Chapter 37: Thinking
“Business, business, business, numbers.”
Thought.
Perhaps the single most powerful tool a sentient mind is capable of harnessing. Be it for ill or good, it can do so much if applied right. Sure, different races may fundamentally think different, from zebra to pony to the hellspawn of the Inferno that need to die die die right now.
But as I sat there on the balcony of Erysa’s manor, just outside the room I’d been given, my thoughts did me naught but harm.
Time seemed to grow still. I just sat there in the cold, half naked, sharpening my sword, praying thereat. Well, to be specific, I wasn’t praying to my sword so much as I was praying to the Machine Spirit of my sword. This blade was, however simple, a piece of technology, and the Allfather blessed each bit of earnest technology with a part of His holy Machine Spirit. I prayed that it would strike true, that it would be sharp, and that it would be as strong as I needed it to face the coming darkness.
Such thoughts theological were better alternative than thinking about today.
This day, I had let Cards die. This day, I had executed Blackout for her sins. This day, I had failed to achieve so much, not unlike how I had failed Taran, Dust’s mother, and let her kill herself right before mine own eye; and how just an hour or so before that, I had fed Frosty’s arm to the Terror Train, all for naught in the end, as the werekind Lightning Dust had still died. I had failed so much these past days, yet I had the book, Calêrhos, so I had won. My victory had technically been absolute. Yet the more I thought thereupon, the more my failures weighed me down.
The pain of the frigid chill against my scars, especially the white flesh where once a nipple and its surrounding area had been, was a good, cleansing pain, like the kind monks subjected themselves to, that they may be closer to God. Even if you weren’t one of those extreme monks, sometimes pain and sacrifice were needed for the good of all life.
But this was not such a holy pain.
A door opened. My attention languidly shifted from my sword. Whence I sat in the cold, I could see across a small, enclosed courtyard across the doors leading to another balcony. From the doors Erysa, a drowsy, sleepless look about her, which seemed oddly fitting, given her nightgown. Or was it some sort of bathrobe? Hard to tell when you didn’t really care.
“Champion? Is that you?” she asked.
“Well, that’s a better reaction than the last few folken I’ve met this night,” I replied slowly before going back to offering prayers to the Machine Spirit. May it give me strength of will and of swing, grant me protection, and bless my arms and armor. May it forgive me for using witchcraft to heal my broken flesh.
In the light from her opened door, I couldn’t see much of her face. She was a silhouette. Even then, the little cock of her head told me she was confused it intrigued or something. “Excuse me?”
“For the record, I’m going to start putting up PSA fliers.” I shrugged. “They’re going to read, ‘Jericho: I am not the Tooth Fairy’. I swear, you accidentally fall down a building and into a small child’s room, and that’s all they seem to ask. So I am forced to say, ‘Haha. Does the Tooth Fairy come to take fresh teeth with his rusty pliers? Now open your mouth and say ahh!’ And that usually petrifies them to sleep.”
I looked up at her. “I went wandering through the city. A lot of this district is in a state of urban decay. Lots of wooden houses with multiple stories. I was wandering around them on a midnight jog. Had a bad run in, see?”
“I… Why are you even out here?”
The answer was simple, and I gave it to her accordingly. I said it with such honesty, such open sincerity, and with the kind of great clarity one only gets from brooding upon a matter for a long time, that when she heard it, Erysa seemed taken aback. My humor was dead, and all that was left was an oppressive void of pure factual analysis.
“I am afraid to go to sleep.”
Erysa shivered in the cold, but just looked at me.
“Milady,” I went on in that exact same tone, “every night I do not dream is a good night for me. I have seen some shit in my day; and unfortunately, it’s hard to crack witty jokes and observations when you’re asleep. Humor can only go so far.”
A dim part of me noted that since Erysa wasn’t currently angry with me, she must not have found Solnyshko’s body. Else, that demon-worshipper did get healed by the powers of evil and was now perfectly fine.
I went on. “It’s easy to ignore the horrors of something if you don’t think thereof. Easy to laugh and smile when it’s not staring you in the face. But today, a lot did happen, and here I am, brooding thereover like some pretentious heroic twat whose life story was penned by an angsty tween.”
