Part Fifty-Eight
Flurry Heart jolted awake on a grass bed, feeling her ears twitch and spasm atop her head. “What the fuck?”
She pressed her forelegs against her head and felt her intact ears press against the stubble of her mane. She lowered her hooves to her neck and brushed against a necklace of flowers. Flurry rolled to the side, spying her boots laying in a row beside the grass bed.
“That’s new,” a rough voice commented. “You weren’t supposed to be awake for a few more hours.”
Flurry lit her horn and whipped her head towards the sudden noise. The voice belonged to an older earth pony stallion with a patchy gray beard. His black mane was swept back and unkempt. He was naked except for a floral print shirt and dusty cargo shorts.
Flurry grabbed him in her magic and flung him against the stone wall. She looked around. The alicorn was in a small stone room, like the ones she walked through. The ones I thought I walked through, she corrected herself.
The stallion wheezed. “No need, Princess. I surrender.”
“Where am I?” she snarled. Her eyes narrowed into slits. “Where’s my friends?”
“The siblings are fine,” the stallion coughed. “On another floor. You’re in Tenochtitlan.”
“Liar,” Flurry spat. “I was a day away, at least.”
“You’ve been asleep for a day. You were carried here,” the stallion rasped.
Flurry placed his accent. “Who are you? Where are you from? Puerto Caballo?”
“My name is Caballeron,” the stallion rasped. “Please, you are crushing my lungs, Princess.”
Flurry stared at him, then cast the detection spell. “The Daring Do villain? He’s not real.”
Despite her words, the spell did nothing. The earth pony was indeed actually an earth pony. She released him and let the stallion stumble to the floor. He spent a moment gasping for air; the stallion tugged on a red neckerchief with white spots, loosening it.
“I am indeed real, and so is my doctorate,” Caballeron coughed.
“Right,” Flurry said noncommittally. She inspected her uniform and jacket, touching the necklace of flowers briefly.
“You are a guest,” Caballeron recovered. “Those flowers mean you are an honored guest in Tenochtitlan. No harm will come to you.” He raised his hoof and brushed his necklace of snake fangs and feathers. “This means I am a trusted friend of the Tzinacatl.”
Flurry looked around at the stone walls and electric lights. The walls were weathered stone and very old, but there were no carvings. She turned back to the bed and brushed a hoof over the braided grass. It wasn’t very comfortable. “Where am I?” she asked.
“As I said, Tenochtitlan,” Caballeron replied.
“Don’t play dumb,” Flurry warned.
“One of the bedchambers of the temple, above the caves,” Caballeron clarified. “The great stone temple at the heart of the city, perhaps you have heard of it?”
Flurry shook her head.
“Ah, the state of education in the world,” Caballeron sighed theatrically. “The Tlatoani will wish to see you.” He brushed a hoof against his shirt and trotted to a stone door. It opened easily with a push.
“Take me to my friends,” Flurry said instead. She shoved her boots on brusquely with her magic, lacing them together. Caballeron watched the display of magical finesse with a frown.
“I do not know where they are, currently,” he replied.
“Then I shall go looking for them,” Flurry answered. The light around her horn briefly took a flame-like quality.
“Light Narrative will know,” Caballeron offered with a nervous glance at her horn. “The Dreamspell leaves one groggy. Are you capable of walking?”
Flurry took several hesitant steps forward and shook her legs one at a time. “Yes. Was that the poison? Dreamspell?”
“It has a different name in the tribal tongues,” Caballeron answered. “The Tzinacatl know of several plants that have magical properties, allowing one to step into another’s dreams.”
“So what? Light Narrative was actually there?” Flurry followed him into a hallway. Several tribals leaned against the stone walls with sheathed glaives under their leathery wings. They blinked in surprise at Flurry, then quickly followed behind her.
Flurry glared at them over her wing. Like the Thestrals that ambushed her, they wore a mix of appropriated Changeling uniforms. One wore a Queen’s Guard spiked helmet decorated in white war paint. He glared back at Flurry with narrowed, yellow slit pupils.
