Death by Dragon

by Compendium of Steve

Interim 1.2

Got yourself a nice break, or you just want to read on? The last part went on longer than I thought and there’s gonna be more background info, and eye strain can be a bitch. But since you’re still here, let’s continue.

Interim 1.2

As you might have gathered, Pinkie Pie is something of a mentor figure in my life. More than that, she was my former master. Those sicknasty aerobatics I pulled off against Belljar? Drilled into my head at an early age by none other than Ponyville’s premier party pony (at least, that’s what she originally was).

Shortly after being inducted as Her Majesty’s Vanguard, I was assigned a Royal Combat Expert to train me in the ways of upholding my office. Imagine my surprise when instead of some big, grizzled stallion with a buzz cut and covered in scars, I see a familiar bright, cheery face that said “welcome to my hell” in a perky voice. Next thing, there’s random objects being thrown at me while I’m balancing over cactus pits and other grossly-absurd training obstacles. To think, I had pegged her as an ordinary happy-go-lucky girl, when deep down she was actually a psycho bitch sadist who treats life like a party... of violence and torture.

Pinkie’s training regiment was built around the mantra, “Expect the Unexpected,” which was essentially an excuse to do whatever the hell she wanted to me while still calling it training. And horrifyingly enough, it worked. She took me, a scared and confused baby dragon, and molded me into a stone-cold, no-nonsense, deadly efficient executioner with a sword. And the training made one thing clear, aside from experiencing gratuitous emotional scarring and an aversion to jack-in-the-boxes: my duty would bring about plenty of the unexpected... in the form of book-obsessed weirdoes.

I break from my thoughts to look around at the citizens that fill the streets. Many of them I know from when I had first moved here. Barely a face I don’t recognize. That’s what helps in reinforcing this town’s facade: though the citizens change inside, rarely do any of them leave. And that’s especially the case with the Elements... well, for the most part.

Out of the whole group, Rarity seemed the most likely to move out. Get to Canterlot, hit the big-time, never look back, so on. But fashion hadn’t panned out so well, and the honor went to Rainbow Dash. Heh, some loyalty. Then again, it’s hard to run the Wonderbolts when you’re cooped up in the sticks. Socio-politically important sticks mind you, but even still. Incredibly beneficial, being best pals with a princess. Certainly helps with pesky things like promotions and chain of command.

Never see much of her; busy with new recruits and keeping pegasi in fighting order. She mainly turns up during one of the major holidays whenever they’re hosted in Ponyville. Kinda a back and forth between it and Canterlot in that regard.

Getting off track. As for the rest? Well, that just leaves AJ. She stuck to the farm, and hardly ever leaves. As part of Her Majesty’s campaign for the betterment of reading, apples were made a mandatory part of every educational institution’s dietary plan (even home schools). That meant higher demand for the things, and guess who wound up getting more work because of it.

Sweet Apple Acres expanded, and went from humble family farm to large-scale enterprise when an outside workforce was needed. Nowadays it’s the single largest grower of apples in Equestria, and the sole supplier for the Equestrian Department of Education (and steadily becoming one for the Department of Health). Don’t get the wrong idea: AJ remains the grassroots farmer she’s always been. She’s just one behind a desk. Last I heard, her sister’s being groomed to run the business when the time comes. Considering how handy (eh, hoofy?) she has been these few years, I believe she’ll do fine.

I make it back to the Librarium without any more diversions (good thing Pinkie is still true to her word on “no more hunting”, miraculously enough). I stuff the coffee packet into my suit before stepping inside, and back within the glow of Her Majesty’s radiance I put my sword to the side and stand before her with package present.

“I bring the item of interest, Your Highness,” I report, assuming my blank look.

“You took longer than I expected,” she remarks. “Had time to catch up with our friends?”

“That’s an affirmative. They are doing well... some a bit more lively than others, I will add.”

“Good to know,” she says with a nod. “The Cakes have been excellent caterers well before my Ascension, and such Ascension would not have occurred without the companionship of the likes of Pinkie Pie.” (Sheesh, lay it easy, will ya?) “I shall relieve you of the strudel.” She does so, as the box is whisked from my claw and taken up to her. The package unwraps and opens, and the baked good floats out of it and hovers before the royal muzzle, which takes a modest bite and chews tenderly.

“Wonderful, as usual.” The strudel goes back into the box and floats off to somewhere behind the Collection. Ever since becoming a princess, Twilight’s adopted a lot of mannerisms, and among the annoying ones is saving food to eat for later after just one bite. “Now then, let us begin today’s order of business.”

Goody. And it only took a punch to the face and considerable alligator slobber. She straightens up to look more imposing and addresses me.

“There is a disturbance in the south, Spike. Appleloosa, to be precise.” A stack of binders and paperwork swoops down and spreads before her gaze. “Reports in the past two weeks have shown an alarming increase in missing books, though none of them are overdues. Investigations show that the books were registered in local depositories and book wagons rather than libraries in the area, making this a widespread incident of theft.”

