2986 Steps

by Verlax

Chapter Seventeen - The Preparations

"…and that is in essentia how I have revenio here." Dostoyevsky concluded his tale, ending his story in a coughing fit.

Hansen didn't say a word. He allowed the nurse to bondage the old pegasus properly, all the while staying silent and listening to his companions tale, wearing a blank expression. Dostoyevsky himself was lying in a bed. Quite ironically, it was one of the beds reserved for the patients. Hansen waited patiently for the nurse to finish her job and after she left the room he closed the door. Sluggishly, the doctor approached his colleague and sat on a stool next to his bed, staying silent for the next couple minutes. Just when Dostoyevsky was going to point out how awkward the situation was had the good doctor opened his mouth.

"Dostoyevsky, you stupid, idiot." Hansen scowled at the pegasus, glaring at him. "How many times had I told you to take guards when you go on the rounds?"

"Oh, that it irrisorie, especially coming from the mouth of a pony that never takes city custodes himself." The pegasus pointed out.

"Well, I at least know how to behave and I don't get involved in fights!" Hansen growled in response. "What do you expect from me? That I'll stay silent about this whole thing and sweep it under the rug? You know full well that I can't do that; I have to inform the authorities in cases like this."

Dostoyevsky indeed knew that very well. The local laws, especially the ones in force during a state of emergency like now gave physicians an unprecedented level of protection. Any pony suspected of attacking and injuring a doctor, be it by sword, magic, or bare hooves were to be reported and arrested on the spot, leading to interrogations and later on to imprisonment, if not worse. And Dostoyevsky did not like the idea of that.

"No. We will not report it. I promised not to." The pegasus said firmly.

"Are you scared?" The doctor lifted an eyebrow at his companion. "Expecting revenge?"

"Of course not." Dostoyevsky denied with indignation. "I just do not wish to put them in a periculosum situation, not more than they are now in. I made an oath no to."

"So let me get this straight: you, the director of this hospital, want one of the doctors in your hospital to break the law, is that right?" Hansen asked, already knowing the answer he would get.

"Confirmativum." Hearing this Hansen sighed in exasperation.

"I don't like it. We'll have problems with this sooner or later. And we'd have to forge medical reports…"

"If you will report this, I am going to fire you from this facilitas." Dostoyevsky's demeanor suddenly shifted, taking on a more edgy tone.

Hansen gulped. "You wouldn't…"

"Yes, I would." The pegasus cut him off before he could finish. "Oaths are a sacred thing for me, and I am not about to break one, even if it means going against the law."

Seeing the fire of determination in his eye the unicorn doctor sighed in defeat. "Fine." He muttered. He knew that there was no reasoning with Dostoyevsky when he got like this, and technically he was his employer. If he really wanted to, he could go through with his threat.

Just as the two stallions finished their little squabble the doors to the room opened with a crash and Twilight dashed inside. The mare looked like she just ran a marathon; her disheveled hair was wet from snow and sweat, she was panting like she was about to spit out her own lungs any second now, and her restless eyes darted around the room for a moment, unable to focus on anything. Only after a moment had she managed to calm herself enough to finally notice the two stunned stallions.

"I came as quickly as I could. Dostoyevsky, are you alright?" Twilight managed to ask once she slowed down her breathing a bit.

"Of course, miss." The pegasus smiled reassuringly, managing to overcome his initial surprise. "Actually, I dare say you look worse than me at the moment."

"Dostoyevsky, you had a damn saber slice through your stomach, leaving a two inch deep gash!" Hansen growled in annoyance. "Lucky for you you're fat enough that the blade didn't damage any internal organs."

"I'm not fat." Dostoyevsky protested theatrically. "I just have just big bones…" he added under his breath.

"Guys?" Twilight looked lost, the two ponies before her confusing her no less than Pinkie Pie. "I hope it isn't as bad as it sounds like…"

"Nah. Like Hansen had said, no internal organis have been damaged." The injured pegasus assured. "Unfortunately, I cannot leave this cot for at least a week."

"If I know him he'll try to escape the hospital before the end of the day." Hansen groaned.

"Maybe…"

Before Dostoyevsky was able to continue his thought he was interrupted by Hansen's raised hoof. "As we're all here I think we should change the subject to something more important. I have recently found something that I think you need to see for yourselves."

