The Toll of Clockwork Tower

by Faindragon

Chapter 5 - The Board

“What do you mean you didn’t find it?!” he snarled, slamming down his hooves in the desk. He leaned over it and glared down at the three identical alicorns standing before him.

“I-I,” one of the alicorns stuttered, but was quickly interrupted by another one.

“The betrayer refused to talk, Sir,” she said with a smooth voice. “Even under torture he refused to say a thing, only laughing at us.”

“He said he knew we would come. That he had gotten rid of it a long time ago,” the last one added. “I couldn’t even detect it with the tracking spell.”

The earth pony took a deep breath, his face a mask of restrained anger. “Pendulum might have been a fool, but not even he would throw away that shard! He knows what it can do, he know how valuable it is.”

“Sir, what if he spoke with the princess about it? We can have the guards at our throats before—”

“The princess doesn’t know,” he interrupted sharply, glaring at the alicorn who had spoken. “And that hag won’t get to know anything either, understood?”

The alicorn took a step back under his gaze, stammering forward a weak, “Yes, Sir.”

Silence filled the moon-lit study, only interrupted by the hooting of an owl from the garden outside. The alicorns figeted nervously as the earth pony looked between them, until finally the first one spoke up. “Wh-what about Clockwork? He maybe knows something?”

“Clockwork?” he asked, nailing down the first one with his gaze. “Who is that?”

“Pendulum’s apprentice, Sir,” the second one cut in, unaffected by the glare the earth pony shot her. “He wasn’t in the workshop when we confronted the betrayer.”

He laughed bitterly. “You really think that he would share the secrets of the shards with an apprentice?” he spat dismissively. “No, Pendulum hid it somewhere, and you’re going to find out where!” He pointed towards the alicorns. “Search his house, he would never dare to keep it beyond hooves’ reach.” His hoof moved down to the first alicorn, who skidded two steps back, unable to meet the earth pony’s eyes. “And you... find this... Clockwork. Bring him here.” With a wry smile he leaned back from the desk. “No loose ends.”

With a quick bow, two of the alicorns hurried out, leaving behind the earth pony and the last alicorn in the study. “I’m sorry, Sir, but—” the alicorn started, but was quickly cut off.

“That was a dismissal. You’re free to leave.”

“Can he be trusted, Sir?” the alicorn pressed on, with a swift motion removing the bracelet around his hoof. Instead of the dark alicorn mare stood a brown pegasus with grey mane before the desk, stretching out his wings. “He seemed more nervous than usually.”

“Who can be trusted these days?” the earth pony sighed and picked up a photo frame, for a moment losing himself in the eyes of the mare that smiled back at him. “Equestria is on the brink to degeneracy, and it’s up to us to make sure that it won’t pass that line.”

He nodded at the words. “I know that, Sir, and you have my unshaken loyalty in this. Do you have his?”

“He hasn't given me, us, any reason not to. You’re seeing ghosts where none exists.” He put down the frame and looked up at the pegasus. “One more week. Then years of preparation will finally be finished and Equestria will be saved.”

“With your leave, Sir.”

The earth pony waved dismissively and he turned around to leave, only to be stopped by the voice behind him. “I’m not one to distrust your instincts. Keep an eye on him. If he does something out the line... no loose ends. We can afford to lose him.” The pegasus smile widened as he made his leave.

Behind him, the earth pony turned his attention towards the window and the moon outside. With a smile, he poured up a glass of wine before he once again looked down at the picture frame on his desk, raising his glass towards it. “One more week, my love. Then it’s all over. I can return to my life. Our life.” He took a deep sip from it, but froze with the glass against his lips, the wine dripping down his neck, at the sight of a silver tray standing next to the frame.

In a swift motion he putted the glass down again and, without even caring to wipe the wine away, reached out a hoof towards the small envelope lying on the tray. He hadn’t even noticed the servant coming in with it.

“Impossible,” he whispered, picking up the envelope with a shaking hoof. “You’re dead! I heard the words myself!”

He twisted the envelope around to see the blue wax seal. He stared at it for a moment before he ripped it open and took out the small bit of paper on it. “Unicorn to h7.”