Uh-oh. If there’s one thing Twilight hates more than ponies not returning their books, it’s ponies who outright steal them (and without the decency of checking them out first).

“A search of local residents have turned up nothing, and officials have just posed the possibility of a book-smuggling ring.” A scroll floats down to me, and I grab it. List of the items, mostly folios and references, a few novels. “Whatever the case may be, it cannot be allowed to continue any further. Spike, you are to go to Appleloosa, find the books, and punish those responsible before more treachery can be done.”

“As you wish, Your Highness.” I bow. “I will proceed to the train station post-haste.”

“There will be no need for that, Spike. Tickets have already been procured; you’ll be leaving on the eleven-fifteen. When you arrive in Appleloosa, you will meet with the contact for this assignment, who will give you further details and perhaps a list of suspects or newly uncovered information. In the meantime, make preparations and get to the station on time. Are there any questions?”

“None, ma’am.”

“Excellent.” She rears back to give her parting words of encouragement. “Go forth, my most valiant Vanguard. May my blessing protect you from danger, and may justice be delivered swiftly in the name of Equestria.”

I make another bow, turn, pick up my sword, and leave. (How readily I accept the task. Funny that there was a time I would’ve begged not to go, even go so far as cling to the nearest piece of bolted-down furniture. Silly, more innocent times)

Back outside, preparations begin with me heading back home. Still a few hours, so I take it slow getting back, mull over some things. Plenty of time to waste.

Normally for royal assignments like this, it’s usually expected for agents of royalty to ride by airship or pegasus-drawn chariot at least. But I always preferred taking the train. Gave me ample time just to kick back with my thoughts, surrounded by the common citizenry. Pretend I’m one of them. Plus I’ve always found trains to be more relaxing. Certainly less chilly.

It’s five minutes later that I get to my pad: a simple one-story abode near the edge of town, away from other houses. It was about four years ago that I had grown too big to live in some meager basket, so it was decided that the time for independence and personal lodgings had finally come. The first few nights were lonely at first, but training and executions (and budding dragon angst) made it easy to distance myself.

I stop before the mat, reach down and pull out the key (I’m old-fashion, what can I say?). Unlocking the door, I step inside and am greeted by the bareness of the living room. No shelves, no coffee stands, no carpets, no pictures. Just a couch. I used to have a thing for decorating, but that was mostly gone by the time I got this place. Having lots of things can be problematic when you’re a dragon. And besides, not like I was expecting company.

I stride straight ahead into the kitchen, which aside from the bedroom is the most furnished room in the house. I pull out Pinkie’s coffee packet and toss it onto the counter by the sink, where it lands squarely in the middle (clutch!). I spin around and angle in the direction of my bedroom door, which opens into—what else?—the bedroom. Not much to see: plain wardrobe, sword case (mainly for show), nightstand (also for show), and simple yet roomy bed. I go over to the wardrobe and open it, revealing an array of black suits. May as well put on some fresh duds for the trip.

I pick a suit at random (they’re all the same) and throw it on the bed. My current wear gets taken off, the shades put onto the bed along with my sword. Once in the buff (that draft), I make for the bathroom (really nothing to say about that). In the mirror I look over Fluttershy’s patchwork and start to peel them off. Into the trash they go, and I see that there aren’t any scarrings. Hmph, weaksauce granny couldn’t leave a mark.

Following the spirit of preparedness, I hop into the tub and take a quick shower, extra hot. Been awhile since I had one of these, I admit. Not too long, but long enough that I allow the heat to muddle my senses. I forget how many minutes pass, but I eventually turn off the water and get toweled off. Back in the bedroom, I put on the fresh suit and then flop my back onto the bed.

Still about an hour before I need to be at the station. Nothing comes to mind to pass the time. Maybe brew up Pinkie’s coffee? Nope. It’s liable to be packed with enough caffeine to be lethal to ponies, and I’d like to have the ability to sleep while I’m on the train. Guess I can stare at the ceiling for half an hour. Count the chips in the paint. Haven’t done that in awhile, either.

Before it gets too boring, let’s say I find four new marks from last time and get ready to leave. With shades on and sword nestled in my suit, I leave my pad and lock the door, putting the key back under the mat. I head into town toward the train station. The marketplace is now up and running with the sounds of supply and demand, with ponies going from stall to stall to get their latest batch of sundries and gossip. Most of them go about their ways, some tip their hats or nod in my direction, and others back away. Even though I’ve walked these streets for years some of them still regard me as something to fear. At least it makes midday traffic easier to manage, heheh.

When the crowds thin out and disappear I spot the train station. The guy at the ticket window is unfamiliar. Probably a trainee (heh).

“I’m here for my tickets,” I tell him.

“Uh, y-yes. They’re right here, Mr. Spike.” He slides them to me carefully, shifting his eyes from them to me and back, like I was gonna bite him. It’s like he’s never seen a dragon wearing sunglasses before.

