The Book of Friendship

by BillyColt

Chapter 29 (Start of Part 3)

White blinked, regretting his decision not to shield his eyes. As the light faded, he found himself in a marble room. Where he was, he wasn’t completely sure. Definitely not in Tap’s tavern. And almost certainly not on the island.

“Hello?” he called. No answer.

He took a deep breath and stepped out of the chamber. Approaching a door, he found it was unlocked. Now that the shock was starting to wear away, he found that the marble in the room wasn’t consistently white. Parts of it were dirty, discolored, or chipped away. The door opened with a creak, leading into a magically-lit hallway.

Brother White stepped down the hallway slowly, his hoofsteps echoing off the polished stone floor. Nopony was there, it seemed. Nopony but himself in a long hallway. As he thought about it, he wondered if the hallway really was that long, or if his mind was playing tricks on him.

As he approached the wide doorway on the other end of the hall, there was a creak, and it opened slowly. White stopped stock-still in his tracks.

Through the doorway emerged General Monarch, a smug smirk on his face.

“So glad you could finally join us, Brother White.”

The Book of Friendship

Part 3: Courage

Chapter 29

One day, Gunner realized that he didn’t like his job. He watched earth ponies working at tending to the parallel trees (and he was supposed to be paying close attention), and realized that he didn’t like it when he caught one of them stealing something, mainly food.

If he caught them stealing food, he had to shoot them. It was a numbing task. He looked next to him at his partner. Trigger Mark was more focused—the workers didn’t escape his notice, and they found him suitably imposing enough that they were less inclined to try to steal.

Just as well. Gunner found he didn’t want to shoot anyone today. Not earth pony citizens. Pegasi or unicorns, sure, but not the inhabitants of his own town.

Though lately he wasn’t even sure about the unicorns.

“Mark?” he asked.

“Hm?”

“I’ve been thinking...”

Trigger Mark choked loudly, making Gunner jump. “Sorry,” said Trigger Mark. “I just didn’t expect that. Startled me. Please, go on...”

“Okay, so...” Gunner blinked, then shot a glare at Trigger Mark. “Hey!”

“No, really go on,” said Trigger Mark, grinning softly to himself.

Gunner shook his head. “So, we were supposed to shoot White, right?”

“Technically we were supposed to turn him in to Quake,” said Trigger Mark. “Then he would've shot him. Or more likely smashed him into the ground.”

“But we didn’t,” said Gunner. “We let him go.”

“No,” said Trigger Mark. “We failed to capture him. He eluded us.”

Gunner looked around. “Well, I’m just saying, the general told us to do something, right?”

Trigger Mark looked at him. “Yes?”

“And, well...” Gunner shrugged. “We didn’t do it. I mean, that just gets me thinking... we usually do what the general tells us. If we’re able to not do something he tells us, well...” His face lit up. “That’s a lot of new possibilities.”

“Provided he doesn’t smash your head through a rock,” reminded Trigger Mark.

The smile fell from Gunner’s face. “Well, yeah...”

Their conversation ended, and they returned their attention to their post. They watched the workers in banana grove and they busheled bananas into baskets and put them on carts to be delivered to the general’s camps. Some of them would go to feed the general and his soldiers. Some would be given out as rations or sold. Many of the bananas would go onto the ships on the docks for trade.

Sometimes he wondered if the whole island wasn’t bananas.

Beneath him the ground rumbled. The workers slowed, their heads cocked up in fear. Gunner knew what this meant: the general was coming, and he was apparently pissed.

General Quake stormed through the treelines with his two lieutenants following him, one of them having stumbled and fallen behind.

“Clear ‘em out!” he roared. “We’re rotating!”

Rotating. The workers all dropped what they were doing and moved away.

Rotating meant that they were changing the layout of the trees. There was always a certain section of the island that was left bare with no trees on it. Every once in awhile, the general declared they’d rotate, and so many of the trees would be cleared, and many of them planted in the hitherto bare parts of the island.

“You two!”

Gunner snapped from his stupor as he saw the general turning to them.

“Don’t just stand there, get your asses moving shit!”

Gunner and Trigger Mark. Proud soldiers and pack mules. Gunner had always liked carrying guns, but hauling other goods was just something that bored him. Guns were neat because you could shoot them. You couldn’t shoot a banana. Though maybe you could make a gun that shot bananas...

As they loaded sacks of bananas on their saddles, Gunner looked at Trigger Mark.

“What do you think’s got him upset?” he asked.

“If I know anything about the general,” said Mark, “it’s that the farther away I am from whatever’s pissing him off, the better off I am.”

“Good point...” conceded Gunner.

