• Published 14th Jan 2012
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Stories of a Warden - Rosencranz



A magic obsessed pegasus finds himself in over his head after being assigned to a cartological expedition to distant islands.

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XIX

Chestnut’s Journal, 30 May, 979:

Tonight I write from a room of an old inn in Horseshoe Bend. For the first time this week, I’m well fed and clean—all because I got mugged today. Three pegasi met me on the road, and at first I was glad to see them. They made small talk for a while, until I let slip that no one was expecting me at my destination. One of them distracted me, led me off the road into the woods.

They jumped me all at once, but they died one by one. For a while I was too overcome to think straight, but after the rush passed I thought to check their bodies. Apparently, I wasn’t the first they had tried to rob; I looted nearly a thousand bits from their bags and clothes. Got a nice new dagger, too. It’s a unicorn-killer, silver-tipped so that it can pass most enchantments. I think it’ll come in handy.

Anyway, I’ve finally made it to Horseshoe Bend, a primarily unicorn town built where the foothills of Rambling Rock Ridge meet an off-stream of the Froggy Bottom River. Didn’t get here till nightfall; it took me a while to properly hide the bodies. At first, they wouldn’t let me through the front gates. Though the farmland around it is owned by earth ponies, the Bend is all unicorns.

After Celestians in Canterlot began to set up Ponyville on the other side of the Ridge as a town dedicated to racial unity, a bunch of Traditionalist unicorns started up what was supposed to be a similar operation. A multi-racial trading hub, surrounded by earth pony farmland, an economic service for farmer and Canterlotian (sp?) alike.

But while Ponyville got linked to Canterlot by rail, all the Bend had was the highway. With lax attention by the Celestial Party in the capital, the Traditionalists, all unicorns, dominated the town. Wealthy unicorn magistrates flooded the city, crowding out the earth pony farmers and jacking up the prices for housing and life expenses.

Of course, the farmers can’t pay well enough to live here, so it’s all unicorns. And there I was, an earth pony ex-farmer, trying to get in.

“We’ve had a spree of crimes committed by a ring of earth pony criminals,” they told me at the gate. “They’re terrorizing the town.”

Bullshit. They just like to keep out earth ponies they don’t know. I told them I wouldn’t steal a damn thing.

“Prove it. Let’s see if you have incentive to.”

In the end, they ended up getting a hundred bits off me, each. At the end of the day, even the Bend runs on money, just like everywhere else.

After that, I headed straight to the inn. No need to risk meeting more stuffy unicorns than I had to. Luckily enough for me, the innkeeper didn’t care who he did business with, so long as they paid well. The greedy bastard swindled me out of fifty-five bits. For one night!

And ponies said living in Canterlot would be expensive.

At least I won’t be traveling much longer. Canterlot is now just two days’ trek away. I’m setting out at dawn—I want to see the Guard Headquarters as soon as I can.

Chestnut’s Journal, 1 June, 979:

I finally made it to Canterlot. It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen before. So many buildings, so many ponies! I like it here. I blend into the crowd, and no one talks to me. At home, I stood out because of my size—there were only eight of us out there, and I was bigger than everypony—but here I go completely unnoticed. I walked from the front gate all the way through the Commercial District without anypony saying a word to me, aside from the street vendor who sold me a map.

I thought I would get all the way up to the Castle without interruption, but I found not just anypony could go up there anymore. I couldn’t even get into Bantham Village. They’ve set a big gate up across the road, complete with guards checking for passes. When they wouldn’t let me through, I asked them, how I was supposed to join the Guard without access to the Castle?

They just laughed at me. Apparently the Guard does all of its recruitment and training down in the Shipping District. Saves money.

So, I headed back down, into what the locals call ‘the Underbelly,’ and found somewhere to sleep for the night. Or at least, whatever it is folks consider ‘night’ around here. Everything’s just covered in a murky half-dark that I’ve been told never changes. I don’t really mind. I’ve always been more of a night pony anyway.

The guards at the gate gave me the address of the recruitment center. They said it would be open tomorrow. I’ll be there first thing in the ‘morning.’