I take the tickets, nod, and walk out onto the platform. It’s pretty much empty: just me and a couple of stragglers milling about. Normally there’d be more at this time of the day for the weekend. Or maybe it starts tomorrow? Never can decide whether to start Friday or Saturday. And then there are those who think the week starts with Sunday. Just... why?

The whistle of the approaching train saves me from my pointless thoughts. Ponies start picking up their bags and trot to the edge to meet it. I’m about to do the same, when...

“Spike! Spiiiike!”

The hoof-falls hitting the platform and that high-pitched voice alert me to one thing. Sure enough, looking around it’s Sweetie Belle.

“Hey babe,” I say as she stops next to me. Wearing her usual clash of black fishnet stockings and hot pink mini-skirt with navy blue top. Atrocities to fashion attributed to the rebellious phase of ponies her age. It’s a wonder Rarity didn’t clamp down on this the moment it left the bedroom. Goes to show how she cares about her little sister these days. I also notice a covered dish hovering beside her.

“Spiiike, you didn’t tell me you were leaving town on assignment!” she pouts. “And what happened to your face?”

I lightly touch my cheek. Figures she’d be able to spot a bruise amid all this purple, so I just tell her as a reward. “Pinkie.”

“Oh. Okay. But what’s this about leaving without letting me know?”

“I was kinda in a rush. Sorry about that.”

She gives a little huff and scrunches her face in irritation. Thing is, it makes her look more cute than irritated (and she knows it). “It’s a good thing I had to make a drop-off at the library, otherwise I’d have missed you. I wanted to give you this before you go.”

The dish floats over to me, and I let it fall onto an open palm. Removing the cover, I see six cupcakes covered in orange-powdered frosting. From the smell, they’re definitely amber-flavored.

“I was going to bring them over to your place later today,” she continues. “But I guess they’ll have to make do for a travel snack.”

Though I’ve had plenty of sweets today, I can’t say no to decent gem frosting. “That’s very thoughtful. Thanks.”

“You’re very welcome, silly.”

Sweetie and I have been going out for nearly a year now. Came about mainly due to lack of options on my part, to be honest. Aside from the hopeless cause called Rarity, there weren’t many ponies close my age to choose from (I would have tried other dragons... if there actually were other dragons. Specifically, dragons raised by ponies and not dangerous creatures of the wild who’d rather eat ponies than be “civilized” by them).

Some years ago I tried to start something with Apple Bloom, but barely two weeks into it her sister caught wind of it, and country families tend to be overly protective of their young ones. In my case, it meant a busted jaw, two fractured ribs and a ripped suit jacket. I could only imagine what could have happened if I actually touched her.

Scootaloo skipped town to train under her idol, or rather play secretary in hopes of getting trained. And let’s see... The Bitch Duo of Tiara and Spoon moved out before they hit puberty, and Peppermint Twist... yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeah. Still in something of a transition, if you get what I mean.

Which leaves Sweetie Belle. Never really had an eye for her, but sometime last year she came up to me while off-duty and asked me out on a date. Initially I was surprised, but then I thought “why not?” A little something to keep me preoccupied during off-time, which Her Highness is fine with so long as it didn’t get in the way of work (I still think she’s something of a romantic under that crown). Sweetie’s certainly been happy about it. She has this hero worship thing going for me, though I’m not sure why (girls love a bad boy I guess). Other than that she’s alright. Dotes over me with snacks and gifts, gives me space (though she gets a bit clingy some days), and sings pretty well (I’d imagine you’d have to if your talent is singing). Then there are those other benefits of a casual relationship...

Another whistle draws both our attentions to the train’s arrival to the platform. Ponies begin boarding the moment the doors open, and Sweetie is first to react.

“There’s your ride. Take care while you’re out there.”

“I always do.” She hops up and lands a peck on my cheek before I can take a step.

“Let me know when you get back, alright?” She beams at me for the inevitable answer.

“Sure, babe. Catch you later.” I head over to the train cars, no doubt Sweetie waving goodbye while my back’s turned. In seconds I’m onboard, and soon take a seat in the middle car. The whistle sounds and the train jolts into motion. As the platform begins to crawl slowly by I see Sweetie still standing where she was, watching us go by with those hopeful, concerned eyes. Guess this was gonna be one of those clingy days (phew). I remove the dish cover and munch on one of the cupcakes. Fluffy, just her style.

With Ponyville well outta sight, I cozy up to look at the deep blue of the sky as Duty and the call for Order takes me southward. Should make for a decent vacation.

Comments

[Pyro The Reader]

I can see why Spike's so cold now, being seemingly beaten by nearly everyone does that to a dude.

[UltiXevoz]

For some reason Twilight in this story makes em want to punch a baby. Maybe its her whole power grip on Ponyville, I always tend to hate authority figures in fics

[Compendium of Steve]

2442271
Plenty can happen in eight years. Luckily she hasn't gone full tyrant

[UltiXevoz]

2442668
True that. Can't wait to see where you take this

[Magos Xenos Disathairne]

2442668 isn't this meant to be Spilight?