They marched back towards the town with their cargo, ready to deposit them in one of the storehouses.

The storehouse in question was an old, dilapidated cabin out in the forest, not too far from the town. Somehow it had managed to avoid destruction in any of the attacks, which made it, in Quake’s eyes, as good a place to store surplus food as any.

The soldiers, along with the workers, deposited their foodstuffs in the cabin’s basement. As they walked out, that marked the end of what work the general had assigned them, and Gunner turned to Trigger Mark.

“Hey, Mark?” asked Gunner. “Think you could spare a few coins? I’m running a little low.”

“Gunner, I’m not going to give you money,” said Trigger Mark. “Knowing you, you just plan to spend it on Tap.”

“Nuh-uh!” Gunner protested. “Cards, actually... A bit short on the pot this week.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Haven’t been with Tap in a while,” said Gunner. “She just isn’t fun lately, y’know? I swear, most awkward, uncomfortable bl—”

“Please do not finish that sentence.”

It had been two weeks since the attack. When Tap’s brother had been shot and Brother White had fled the island. Unlikely as it seemed, Gunner found himself missing Brother White. Since that had happened, the soldiers hadn’t attended any more meetings, on the few occasions when Brother Scroll was able to pull one together.

As Gunner thought on it, he realized he hadn’t seen much of the missionary lately.

“Say, Trigger Mark,” he said, “what do you think of holding a get-together for the other guys?”

“Huh?” asked Trigger Mark.

“I dunno,” said Gunner with a shrug. “For some drinks and a few games. Like the missionaries had.”

Trigger Mark raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Eh,” said Gunner. “I’ll put up a notice. See what we can scrape up.”

___________

White didn’t open his eyes just yet. His hooves stroked the soft velvet sheets of his bed, and he thought about how warm he was. Okay. Now he could open his eyes.

Above him was a rich red canopy to match the red velvet sheets. Next to the king-sized bed was a mahogany nightstand.

Where in the world did they get mahogany? he wondered as he pulled himself out of bed. His room was spacious and frilly, as though he were some sort of royal guest in a palace.

White was not so naive as to think that Monarch was offering him this suite out of the goodness of his heart. He knew the general had some ulterior motive. What that motive was, however, he could not tell...

There was a knock at the door.

“Brother White?” chimed a voice outside. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah,” answered White.

The door opened, showing a guard in the doorway. He was an aquamarine unicorn with what struck White as a very luxurious mane.

“Morning, Aq,” said White.

“Good morning,” Aq said with a polite nod. “You ready for today’s tour?”

“As long as there’s breakfast involved.”

Aq chuckled. “Follow me, then.”

White was learning a lot about the Fortress. Or more accurately, he was learning more about what General Monarch chose to show him on these predetermined tours.

Aq, the soldier, was assigned to look after White and to lead him about whatever marvelous part of the fortress Monarch had chosen to show off.

“I want to know where Clip is,” said White as Aq led him down grey and white marble halls.

“Huh?” asked Aq.

“The day I came here, two ponies disappeared from the island. One of them was Carpenter and the other was named Clip.”

“Sorry, sir,” said Aq, leading him to another wide doorway. “I don’t keep track of that kind of stuff. Why don’t you just keep an eye out for them when you start work today?” And Aq would say no more of the subject.

He opened the door and led White to the subject of today’s tour. Today, Monarch wanted to show off something he said made pegasi redundant: The Fortress’s generator. A massive block of glowing crystal in a metal shell, not unlike something White glimpsed in one of Scroll’s comic books.

He missed Scroll. If Scroll were here, he’d probably be able to make the explanation for how this thing worked a lot more interesting.

“Basically think of it as a super-charged version of your usual levitation,” explained Aq. “That’s how I think of it. I’m not much of an engineer, myself. Just a soldier with a set of notes.”

“Mm-hmm,” said White, looking at the device.

Aq peered at him. “Not impressed, I take it?”

“Oh, no,” said White, “it’s impressive. I just don’t see how it makes pegasi redundant. I mean, we got flying machines in Equestria. Big balloon yachts, actually. I got to go on one once.”

“We’ve eclipsed them,” said Aq, “they can only get themselves to fly; we can make an entire fortress soar through the air.”

“Well, you can make the fortress float...” muttered White. “That won’t do you all that much good if you yourselves fall off of it. And I don’t see you running the weather, either.” He looked at Aq in disbelief. “Unless that’s another project you have cooking here.”

Aq snorted a chuckle, while White looked back at the hulking mass of glowing, humming crystals.

“That is pretty neat,” said White. “Normally we use balloons...”