XIX

“And you as well must die, belovèd dust,
And all your beauty stand you in no stead;
This flawless, vital hand, this perfect head,
This body of flame and steel, before the gust
Of Death, or under his autumnal frost,
Shall be as any leaf, be no less dead.”
-Edna St. Vincent Millay, And You As Well Must Die

Everything was red. In the fading afternoon sun, the crimson stained glass of the cathedral cast everything into a sanguine twilight. Charon sat at the back, near the exit, watching a stallion in black robes receive a ritual marking at the altar. A second stallion, dressed in white, stood before him and pressed one hoof into a wooden bowl filled with ground Gambian berries. Stooping, he marked one of the man’s temples with his hooftip and from there drew a line down the sides of his face.

Charon looked on. The markings were meant to be symbolic of the bloodshed of Corvus, one of the ancient druidic heroes, the founder of the Church of the Sun. It was he who gathered the first congregation of those who worshipped the two divine halves of the Holy Remnants—the Sun, and the alicorn Celestia. He was slain by “Ur-Morgash”—one of the last remaining lieutenants of the Other Thing, pierced through the temple by one of Its many spines. The Celestenes, the ones who built this chapel, wore the mark as a symbol of mourning for their passed hero.

What they didn’t know was that there were many in the Church who walked among them bearing it as mark of victory. Fortunately for Charon, both the stallion in the black robes and the priest were indeed Brothers.

The priest, finished with his work, stood and left the sanctuary. The pony in black sat down in one of the church pews and flipped open a book. For twenty minutes, the two of them sat there, him reading, Charon with her head bowed, as if in prayer. Finally, the stallion left.

Charon stayed in her seat. She was being watched. She could feel it. Bowing further, she let one hoof slip off the side of the pew. She grabbed the leatherbound briefcase that sat under the pew and moved it closer to her. It was exactly the type used by local businessponies to hold papers and files. It would raise no attention.

After what seemed like an eternity, the priest returned to the sanctuary, and Charon stood, stretched her aching legs. She walked over to meet the other man. Her wings ruffled. Sitting still for so long always made them restless.

She gave the priest a quick bow and sank to her knees, setting the case beside her. The priest gave her the same mark he had given the stallion. Swaying slowly back and forth, he murmured a brief blessing over Charon’s head. “In the name of Urgûl-Moresh, the Inscrutable Father, be strengthened.”

The priests’ hoof met her chin, and she felt a tremor run through her. A feeling of vigor and alertness came over her, along with a certain bloodlust. She stood and clasped the old man’s hoof in her own.

“I may not be your Sister, my Lord, but I appreciate your blessing,” she said, as was the expected thanks.

“Be wary,” came the expected reply. With that, the priest left her.

Charon walked over to the bench the stallion at before. She reached down, pretending to set the case below her, but swiftly opening a small cabinet in the leg of the pew where an identical case was waiting for her. The two were swapped in a heartbeat. She was a pegasus, after all. The fastest in Canterlot.

She slid the lid closed and sat back up, leaving the case below her. From one of the many pockets of her massive grey coat she drew a small paperback book. A Celestene holy text. She flipped it open to a random chapter and tried for some time to focus on a lengthy list of religious cleanliness laws.

When her patience finally wore thin, she put the book away and left the church, stepping out on the street. She opened her large, maroon wings, and sped off into the night. In an instant, she was far above the Castle grounds, higher than any of the guards ever thought to look. Not that they would be able to catch her, regardless.

Circling to the other side of the summit, she angled towards the distant lake at the bottom of the mountain. She dove, letting her wings nearly close. The icy wind tore at her face and the lake rushed up to meet her.

Her heartbeat quickened. Around her, everything slowed. Over the course of her long career, Charon had honed her ley abilities to incredible heights. These days, her body instinctively responded to stress by diverting metabolic energy into passive ley channels, enhancing their effects on her nervous system. Her perception and reflexes, in times of danger, became unparalleled. In her field, it was the only way she could compete with the magi.

Though it happened in only a few seconds, her fall seemed to last forever. At last she pulled out of her dive and swooped over the lake. Hooftips dragging across the surface of the water, she glid downstream to the northwest entrance to the Underbelly. Narrowly avoiding crashing into a freighter, she passed through the entrance and over the tops of the dark, deteriorating buildings.

She came to a run-down grey-brick apartment that was slowly falling apart in the shadow of a massive textile factory. Hovering outside its second floor, she opened one of the windows and stepped inside. Charon needed to move quickly. She was beginning to think there might be an Oracle tailing her.