I shook my head. That deathly serious tone needed to be done away with. “So when you ask me why I am here, enjoying masochist the pain of the cold and cleaning and sharpening my sword for the umpteenth time, it is because it takes my mind off what I saw today, and because I know that were I allowed to sleep thereon, my dreams would be of what I witnessed this day. Do you kenn?”
She shook her head.
“I appreciate your honesty.”
Minutes flew by as I uttered prayer after prayer to the Machine Spirit, ritually cleaning and sharpening my blade again and again.
Erysa finally spoke up. “I was going to tell you in the morning, but some of my ponies found a way to bypass the upped security, since you seemed so hateful towards Solnyshko.”
I grunted.
“There’s some underground tunnels and ruins down there that lead to an exit near enough to the temple in the mountain. Royal guards stay away from that mountain, now, so if you go through the underground abandoned areas, you should be fine.”
“Oh, whoopee,” I deadpanned. “Sewer levels! Just what I always wanted—to catch all sorts of strange and exotic diseases and STDs by mucking about in strange poop-water.”
“Why would there be sexually transmitted diseases in shit?” she asked.
“Because I won’t put any act of sexual depravity past you Crystalfolken.”
“Is this news at least not comforting, Champion? And it’s not a sewers; those things are entirely unrelated to the old undercity.”
I have her a curt grunt. After one last prayer ritual, I said, “Erysa, you should leave me in peace. Assuming you’re out here because you can’t sleep, you’ll find nothing out here to help you but hypothermia.” I watched my breath in the cold air as I huffed out the carbon dioxide in my lungs.
“Trust me,” I told her: “right now, unless you want me to try to knock you unconscious, there’s no sleep aid. And I don’t wish to keep a bored mare company right now. Leave me to my prayer and ritual.”
And so she mercifully did.
Obligatory,
Worst,
Chapter,
EVER!
(I kid, I always love dark moments, they're so gud and yer too good at writing em.)
So I was reading the Ramblings doc... At first I was wondering how you were the least crazy one of the three, Crushric... but then I reached the point where you fashioned a corset for yourself out of duct tape and bubble wrap.
...Also, is Siffer/Jojo a valid ship? Because I can ship that.
Hya!
So that's how it's made? ... Yeah, does fit. And it explains a lot!
Nice insightful chapter to summarize the serious moments Jericho had in the last arc.
Though I have to say that when I caught a glimpse at the wordcount I thought something bad happened to you.
However, it was a nice read once more and I'll look forward to the next part of your brilliant story.
Salutations
Nightjar
A few more victories like this and Jericho will really be in trouble.
This is my sword. There are many like it, but this one is mine.
My sword is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life.
My sword, without me, is useless. Without my sword, I am useless. I must swing my sword true. I must strike faster than my enemy who is trying to kill me. I must strike him before he strikes me. I will...
My sword and I know that what counts in this war is not the cuts we make, the blood we spill, nor the corpses we make. We know that it is the ponies we save that count. We will save...
My sword is a pony, even as I, because it is my life. Thus, I will learn it as a brother. I will learn its weaknesses, its strength, its sheath, its guard, its handle and its edge. I will keep my sword clean and ready, even as I am clean and ready. We will become part of each other. We will...
Before the face of my Father, I swear this creed. My sword and I are the defenders of my country. We are the masters of our enemy. We are the saviours of my life.
So be it, until victory is Teutschland's and there is no enemy, but peace!
Whew! Glad we got that cleared up before it caused any more problems.
What about the others though?
The Summer Sun Cragadile?
The Hearts and Hooves Tatzlwurm?
The Hearth's Warming Windigo?
Preferably said with a vaguely Scottish, partially drunken brogue.
I know you already mentioned that the Crystal Ponies are "regular" flesh and blood ponies with "regular" metabolic processes, but I had this barmy picture of Jericho entering the sewer and wondering loudly why it was filled with precious and semi-precious gemstones instead of the expected effluent. Realisation quickly dawns when he picks up a garnet with kernels of undigested corn embedded in it. Jericho makes a horrifying connection between Equestria's high fashion industries and Crystal Empire waste processing. Jericho, being Jericho, of course shrugs it all off and picks out a flashy amethyst ("this one must have had a lot of fibre for breakfast!") to give to Cards.
