?
“Water,” repeated Phalanx. “Got it.” He darted off to the kitchen and quickly returned, the cup filled up. Amanita gulped it down in seconds; Phalanx refilled it without prompting.
After several glasses, after her thoughts had stopped spinning, Amanita watched as the pegasus’s eyelids fluttered. The hasty ritual hadn’t fully healed his neck yet and his breath came out as a wet wheeze. He groaned, pushed himself up, opened his eyes. Once he saw Amanita, he gasped and tried to shuffle away from her, only to bump into the wall.
“Um. Hey,” said Amanita. How was she supposed to do this? Demand answers? She’d never been good with demands. “Listen, I- need you to-”
The pegasus lunged; Amanita squeaked, reared, fell over. But just as she was raising her hooves to protect herself, Phalanx tackled the pegasus and wrestled him to the ground. “You know,” Phalanx said as he kept the other pegasus down with little effort, “you really should’ve tied him up or something.”
“I’m new at this, okay?” Amanita yelled as she got to her hooves. “Usually, the people I resurrect don’t want to kill me!”
Beneath Phalanx, the pegasus froze. He began, “Resur-” Then he stopped when he heard his voice, a two-toned rasp. He took several deep breaths, his eyes widening as air hissed from his neck, then cursed. “You- You can’t do this,” he sputtered in combined anger and fear. “Enthrallment is- You’re not allowed- You’ll be drawn and quartered for this, you monster!”
Amanita shrugged. “I’m a necromancer. You think that’ll stop me?”
Again, the pegasus went (literally) deathly still. Of course, without any preparation, that would stop her quite well, but he didn’t need to know that. Phalanx gave her an odd look, though.
“Now, I’m going to ask you some questions,” Amanita said, “and you’re going to answer them, or…” A pause, another shrug. “Well, I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out.”
A series of quick, jerky nods. It dimly occurred to Amanita what she was saying would sound incredibly threatening if you didn’t know she was stating plain facts and blundering through the whole thing. Well, she found no need to disabuse the pony of that notion. “What’s your name?”
“R-ragged Stratus.”
A name that meant absolutely nothing to her. “Hmm,” she said vaguely. “Do you work with the Mearhwolf?”
“Y-yes. I was p-part of a g-group sent to s-stop you,” Stratus babbled. “Y-you were- interviewing the d-dead and-”
Abruptly, something hammered at the door. “Open up!” somepony roared. “This is the Ritual Division of the Equestrian Royal Guard!”
“Excuse me a moment,” Amanita said quickly, pushing herself up. Had Code arrived already? And not only her, but with the Guard as well? Hopefully. She’d say “wings crossed”, but she didn’t have wings. She scrambled to the front door.
A cluster of guardsponies was right outside the door, all armed to the teeth (and wings or horn if they had those). The one right on the front step was wearing armor that didn’t look dissimilar to the regular armor of the Royal Guard, but it looked lighter and the gilding was veined through with some dark ore. Several large sigils, glowing softly, had been etched into the metal. A thin linkage of the same dark metal linked the main barding with the armored boots; the sigils’ glow occasionally pulsed through the veins, down this strip, across the boots, and into the earth. The enthralled raven was sitting on the railing next to her.
Before Amanita could speak, the guard was talking. “Ma’am,” she began, “we’re with the-” Then she got a good look at Amanita and pulled her head back as she flattened her ears. “That… is a lot of blood.”
“Huh?” Amanita touched her face. Still wet. Right. “Oh, don’t worry. None of it’s mine.” Wait, hadn’t she split her eyebrow? “Well, some of it’s mine. Most of it’s not.”
For some reason, the guard didn’t look reassured. But she quickly hid her expression, going back to the expected stoicism. “We’re with the Royal Ritualist Commissioned Division-”
“Is Code with you?” Amanita asked. “Restricted Code? The High Ritualist?”
The guard looked over her shoulder. “Colonel Code, one of the ponies wants to talk to you.” She quickly stepped down.
Code stepped up to take her place, the raven leaping onto her head. Her armor was much the same as the guard’s, although her helmet also sported integrated goggles and she had pouches for… something Amanita couldn’t identify at her sides. “Amanita,” she said. “Are you hurt?”