Damn unicorns. The Oracles, while unable to defend themselves or attack her, practiced a very complex form of magic that made them unusually dangerous. They specialized in perceptive magic, a type Charon had never quite understood. The Oracles, if they laid eyes on you, would tag you with a form of magical beacon, what they called a “ley pulse,” that let them track you almost anywhere. They could manipulate the Aether realm, peering through it to find their pulse. Then they just watched.

It didn’t last long, the pulse, only a few minutes, but for the entire duration, they could see you, and everything around you. And, if they were skilled, they could deduce where you were.

The Oracle tracking her was good. Really good. He’d been trailing her all day, and she’d barely caught a glimpse of him. That was their other talent. Just as they could manipulate their own eyes, so too could they manipulate those of others. Those who had massive reserves of ley energy could bend the light around their bodies for brief periods of time, camouflaging themselves for just long enough to scurry unseen from one hiding place to another.

Of course, if she could ever catch him, he was dead. But she hadn’t managed it yet. Talented Oracles were slippery, if they discovered you were onto them they would just teleport further from you, and take more precautions in tailing you. This one she would have to lull into making a mistake.

Her tail hadn’t made a mistake yet. He was likely waiting for her to try to make the hit. What would happen then, she couldn’t know. Most likely, he would call in someone to fight for him, an actual duelist. That was the best case scenario.

She picked up her bag and took off its tiny combination lock. Worst case, he called in Guards to fight for him, or alerted the target, in which case she would have to abandon the hit. Then, she'd have to return the advance payment that should be right—with a click, the case opened—here. In the case, four long rolls of fifty-bit coins gleamed atop a group of files.

Sitting back on the bed, she skimmed them quickly.

TBE: Summer Dew, pictured above, likely to be wearing such and such etc, etc... may be traveling with pegasus thus far known only as Roads, sketched above... Also potentially traveling the earth pony “Chief”... suspected as Suppressive Person no. 115... SP-115 is to be considered extremely dangerous, his presence is to be considered an abortive circumstance, etc...

She flipped through the pages, looking for the most important details.

You should find an advance in this case worth 6,000 bits... meet Brother 4325 at the agreed upon place and time to return the advance or collect your reward... contact Brother 4324 at the agreed upon place and time for information on the target’s current whereabouts.

She checked her watch. 8:39. Perfect. Six minutes left.

Charon walked over to her armoire and changed clothes quickly, pulling on a dark red tunic with black leggings. At night, the red clothing would be just as hard to see as black, but if caught it was far less suspicious. Cold as it was, she had to wear light clothing; anything that restricted her range of motion severely hindered her ability to defend herself. Skillful pegasus acrobatics could mean the difference between a successful hit and a trip to the hospital—or worse, the morgue.

With a grunt, she slid the the dresser away from the wall and turned it around. She’d installed a false back when she first moved in; reaching to the top of the armoire she opened a hidden latch, exposing her hidden niche. From it she took two thin, featherlight shortswords, attached to cuffs that extended or retracted them past her hoof with a flick of the leg. She attached them to her forelegs, then dug around to find a sheath containing four throwing knives.

After affixing the sheath to her belt, she slid two long, rectangular smoke sticks into her pockets. In a pinch, the glass covering of the sticks could be shattered to expose a brick of compressed paper wadding. The paper was soaked in a potion which, when exposed to air, would begin to give off a thick cloud of grey smoke. In the windless conditions of the Underbelly, the fog would be dense enough to completely obscure vision in a ten meter radius for a minute or two.

Sufficiently armed, she pushed the armoire back into position, opened the window, and dove out. Spreading her wings, she took to the air, flying south towards Alver Street. The street was the most well kept area of the Underbelly, in the heart of Syndicate territory.

Some of the members of three prominent organized crime rings had opened and maintained a bunch of taverns, casinos, nightclubs, and drug dens over there. These enterprises thrived like no other, partially due to their operations as fronts for more insidious crimes. As the profits had grown, so had the buildings, and the relationships between the now-wealthy gang members.

Now, the Royal Guard stationed around the Underbelly lived in perpetual fear of the Syndicate, and the name Alver Street was synonymous with sprawling, opulent dens dedicated to openly providing all manner of legal and semi-legal services. It was the only place, besides the factory grounds, that had any real money, and was therefore the cleanest part of town. Not to mention the most well lit; in the Shipping District, light was a luxury product.

Charon’s contact was supposed to be waiting for her down by the Everwhile Cabaret, a massive half-brothel-half-restaurant dedicated to providing every manner of food, drink, burlesque entertainment, and prostitute that Canterlot bits could buy. Hm. A Brother of the Church, hanging around that place?