___________

Since the Brothers had been kicked out of the tavern, the room that they had once used for their missionary activities was now used to store her brother. Barrel was at that moment lying in bed, staring idly at the ceiling. As she entered the room, he turned to look at her.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” she replied, setting the tray down onto a nearby table. “I made you some toast.”

“Thanks,” said Barrel, leaning over to reach them. “I think I’m getting better. Think I can help out...?”

Tap cut him off. “No,” she said, “you have to stay in bed for a while longer.”

“Are you managing okay?” asked Barrel. “I mean, I always liked to help and...”

“Yes, I’m doing fine,” said Tap.

Even Barrel could tell it was a lie. However, he munched on his toast silently. “I miss them,” he said after a lengthy pause.

“Huh?”

“White and Clip,” said Barrel. “And Scroll, too.”

Barrel had heard the news. He had been in the room when White fled the island, and he’d heard that Clip had been taken prisoner. Scroll... wasn’t welcome in the tavern anymore for some reason, and he hadn’t come around.

“Yeah, well...” said Tap, her voice flat and emotionless. “They got you shot.”

Barrel lay back a bit. “Was unicorns shot me...” he mumbled. “Not them.”

Tap remained silent for a few seconds before changing the subject. “I’m going to be closing the tavern for a bit,” she said. “I’m going to be going out to do something.”

“Doing what?”

“None of your business,” she said, her voice low and irritated. She threw a towel over her back. “You think you have everything you’ll need?”

“I guess,” said Barrel. He looked over at the nearby table. “Could you bring me my book?”

Tap looked at the book; it was the one Barrel had checked out from the library. Suppressing the urge to sigh and roll her eyes, she delivered the book to Barrel’s bedside.

“Thanks,” said Barrel, placing a hoof on it. As Tap turned to leave the room, however, Barrel spoke again. “Tap?” She stopped. “Are you going to see the general again?”

Tap’s hoof lay still on the doorknob.

“Tap?” Barrel repeated.

She lowered her hoof and turned around. She walked back to the bedside. Barrel looked at her, his fat face sunk in a look of contrite confusion.

“Barrel,” she said quietly, taking one of his hooves. “I know you don’t like what I do. But I have to do it.”

“Why?”

“Well...” Tap looked down. “This isn’t a good place to live. Sometimes we have to do things that are unpleasant to get by. And... things are harder than they usually are.”

“Is it because of me?” he asked. “I don’t want you to have to do it if it’s because of me.”

Tap took a deep breath. “You’re not a burden, Barrel,” she said. “Running a business like this is tough. And yes, it’s tougher when you have family to care for.” Barrel was silent. He looked down into his empty plate as though he were counting the crumbs. “Barrel,” said Tap, “Barrel, look at me.” He raised his face to meet hers. “Sometimes I have to do unpleasant things. And yes, I do do it because of you. But it’s not because you’re a load I’m stuck with. It’s because you’re my brother, and I care about you, and because you’re worth it.”

Barrel looked at her for a minute, wordlessly. Then he flung his arms around her in a big hug. Tap nearly stumbled, but she smiled and returned the gesture. “Alright, bro, you can let go.” She backed away. “Now, Barrel, I’m going to go now. But I’ll be back before you know it.”

___________

Brother Scroll, the only remaining missionary of the Fraternity of the Joyous Friends of Princess Celestia, had slept in that morning, for a given value of the word “slept.” He laid on his ramshackle bed in the library, away from the town, and stared at the ceiling. In the last couple weeks, he had come to realize how uncomfortable the island’s weather was.

In the morning it was too hot under the covers, and sometimes he would sweat into the sheets. That alone wasn’t too much of a problem, as it served as motivation to get out of bed in the morning and start the day.

But at night it got cold. His meager blanket wasn’t enough to keep him warm, and sometimes he shivered. It was at night that he missed Brother White the most. When his friend had been with him, he had felt warm and secure in bed. Now he was gone, and he had nopony.

Mustering up what willpower he could, he sat up. There was a letter by the bed that he had finished the previous night, and today he’d submit it for General Quake’s consideration. He looked it over. He’d painted a typically rosy picture of the mission’s operations, with no mention whatsoever of his partner’s flight from the island. Quake wouldn’t have a problem. But just to be sure...

He pulled a large scrapbook from under his bed and opened it up. There, true to form, was page after page of happy pictures with him, Brother White, Clip, Tap, Barrel... He paused over one picture of himself and Brother White engaged in a game of leapfrog, with White just about to jump over him.

Settling on a simple picture of the them posing with Clip (and making sure it was one that obscured the colt’s unsightly disfigurations), he slipped it out of the scrapbook and folded the letter around it, placing it in an envelope.