“No, but- Did you see the message? Or did the raven drop it? It was supposed to be carrying a scroll.”
“I didn’t see anything. All I had to go on was its… speech, which was light on details.”
Amanita wasn’t sure whether or not she should be pleased that her skill with thralls was incomplete. At least her backup had worked. “Then you should know I’ve got three dead ponies in here. Well, one dead, two undead.”
Code’s pupils dilated slightly. “Show me.”
The raven now on her back, Amanita led Code and her squad to the bloody wreckage of the living room. The second Phalanx saw Code, he stood up and saluted, keeping one hoof on Stratus. The second Stratus saw Code, he screamed, in a last-ditch attempt to sow confusion, “She’s a necromancer! You need to stop her now!”
“Of course she’s a necromancer,” said Code blandly. “Why do you think I hired her?”
Stratus went limp on the floor, saying something uncouth. Code ignored him, saying to Phalanx, “At ease.” Her eyes flicked to the wound in his chest. “I assume you were killed?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Phalanx said guiltily. He stepped off Stratus and pawed almost reflexively at the wound. “Spear forced through the armor from the back by an earth pony while I was distracted. I feel fine, though.” He grinned weakly, spread his wings, and jogged in place. A few of the guards tried to avoid looking at him.
“Hmm.” Code turned to the spear, still embedded in the floor through the earth pony’s corpse, and sniffed at it. “Might be enchanted,” she muttered. “We’ll have to get it analyzed. Ponies!” She pointed at the rest of the guards. “Sweep the house! Look for any hostiles or illegal paraphernalia! You don’t need to be thorough yet, just find any immediate surprises! Split along the usual lines. Team 1, take the upstairs. Team 2, ground floor. Whichever team finishes first gets the basement.” A chorus of affirmative noises, and the ponies dispersed through the house.
“So,” Code said to Amanita, “what happened here?”
Amanita laid out what little information there was as best she could. Code remained impassive throughout, occasionally nodding. As she talked, Amanita unraveled the spells she’d placed on the raven, releasing it from enthrallment and undeath alike. When Amanita was done, Code sighed. “You did the best you could.” She looked down at Stratus. “You, on the other hoof…”
Swallowing, Stratus tried drawing himself up. But with his ears folded back and him trembling like a foal, it wasn’t the least bit imposing. “I know my rights, I don’t need to speak with you,” he said in a wavering voice.
“Of course you don’t,” said Code. “Do you know anything about the Mearhwolf?”
Stratus thrust his muzzle in the air and looked away. Amanita couldn’t comprehend what it took to be undead, at the mercy of the Royal Guard and a necromancer, and still act like a petulant foal.
Code snorted. “Stratus. Sir. You and your friend killed a guard and attempted to kill a civilian. This is a plain, obvious fact. Even if you have nothing to do with the Mearhwolf, you’re going away for a long time.”
“He already told me he does,” Amanita piped up. “Work for the Mearhwolf, I mean.”
Code nodded at Amanita and continued, “So help me help you. Tell me what I need to know and you have a shot at a plea bargain.”
Stratus didn’t move, except to twitch one of his ears. Then he took a long, shuddering breath. “Look, I- This is just a job, I was just paid-”
“That’s an excellent excuse and a terrible reason. Please get to the point.”
“Yes, I work for the Mearhwolf,” said Stratus, cringing back. “I was- We heard about the necromancer, heard that she’d brought Cobalt back to life, and… We couldn’t risk her talking to anypony else we’d killed! What if they gave a description of who’d killed them?” (Code actually nodded at that, but didn’t say anything.) “She had to die so she couldn’t do it anymore. We didn’t think she could- fight back like that!”
Code glanced over the remains of the room. “You don’t know anything about her besides ‘necromancer’, do you?”
“That’s bad enough! And we thought she needed the sergeant for protection, not- And since he was with her, he might’ve heard something, too, passed it on even if she was dead. We- We couldn’t risk it. I was- We just got lucky they passed so close, I was supposed to lure them here while they were out, the Mearhwolf owns this house, so-”
“Who’s the Mearhwolf?” cut in Code. Somehow, her voice was still level. “Who are you working for?”