It couldn’t be. That wasn’t their particular vice. They had probably just hired an Oracle from the Underbelly, someone unaffiliated, like her. The Church rarely did its own dirty work. They were the creepy, slimy sort more suited for manipulation than outright violence. The greasy bastards.

At least they paid better than anyone else in Canterlot. It was only just recently that Charon had started working for them at all. In her youth she had turned them down, wanting to stay away from them and the Guards that constantly hounded them. Now she was thirty-two, her body was beginning to show signs of wear and tear from a life of violence and frequent injury, and she was still living on the fringes of the Underbelly.

Near the edge of the cave, sure, close to sunlight, but not goddamn close enough. Not for someone who had grown up here. It was enough to make her bitter.

But, hey, maybe two or three more church jobs... Who knew where she could relocate then?

No more time to think about that now, though. She was coming up on her destination. After swooping around the edge of the Everwhile, Charon flared her wings, landing just beside the building’s rear entrance. Glancing around, she looked for her contact. Was he hiding somewhere, scoping her out from a distance, or—

A massive pegasus came plummeting out of the sky, only to pull out of the dive a meter above the ground. Touching down and tucking his wings, he walked over to her, extending a foreleg.

“Charon, right?”

She tensed. She’d been expecting an Oracle. “Who’s asking?”

“Brother 4325.”

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Yeah. It’s me.”

She took his hoof. “Please,” he said. “Call me Ourobor. I’ve been watching your targets for the past twelve hours.” He smiled at her with such warmth that for a moment she forgot he was conspirator in a multiple homicide attempt.

It put her on edge, and she withdrew her hoof. “Right.” She said. “You weren’t seen, yes?”

Ourobor nodded. “I’ve been watching them from the air, from so far above they couldn’t possibly detected me. What effort other pegasi put into speed and coordination, I put into sharpening my eyesight,” he said. Still smiling. She noticed his teeth were somehow too big for his mouth.

“So, where are they?”

“You know the Founders’ Lodge?”

“The casino down the street?”

“Yes. The unicorn, Summer Dew, she went in about thirty minutes ago. Her pegasus friend was with her. No sign of the earth pony, or any other company. The Lodge only has one public exit—if I were you, I would—”

She had already opened her wings. “That’s all I need, thanks,” she said, taking off. About time she got rid of that guy.

She sped away from him. Churchmembers. Why couldn’t she ever get paid that much by normal ponies? And, come to think of it, where were these nutjobs getting their money, anyway?

Probably best not to think about it, she decided as she touched down on the wide, flat roof of the tenement house across the street from the Lodge. She walked over to the edge of the building, crouching behind the crumbling stone parapets. Peering over them, she stared at Lodge’s only exit. While her vision wasn’t as sharp as Ourobor’s, it was still good enough that she would never miss a target.

She glanced down at Alver Street. Not many ponies out, she thought. That wasn’t unusual, early on a Tuesday night. There would probably be a pickup in a few hours. Until then, it wasn’t likely anypony would be in any of the many back alleys and small streets. If she just tailed them for a while, they’d eventually have to leave Alver Street—if they wanted to get anywhere quickly—and then she would be alone with them.

The throwing knives would probably be her best bet. She could swoop in silently, and, with her enhanced precision and dexterity, throw two at once with deadly accuracy. The knives were silver-edged, there would be no blocking them. If she could manage two kidney shots, this would be an easy job. She could just land and finish them off. Fast and quiet.

That would be it. Simple. Might take a while, though, who knew when they would come out of the—

There was a scuffling behind her. Tensing, she whipped around, rearing and extending her swords. Crouched into a combat stance, blades ready, she scanned the rooftop.

Nothing. That did little to abate her worries. There was at least one unicorn on her tail, and unicorns were tricky. Earth ponies and pegasi were pretty straightforward; whomever was fastest or strongest or best armed won. Standard fighting, really. But the damn unicorns always had a trick or ten in their manes.

Of course, this might not be magic at all—across the roof was the raised entrance to a stairwell. She was willing to bet there was somepony hiding behind it.

“You might as well just come out,” she said. “I know you’re there, and you know I’m onto you.”

Five meters in front of her, the concrete roof began to crack, shudder, and tear itself apart. A bulge appeared in the roof, then expanded until she could make out a dark form crouching beneath it. The form stood, shrugging its shoulders, and the slabs of concrete shattered and slaked off of its back, and she saw it was a colt, no more than fourteen.