With a deep breath, he walked out of the library and into the sun. His nametag didn’t gleam as much as it had used to, and his tie was a little more wrinkled than it should have been. But it would have to do. A missionary had a job to do, and an iron was high on his list of priorities.

The town ignored him for the most part. It had been White that drew the most contempt, owing to the horn on his head. Scroll, being an earth pony, more or less blended in with the crowds unnoticed save for the odd glance.

It wasn’t too long of a walk out of the town to the military camp in the woods. The soldiers, seeing who he was, let him in without so much as a word or a second glance. It was as though they merely recognized him rather than knew him.

He approached the general’s tent slowly, not making any noise. He saw it was closed and didn’t dare enter. It was usually best to simply wait outside until he was let in. Though that never went well, either, if the general thought he’d been sitting on his ass outside for an hour.

Scroll sighed and sat down, contemplating the no-win situation before him. And he waited for several grinding, mind-numbing minutes, until somepony opened the flap at the tent. Tap stood there blinking in surprise.

“What are you—” she started.

“Who is it?” grunted the general’s voice, before he appeared. “The fuck do you want?”

Quake scowled at Scroll as he meekly held out the letter, and grabbed it with his own oversized hoof. “Sure, whatever,” he said, giving it a cursory look and throwing it back at Scroll. “Now fuck off.”

That went better than he had expected. Scroll picked himself up and dusted his tie off as Quake retreated back inside his tent. Tap, however, brushed past him, not even giving him a second glance.

Scroll didn’t think much about Tap ignoring him as he followed her out of the camp. She hadn’t exactly been treating him warmly since Barrel had gotten shot. He planned to just give her breathing room for the time being and go back to the mission house, but then he noticed something.

Tap wasn’t heading back into town towards her tavern. She was going into the forest.

Scroll had to follow her.

___________

Carpenter was filthy. He hadn’t had a chance to bathe or catch his bearings or so much as get a decent amount of sleep.

And now here he was, in a dark room, sitting at a table across from a unicorn. There was something about this unicorn he didn’t like, with that blonde hair and that “prim and proper” appearance.

“Well,” said the horner, who was probably a faggy piece of shit just like White, “I understand you’re probably feeling very frustrated at this turn of—”

“I remember you,” he said.

The unicorn stared at him. “I’m sorry?”

“You’re that piece of shit missionary who got sent over,” said Carpenter. “Before you ran off and those other piece of shit missionaries came.”

The unicorn coughed lightly. “There’s no need for that kind of language—”

“Go fuck yourself,” said Carpenter. “You scumbags kidnap me and hole me up here and talk down to me like I’m fucking retarded or something?” He snorted. “You always were an asshole.”

The former missionary sat silent for a moment, before resuming. “What was your occupation on Earthquake Island?”

“I was a carpenter. Did stuff with wood.”

“Hm…” said the unicorn, looking over some papers. “Well, we might be able to find a job for you in manufacturing.”

“A job?” asked Carpenter. “What is this?”

“The unicorns take prisoners,” he explained. “And they try to find uses for them. That’s a nice way of saying slavery.”

“They?” Carpenter repeated, biting on the word.

The unicorn stared back. “I’m just trying to make things easier for you.” Carpenter’s eyes bored into his. “I’m not one of them.”

“Sure fucking looks like it.”

Guards escorted him out of the dimly lit room and into a dimly lit tunnel. Faint white orbs glowed from the ceiling, and their light was cold. Carpenter didn’t like them—they were too cold and sterile compared to the torches and candles back home.

He was now a prisoner. This much he knew. To what end, he didn’t know and he barely cared. He thought about Buzz. If the kid had any sense, he’d set up in their shop and carry on the trade. Hopefully he’d get better at it.

The unicorn guard shoved him through another doorway, into a larger, dark stone hall where other earth ponies trundled idly around.

“Next!” the guard said, as a young colt shuffled past Carpenter, before he and the guards disappeared back into the room with the ex-missionary.

“They’re gonna make us slaves,” said one of the prisoners.

“Sounds like it,” Carpenter mumbled back.

That was as far as any conversation was going to get with Carpenter. Among the new prisoners, not one of them was a pony he could call a friend. The closest he had was Clip, which, given the circumstances of their predicament, said very little. Or rather, a lot.

That colt was in the middle of being harassed by a few other foal prisoners, and had taken refuge on an unevenly-jutting bump in the wall, suspended well above the jeering colts.

“Can’t stay up there forever, shit-wing!”

“Bet I can stay longer than you!” Clip retorted.