“The Mearhwolf is, it’s really more like a group,” said Stratus. When Code narrowed her eyes, he hastily continued, “But it’s led by Viscountess High Gloss-”
“High Gloss!” blurted Amanita. “Bitterroot was right!” She found herself smiling, in spite of everything.
Everypony looked at her. Including, she noticed, the rest of the guards, who had apparently finished their sweeps. Silence reigned, then one of the guards rebelled by coughing. “Nothing and nopony on the ground floor, ma’am,” he said to Code, passing Amanita a towel.
“Nor on the second floor or in the basement,” added another.
Code gave them both obligatory nods, then asked Amanita, “You knew this?”
“W-well, um…” Amanita quailed beneath almost a dozen stares. She hid it by burying her face in the towel to wipe the blood off. “It was… just a guess, really. The, those circles, the ones I showed you, remember? They were centered on High Gloss’s mansion, so Bitterroot-”
The towel fell from her grasp. It was like she’d been dunked in ice water. They’d made a terrible, terrible mistake. “Oh, no,” she whispered. “Bitterroot’s investigating the Mearhwolf right now.”
As it turned out, for Bitterroot’s guards, “whatever you want” meant “put up a card table and some folding chairs in the corner and play Poncheesi”. It wasn’t like she could move much without the chains rattling, anyway.
And when the guards got into it, they got into it. They spared only the slightest of glances for Bitterroot, instead devoting all of their attention to Poncheesi. Which, okay, it was a fun game, but not that fun. Bitterroot groaned inside, settled onto her side as best she could, and waited for their focus to subside.
Fat chance. They actually finished a game and started up another one without flagging. On the off chance that they’d forgotten about her completely, Bitterroot wiggled a little closer to them, rattling the chain in the process. As one, the guards immediately snapped to look at her. When they saw she wasn’t escaping, they went back to Poncheesi. Dagnabbit.
She cleared her throat. “I told my friends I was coming here, you know. Here here. When I don’t get home tonight-”
“That’s the first thing anyone would say,” said the unicorn blandly. “If you had enough evidence for that to be realistic instead of following a flight of fancy, you would’ve brought the Guard. Gloss knows how to keep them off her back for worse, so she’s already decided she’ll take her chances.”
Stupid possibility of lying. Stupid noble influence. Stupid stupid stupid. “So what’s up? Who’re you trying to kill?”
No response except an ear-flick, and that could’ve been caused by anything.
“C’mon,” said Bitterroot. “I’m bored and completely restrained.” She rattled her chains to demonstrate. “You gonna play board games for twelve whole hours?”
“Maybe,” grunted the unicorn.
Bitterroot pressed on. Maybe she could wear them down. “I’m clueless! I don’t want to die clueless! Would you want to die clueless? I don’t think so.”
The guards ignored her.
Still Bitterroot continued. They weren’t threatening to rip her tongue out yet. “C’mon, seriously? Even in the worst-case scenario, it can’t hurt you. If I get out, it’s not like I won’t lead the Guard here if I don’t know who you’re killing.”
Two of the guards persisted in ignoring her. But the earth stallion looked over at Bitterroot, his lips pursed. “Y’know, she’s got a point,” he said.
“What, you’re just gonna tell her?” said the earth mare. “Are you nuts?”
“She already knows enough! She knew Gloss was involved and- I’m tired of keeping quiet about it! I- I want to rant to somepony who isn’t in the choir!”
“You might grow attached to her.”
“Not likely. I got over half of the kills, what makes you think I’ll stop now?”
Bitterroot immediately filed that information away: the earth stallion had killed at least five of the eight ponies. Might be useful, if she ever got out of this. Or if she escaped and had to choose one of the three to fight. (Not that she’d fare well in any fight in that last case, but still.)
“If you tell her,” the unicorn spoke up, “and something goes wrong because of it, you get all the blame. All of it.”
“Fair enough,” said the earth stallion. “And-”
“Sure, whatever,” grunted the earth mare. “If it’ll get you to shut up.”
“Fine.” The stallion swung around on his seat and looked down at Bitterroot. “Princess Twilight needs to die.”