A very oddly-shaped colt, at that. His legs seemed to be too long for him, and he stood stooped and with his knees bent, so that he was hunched over. He was thin and white-furred, with a mane so blonde it was nearly white. He stared balefully at her with unblinking eyes set in sunken sockets, his face gaunt, his lips thin and stretched over a large mouth.

The colt took a step forward. Charon noticed he was breathing heavily.

“So,” she said to him. “Are you the Oracle, or the assassin?”

“Brother is an Oracle,” he said quietly. He spoke with a rasping voice, as though his vocal cords were atrophied by disuse. “But I am just Nephis.”

She leveled one of her blades at him. “What are you doing here?”

“I prefer to be called Nephi.”

Charon blinked. What was with this kid? “Answer the question.”

“Brother sent me here.”

“To do what?”

Feed.

Her upper lip curled. She took a step towards him. “Get the hell out of here, kid.”

He smiled at her, exposing short, triangular teeth. “I do not get to converse much.”

“I’m telling you—”

“I wish we had more time,” Nephi said, cutting her off. He pressed a hoof to his forehead, massaging his left eye with his palm. “But I don’t have long and...” his teeth clenched and he closed his eyes, as if in pain. “I can’t—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I can’t—”

And then he cut himself off, making a sudden movement. In Charon’s head, everything slowed. Nephi’s horn lit with a light grey aura. So, this was the assassin, then. And he was making his first move. This’ll be the worst part, she thought, retracting her blades and dashing to him, fast as a quarrel, her eyes on his horn. After the first spell, you can tell what you’re up against, but right now...

When she was almost upon him, a mass of strange, glistening grey rope exploded towards her from his horn. Whatever it was, it wasn’t moving quickly enough for her. A single beat of her wings took her out of its path, and in another split second, she was upon the unicorn.

She extended and plunged her right sword into his chest, all the way to the hilt, but something was wrong. His chest didn’t give like real flesh, it merely crackled and split. As her momentum carried her forward into him, she realized that this had to be some sort of magical construct.

It was the oldest trick in the book. Conjure some sort of goon, let your enemy attack it, and sneak up behind them for a deathblow. She knew that colt was too distorted looking to be real. Well, she wasn’t falling for it. Whipping around, she slid the sword from the construct’s chest, her extending her other blade to parry an attack she knew was coming.

But none came. There was nopony behind her, and as the disintegrating unicorn fell to the ground beside her, she realized the wound she had struck was emitting black swarms of tiny glistening bugs. Stepping away, she glanced down to see that her right sword was covered in them, and they were crawling towards her hoof.

She cast the blade away, scanning her surroundings for the unicorn. Beating her wings, she moved away from the body and the blade. Whatever those things were, she wasn’t going to mess with them; it was obvious the unicorn had wanted them in contact with her.

Landing, Charon peered back at the body and finally made out what the little black things were. Spiders. Hundreds of tiny, black spiders. Something told her they were venomous; no assassin worth his salt would bring them just for show. She shuddered, but something in her was relieved.

She’d survived his first attack, and he’d showed his hand. As she looked over the remnants of the grey cords he’d tried to hit her with, she could guess his particular motif—spiders. So, what would he throw at her next, then?

To her left, a bony forelimb emerged over the parapet, gripping at its edge. So, that was his plan, she thought as she saw Nephi pull himself onto the parapet. Sitting back, clinging to the wall while his copy made the opening moves. Not bad. She stared him down, revolted to find that the construct had been an unexaggerated copy of the original.

“You know what,” she said evenly, “You’re a child. You must not realize what you’re getting yourself into. I’ll kill you if you make me. I’ve been doing this since before you were born,” she said as he stepped down onto the roof.

The boy just stared at her. He took a step forward.

She removed her remaining blade and attached it to her her right foreleg, drawing a throwing knife with her mouth. Before he could take another, she was nearly upon him. In a movement so swift that Charon knew the unicorn couldn’t have registered it, she let the knife fly.

A split-second later, she breezed past his right side, her blade raking across his neck as the knife thudded into his chest. The second her sword made contact, she knew he wasn’t another copy. Pivoting with a flare of her wings, she swung her foreleg around to bury her blade in his stomach.