Not only do I get my Jericho fix, but also ramblings of the people behind it...?
My birthday is in 9 days, calm your shit brah. I don't like early presents.
I remember finding this on fanfiction.net!
4222832
This certainly was a nice little breather chapter. A little calm before the storm to recap before plunging back into the whirlwind of madness and bat-shit crazy hijinks that is Jericho.
Jericho's longest chapter is now 21.2 times as long as its shortest chapter.
That's got to be the widest spread I've seen since I visited Cards's mother.
[15-06-2013 21:20:09] Jojo Salatcia: Jericho kills me with a spoon?
[15-06-2013 21:20:20] Crushric Spes: The clown will know suffering...
So that's why the clown hight Jojo got spoon'd...
Those conversations. My god. They make up for this chapter by far. And any bad future ones, for that matter.
4222563
I made a choice a long time ago that Jericho would never become dark or brooding with constant angst and other stuff that's become so edgy that it's not routine and boring. I wanted him to basically not do those feel-y things, but also for the story to address this, as failing to address this problem without acknowledging it is a sign of poor writing.
I think I made the right choice, no? Even then, sometimes Jericho has to look at reality.
4222817
I was bored that day and had gotten some stuff in a package. I wanted to use it while it lasted.
And I think it's a fair ship. Quick! Write a fanfic thereabout!
4222832
4222984
Every once in a while, such things as noted in this in chapter might be prudent. I don't plan on making a habit thereof, but I really wanted a very short, rather serious take on things for a second. I thought this moment of acting... well, almost normal... would do wonders to paint his character, to portray his actions in hindsight in perhaps a different light.
Or mayhap I'm just pretentious
... Yeah, probably that one.
4222956
Pyrricho of Epirus, here to save the day!
Now that is a badass thingy or other. I've been needing me a few things therelike, hence why the following is the WIP chapter quote for the next (but otherwise completed) chapter:]
Jericho may or may be any of those other monsters. We never know, we never know...
4222961
Here!
Just take another chapter tomorrow.
Or, just better yet, have this document I use to organize Jericho, totally ripped off from another fanfic's organization thing. The docs are full of Siffer, Jojo, Amacita, and I's bickering and snark. Kinda lackluster, but I'll post the next chapter tomorrow, which is a proper, if still only some 7k words long, chapter
4222962
Yeah, I posted there too because I had an older version of Jericho up there, and it was terrible, so I sorta updated it there to have the newer stuff, but not so much because I often forget to add current chapters. This is where Jericho gets the most love and attention.
4223084
You must, of course, be speaking of the wide variety of way wherein Blackout and make Cards cry. each method carefully lain out upon a spread of dice, because screw using actual cards. Project was incomplete and updated daily at the time of decease.
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Messoria lebt!
You're never on Skype anymore. You leave so lonely. I took up parley with an Occitanian man (you should kenn that from Kaiserreich) to be my new random gobblygook foreign language guru. We miss you. You two should meet.
But yes, that is basically what happens when I get a spoon.
4223194
And that's how
EquestriaJericho was made!I liked this chapter showed both that Jericho isn't a soulless automaton, while also conveying his (and everyone else's) hatred (some people are just stupid and let it brainwash them) for unneeded drama and angst. God I hate Glee so much.
Are you, author, an angsty teen?
Well, not much happened here. I await the next installment.
4224104
So I have a real shitty day, come home, OMG JERICHO MUS READ
And it's a two-page chapter.
GOD DAMMIT CRUSHRIC
I'm kidding. It isn't that bad. Still, I am curious. Why not just integrate it into the next chapter? My setup-sense is tingling...
4223084 FIBONNACCI CHAPTERS :D
4159911 where did you get your profile pic? I want
Where is jericho's gardien angel dude? Haven't herd from him for awile.
Dat thought process...its a thing of beauty!
Lol, i go read the Ramblings, scroll down to random section and immediately see this
4228364 Space. Also Crushric. And DON'T YOU COPY MY SWERG, YO
"Milady" LOL does Jericho have a neckbeard he hasn't told us about as well?