Bitterroot blinked. She… couldn’t’ve just heard… There was no way… “What?”
“Princess Twilight needs to die,” repeated the stallion. “She’s too inexperienced. She’s going to run Equestria into the ground in a few years.”
It was like something was wrong with Bitterroot’s head. She simply couldn’t get the idea through her head that these ponies were trying to kill Princess Twilight, of all ponies. She was no Princess Celestia, true, but she was still a bright pony, having seen Equestria through some of its darkest times in recent memory — and, from what Bitterroot had seen, was doing a decent enough job ruling Equestria, even with her teething issues. This wasn’t just stupid, this was flat-out treason. “Kill Twilight,” she said flatly. Saying it out loud didn’t make it any less ridiculous. “Are you serious?”
The stallion’s lip curled. “Very. Once she’s dead, Celestia can resume her rightful place on the throne.”
“I mean-” Bitterroot tried to get to her feet, but she was still restrained by the fetters. “Twilight isn’t that bad, is she?”
“She’s not that bad. But she’s not Celestia. She barely has any experience!”
“Have you read your history? It’s about the same as Celestia and Luna had when they became princesses. They basically got pushed into it by the Founders. At least Twilight prepared for it!”
The stallion blinked, and for a moment, Bitterroot thought she’d made a point. Then he continued, “That doesn’t matter. It’s in the past and we’re here, now. Twilight is nothing compared to Celestia. Gloss and some of the other nobles, they’ve seen the writing on the wall. It’s only a matter of time before Twilight commits some diplomatic faux pas and ruins Equestria’s reputation. I mean, she’s seriously considering an alliance with the griffons and they barely even have a government to make an alliance with!”
Stars above. Imagine committing treason because you thought your leader might screw up. If Bitterroot was that risk-averse, Amanita would’ve been dead years ago. And probably Bitterroot with her, once Circe got her phylactery back. “And once she’s dead,” Bitterroot asked, “you think Celestia will just start ruling Equestria again, no questions asked?”
“Who else is there?” asked the earth mare. “She’ll have no choice. She’ll step back up to the throne, or she’ll have to let Equestria-”
“The same Princess Celestia who decided Twilight was a worthy successor?”
The mare pulled her head backward slightly, as if in surprise, but the earth stallion said, “She had a problem with nepotism and cronyism, I’ll admit, but she still had over a thousand years’ experience.”
“Experience that told her Twilight was the best option to replace her.”
The earth stallion snorted and went back to the game. The mare paused, then went back as well. The unicorn hadn’t even looked up for any of this. Bitterroot sighed and slouched back. Figured. Nutcases like this had their own special brand of reason that they paid attention to.
Reason that told them to kill Twilight, for instance.
It still seemed unreal to Bitterroot. The whole idea of just offing her like that. The country would survive — recent years in particular had shown that Equestria had a remarkable ability to bounce back from world-shattering events — but that didn’t mean it would be good. All to prevent something that might not even happen at all anyway.
Well. Amanita knew she was here and Amanita was a necromancer. Bitterroot figured, even if she didn’t get out of this alive, she’d be okay.
So, with nothing better to do, she started turning over what she knew in her head. The one fact that jumped out at her was- “So… other nobles? Is this some secret death cult now?”
The earth stallion twisted to say something to Bitterroot, only for the unicorn to clout him in the head and mime zipping his mouth shut with a glare.
“You all work for different nobles, right?” Maybe rambling could annoy them into spilling some more beans. They definitely weren’t going to have a change of heart. “My money’s on… Fat Cat and Paradise Paper.”
No response. The earth stallion didn’t even twitch this time.
Time for another tack. “You, uh… Mr. Earth Pony. You killed, what, five of the eight ponies? And you’re okay with that?”
“I had a job to do and I did what I was ordered,” he grunted.
“And I guess you were ordered to be a-okay with murder, right? ’Cause why else would you sit back and let random ponies die?”
He rolled his eyes. “Look, I’m not paid to be compassionate.”
“Funny. Most people don’t need to be paid for that. I’ve met necromancers with more compassion than you.”
Two of the guards ignored her. The earth mare, however, yelped and suddenly was staring at Bitterroot. “W-what did you say?” she asked quietly.
