The Forest of the Golden Abalone

by Unwhole Hole

Chapter 9: The Hired Help

Caballeron watched the fire dance. It was of course not a real fire, but a projected mimicry arising from a system of aligned crystals. It produced no heat. If anything, it felt cold, radiating an unnatural blue-green light that refracted off the rest of the room.

The furnishings were not what he would have preffered. Like much in Crystal culture, everything was beautiful and ornate, large and airy—but at once oddly sterile, oddly empty and oddly clean. Like living in a grand, carved cathedral where no pony had ever walked. High, gothic arches, walls that seemed bent and grown rather than constructed, and unadorned walls that served as their own artwork. It was as far as he could imagine from a warm study, the walls paneled with fine-patterned paper and dark wood. A warm fire, lit by the combustion of real wood. Shelves filled with books and shelves filled with his few triumphs earned by hard work over a long life.

Even the chair was uncomfortable. The only thing that made it tolerable was that she remained by his side, sitting at the edge of the light the fire cast. She had assumed the skin of a zebra and assembled her bio-clothing as an ornate kimono. She appeared older than she had so many years ago, but Caballeron understood it to be a guise. She did it for his sake. So that she could age as he did.

Not that she had not aged. Changelings still did, but not in the way ponies did. The changes became slower. Less controlled. The motion became stiff. In time, she would lose control. Degenerate. Become something unrecognizable. But as a weaver, her life span was perhaps even longer than his. At age eighty-eight, Caballeron had perhaps another forty years left—but he would be an old stallion for the rest of it. The rest of his life stretched out before him, but his youth stood far behind. And, considering his condition, he would likely not last nearly as long as he hoped. Not without intervention.

He coughed into a kercheif, being careful to hide it. So she did not see the blood. But of course she smelled it.

“You haven’t been taking the medicine.”

Caballeron sighed. “It makes me slow, Argiopé. And I can’t afford to be slow. Not now.”

She stood up sharply. “If it starts to spread—”

“It won’t spread!” he snapped, standing hard and nearly keeling over. The condition had left him badly anemic, a fact he did his best to disguise from his subordinates. And especially from her, although she had not fallen into that category for the better part of two decades. “The air here is humid enough to keep it in check. If anything, I feel stronger than I have in years.”

Her icy teal eyes seemed to bore into him. “For now. Yes. Because your body is in withdrawal. But it won’t last. I barely managed to pull you back last time. I don’t think I can do it again.”

Caballeron collapsed back into his chair. “I know,” he said. “I know, Argiopé…”

“They weren’t cheap,” she continued. “That’s why we hired them. We’re both too old to do this on our own, and half our goons are in retirement. That’s why we have mercenaries. You’ve seen what they’ve brought to the table.”

Caballeron grumbled. “Back in my day, we never bothered with any of this...this hooplah. Mechs? Gravity ships? Power armor? We never needed any of it! We were proper adventurers! Our wits, our hooves, our minds against each other’s...against all the ancient traps, the lore, the books, the translations…” He sunk deeper into his chair. “This all feels so...so clinical. So mechanical.”

“It was your decision.”

He nodded. “I wish it did not have to be. But time grows short. We have none to waste.”

A knock came at the door, and Caballeron sighed.

The unicorn did not bother to open it. He simply phased through the closed door, entering the room without permission. As he did, he bowed formally, the mask he wore separating by manifold unseen mechanisms and sliding back into his collar.

Caballeron smiled. He was indeed enormous, but with the illusion of his armor withdrawn, it was apparent that most of his bulk was the armor itself. He was far more svelte than he insisted on appearing. Although far more muscular than even most earth-ponies, he was still clearly a unicorn of eastern descent. At least partially.

When he looked up, his eyes had vertical slits for pupils—but mossy green irises.

“You certainly did inherit your mother’s eyes,” noted Caballeron.

“Indeed. I consider them my most desirable feature.” He stood erect, his black mane tied back and tucked into his armor. His horn was slightly curved, but also slightly bladed—a trait that Caballeron had seen once before. He had his suspicions of where the boy had come from—and of how much it had cost Wun to have him manufactured.

“You have something to report?” asked Argiopé, now a short and fluffy Pegasus in a boyish cardigan.

Tuo nodded, his eyes not leaving Caballeron. “The two appear to have escaped and are hiding in the forest. One was identified as Fluttershy, an Element of Harmony. This may suggest Royal involvement.”

“Which would be severely problematic,” snapped Argiopé.

“If there were Royal involvement, they wouldn’t have sent the soft one,” interjected Caballeron. “Her presence is likely a coincidence at best.”

“I do not believe in coincidence,” retorted Argiopé. "And neither do you."

“She is not our greatest problem,” continued Tuo. “I believe that an unknown third party may have become involved.”

Caballeron’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of ‘third party’?”