With a smile he dropped the small note on the desk and turned around, walking up to the board standing alone under one of the windows. “A last move before you accept defeat, old friend?” he mused and moved the black unicorn sculpture diagonally to its place.

For a moment, he stood there in silence and watched the board carefully, his mind processing the hundred and one ways he could take this game. With a snort he moved the earth pony across the board. “A shame, really, that we never got around to finishing this. I’m afraid that time simply... slipped away from us. Earth pony to d5.” He smiled sadly as he removed the black earth pony sculpture that had stood on d5 before the move. “I guess it means I won.”

⌚

Tears dropped from the unicorn’s muzzle as she slowly worked the wrought iron with the hammers she held in the mechanical extensions, the hands, emerging from her shoulders. Each strike of the hammer caused sparks to fly from the metal, and the piece that had once glowed vivid white slowly turned cold.

With a flash of magic she levitated it into the hearth. One of the hands dropped the hammer it held and instead started to work the bellows, the flowing air waking the sleeping coal. She took a deep breath, the smell of the burning coal blending together with the scent of the twenty four asphodelus flowers that laid spread out in the room.

Twenty four. One for each year. For a moment, she lost herself in the vivid red metal, surrounded by a thin projected layer, that slowly heated up in the middle of the coal bed. Her hand worked slower and slower until it finally stopped completely.

Before her eyes the scene repeated itself. The scene that always, without failure, came when she worked with a blade. Blood dripping down the hoof lying over the edge of the bed, unifying with the small pool of blood that had gathered under it.

She blinked the picture away and pulled out the iron, quickly getting to work with it. Each strike with the hammer sounded as the screams that filled her mind. With a wavering breath she gently lifted up the small Rainflower that laid waiting and placed it over the metal; it only took seconds before it had turned to ash. Quickly she returned to the hammering, alloying the metal with the ash.

Years had passed since that fateful night, yet the burden she wore hadn’t eased. Some wounds were condemned to never heal: a soul’s judgement on the body.

She levitated the cooling metal in front of herself, slowly twisting it around and waving a single thread of amber light into what would be the tip. When she placed it down on the anvil again the amber light slowly turned fuschia. Picking up one of the smaller hammers, she started to slowly hammer the light into the blade. Each strike was delicate, not louder than a heartbeat, and plunged the room deeper into darkness.

With closed eyes she hummed quietly to herself, the tears falling in pace with the hammer strikes. She didn’t need to see the metal, the vibrations in the air only she could feel made sure that the strike would hit. It was as if every trace of light in the room was hammered into the metal, and soon she stood there in complete darkness.

“Mortui vivos docent,” she mumbled softly and dropped the hammers. Gently, she levitated up the blade. The light from her horn was reflected thousandfold by the polished metal. “Sed ego mei paenitet misericordia.” She pressed the cold metal against her muzzle before she with a sigh placed it on the table again.

With slow steps she walked over to another workbench and the small vial standing there. She levitated the bung of it, but held the vial still in the air for a few seconds, her eyes frozen on the fuschia and blue strands of mane inside of it. Her mane.

“Princess, give me strength,” she whispered as she levitated one of the strands up. Plucking a single strand from her own mane, she twinned the two strands together and walked back to the knife. Placing the twinned strands over the knife, she softly started chanting the words that would finish the blade. “My regrets follow you to the grave...”

⌚

Celestia suppressed a yawn and levitated up the envelope that lay at the top of the pile of mail she had received that morning. She knew very well what each and every one of these letters consisted of; it would be the same as every letter she had received with the morning mail for the last eleven months.

Even then she made sure to read them all. She knew that she couldn’t do what they begged her for, but it was still her duty as Princess of Equestria to listen to her subjects.

With a quick glance towards the clock, specially made for her by the late Pendulum, she opened the envelope she had picked. The smell of fresh apples filled her nostrils, and she carefully started to read through the letter. It wasn’t the first time she had gotten a letter from the Sweet Apple Acres at the outskirts of Ponyville. Once she had read through it, she sighed and dropped it on the floor next to her. There was nothing she could do about it. Not yet.

She had finished about half the pile when a cautious knock echoed in the silent room. “Enter,” she said, without as much as looking away from the letter she was currently reading.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, my liege,” Falk, Captain of the Royal Guards, said as he entered the room. “But the servants said that you were already awake.”