The sword stopped immediately, jarring her arm. The silvered blade had barely pierced the boy’s skin. He twisted his head, looking down at her curiously, then, before she could pull away, he reached down and grasped the sword in his hooves. She leapt backwards, jerking at the sword, but his grip was iron.

Charon detached it as he lurched towards her, and as he discarded her sword a rush of fear ran through her, kicking her ley lines into overdrive. Everything came to a standstill. She stared at Nephi as she felt her body stumbling backwards.

Her knife was still lodged by the tip in his chest, and she saw that she had split the skin of his neck. Yet even though the skin had separated, there was no blood. Instead, she could make out something black and glistening beneath the skin. Whatever it was, it was stopping her swords.

It had to be some kind of magic, surely. Not like anything she’d ever seen, if silver couldn’t damage it. Given that it had stopped attacks in three different areas, it was safe to assume whatever spell this was covered his whole body. Or, maybe just anywhere that was covered in skin...

So, what about his eyes? Surely if his eyes were protected too, he’d be blinded.

Reaching—and feeling her body respond sluggishly—to her waist, she drew another knife. With a flick of her wrist, she sent one flying into his face.

He reached up and blocked the blade with a foreleg. She noticed then that something was forming on his hooves. They now glistened just as his neck did, and two protrusions were forming behind his hooftips. They elongated into sharp, deadly looking claws.

They were intimidating, but Nephi had already made another mistake. He hadn’t bothered to protect his chest, neck, or stomach, but he’d defended his eyes. She still had a chance, she wouldn’t have to bail just yet. If she could just pull this off, she could not only keep her chance at the kill, but also find out who it was that had been tracking her all day, and why.

She drew her second knife, leaping into the air with a beat of her wings. Something jerked against her right wing, and she was pulled back to the ground, towards the unicorn. He jerked his head backwards, his horn pulling at tiny grey threads she realized were attached to her.

He darted forward, closing the gap between them and unleashing a flurry of jabs with such speed Charon struggled to avoid them. He couldn’t touch her, of course—no unicorn could—but he didn’t leave her any openings to cut herself free.

Finally, Nephi made another mistake. He was advancing on her, trying to trap her against the edge of the building, using the webbing to keep her close, when he took one overly ambitious swipe at her neck. His footing failed. She twisted, then, pulling her wing under her foreleg and hacking away at the webbing as fast as she could. In the corner of her eye, Nephi righted himself perfectly, and she realized it had been a feint all along. She dove backwards as the threads finally gave, but it was too late. His claw met her ribcage, shattering one of her smoke sticks and tearing into her skin.

Thankfully, the stick was enough to keep the claw from sinking too deep. Charon felt fine as she beat her wings, rising into the air and putting distance between herself and her attacker. Her shirt billowed with smoke, clouding her vision. But as she tried to fly further away, she tipped sideways. Her right wing wasn’t supporting her weight. She twisted around to see that it was covered in a mesh of spider silk, two or three of the bugs still clinging to the webbing.

The mesh was too tight; she couldn’t extend the wing enough to keep herself in the air. I’ll have to get away through the stairwell on hoof, she realized as she came crashing to the ground. In which case the other smoke stick should help. Before she hit the ground, she let loose the other stick. The glass shattered, emitting a cloud of thick grey fog.

She landed on her side and rolled back onto her hooves as the rooftop grew covered in smoke. For a second that felt like an hour, she crouched, immobile, as the cloud grew thicker and thicker. From across the rooftop, her sharpened hearing caught the sounds of faint skittering.

As the cloud grew thick enough that she could hardly see her hoof before her face, she was just about to move again, when a voice called out from just beside her.

“Charon, did you know?”

Shit. He was closer than she thought.

The voice came closer. “My spines were coated in two different types of venom. One is a neurotoxin. It attacks your nervous system. You may soon feel the area around the wound going numb.”

Charon gritted her teeth. She wanted to believe he was bluffing, but she could already feel the toxins setting in. She could hear the blood dripping off of her, but she couldn’t feel it.

Slowly and silently, she moved away from the sound of Nephi’s voice, heading towards the door. If she could just slip through it, she could head downstairs, out onto the street, and then get someone to take her to the hospital. She could tell the healers she had a spider bite.

“The other venom was necrotic. After the first one paralyzes you, this one will gradually destroy the tissues around the wound.”