Carpenter snorted. Nonsensical as it may have been, in a way he blamed that little shit-wing for landing him here, even though it was actually the other way around.

True to his word, however, Clip did manage to stay there long enough for the other kids to get bored and walk off in search of easier amusement, though not before promising that they would get him eventually. Clip simply blew a raspberry at them.

“I’m not scared of them,” Clip said out loud, reassuring himself and anyone who would listen.

“Of course not,” said Carpenter. “You’re a kid. You’re not scared of anything.”

“Nuh-uh!” protested Clip. “I’m scared of a lotta things. Like losing White and Scroll and Tap and Barrel. And the mean unicorns. And you!” He shot Carpenter a glare. “Just not them. They’re just other kids. And they can’t get me ‘cause I’m all high up.”

Carpenter began to tune out the pinko’s yammering and just thought about what his own predicament was. They were gonna have him working. On what? Carving wood?

Clip dropped down from his bump on the wall and landed on the floor with a clack.

“I’m gonna ‘scape,” he said.

“Yeah, you do that,” mumbled Carpenter. “I’m just gonna... carve wood, I guess.”

Clip tilted his head. “You aren’t gonna come along with?”

Carpenter narrowed his eyes. “What, are you inviting me?”

“No,” said Clip. “You’re mean. But I forgive you.”

Carpenter stared at him, trying to process what he had just said. “Huh?”

“You got me caught,” said Clip. “That’s all your fault. But I forgive you, just like Scroll said. Just like I forgave Scroll when he lied and said he was really popular even though nopony liked him. But I like him so I guess that’s not a lie. So, you wanna come with?”

“I thought you said I wasn’t invited.”

“You’re not,” said Clip, “but you can come if you want. You can build a boat.”

Carpenter stared at him.

“You can build a boat and then we can get away in it,” said Clip. “Maybe even make a really big boat.”

Carpenter stopped and thought about it. Yeah, a boat. Jump off the side of the thing into a boat.

Well, there were worse ideas.

___________

“Tap, wait up!” Scroll called, running after her.

“What do you want?” Tap snapped, not looking back at him.

They came up to the cabin. Scroll slowed as he looked up at it.

“What is this?” he asked.

“Where they’re storing the food. Quake said I could take some,” Tap mumbled, disappearing inside the door.

Scroll stepped inside and looked around. The light seeped in through the windows, showing the faded, rotten wooden chairs and tables that littered the room. His eyes fell upon an old dusty fireplace, and he thought for a minute that it was very odd that this was a storage facility out here in the woods...

Tap emerged from a doorway, hauling some bags on her back from a staircase that Scroll presumed led into the basement. “What are you looking at?”

Scroll stood there and quietly said, “This was a house.”

“Yeah?” said Tap. “What’s your...”

“Why is there a house all the way out here?” Scroll asked. “Nopony’s living here and we’re away from the town.”

“Scroll,” Tap snapped. Scroll jumped, roused from his train of thought. “What are you doing here?”

“Tap, I’m worried about you. You haven’t spoken to me in two weeks.”

“Gee, it’s almost like I don’t want to talk to you,” said Tap in a heightened voice of feigned curiosity. “What, you think you can help me or something?”

“I think if you let me, maybe I can—”

“You can’t even help yourself.”

“I’m trying!”

Tap took a step back, surprised.

“Tap, I’m sorry,” Scroll said. “I am so sorry about what happened to your brother. Do you think I wanted him to get shot? Do you think that I don’t care? Do you think it’s been easy for me with White and Clip gone? Do you think it isn’t troubling when you won’t talk to me for two weeks?”

“I...”

“You still have Barrel,” said Scroll. “You still have him, and he’s safe... I don’t know what’s happened to White or Clip. I don’t know if they’re alive or dead, and I have to carry on the mission by myself. I’m scared, Tap, and h dnf nuh...”

Tap had inserted her hoof into his mouth.

“No... no no no...” Tap said, shaking her head. “Don’t do that. Don’t make me feel sorry for you, you look at me with those big eyes through those glasses and I can’t take it and it just makes me... eeyewch...” She groaned. She looked back at Scroll, who was still standing there with her hoof in his mouth. “Wow, you really don’t have a gag reflex...”

“Gf rfeff?”

Tap removed her foreleg from his mouth and shook it dry. “Okay...” she said. “Apology accepted.”

“Thank you,” said Scroll, adjusting his glasses. “So...” He looked around at the room. “This is a house...”

“Yeah,” said Tap. “Why?” She peered at Scroll cautiously; his face had taken on a solemn, almost sunken appearance. “Scroll?”