She smiled warmly as she placed the letter at the top of the growing stack of read letters. “They’ve been tiptoeing around me the entire morning.” She sighed and picked up another letter. “Just like every morning. They fear me, Falk. Fear that I’ll lash out at them if they do anything wrong.”

“Not without reason, I’m afraid,” he said carefully, sitting down on one of the cushions opposite Celestia. “The words have spread, Celestia. More than once, you’ve lashed out on one of the nobles—or me—about one thing or another.”

With a sigh, she dropped the letter and looked at him with tired eyes. “I’ve done that, haven’t I?”

He nodded silently, before he continued. “But I understand why. This,”—he motioned towards the letters on the floor—”it takes its toll on you.” He shook his head, his hoof falling to the ground. “Why are you doing this? You’ve others who could take the burden of these letters from your shoulders.”

For a moment, she sat in silence, only looking at the letters. “I’ve told you before, Falk,” she finally said, looking up at him with a serene smile. “I can’t put this on a pony that doesn’t understand what’s going on. Right now, you and I are two of very few ponies who knows that the shard is missing. We’re the only two who knows what will happen if they manage to charge it up. My actions to keep that from happening causes suffering for many of my little ponies. It’s my duty to listen to them, to know what I put them through.” A few tears glistened in her eyes as her smile turned pained. “Even if I must continue doing it.”

“No,” he said firmly, looking her into her eyes. “Your duty is to keep your subjects safe, nothing else. You can’t go on like this. You need re—”

“Keeping my little ponies safe is your duty, Captain,” she said sharply. “And so far, I’ve not heard about any breakthrough in finding the cult.” She sighed, her voice wavering before it returned to it’s normal soft tone. “For nearly a year I’ve kept the sun up for as long as I can muster. I’ve fought cosmical powers nopony else have beheld, just to buy you a few extra hours every day. Should the sect succeed, I won’t be able to fight against it. Sleep alone won’t help me to withstand the forces that tear me down every night; the only thing that can end that is to stop.” She looked up at him with tired eyes. “And I won’t stop until Equestria is safe, Captain.”

“I know,” he said softly. “And I’m sure that the rest of Equestria would understand, should you decide to share this all with them.”

“I can’t tell them.” She slowly shook her head. “It would cause panic.”

“You underestimate your subjects.” He smiled at her. As she didn’t answer, his smile slipped. “That’s not why I’m here, though. I come with news about the sect.” That made her perk up her ears. “I’m certain you’ve heard the word about Pendulum’s death?” She nodded. “Long, he was one of our main leads towards the sect.” She jerked her head up, but he silenced her by holding up a hoof. “I didn’t want to tell you anything that made you act differently around him. I can promise you that we kept an extra watchful eye on your meetings with him, your life have never been in danger. The information we’ve gathered indicates that Pendulum abandoned the sect a few weeks ago, a month at the most.” He leaned forward. “We believe that the murderer, his own apprentice, was ordered to kill Pendulum before he could expose them during one of your meetings with him.” He shook his head and leaned back. “We’re not even certain that Pendulum knew that his apprentice was part of the sect. We didn’t, but now everything points towards that. Especially his nervous behaviour these few days, as well as the shady stallion, likely another sect member, he’s been seen talking to.” He tapped his hoof in the floor twice. “But this gives us a new opportunity in finding the sect. Not only can we search through Pendulum’s home for clues, but if we can find this apprentice or his stallion friend, we’ve someone we can get information out of.”

Celestia looked at him for a moment, before she sighed and nodded. “Find him, Captain. Bring an end to this dark chapter.”

“I will put extra resources into it,” he said, rising from his cushion. “By your leave?”

She nodded once, looking after him as he made his leave. It was something with his words that had bothered her, but she couldn’t put her finger on what. With a sigh, she discarded the thought and went back to reading the next letter in the pile, the weight of the situation weighing down her shoulders.

If the sect wasn’t stopped soon, it would be too late.

Comments

[Sur-Toufaan]

>Bring an end to this dark chapter.”
>said right at the end of the chapter

I see what you may have done there.