“Yes, the Tlatoani questioned you himself,” Caballeron said. “An honor, I assure you. Your necklace means you passed the Bloodletting.”
“That’s actually a thing?” Flurry asked.
“It was an ancient rite of judgement for outsiders. The bowl is made of pure silver, quite striking. And valuable.” Caballeron glanced at her wryly. “Age has tarnished it.”
“Why are you here?” Flurry asked.
“Where else would I be?”
“Dead in a ditch,” Flurry responded.
“You mean like Daring Do?” Caballeron chuckled bitterly. “It is poor to speak ill of the dead, but the mare was content to raid temples without regard to the natives.” He stopped and brushed his fur on a foreleg. “I passed the Bloodletting years ago, quite willingly.”
“You cared?” Flurry asked bluntly. “You sold off their treasures to the highest bidder.”
“Not the highest bidder,” Caballeron snorted. “Celestia paid Daring quite well. That didn’t make it into the books. Unlike her, I did share some of the bits with my team. And the natives.”
“I doubt it was a fair bargain.”
“No,” he admitted, “but it was still more money than most had seen in their lives. The jungle was always poor. The government had no regard for their native languages, and encouraged their foals to forget their culture. A little respect can go a long way.”
“Their culture of shooting strangers with darts,” Flurry snarked. “Why didn’t it affect my friends?”
“Your friends are Thestrals,” Caballeron answered. “You are not. A Changeling wearing a Thestral’s face would collapse as well, to be questioned in the Dreamscape or simply to have their throat slit in their sleep. Usually both.”
Flurry swallowed. “Efficient.”
“A culture is only as savage as you believe it to be,” Caballeron lectured. “The Tzinacatl have honor, debts, and guest rights. After all, you killed seven in the jungle with your spells. They could have slit your throat.”
Flurry stopped and looked over her shoulder. The Thestrals stared back at her. “They attacked first," Flurry defended. "None of that would’ve happened if somepony stepped out to talk.”
“That is a factor,” Caballeron nodded, "but one does not wait for the serpent to strike." He motioned for Flurry to resume. They descended down a stone staircase, lined with more electric lights.
They passed into a large community storeroom. Ponies sat amongst boxes, using crate lids as makeshift tables to count ammunition or play cards. Changeling weapons were stacked high in the crates. Flurry realized there were no Thestrals amongst the several dozen ponies. They all wore mixed uniforms and necklaces like Caballeron.
“We’re below ground,” Caballeron replied. “The caves provided shelter from the bombing runs. The Changelings tried napalm for several years. Do you know what that is?”
“Flames,” Flurry said quietly. "I'm familiar. The jungle seems intact."
“They risked burning their precious rubber,” Caballeron laughed ruefully. “They soon gave up and fortified their plantations. The Austral Protectorate was always under supplied and far from Chrysalis' tower. Governor Larynx started to hire mercenaries to patrol the plantations. He used Thestrals as labor, guessing most ponies would not care.”
“And you did?” Flurry asked.
“Not at all,” Caballeron scoffed sarcastically. “I am the villain, no? My greed and avarice is known across the world, all thanks to Daring Do.” He spat on the stone floor. “Larynx welcomed my help. Soon, we were patrolling every major plantation and supply route.”
Flurry ground her teeth. “Did they pay you well?”
“Oh yes,” Caballeron laughed, “in knowledge more than bits. We learned their schedules and their numbers. We took losses to the jungle, of course. Our patrols were ambushed like the Changelings, vanishing into the jungle with no bodies to be found. Waiting with the Tzinacatl. The artifacts and reported victories ingratiated me quite well to Larynx's inner circle.”
"And he never suspected you would betray him?" Flurry asked skeptically. "You tricked a changeling?"
"He was quite the avid reader of Daring Do," Caballeron answered. "He believed I was no better than him. Perhaps he was right, once. A heart can be guarded, no?"
Caballeron stopped at a makeshift table. The stallion and three mares nodded up to him, sitting on barrels and playing cards. “The Tzinacatl waited for the Moon for a thousand years. They remembered the prophecy when practically nopony else did. Revenge can be patient. We did not rush to Canterlot like the Equestrian Liberation Front and Daring Do.”