“I need to speak to Quake. And the soldiers.”

___________

General Quake was, in a sense, always welcome in Tap’s tavern. His... relationship with Tap, combined with his position on the island, afforded him certain privileges that she wouldn’t grant to other strangers. It wasn’t as though the door could keep him out, anyway. As there were no other patrons there, he felt it would be a reasonable place to hold a military meeting. As such, he was in his full fancy military uniform, bedecked with medals of his own making. They didn’t actually stand for anything—he’d simply seen other military figures decorated with them and liked the sense of authority they conveyed.

The tables had been arranged for Quake’s various soldiers and officers to sit around and discuss the vital matters. Some of Quake’s advisors were also there, but their presence, here or anywhere, amounted to little; the degree to which one could “advise” the general was largely a matter of speculation.

“So why can’t you figure it out?” he asked to the others.

“S-sir,” stuttered his lieutenant, “it’s unicorn tech. None of us are unicorns?”

“Well, what about that unicorn engineer we captured?” asked Quake. “The fuck is he?”

“Sir,” said Trigger Mark, “you stuffed him down the cannon’s mouth just last week.”

“Oh yeah...” Quake hummed. “Fucking prick.”

“Why is it that complicated?” asked Gunner. “I mean, it’s just a—”

“Big fucking weapon with a ton of moving parts and magical components,” Quake cut him off. “And the magical components are a pain in the ass if we can’t get them to work. And nopony here know how unicorn shit works.”

“Scroll knows a little.” Gunner shrugged. The others stirred uncomfortably, and Quake narrowed his eyes at him.

“Gunner, shut the fuck up and don’t say anything else for the rest of the meeting,” he said. Gunner made a weak little saluting motion with his hoof and reclined back in his chair. “We aren’t telling the little faggot anything about it, understood?”

There was a general murmur of agreement from the ponies in the room.

“Good,” said the general, returning to the list in from of him. “Next time King Horner comes around try to take some of them alive. Especially if they look smart,” he added. “I want this thing working. See how much he likes this ‘cannon engine’ when it’s pointed at him.”

The door opened. The soldiers all fell silent and looked to the doorway. There was Tap. She looked awkwardly at the other ponies in the room.

“Was wondering when you were getting back,” said Quake.

“Scroll has something he wants to say,” she said, stepping into the room. Scroll stumbled in behind him, carrying some large rolled-up pieces of paper. He stopped and stared at the room full of ponies. At the general. He took a loud gulp, and made his way to a table that wasn’t fully occupied. The only other occupant was a pony with some hideous scars and an eyepatch, two features that made him appear quite cranky.

“Eheh...” Scroll chuckled. “Do you mind?” The eyepatch soldier made no response, just glaring at him. “Right, thank you, okay...” Scroll unrolled a chart and placed it on the table. He took a deep breath, and after a lengthy pause, spoke. “The pegasi are going to attack. And soon.”

The soldiers looked at him. After nopony else spoke, Trigger Mark leaned forward. “How do you know?” he asked.

“I’ve been collecting data,” Scroll explained, drawing his hoof across the chart. “The pegasus army, y’see, they attack because, ‘cause...” He stammered. He took a few more breaths. “They steal food, right? Well, since you guys have been keeping track of what they take. Well...” He looked back down at the map. “If you look at the data, y’see they, they. They only attack when they need to. Most of these intervals we can see a direct correlation between the amount of food they take and when they attack next. They attack when it runs out...”

“Huh?” asked Gunner. “We already tried using that to predict, but they always attack way before it runs out.”

“Before it’d run out for earth ponies,” Scroll corrected. “Pegasus ponies, they have much faster metabolisms.”

“Simple terms?” Gunner asked, tilting his head.

“They go through food faster,” explained Scroll. “I mean, they fly. They have two extra limbs and, I mean, Clip.” He swallowed. “I mean, when we used to make grilled cheese sandwhiches, White and I would have two each, and Clip’d have like five—”

“Is there a fucking point?” asked Quake.

Scroll shrank a little. “I’m saying if we know when they’re going to attack, we can prepare for it.”

“Good,” said Quake. “Now fuck off.”

The soldiers slowly turned their attention back to the general. Scroll looked around at the room, back at Tap. She was off behind the counter, acting as though she hadn’t been paying attention to him at all. He gathered up his papers and left the tavern.

Once again, his words had fallen on deaf ears. But somehow he got an inkling. He thought about what White would say to lighten the mood. “Nothing is impossible,” he might say. “You’re a smart guy, Scroll. You can figure it out.”