Bitterroot frowned and tilted her head. “I’ve met necromancers with more-”
Then the stallions were staring at Bitterroot as well.
Oooooooh… Maybe they knew about Amanita after all. “Yeah, that one,” added Bitterroot. “Her name’s Amanita.”
You could hear a pin drop.
“…Guys?” whispered the earth mare. Swallow. “I… think we kidnapped the necromancer’s best friend.”
“But… she’s not… that dangerous, right?” the earth stallion said unconvincingly. “She was… I’d heard she was… small and… wimpy. And… Stratus and Rockslide were gonna-”
“You know the last pony to cross her?” Bitterroot said cheerfully. “A half-millennium-old lich. Who’s deader than dead now.”
Silence fell over the group like a wet tarp as the guards looked at each other in horror.
“…Oh, mother-ducking Tartarus.”
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For a story that can get remarkably dark, it can sure as hell make me cackle.
For a bunch of people who kill random ponies in the street without mercy but can't even figure out if the central part of their plan really works or not, "the apparently incompetent new ruler/habitual national crisis solver must die so that the old ruler who decided to step down and give the throne to her protégée would have to retake the throne once all is said and done oh and the old experiences suck that's exactly why we're trying new rituals while having zero trust in the inexperienced new ruler" seems like a really well thought out reasoning. And it's the Canterlot nobles, the ultimate trope villain in pony fanfictions who are mostly known for their lack of real intelligence. What could you expect.
Seriously though, I don't hate Canterlot nobles as villains (because I like seeing their butts get kicked) and the whole thing, ridiculous and tropy as it might be, fits the "villains are much dumber than one would normally expect" twist really well. The dumber they are, the more logical the story is. I don't know how you did this but bravo.
….those last few lines
This is why you do your homework, peeps! Know who’s who and what’s what. Or else you end up severely underestimating the opponent. And messing with a necromancer with a track record of brilliance.
Oh God, I love it. Like, all of it. This was such a fantastic chapter on so many levels.
Nothing gets quite under a grandstanding villain's skin like not being taken as seriously as they take themselves.
"Okay, and how do you think Celestia will take your murdering her prize student and heir and undoing the master plan she's been working on for the past two decades?"
"Eh, she'll get over it."
No thanks to Celestia, notably enough.
Next chapter's gonna be fun.
Like a person in a bomb squad suit, eh? See them running; don't ask questions, just run.
Day 1: A necromancer walks in, offers their services, and performs the first ever recorded resurrection.
Day 2: The High Ritualist emergency deploys the specialist ritual-counter squad in support of the necromancer.
Princess Twilight is going to be stopping by check on Amanita real soon.
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I agree sooooo much. Like, there's just so much to unpack.
-Newly resurrected ponies being very blasé about the whole dying issue. (Polar, Bitterroot, murdered-pony-who-I-can't-remember-at-the-moment, and now Phalanx...)
-The constant amazing play on limited perceptions. ("Oh, my fumbling probably sounds super sinister in this situation!")
-Amanita going from meh to terrifying the instant she's revealed (and then right back again as she continues to be mousy EDIT: Even better that she can be so unassuming while covered in the blood of her enemies!).
-Bitterroot getting such a satisfying reveal.
Gah! So much goodness!
EDIT:
"mother-ducking"
Better get the flock out of there!
I knew Twilight Sparkle had to be the target of the death ritual! The Mearhwolf being rich indicated that they were at least one noble and it's been established that many Canterlot nobles want Twilight Sparkle off the throne. And the Mearhwolf have proven themselves good at killing ponies with a knife, so why not just attack the target with a knife unless that would be doomed to failure and Twilight Sparkle is one of the few ponies who could doom basically any direct attack to failure, I mean, creatures more powerful than these ponies have tried and failed to kill Twilight. And these ponies are evidently at least smart enough to figure out that they can't take down Twilight in person.
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I was specifically referring to the line about getting ponies to talk. The other things mentioned would have to be dealt with via other spells or potions.
Okay, caught up after letting this sit for way too long. Eagerly looking forward to seeing how this unfolds. Or collapses. Little bit of both, probably.