While he was saying this the doctor started to shuffle through the contents of a nearby wardrobe, taking out several small boxes from its depths. After he was through with this he opened one and pulled out of it a strange mask crafted from a heavy, dark wood.

"This is a carving made in Quaggagascar." He explained, passing it to Twilight. "I got it as a present from a fellow scientist working there. The mask supposedly represents a deamon from old Zebra myths…" As he was telling them that he opened the other boxes and was pouring out their contents. "This I received from doctor Maritz from Hoovai. Here we have a woodcut from the Hinnarat Empire. And here is a gift I received from a Faustian missionary in Coltcutta."

"They're all the same…" Twilight whispered, her eyes widening. "Or at least they're strikingly similar. It's like they are a copy of something…"

"And whatever they're copying, it must be interesting to say the least. Leprosy often creates a condition called the 'lion face', where the thickening and swelling tissues heavily distorts a pony's features. These masks represent that very acutely, yet each of them has something that just doesn't add up. For example let's take the Quaggagascar one." He lifted the mask with his magic for everypony to see. "As you can see, the 'skin' on this mask looks like it has been eaten away by rot, and the nose collapsed. However this small patch over the left eye is the most interesting part. As you all know, every leper sooner or later loses his eyebrows. What I just pointed out to you is the complete opposite: the mask has a small tuft of carved 'hair' indicating brows." He let the mask sail to the side and pulled out another. "If you look here, this mask, despite its completely different origins has a tuft of hair over the left eye as well. Every one of them has a tuft of hair over its left eye.”

Dostoyevsky was silent. Twilight in the meantime was inspecting the mask, albeit careful not to touch it. She knew deep down it was a silly reflex, but she couldn't help the irrational fear that crept up her spine, as if just by touching it she could somehow end up infected.

"All my life I was trying to live by logic, to stand firmly on the ground." Hansen continued, putting away the masks. "But now, facing such a terrible plague and making next to no progress I can't help but think that something is behind all this. It's like I'm not fighting a bacteria which I can see under my microscope, but rather an alien, hostile mind…"

"Maybe the townsfolk are right?" Twilight suggested weakly. "Maybe we should…"

"Find him and kill him?" Dostoyevsky finished for her in a whisper.

"And how do you exactly propose we kill a ghost?" Hansen levitated the boxes back inside the wardrobe, in the meantime pouring a glass of anisette with his hooves. "That's impossible."

"No it's not." Dostoyevsky replied almost immediately. "All you need is to craft silver bullets, bless them, and then load a revolver with them and shoot."

"A revolver?"

With a grunt Dostoyevsky pulled out a strange, metal object from his vest pocket and placed it on the nightstand. It vaguely looked like a flintlock pistol, but was far more advanced than anything Twilight ever seen. It had a strange metal cylinder with six chambers, in each of them a small brass object she never saw before. It was fascinating.

"Six bullets." Dostoyevsky's voice snapped Twilight out of her silent stupor. "High penetration, high accuracy, humilis fire rate, magnus recoil. It was gifted to me by an old, insane engineer. You know, the kind of pony that builds metal birds and time machines and other such nonsense. Id est the most advanced firearm you could possibly find. Argentum bullets will guarantee that the ghost will be slain. Like my dear brother says, 'iron is for ponies, silver is for monsters'. He also…"

Hansen sighed in annoyance. "No more tales about the Commonwealth, please. Besides, this can't possibly work. Why would a ghost be susceptible to silver of all things?"

"Trust me, it will." Dostoyevsky firmly replied, keeping his eyes on Twilight. He already gave up on trying to convince Hansen, his overly rational mind making the doctor all but impossible to influence. Instead, he focused on the young mare who he saw was on the fence. "Silver missilibus will work, trust me. I can also show you how to fire this thing, I have some ammunition you can train yourself with."

Twilight looked at Hansen, then at Dostoyevsky. She did that several times. The young unicorn simply couldn't believe that somepony could be that stupid.

"Dostoyevsky, you had this 'revolver' of yours the whole time and you didn't use it back then?"

"Of course I didn't usus it. It would be dishonorable." The pegasus replied proudly. "I am not some kind of make-believe archeologist that would shoot a fencer. Saber contra saber only."

The two unicorns in the room rolled their eyes at that.

"Never mind." Twilight muttered with resignation, deciding that there was no way she could reason with Dostoyevsky's 'sense of honor'. "However, despite it being obvious that Dostoyevsky isn't the most rational of ponies, it still is the best plan we have. The only plan we have. If this will work and the Messiah really exists, than we just have to do two more things –find a way to locate him, and then eliminate him."