It wasn’t unworkable. It was just a complicated problem that had to be sorted out. Today he’d gotten another piece of the puzzle. Now he just had to put the pieces together and get the clear picture in the open.

___________

Brother White’s desk was nicer than he’d had before. That was a plus. Fancy marble. He almost didn’t like touching it because he was afraid of getting it dirty. He imagined if Brother Scroll had been there he’d say something about how it’s bad for skin to come into contact with marble because of the oils or something like that.

What was not to his liking was the earth pony sitting across from him, shooting him an awful death glare.

“Knew you were like the rest of ‘em,” the earth pony said. “Said you weren’t, now you are.”

“Listen, I’m just trying to work with what I got.”

The earth pony’s eyes flitted around at the fancy room—bright torches, gleaning stone walls, ornately carved pillars—and then looked back at White.

“Must be really fucking hard,” he said. “Can I go now?”

“Listen, just...” White sputtered. “One more question.”

“What?”

“Have you seen a pink colt?” asked White. “Scars on his back? His name is Clip, and he—”

“Haven’t seen any,” the pony said with a sneer. “That it?”

White sighed and nodded. “Yes. You can go now. But please, if you see him, tell me.”

The earth pony frowned at him. “Up yours, dick-tickler,” he said, and walked away.

White didn’t know what he was supposed to do. He’d had a hard enough time talking to the earth ponies on the island. Now he had to do it on this fortress, and without Brother Scroll to help him.

His work finished, he organized his desk as nicely as he could. Then he got up from his seat and went for the door, all the while puzzling on his new situation. It was in some ways like the mission work he had been accustomed to, though he was a lot more confined by Monarch’s rules. Whereas Quake had allowed them more or less free rein to do as they pleased as long as they didn’t annoy him, Monarch had a strict itinerary for him. Also, the soldiers were nicer.

He was greeted by an aquamarine unicorn in splendid, polished armor.

“Any luck with the riff-raff?” asked the soldier.

“About the same as usual,” White muttered, choosing not to comment on the the guard’s wording.

“I don’t see why you even bother,” replied the soldier, leading him down the hallways. Other unicorns passed. What they were doing White could only guess.

“We all have obligations,” said White. “Mine turned up a bit differently than I thought.”

“I like my job better,” said the soldier. “Gets very obvious results.”

White bit his tongue in an effort to stop himself from making a disparaging remark about his doubts on the virtues of shooting.

“Well, here we are,” said the soldier, as he held another door open.

“Thank you, Aq,” said White, passing through.

The room, White reasoned, was much larger than it needed to be. It was a gigantic dining hall, filled with tables populated by various well-dressed unicorns. Well, well-dressed in comparison to Earthquake Island. Brother White was not so sure if he could compare them to the glimpses he’d caught of the Canterlot elite. Still, as he looked at one unicorn pony sporting a monocle, he suspected they fancied themselves on that level.

Up at the end of the hall was a table with three seats, one of which was empty and reserved for himself. The other two were filled. In one seat sat Brother Shine and in the other, General Monarch.

“So glad you could join us,” said Monarch. “Our meals are due to arrive any moment.”

As if on cue, a unicorn entered, carrying three bowls of salad in his magic aura.

White sat down as his salad did the same, looking warily at the other two. Brother Shine immediately began eating, not making eye contact with either of the others.

“How goes your tasks at mediating with the prisoners?” asked the general.

“Not so well,” said White. “Though I think I know what we can do to help.”

“Oh?” asked the general. Shine looked up nervously.

“Yeah,” said White. “Not keeping them prisoners, for one thing. Barging in, snatching up earth ponies and putting them to work doing...” He looked down at the salad.

“A necessary evil, I’m afraid,” said Monarch, raising a fork with several leaves speared on it. “They’re so much better at growing the food than we are.” He took a very pointed bite off the end of the fork.

“What’s my job again?” asked White.

“Tend to their needs,” said Monarch.

“Haven’t I been trying,” said White. “I can’t help them all that much if they hate me. I mean, they hated me before, but now they hate me more than ever. And if they hate me I can guarantee they don’t think very kindly of you.”

“The thought occurred to me,” said Monarch, admiring the silver gleam on his utensils. “Which is precisely why I have enlisted the aid of you two.”

“Meaning?”

Monarch turned to him, an eyebrow narrowed. Even with the white noise of the conversations of the ponies around them faintly humming around them, his gaze seemed to make the whole room seem silent. “You’re a pacifist,” he said, leaning towards him. “Pacify them.”

Shine made a loud cough, drawing the attentions of the other two.

“Sorry,” he said. “May I be excused for a moment? I need to use the bathroom.”