“It is at this point unknown. The technology involved is Ancient Imperial. In a sense. But that means very little. After the first fall of Sombra, many pieces escaped custody. Many strange weapons still wander Equestria.”

“What kind of weapon?”

“Unknown.” He paused. Caballeron could tell he was lying. “A type I would admittedly wish to possess. But, likewise, one that we must not allow to reach the Nexus. Should it interface, the consequences could be devastating.”

Caballeron sighed, coughing slightly. “I do not care. So long as I have the Abalone before it does. What happens after is none of my concern.”

“Of course.”

Caballeron turned back to the fire. “You came highly recommended,” he said. “Not the least of which by your mother. I am giving you a great deal of leeway to deal with this as you see fit, my boy. But don’t let me down.”

“I do not intend to. And, therefore, I shall not.”

“And the other?” asked Argiopé.

Tuo tilted his head, as if amused by the question. “Lady Fear is beyond reproach.”

“I feel the waves coming off you.”

Caballeron smiled. “Young love, perhaps?”

“No. It isn’t love. Not in the slightest. It reeks and burns when I try to trace it.”

“With all due respect, madame, you simply lack perspective of our culture and our...predilections, so to speak. I am above all a Perr-Synt. I founded this business with her as my partner, and I as hers. We do not take such a bond lightly.”

Caballeron nodded. “I started working for your mother when I was about your age,” he said. “Did you know that?”

“I am aware. And I understand you have something of a rivalry with my dear aunt.”

Caballeron stood suddenly, catching the fanged smile on Tuo’s face. He was bout to shout, but instead burst into a coughing fit, collapsing to the floor.

Argiopé rushed to his side, helping him as the world faded and swam.

“You need the oxygen, if you pass out—”

He waved her off and closed his eyes, struggling to breathe. After a few moments, it calmed, and the world turned back into focus.

He sighed, and looked up at the towering unicorn before him. A unicorn that would never age, never sicken, and would never carry any injury for long. His mother was a pureblood, virtually a god—and he was even superior to her. The product of billions of bits worth of genetic reconstruction and engineering.

“You must pity me.”

“I do not feel pity. Sympathy. Regret. Remorse. It is an artifact of my heritage. Although I do recognize you are very ill. I have doctors. And, if needed, I can evac you immediately.”

Caballeron laughed softly. “My boy, there’s nothing they can do for me. No spell, no medicine can cure what I have.” He tapped his chest. “A type of mold, you see. It’s common in old tombs. It grows in the cracks, in the dust. A final defense mechanism. To keep ponies like me out.” He forced himself to stand. “Add to that a body with scars from almost every injury, every broken bone, every torn ligament. I’m afraid it’s progressive. Progressive, incurable, and terminal, in time.”

“My condolences. For what that might mean. My mother respected you. I do as well, for what you have accomplished in such a short lifespan. I will move up our timeline to the greatest degree I can without sacrificing our signature precision.”

“And what do you expect to do when you get there?” Argiopé helped Caballeron to his seat, so that he could look up at the towering black unicorn. “This isn’t a war. You can’t fight your way through.”

“Which is why I acquiesced to your request to accompany us. Please survive until at least then. I can provide support, but admittedly, am out of my depth when it comes to for-profit archaeology.” He paused. “Which is partway why I convinced Lady Fear to take this job. Her interests usually involve much more bloodlust.”

Caballeron smiled. “Wanting to learn from the best?”

“My mother never retrieved her own artifacts. Neither did grandfather. However, I feel that the experience is inadequately holistic if I simply purchase them.”

Caballeron nodded. “You live for the hunt. I can respect that.” He chuckled. “Which I think Wun never understood. Why I sell the artifacts I rescue. Because I have no desire to own them. What purpose does it serve? Another paperweight, another cursed mask. No. It was the hunt. The challenge.” He sighed, holding in another fit of coughing. “Consider this an indulgence. One last adventure for an old stallion.”

“I provide the package you pay for. I have no need to consider it anything more than that. My actions do not require justification, least of all to myself. My morality is inherent.”

“What a pureblood concept,” muttered Argiopé.

“Indeed. However, I am not, in fact, a pureblood. My dear father is an earth-pony. He will one day be were you stand, Dr. Caballeron. I only wish this could sadden me.” He bowed again. “You must rest. At dawn, we proceed. It will take three days to reach the target. Perhaps longer to breach security.”

“Just keep Lady Fear from destroying the temple when we’re inside it. I will get you there. Consider me strongly motivated in this regard. Very strongly. Failure is not an option.”

“Not if I want to get paid, no.” He stepped backward, phasing back through the crystalline door. “Good night to both of you.”

Argiopé shivered. “That thing creeps me out.”