Hansen swore viciously under his breath, his voice low enough that Twilight wasn't able to pick up any words. If she was to hazard a guess, he was probably cursing the fact she sided with the 'featherbrain'.

"As I have mentio earlier, silver bullets should do the trick." Dostoyevsky quipped. "I don't think there is any Faustian clericus nearby, so I will bless them myself. Heck, maybe it will even work better this way?"

"Buck this, I'm out!" Hansen finally snapped and left the room, slamming the door behind him. "Nonsense, nonsense, nonsense!"

The sound of his voice and heavy stomping moved rapidly down the corridor, leaving Twilight and her elder companion alone. Dostoyevsky sighed looking at the shut door and shook his head.

"I believe it would be best if I show you how to handle the revolver now…"

---

It took Twilight about an hour and a half to get the very basics of using the revolver and how to shoot it with at least the barest amounts of accuracy down. Of course, most of the accuracy training was highly theoretical, consisting mostly of Dostoyevsky explaining the technique to the mare in great detail, but she did manage to set up a temporary shooting range on the hospital square. The unusual weapon was indeed very accurate, at least when compared to the clunky and unreliable flintlock weapons that were slowly being integrated into the Equestrian Armed Forces, and after a couple of minutes of practice she could use it to reliably hit a target of the size of at least a full grown pony. She did use up all the normal lead ammunition that Dostoyevsky had, but the old pegasus assured her that was hardly a problem and that she would require silver bullets either way. In the end Dostoyevsky set out to prepare the monster-slaying ammunition, leaving Twilight to her own devices.

Having the image of Hansen slamming the door angrily in her head, Twilight decided to check on him and at least try to smooth things up with him. However, before she could find him she ran into the hospital receptionist, who waved her over, clearly wanting something from her. As she approached, her curiosity getting the better of her, she noticed an envelope resting on his desk.

"A letter for you, miss." The receptionist explained, passing her the envelope. "From Ponyville."

And with that simple sentence her world crumbled on her. Twilight, in her haste to get to Flankfurt completely forgot to tell anypony about her plans. It was basically 'get an idea to help somewhere far away, pack your bags, and leave without a word'. Practically only Spike knew where she was, and even then he didn't knew why she went there in the first place. She should've talked with the girls before she went, or at least write them once she got to Flankfurt, but with the confusion, grim reality and horror stalking the streets she completely forgot. The girls were probably worried sick about her!

The logical part of her brain told her that any letter she would've sent would be delayed anyways. But that didn't make Twilight feel any better. It only meant that even if she wrote them now they probably wouldn't receive it for another few days, and who knows if she would even live that long.

"Thank you." She managed to respond weakly to the receptionist and took the letter from his hoof. Twilight turned the bend walked a little bit before she succumbed and opened the letter, devouring its contents within minutes.

Dear Twilight

I am quite frankly shocked and appealed by the way you have departed! Leaving for Flankfurt so abruptly, without even saying goodbye? I do understand that the situation in that far away town must be dire if it prompted you to leave on such short notice, but you could have spared a few minutes for your friends. In the end though it does not really matter. We did not write this letter to scold you for forgetting about us, but to tell you how proud of you we all are. You always do put others before yourself, do you not? Just please, try to be careful dear. From what I understand this leprosy-business is a nasty piece of work.

We really wish you were here with us. Dear Applejack has a bit of a problem with some ghastly rat-like creature breaking into her apple cellar and ravaging her supplies. Fluttershy of course volunteered to help, but we've yet to find, let alone catch the culprit. Aside from that its unusually quiet here in Ponyville. It is getting pretty cold, the weather teams informing us that winter this year is scheduled to start a little bit earlier than normal. It's still snow-free in our corner of the world, but that can change in a few days.

As you probably already expect, Pinkie Pie is preparing a welcome home party for when you come back. Her enthusiasm is as big as ever, and as usual we had to moderate her somehow. After all, when she started to prepare ice cream for the party yesterday we had to convince her that the trip from Flankfurt back to Ponyville would take up enough time for her treats to melt. As Pinkie wants this to be as grand a ceremony as possible, please do inform us when you are expecting to return home in advance. Two or three days before you come should be enough.