Flurry held her tongue.
“The Griffonian Reich’s landing was unexpected, but welcome,” Caballeron continued. “My associate Jungle Trek led part of the assault on the plantations.” The blue stallion playing cards offered a shallow nod to Flurry. Caballeron looked over Jungle Trek’s shoulder and scrunched his muzzle at the cards the stallion was cradling between his hooves.
The mares laughed. Jungle Trek flung the cards down with a huff. Flurry looked at the table; they were playing for cigarettes. She scrunched her muzzle as well. Gross.
“I suppose the southeast owes Daring Do a debt,” Caballeron sighed. “Her legacy for me wasn’t what she intended, and I take some joy in that.” His words were spiteful, but his eyes didn’t match his tone. "She should have been here, not in Canterlot."
“What happened to the governor?”
“Which one?” Caballeron laughed. “Larynx was the third. He’s dead. Saw to it myself. His trucks burned in our ambush.”
Flurry nodded. “You have a lot of equipment.”
“The Tzinacatl have a lot of equipment,” he corrected. “The southeast is theirs. They were the first to settle here, thousands of years ago. That is known, if nothing else.”
“Look,” Flurry sighed, “you know why I’m here. The southeast is the gateway to taking back southern Equestria. The Reich needs supply lines through the jungle, and the bat ponies are the best nighttime combatants in the world.”
“You’re here to negotiate for the Griffonian Reich, Princess?” Caballeron asked. “Their army is encircled in the Badlands. They tried blazing through the jungle, just like the Changelings. There is no love for them here.”
“The Thestrals can help them through the jungle,” Flurry replied. “I don’t see any tanks or heavy artillery down here. If Chrysalis drives off the invasion, she’ll crush the southeast.”
“Thestrals have endured a thousand years of suffering.”
“Under Celestia,” Flurry pointed out. “Neglect, not outright cruelty. How many died in the plantations?”
“Many,” Caballeron sighed. “I know your point, Princess. I do not need convincing. Or payment. We must fight.”
“You’ll help?” Flurry asked hopefully.
“You’ll make your case to the Moonspeakers," Caballeron shrugged. "They will decide if you are a Princess worth following.”
Flurry and Caballeron resumed walking, passing through several stone rooms with more crates and soldiers. The next stairwell was older, carved into the rock of a natural cave system and slippery. Several bat pony foals flapped little wings as they skidded on the steps, laughing. Flurry’s guards broke rank to usher the foals aside.
“You have any advice, Caballeron?” Flurry asked.
“Doctor Caballeron,” the stallion replied. "I did graduate."
“Sorry,” Flurry apologized. “Doctor Caballeron, do you have any advice?”
“You have the necklace, which means you passed the Bloodletting,” Caballeron repeated. “It’s a small ceremonial gesture, but important.”
“Small?” Flurry whickered.
“A shallow cut to the frog and a few drops of blood,” Caballeron clarified. He looked over his shoulder at her, confused. “The Tlatoani is not an accomplished Dreamwalker, but surely he explained that." The stallion snorted. "It is absurd that the vampony myth started from some skittish explorers getting cold hooves at a prick of the hoof.”
“Oh,” Flurry said lamely. “Yeah, I guess he did.”
“What did you do?” Caballeron asked.
“I passed,” Flurry said evasively. Her ears pinned back.
“Well, you won’t have time to learn the languages, nor the tribes.” Caballeron stopped at the end of the stairs and flicked his tail in thought. “I wouldn’t risk mentioning legends either. Every tribe has variations and bicker constantly.”
“Okay, how did bat ponies start?”
“Debated.”
“What did Luna do?”
“Debated.”
“My mother helped with the reforms before the war,” Flurry stated. “Would that help?”
“You are not your mother,” Caballeron said kindly. “You are an unknown. We have heard your speeches on the radio, and stories about blood in the snow. It is easier to say what you shouldn’t talk about. Chiropterra should be avoided.”