She shuddered. Someday, she hoped she’d get the chance to come back and kill this kid. A dark figure, three feet tall and just as long, passed in front of her in the mist. She froze. It turned, scuttling along beside her. She held her breath, hoping the thing hadn’t already caught sight of her. It paused for a moment, reaching out with two long forelegs, feeling around before it. Charon grimaced. Of all the things she could have dealt with today, it had to be spiders.

Nephi piped up again, a bit further behind her. “I do not tell you this to scare you. I do not relish your pain. If you come out, I will administer a more neurotoxin. Your death with be swift and painless.”

The spider disappeared into the mist. She crept towards the stairwell.

“Your brain will release endorphins as it shuts down. The end will be pleasant. You will never be troubled again. I am doing you a favor. I envy you.”

Her head was starting to get woozy. Her balance was going. She couldn’t tell if the was coming closer to her, or fading away. She tensed. Had he heard her?

“Did I ever tell you who hired us?”

Definitely further away. Thank Celestia.

“It was the Church.”

Her eyes widened. What? Those bastards had set her up? Dammit. The pay was too good, she should have known better. Followed her instincts. When she recovered, she was getting the hell away from them. And if they tried to contact her, she’d leave their heads out at the end of the street. Damn them all.

“Still not coming out? A slow death, then. Either way, you will feed my children.”

She could make out the outline of the stairway. Finally. It was time to get the hell out of—

The door swung open, she faded into the mist, and new voices emerged into the fog, all speaking at once.

“Royal Guard, what’s going on up here?!”

“Rose, clear this fog!”

“Dammit, he was telling the truth!”

A burst of heat and energy passed over her, her head swam, and she crumpled to the ground. A warm numbness was traveling down one of her legs, and breathing was getting more and more difficult. She looked up from the ground to see a troupe of unicorns and pegasi in heavily modified Guard uniforms advancing across the roof towards her.

Behind her, Nephi took a few steps backwards.

One of the Guards, a tall unicorn in a high-collared coat called out to him. “Don’t flee the scene, we will catch you.”

He turned, about to run, when a massive form emerged over the stone parapet. An earth pony, one of the biggest she’d ever seen, pulled himself in a fluid motion onto the roof. His body, from mane to tail, was covered in dark clothing, his face hidden behind a featureless black mask, his head covered by a hood. In two huge steps, he blocked Nephi’s path. The unicorn froze.

The Guard standing closest to her, an old unicorn wearing Captain’s armor, shouted at the earth pony. “Bastard! What the hell are you doing here? You weren’t supposed to come back, you swore!”

The giant in the mask said nothing. Nephis looked from him to the Guard, then, before anyone could stop him, cut across the roof and dove off of the side. As Charon watched him, her eyes began to slip out of focus. Suddenly, she couldn’t hold her head up anymore.

“Orion, Rose, take the rest of the squad and follow that unicorn. I’ll handle the situation here. This one’s a guard-killer.”

Two of the guards saluted, and Charon slumped sideways. In the corner of her eye, she saw most of the troupe silently disappear over the side of the roof. Her eyes slipped closed, but she stayed conscious.

“Chief. I know it’s you. Why even bother with the mask?”

If the earth pony was still there, he didn’t say a word.

“Respect my intelligence, will you? There aren’t many ponies your size in Canterlot, and there’s only one that would come calling right after we get a tip about cult activity.”

There was a long pause. Charon briefly slipped out of consciousness.

“Come on, Chief, why even bother to leave us that tip if you’re not gonna talk to me when I show up?”

The earth pony finally spoke, his voice was so gravelly Charon could barely tell what he was saying. “Wasn’t me.”

When the other voice spoke again, it was full of fear. “What do you mean it wasn’t you? Why exactly are you here?

“I’m taking the pegasus.”

Me?

“Like hell you are. She’s coming with me, to Headquarters. I’m not going to stand around and let you start another spree...”

The voices were getting, softer, like they were coming from a distance.

“Not another step!” she heard someone say. She couldn’t tell who.

She slipped out of consciousness again. When she came to again, her eyes were open, but all she could see was the ground. It was... moving. Bleary shapes moved at the edges of her vision, the sides of legs that weren’t hers, then she passed out again.

When she woke up next, she was lying flat in total darkness. Voices called out all around her.

“Who the hell is she? Why would’ja bring her to mah room?” A male voice.

“I needed supplies. I figured this would be the best place to get them.” A female voice.

“And administer them.” A deeper male voice.

“Yah can’t just break into a hospitle!”