You may want to know that Rainbow Dash also isn't in Ponyville at the moment. Our mutual friend received not too long after your departure an invitation to yet another flying competition and went off soon after. From what I understand the competition is held in a distant city on the eastern border of Equestria, but I'm afraid I don't know much more. If we receive any correspondence from Rainbow we'll be sure to send it to you, and vice versa.

Pinkie Pie also wanted for me to say that she's sorry she couldn't send you any care package. Actually, that's because I told her it most probably wouldn't survive the trip so far up north, not with the dreadful passes and the harsh winter of that faraway region. Instead we added a photo we made just before Rainbow departed for her competition.

Sincerely

Your Friends

Applejack, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie and Rarity

P.S.

Next time give me a heads up before doing something like this!

Spike

Twilight turned the letter and realized that indeed there was a photo added. Made in front of Sugarcube Corner, it featured all her friends. In the forefront stood Rarity and Applejack, the former smiling gently and the latter tipping her trademark Stetson. Rainbow as usual couldn't sit in one place and was hovering above the rest, sending a daredevil smirk at the camera. Fluttershy, as usual, was the hardest to spot, her shy nature and bad experience with modeling prompting her to stick to the background. Even so she was still sending a heartwarming smile from behind Applejack, partially obscured by her hat. And then there was Pinkie, who as per usual was trying to make her laugh by making a silly face, sticking her tongue out and if Twilight's eyes didn't deceive her trying to fold it like an accordion. The weird part was that she was doing a great job of it.

"I hope everything goes as planned. If it does, I'll be back to Ponyville and with the girls in a few days." She thought to herself. "Yet another reason to get this thing over with."

And with that thought she headed back to the room Dostoyevsky occupied.

---

The moment Twilight opened the door she was hit by a wave of heat, something she was slowly getting unused from because of the constant snowstorms outside. She spotted Dostoyevsky laying, or rather 'sitting' on his bed. Somepony brought him all the equipment he needed to prepare the silver bullets. He was currently fitting the silver projectiles into small brass tubes filled with gunpowder. He was also protected from the hot liquid silver he was working with before by a protective leather apron.

"Oh, you are finally here, miss!" Dostoyevsky greeted her from his bed. "Cholera, it is hard to work on these silver missilibus when I am stuck in a bed. But anyway, here they are."

He gestured towards five of his finished 'bullets' as he called them, lying on a nearby desk. Their quality was obviously worse than those Twilight used during her practice session, but they were still undeniably ammunition. Even so, Twilight still had her doubts.

"Are you sure they'll fit the barrel?" She asked, lifting one of the bullets with her magic and examining it closer.

"Confirmativum. They may be a little bit less accurate and have smaller penetration, but aside from that they should still work as intended." The pegasus replied. "Now, there we go…" he finished the last one.

"Six bullets." Twilight murmured. "And what if I miss and then desperately need more?"

Dostoyevsky was silent for a moment.

"Don't miss." He said simply.

That was worrying to say the least. Twilight would have to admit that when she was shooting with normal ammunition she wasn't half bad, but that was during a practice session. There was a stark difference between being at a shooting range and in the process of shooting something living. Not only did she worry that she might not have enough cold blood to do the deed, but she had her doubts she'd be able to hit a target that was going to move and possibly attack her.

"Do not worry so much. I hear it's bad for health." Dostoyevsky chuckled.

"Right." Twilight managed to utter, confidence leaving her with each passing second.

"I managed to convince Hansen to go with you, if it's going to help calm your nerves." The doctor added.

"And he agreed? I thought this was all 'nonsense' and 'nonsense'.” Twilight mimicked Hansen's characteristic accent to a tee, forgetting about her doubts for a moment. Dostoyevsky smiled at that.

"And that is exactly the causa why Hansen wants to follow you. He thinks it is more probably that you will get mugged by some thug on the platearum of Flankfurt. He is waiting for you by the hospital exit."

"Thank you Dostoyevsky." Twilight smiled, silently wondering which of the two stallions was more ridiculous and subsequently lifting her own spirit. "I'll try my best."

And with those words Twilight left the old pegasus alone, or at least that's what she thought. Something small moved under Dostoyevsky's bed.

"Is she gone?" A small, barely audible whisper came from underneath his bed. Dostoyevsky nodded.

"Confirmitavum."

"What?"

"It means 'yes'." Dostoyevsky repeated, reminding himself to stop inserting Old Cirran into every other sentence.