“What?”
Caballeron hesitated. “Ah, best avoided anyway.”
“No, explain.”
Caballeron sighed and lowered his voice. “Nightmare cultists in northern Zebrica. They quarreled with Mount Aris and Seaquestria during the Great War, along with Colthage. The Hippogriffs were defeated and battered.”
Flurry wracked her memory. “Is that why Queen Novo didn’t help?”
Caballeron lowered his voice to a whisper. “The short version is that they are descended from the legions that followed the Nightmare, staying in secrecy for a thousand years. They are cruel and vicious and do not speak of them,” he repeated. “The Moon and the Nightmare are not interchangeable for most of the Tzinacatl.”
“Most?” Flurry nickered.
“It’s debated,” Caballeron sighed. “Come, Light Narrative could explain this better than I, if you wish to learn.”
The cave system was massive, sprawling into several tunnels. Lights had been strung along stalactites on the ceiling, providing a dim light for those below. The Thestrals didn’t seem to need that much light to see. Flurry felt a warm air current blow through her feathers; the air was damp and humid.
Houses were carved directly out of the cave walls with open windows and doorways. Crystals glowed with faint light from within the homes, indicating that some unicorns were around to recharge the lights. Flurry and Caballeron trotted down a worn path in the cave floor, towards the center of the cave. She could hear the faint buzz of generators over several different languages.
A few statues of Thestrals with spears were dotted along the low buildings, standing guard. There was a large marketplace arranged in a circle over a mosaic of a full moon. Thestrals bartered with each other in a variety of dialects. All of them wore a mix of clothing and tribal paint; there were similar, repeating patterns on the leathery bat wings. Flurry also spotted braided manes and tails for couples standing together. Most gave Flurry an uncertain look and whispered as she passed.
"Are the markings on the wings for the tribes?" Flurry asked conversationally.
"Tribes, families, connections," Caballeron listed. "It's not permanent paint, but it's hard to wash away. Wasn't popular before the war for bat ponies trying to fit in."
Flurry’s pink fur stood out from all the gray, black, and purple. Combined with her long legs and horn, she stuck out in the crowd. Flurry gave the Thestrals a neutral smile that was rarely returned. She was given plenty of room.
A few foals pointed at her feathery wings, so she extended them and splayed the feathers out. One brave filly reached out a hoof and ran it over the pink feathers, then looked at her leathery wings. Flurry’s smile turned genuine for a moment.
“Light Narrative will be just ahead, Princess,” Caballeron requested. “Please.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?” Flurry asked, following the stallion and refolding her wings.
“Not at all,” Caballeron replied. “You are the first Princess since Luna to visit inner Tenochtitlan.”
They climbed a short staircase, then crossed a bridge over a flowing river. Flurry paused and looked towards a waterfall along the far side, where an underground river cut through the cave. Several more statues of rearing Thestrals bracketed the waterfall, lit up by glowing crystals that caught the light and reflected it across the water. The statues' eyes glowed in the darkness.
Caballeron stopped and backtracked to her. “What do you think?”
“It’s beautiful,” Flurry murmured.
“Yes,” Caballeron nodded. “The Tzinacatl bicker over which tribe carved the statues.”
Flurry motioned him to continue with a wing. The stallion led her to an unassuming stone house located in the middle of the cave, along a normal street. The only indication it was important was the Thestrals armed with rifles guarding the roof and entrance. And the screaming in Equestrian from the open windows.
“I will skin you!” Nightshade screeched.
“As you saw, she was fine!” Light Narrative screeched back. “Please, calm yourself!”
“I’ll rip your damn heart out and eat it!”
“Nightshade!” Flurry called out in the street. The guards jumped at the voice. There was muffled thumping from the second floor. Light Narrative stuck his head out a second floor window; his eyepatch was hanging on by a thread.
“Please, come in!” he greeted in a strangled voice. “The Princess is outside!” he called over his shoulder. There was more muffled screeching and the Tlatoani disappeared.