“Certainly.” Monarch nodded. Shine hastily made his way away from the table, though he took great care to leave his napkin carefully folded on the chair. When he left, the general turned back to White.

“You haven’t tried the wine, have you?” he asked, nodding to their empty glasses. White shook his head. Monarch smiled and lifted a bottle into the air, bathed in his purple magic aura. The cork emerged with a loud pop, and he poured two glasses, first one for White and then one for himself. He lifted the glass to his nose and breathed in. “Ahh... Shame you haven’t tried it. It’s much finer than the usual whiskeys and ‘moonshines’ that the earth ponies down below concoct.”

White took a sip of his and grimaced. “Not my thing,” he whispered.

“An acquired taste, I’m sure,” Monarch said. He turned to look at the crowd of unicorns. Then he stood up. Almost immediately their chatter ceased, and they all stared up at him. White looked at him too, and he noted the smirk on his face. “Gracious guests,” he announced, in a deep, booming voice, “I would like to thank you all for being here tonight. I would like to propose a toast!” He lifted his glass. White glanced down at his own, wondering exactly what Monarch was here to toast.

“To our wonders of industry and magic,” the general continued. “For while the pegasi have their swiftness and the earth ponies have... an obstinate refusal to die, I suppose...” There was a light chuckle throughout the room. “We have the superior minds. We can accomplish that which they can only dream of.” He raised his glass. “To the unicorns!”

“The unicorns!” chanted back the guests.

Seemingly pleased with himself, Monarch sat down, looking at White. “How was the speech?” he asked. “I trust you can give some advice?”

White sat there in silence for a moment, before standing up. “Excuse me,” he said, “I need to use the bathroom, too.”

He rushed over in the direction Shine had gone, somewhat clumsily brushing past a few tables whose occupants had pushed their chairs out just a little too far. He muttered his apologies and eventually passed through a doorway, finding himself in a spacious marble bathroom.

“And I thought my bathroom back home was big...” White muttered.

Shine was busy washing his hooves in the sink, staring at himself fretfully in the mirror.

“Hey,” said White. Shine turned to look at him. “What are we doing?”

Shine shook his hooves, one at a time, before answering. “Whatever Monarch says we’re supposed to do, I guess.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of a problem,” said White. “What happened to you? You were assigned to the island. We were supposed to meet up months ago.”

“Well, those plans didn’t take into account the whole ‘trying to murder me’ thing,” Shine answered in deadpan. “I’m guessing they did the same to you?”

“Three... no, four times,” White recalled. “Yeah, four times.”

“Nopony’s tried to get me here,” said Shine. “Except for that one dude who said he was gonna break off my horn and ram it up my ass.”

“You know, it’s funny, I think Quake used that line once.”

“Please don’t remind me of that pony.” Shine shuddered.

“So what do we do?” White asked. “I don’t exactly think Monarch is totally with us on the whole ‘mission’ thing. So... what do we do?” he asked again.

Shine shrugged. “Well, I just go with the flow.”

And Brother Shine left the bathroom, leaving White to puzzle before the mirror.

Comments

[i_am_the_jam]

How many years after FiM does this story take place?

You know, if the Mane 6 are still alive, and they hear of what is happening here, they could "punish" everypony of all 3 tribes in the island by using the EoH to render every single one of them sterile, but only sterile within each tribe, and the only way they would be able to reproduce would be through LOVING relationships and ONLY with somepony of the opposite gender AND of a different tribe.

[StayOuttaMyShed]

Whoa. I remember keeping up with this story on EqD a while ago. I think I stopped checking EqD for stories and only looked to hear around the time of that gap between chapters 15 and 16, so that would explain why I haven't heard from it in ages. Looks like I have a lot of catching up to do.

[Uberdeathninja]

they will die. their faith will kill them.
and now for something completely different:

[Knack]

It updates? It updates!

[Fley_The_Dragon]

Huzzah! Another chapter has arrived!

[HeirApparent]

Wooo! Always great to another taste of my favorite awkward missionaries!

I think this is the first time that this story has been trying to manage so many sub-plots all at once. Each of the major characters, with the exception of Clip, I believe, got their own POV in the chapter, each of them focusing on their own goals and priorities. It's certainly a lot of material to be juggling around, but it seems to be handling it all pretty well thus far.

As always, looking forward to the next chapter.

[Thunderbug80]

Yeah this seems like the first chapter to really look at all the characters as opposed to focusing on any one or two at a time. Good stuff!

[Paxromania]

2860725 are you implying that they can reproduce with the same gender?

[i_am_the_jam]

2939093

Ha ha. No, I mean that adoption doesn't count.