"Finally!" Primrose emerged from her hiding spot under the pegasus' bed. She was still very much the same, leprosy having a surprisingly weak effect on the young filly. Practically the only parts of her body that carried any indication of her being ill were her legs, a grim reminder of the state she really was in.

"I told you this was a bad idea." Dostoyevsky reprimanded weakly. "I know you are bored Primrose, but you are technically breaking quarantine. I shouldn't allow for this."

"But Yeeevsky, pleaseeeee!" Primrose pleaded with her childish, sweet voice, giving him her best puppy dog eyes. "I have nothing to do. We have one book for eight patients! And it's not like I would read a book in the first place."

Dostoyevsky rolled his eyes but didn't comment. Truth be told, he himself was terribly bored, and not too long ago he had something to do. "Okay, come over here."

Primrose jumped onto his bed, making the old piece of furniture groan in protest.

"So…" Dostoyevsky scratched his head. "Where did we end last time?"

"You told me how Casimir and his group arrived at Lubuck." Primrose reminded him.

"Ah, right. Before we move on to how they met Winterspell I should tell you who was in that group, so you're not too confused. The group was led by my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather, Casimir Dostoyevsky. I know this story actually only thanks to his diaries, or what survived of them. Casimir himself didn't even write those –he knew how to read, but not how to write. It was in fact his sister that wrote down his memories. Nevertheless, he was a pony of many talents. His group consisted of the auroch Weird Hoar, who…"

"What's an auroch?" Primrose immediately asked upon hearing the foreign word.

"Hm… it's like… do you know how a buffalo looks like?"

"Yeah."

“So basically, aurochs are far bigger, have longer and sharper horns, and they are placed further apart." The pegasus tried to explain.

"Oh… I never met one before. Could you show me one someday?" The filly asked innocently, making the old doctor cringe.

He was terrible at lying. In fact, he didn't even like the idea of it. So, with a heavy heart he decided to play it fair. "There are no more aurochs nowadays. They went extinct. Only their smaller cousins live, and they are called 'wisents'."

At that Primrose adopted such a heartbroken expression that it was painful for Dostoyevsky to even watch. "That's not fair. What happened to them?"

"It's a long story. Do you want to hear it?"

Primrose nodded and made herself comfortable, allowing Dostoyevsky to start weaving yet another tale.

---

"So… here we are." Hansen said once Twilight emerged from the hospital building onto the dark, snow-covered streets ofFlankfurt. "Maybe we should try to find him tomorrow? You know, in the morning, when it's light?"

Twilight took a look around, taking in her surroundings. It was already dark, despite the fact it was barely four o'clock. Aside from them there was no other pony on the streets, which all things considered wasn't anything new. The worst part however was the blizzard. The wild dance of snowflakes obscured their eyesight, making it impossible to see further than a few meters in front of them and hiding any of the features of houses that surrounded them. It was as if the whole town was being consumed by the raging snow and wind. It was the worst weather since their arrival, and for some reason it reminded Twilight of the Hearths Warming Pageants and the all-consuming cold of the Windigos.

Banishing those thought out of her head Twilight checked the pocket of her winter coat with her magic. It was there that she carried the revolver, already loaded with the six silver bullets that were meant to end this madness. The weight of the weapon made her feel a little better.

"No, Hansen, I won't change anything. Not now." She denied, her voice sounding more confident than she really was. "Do you have a lantern?"

"Yes." The doctor nodded. "Any idea how to find this 'Messiah'?"

That… was something she didn't think of. The creature was paranormal in its nature, and as such Twilight didn't have the slightest idea where to search. No book, or at least no easily accessible book she knew of had any information on supernatural beings, at least no concrete information. So where to look? At a cemetery? In some place where many lepers died? No, that was stupid. If that was the case they'd had to look around the hospital they just left. So what, did they have to wander around the building, or…

Wait.

Wander?

"Yes, I know how to find him." Twilight proclaimed, suddenly enlightened.

The doctor looked at her with complete surprise. "Really? Where?"

"It doesn't matter." Twilight stated bluntly.

She turned to face the doctor. There was only one thing they needed to do.

"Count the steps."

Comments

[ANearPerfectStudent]

Indianna Jones refrence! And the plague is about to hit Ponyville! This is going to be an interest next few chapters...

[Zaid ValRoa]

RIP