Caballeron hesitated past the doorway and Flurry Heart squeezed by. She moved through a modest kitchen and dining area, then ascended a staircase to the second floor. The thumping and muffled swears grew louder. She rounded a corner to a large office lit by glowing crystals.
Echo, Murky, and Nightshade had been tied to a couch. Murky had one black eye, Echo sported a bandage around her ears, and Nightshade’s entire muzzle was bruised. She glared at Light Narrative with one eye; the other was swollen shut and smeared with an ointment. All of them were gagged, but Nightshade had apparently chewed through the cloth with her fangs. A rag was stuffed into her mouth, part of her torn pants.
The six Thestral guards in the room looked exhausted. One guard, a mare, clutched a bloody muzzle and cradled a loose fang between her forelegs. Light Narrative’s wooden leg looked like it had chunks bitten out of it. He slumped against the office table; it was made of a solid chunk of stone. “Hello, Princess,” he rasped. His golden eye was badly bloodshot from stress.
The siblings strained against the ropes and shouted muffled encouragement to the Princess. Flurry’s horn lit up and she cast several healing spells on each of the siblings. Echo and Murky sagged in relief, but Nightshade began to chew through the rag with renewed vigor and a murderous glare at Light Narrative.
“I apologize for their treatment, and yours as well,” Light Narrative said. “Your collapse surprised them. We have treated their injuries.” The stallion gestured to the torn necklace of flowers on his desk. Murky and Echo still wore their necklaces. “They are protected guests, as are you.”
“Caballeron explained it to me.” Flurry nodded back to the earth pony standing behind her.
Caballeron took one look around the office and backed down the stairs. “I’ll be outside. Across the bridge. Shout if you need me, Light.” He disappeared before the Tlatoani could answer.
Smart decision. Flurry gave Light Narrative an even stare. “So, I was drugged and you led me around a dream.”
“Yes,” Light Narrative said nervously.
Nightshade chewed through enough of the rag to speak. “I’ll strangle you all if you harmed her!” she whinnied. “Princess, are you alright!?”
“I should ask you that,” Flurry said to her. “Did they torture you?”
“No!” Light exclaimed. The guards looked upset and tensed. They had hoofblades instead of guns for close quarters.
“You dropped like a sack of rocks after you stuck that stupid dart in your neck,” Nightshade explained. “You fucking dumbass! They jumped us and dragged us here!”
“You assaulted them,” Light Narrative interrupted. “You killed two.”
“Good!” Nightshade huffed.
“I am sorry Amoxtli did not communicate what would occur,” Light Narrative said to Flurry. “Your guards fought very well, Princess. We do not hold it against you.”
Flurry turned around and walked to the table. She stared at Light Narrative unblinkingly as he swished his tail on the other side. “Untie them,” she ordered. “Give them medical treatment. And return their weapons.”
The Tlatoani waved a wing at his guards. They stared at Flurry warily, then moved behind her to the couch. “I assured them myself that you would not be harmed,” Light claimed. “Nightshade was shown where you were brought. They were quite belligerent.”
“What would’ve happened if I failed your little test?” Flurry asked. “Would you have slit my throat?”
Nightshade hissed behind Flurry.
“No,” Light Narrative replied readily. “You would have awoken in the jungle, unharmed. Your guards would have been fine.” He licked at his fangs. “I am surprised you are awake.”
“Am I?” Flurry asked sarcastically. “I suppose this isn’t a dream. No repeat carvings so far.” Flurry traced a hoof over the stone table. The surface was carved with a legion of Thestrals marching with spears through jungle fauna.
Flurry stared at the carving for a long moment, then reared back and slammed her head down. The stone table cracked into two pieces and collapsed to the floor. Light Narrative and the guards jumped.
Flurry Heart raised her head and hummed. “That hurt a little. Guess I’m not dreaming.” She brushed some dust off her muzzle with a boot. “I understand I killed several with my spellwork. My apologies, but it was entirely preventable.”
“Yes,” Light Narrative responded shakily, staring down at the two halves of solid stone. His wings twitched.