She blinked, and suddenly was sitting up, suddenly able to feel her body and open her eyes again. She she did, a bright light seared her retinas and she cried out, surprised to find her mouth working. Struggling to move and blinking in the light, she realized her entire right side was in agonizing pain.

“Fuck!” she screamed. “It h—”

A massive hoof clamped down over her mouth and nose. She couldn’t breathe.

“Do not scream. I’ll let you breathe again if you do not scream. Nod if you understand.”

She nodded. The hoof released her and she gasped for breath, gritting her teeth as waves of pain moved through her.

“Tell us who hired you,” said a hazy figure standing somewhere behind the light.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “Where the hell am I?”

“Tell us who tired you.”

She clenched her jaw as another wave of pain surged through her, and she twisted in her chair, trying not to cry out.

“The Church,” she gasped, grimacing. “The damn Church.”

Goddess knew she wasn’t protecting those bastards. Whatever they wanted, she’d tell them. Anything to get them to treat her wounds. After all, they were still in a hospital, right?

“The Church of the New Dawn?”

“Yeah,” she said, eyes shut tight, unable to take the blinding light any longer. “Please, do something about my side, antivenom, painkillers, something!”

“We’ll give you intravenous opiates, if you answer our questions.”

“Then ask them faster!”

“Who was your target?”

“Summer Dew.”

“Just her?”

“I was warned about two traveling companions. A pegasus and an earth pony.”

“Did they give you their names?”

“One. Roads, the pegasus.”

“Did you find out the names of any of your contacts?”

“Just one. A pegasus named Ourobor.”

“Who put you in contact with the Church?”

“No one, they just showed up at my doorstep.”

“When?”

“Can I have the drugs now? Please!”

“Give her some of the painkillers.”

“How much?”

“Half dose.”

She opened her eyes and saw someone move over to her, and grab her foreleg. Even if she had wanted to jerk free, she couldn’t have. They’d put some kind of restraints on her limbs. She felt a pinprick in her leg, and after a moment, the waves of pain in her torso faded to a throb. Her head swam.

“Better?” the female voice asked.

“Yeah.”

“When did the Church contact you about this assignment?”

“Yesterday, early in the morning. Apparently it was urgent.”

“The pony who first contacted you, what did he look like?”

“There were two of them, they both wore masks.”

“Did you see the faces of any of your contacts?”

“Three.”

“Give us the details.”

“The first two were in the United Temple of Celeste in Bantham. One was a priest there, or at least he was dressed like it.

“Did he give you those markings?”

She’d forgotten she was even still wearing them. “Yes.”

“What did he look like?”

“Old. Grey man, short beard, unicorn, yellow fur, not much taller than me.”

“And the other?”

“He was a younger stallion. A pegasus, all in black, with dark grey fur. Very tall, no beard, black mane, very tiny muzzle. That’s all I remember.”

“And Ourobor?”

“A big, white pegasus with teeth that look like they’re about to pop out of his mouth. Trust me, that’s all you need.” She gritted her teeth as the throbbing intensified. “More opiates. Come on, I can’t give you much else.”

“Give her another half dose.”

More movement behind the light, another prick in the leg. Soon, she could hardly feel her body, and her mind slipped into a haze.

“Did any of you contacts mention any names you remember?”

“No.”

“Did your contacts tell you anything about the recent activities of any of your targets?”

“...no.”

“Anything valuable they had in their possession?”

She didn’t say anything. She forgot to answer the question.

“Charon?”

“...nooo,” she slurred.

“How did they know where the targets were?”

“Ourobor...” her mind seemed to slip, into a blank fog, then she caught herself. “...tracked them.”

“Did they mention anything about the capabilities of any of the targets.”

“They said... said the earth pony was dangerous. Nothing else.”

From somewhere in the background, there came a laugh. She couldn’t tell from whom.

“Are y’all done?” a voice interrupted her questioning. “Somepony could come in any minute.”

“He’s right Chief, there’s nothing left to get out of her, anyway,” the female voice said.

There was a brief pause.

“What do you want me to do with her?” she asked.

“How much of that would it take to kill her?”

“Maybe two and a half more doses.”

“Give her four.”

“No...” she was trying to shout. She wanted to scream, but somehow she just couldn’t manage it. Another prick. “...no...” Charon begged, “please...”

Her eyes closed. The fog in her mind thickened. The sound around her faded into silence. Her body went completely numb, the faintest memory of her wound gone. All was still and silent. She felt as though she were floating.

And then there was nothing.