“You’ve rarely dealt with Wun. It’s simply the aura they exude.” He chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s all backward, isn’t it?” He grinned, but his eyes were sad. “I’ve spent my life working for purebloods like him. And now look at me. Hiring one to do my dirty work this time.”

Argiopé shrugged. “I suppose it’s a measure of success. In a way.”

Caballeron sighed. “If only I could believe that.”

Tuo phased through a wall, arriving in large room barely lit by several crystalline sconces. He was of course aware that he was not alone. Fear had parked her self in the most ostentatious looking of chairs, one carved with crystal pony skulls for the arm-rests, and was sitting back, sipping a colorful drink with a tiny umbrella stuck in it. She had retracted her helmet, as he had, revealing her thin face and pale coat. Her long, straight black hair was tied back. Her ears were filled with various piercings made from dark-iron, and as always she wore an excessive amount of black eye liner and eye shadow.

“Show off.”

“You could learn phasing spells too. If you applied yourself.”

She shrugged. “Eh, that cloak-and-dagger stuff isn’t really my style. You know that.”

“By ‘cloak-and-dagger’, you surely mean ‘discretion’.”

She frowned, sitting up. “And what in the name of Luna’s skinny hips do I need discretion for? Hello, last time I checked, we’re in a stinky swamp. We don’t need to be careful, Tuo. There’s nothing here we’re not allowed to break!”

“Aside from the priceless magical artifacts in an ancient city built by a lost culture.”

She sneered, crossed her armored hooves, and flopped back into her chair. She sipped her drink through a bendy straw. “Of course. Should have known. This is souvenir hunt for you, isn’t it?”

“No. It is a job. Forgive me if I chose to maintain some level of professionalism.”

“Professionalism is like discresion. No one cares as long as the job gets done, right?”

Tuo glared at her, then smiled. “And this divergence is why we make such an excellent pairing.”

She glared back at him and smiled, revealing her metal-capped teeth. “If you say so.”

She tilted her head back, then gestured to the wall behind them. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

Tuo pondered for a moment. “He is quite ill, but remarkably strong. The pain must be exquisite, but he bears it well. I respect his determination.”

“To find some magic snail shell so he can mimic a fraction of our power.”

Tuo did not respond with emotion, but explained his thoughts through distinct unicorn logic. As he had been taught, and as she had come to expect from him.

“Perhaps I have a different perspective. Both my parents are mortal and will in time wither and die. As will your father.”

Her eyes narrowed. “We’re not having this conversation. Not now.”

“I am merely implying that if you put your mind to it, you could envision alternative perspectives. You certainly have the intelligence for it, even if you choose to be constantly hardheaded.”

“How about I crack your hard head open like an egg?”

“Later, perhaps.”

“Killjoy.”

“I need to go over the unit assignments and check with the mechanics for the back-up mechs. We will be entering the forest tomorrow.”

“Finally. I was starting to get bored.”

“We obtain the target and hand it off. Nothing more, nothing less. Your history with Fluttershy will hopefully not interfere.”

“If she stays out of my way, sure. I’m not going to bother to go out of my way halfway into a paying job for that pastel horse’s sake. Come on.”

“So you do have a degree of professionalism.”

“Hey, this business was my idea, wasn’t it? I’m not stupid. Caballeron has contacts. We deliver the goods, he delivers customers. Customers deliver money.”

“And you buy more piercings and black clothing?”

“What, like you weren’t going to spend yours on knickknacks and dirty pieces of broken pottery?”

“That pottery is considered one of the most sacred artifacts of seven of the strongest bison tribes. They believe it to contain the souls of their ancestors. It was well worth the cost. Although I understand your point. How you use your cut is your own choice. I have no right to impinge upon your personal life choices.”

He bowed, and then began to walk toward another wall. Before he phased, though, he stopped.

“Also. I did not forget the cliff incident. I had to use the spare armor while the mechanics repair my main suit. So you can imagine the effect it had on my body.”

“So?”

His horn clicked, and she screamed as her body was utterly immolated in necrophire. As he phased through the wall and as she boiled in her armor, she continued to scream—until the screaming was replaced with manic, joyous laughter.

Comments

[Thought Prism]

Fear had parked her self in the most ostentatious looking of chairs, one carved with crystal pony skulls for the arm-rests, and was sitting back, sipping a colorful drink with a tiny umbrella stuck in it.

This is a deeply amusing mental image.

[FanOfMostEverything]

I admit, I’m missing a fair amount here, but I can follow enough to understand the story and the rest has me intrigued. Looking forward to more.

[Opium4TmassS]

I am curious as to who this Lady fear is since it is mentioned she knows Flutterbuttershy.

[ponepony]

His horn clicked, and she screamed as her body was utterly immolated in necrophire. As he phased through the wall and as she boiled in her armor, she continued to scream—until the screaming was replaced with manic, joyous laughter.

I expected it as much.