The guards untied Murky first, which proved to be a mistake when he followed Flurry’s example and headbutted the guard untying him. He quickly stole her knife and began freeing his siblings, snarling at the other guards. They backed away and reared up with their blades at the ready. Flurry quickly lit her horn and froze the guards in her golden aura.
She did not freeze Light Narrative. “Please, no more violence!” Light pleaded. “I’m sorry, I truly am. The Tzinacatl have suffered enormously at the hooves of outsiders. You saw Baltimare. You've seen the plantations.”
“Just blast this asshole and leave,” Nightshade spat. “Blow a hole in their precious cave. We’ll go to Baltimare and burn it to the fucking ground. Job done.”
Flurry closed her eyes. “I’ve already killed enough,” she sighed. Her horn dimmed and she released the guards. The Thestrals stumbled and gasped for breath. “Don’t try anything,” she said in a low warning. “You said you’d speak on my behalf to the Moonspeaker Conclave,” Flurry said to Light Narrative.
“Yes.” Light sagged in relief.
“When?”
“They gather tonight to discuss…” Light Narrative trailed off. “Well, to discuss you. You are welcome in Tenochtitlan for as long as you wish to stay. I swear we will make up your welcome.”
Flurry trotted to the open window and stared back into the city. Thestrals flew through the cave or walked along the streets just like any other pony, speaking and laughing to each other. “There’s a war beyond this cave,” Flurry stated. “I’ll speak to them tonight.”
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Clears some things up, but I am increasingly believing that flurry is guarded by a bunch of fanatics.
IS THAT A MOTHERFUCKING BARON REFERENCE!?!?!?!? HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!!
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Fanatics make for the most loyal guards.
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At its core, no one had anything before Flurry decided to throw hands with the Crystal Heart for no other reason then it was something she could do for her citizens, against the wishes of... Basically everyone.
Nice chapter
The real question of this chapter is: Is Silverstream okay?
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Imagine the chapter from Nightshade's perspective: They get surrounded in the jungle. Flurry negotiates at hornpoint, then jabs herself in the neck with the dart as a show of trust, against your wishes because of course. She immediately drops like a sack of flour, unlike Echo and Murky. The Thestrals said nothing about that happening. The Thestrals beat the stuffing out of you and your siblings when you resist to protect her, then drag you to their special secret cave. Their leader shows off the unconscious Princess and says she's fine, then tries to play Far Cry villain and act all reasonable and apologetic...
Flurry was out for a day. How many times did the siblings try to escape to end up tied to a couch in Light Narrative's office? And poor Light Narrative spends the day shitting bricks about what happens when Flurry wakes up, considering how she acted in the Dreamscape. She wasn't supposed to wake up yet. Preferably, Light could convince the siblings to calm down enough to have them be there for Flurry when she awakens and smooth things over. And then she shows up outside his house.
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And let's not forget that she ends up damaging what appears to be an ancient tablet with some important legend on it. Flurry is the epitome of cannonball diplomacy.
So when can we expect the twin BITCHES to show up and try to RECLAIM the the nation they abandoned. Cus I look forward to the middle finger they'll receive.
I think I remember Rainbow Dash mentioning Doc Caballeron in front of Flurry at least once, if not several times; as in, real, not like, from the stories or anything. And Rainbow mentioned Daring on multiple occasions. Flurry should know he's real.
Actually, until you described the leader of the Manehatten resistance as having blue fur, I thought it highly probable that he was Caballeron.
I'm not great at proper grammar and titles, is it okay that she not use his title of Doctor when she isn't addressing him directly?
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Rainbow probably mentioned Caballeron off-hoof, but it's Rainbow. Rainbow talks about a lot of stuff that's fairly improbable, especially if it involves Daring Do. Flurry's still surprised that he's real, alive, and not a changeling.
Flurry probably should've used his title in that moment. The joke is that he doesn't care because he looked into the room, saw the three siblings tied to a couch, and decided to leave.
Arrogance and xenophobic behavior killed six bat ponies, without necessity, since Flurry entered the jungle.
Here's hoping the Thestrals have learned not to continue on that path, as matters progress.
Is encircled