Pillaging is Magic
"Do you suppose that will contain them?"
Princess Celestia looked at her younger sister with mild sheepishness, and then quickly drew her magenta eyes back to Canterlot Castle. "Yes, Luna. The shield better, or else every material object in the capital is under threat. I just hope they have yet to acquire a taste for stonework." The stonework in question faintly glowed along the sides of the towering, majestic castle from Celestia's many shield enchantments. Its tranquil and alluring exterior in the backdrop of the balmy evening strongly belied the true menace that now dwelled uncheck within.
"Parasprites. What filthy vermin," Luna remarked, making a last passing glance of displeasure at the castle before following in stride with Celestia. "To think, they even managed to outwit poor Discord. You just had to leave a window open in the kitchens, didn't you, sister?"
A crowd – their entire guard contingent and castle staff – followed the Princesses away and into Canterlot, carrying a sea of disgruntled frowns and glowering scowls with them at the very thought of the adorable little winged monsters that had usurped their home and place of work.
"Cake is, by nature, hot when it first comes out of the oven. How else was I to cool it in a reasonable span of time without losing myself and devouring all the frosting prematurely?" Celestia retorted.
"Ugh, you and your 'secret' sugary indulgences."
"Relax, Luna. This is only temporary; one of us will find a way to get rid of them in no time!"
"We raise the Sun and Moon, Celestia. If we cannot find a solution for a trivial large parasprite infestation in just a few hours, then how does that reflect on subjects' confidence in us?" Luna pressed. Celestia had already pulled a small sack of cookies out of her white, sun-embossed saddlebag, and was already leaving a trail of crumbs in her wake that will invariably lead straight into the city proper. The castle maids in tow passed by the offensive trail with visual distress.
"Loik I shaid," Celestia replied with her mouth full, swallowing. "Mmm…ginger. We'll find a way to get rid of them in no time. Oh, sorry about the mess, everyone. It's just that these parasprites seem to have me most upset."
Luna said nothing more, and exhaled in frustration. She picked up her pace, getting ahead of Celestia. A few of the ponies in the royal party stole a final glance at the castle, hoping that the parasprites were not trashing the place.
Surprisingly, the kitchens – having been ground zero for the parasprites' intrusion – had been left relatively untouched and deserted by the little insects. Everything seemed relatively normal, save for the notable lack of any of the army of chefs and other servants that usually populated it. Then, the air began to warp and crack without warning. Several arcs of lightning danced about the spacious room, giving way to a large group of massive creatures with silhouettes that could be mistaken for those of minotaurs from a distance.
Fifty strong, the feared war band of one Erik the Bearded stood tall but awkwardly as they scanned their strange new surroundings and stroked their long braided beards with the utmost confusion.
Chief Erik himself, a large redheaded fellow clad in heavy fur, plate mail, and chainmail, with a stout, frowning face, waved his battle-axe in the air experimentally. "Huh? Hvaðí Óðins nef hárum?" the Norseman bellowed, catching his men's attention. Most of them shrugged their broad shoulders, equally unsure as to what had just happened to them.
One moment, a hapless Anglo-Saxon village had been falling before their relentless charge. The next, the warriors were now in the kitchen of some noble's palace.
This simple but significant fact finally registered greatly among the Vikings.
"Höfðingi!" another Viking by the name of Nils called out to Erik with mounting elation. "Líta, gull!" His thick finger pointed to the dazzling gold filigree that adorned parts of the walls at varying intervals. "Gold!"
Several men raised their weapons at once in cheer, waiting for Erik's command to begin pillaging and looting. The large man nodded and appraised the room once more. His green eyes burned with glee. "By Thor, gold and trinkets must abound in this place! Boys, spread out! Steal everything that's not nailed to the floors!"
"Og þá stela neglurnar líka," another Norsemen interjected, making his way towards the fridge and cupboards, investigating.
"Aye, young Tolfdir. Why not steal the nails, as well?" Erik enthused, letting out a hearty chuckle. He watched as over thirty of the war band dispersed, exiting the room through various doors and making an almighty racket with their weapons, armor, and hollering all the way.
Tolfdir's head emerged from the fridge, perplexed. "What manner of sorcery is this?
Another man by the name of Olaf stood beside him, and clapped a hairy hand on his comrade's shoulder. "Who cares, ya big lout? Look, these gold-loving swanks have a stash of öl og mjöður in there!"
"Not just that, lads. I see even more wine, tons of sweets, fermented apple cider, you name it! As much as you could dream of…we might as well be in the mead halls of Valhalla!" Erik proclaimed. "Plunder, feast, and should you see some hapless inhabitants, bag them!" His orders were met with more cheers as he quickly ventured out of the kitchen, eager to see the castle in its full magnificence before everybody was finished remodeling the place.
Tolfdir and the other Vikings who remained in the kitchen helped themselves to its contents, some of them pointing out the adjacent dining room. Soon, piles of crumbs, empty tankards and bottles, appliances broken by men who did not know what they were for, and discarded utensils all littered both rooms. The bear-like revelers were soon joined by the parasprites, who were attracted by all the racket.
There were only a few at first, but when the Vikings offered them food thinking they were manifestations of the goddess Freyja, they inevitably multiplied. Not at all bothered by this, the Vikings shared the expressions of the smiling insect-like creatures, and carried on making a mess of themselves with their new winged friends.
As he stamped through the castle's many halls with his heavy plate boots thundering on the marble floors, Chief Erik admired both the original craftsmanship, as well as his men's ongoing handy work. Towering white and pale violet enameled columns, toppled and burning bookshelves, lavishly embroidered tapestries and banners, mahogany tables 'touched up' with broadsword strokes, all that pleasant stuff.
What Erik really liked, though, was what he saw when he stepped into what must have been the mysterious nobles' throne room. Whomever they were, the swanks must have had quite a liking for stained glass. The elaborate windows stretched across both exterior walls on the right and left of the throne room, depicting everything from the sun and moon, to – oddly enough – horses, pegasi, and unicorns wearing human garments and royal regalia. The Viking chief saw one depicting what seemed to be a unicorn dressed like a sorcerer, and smiled approvingly at the animal's stylized beard.
When Erik noticed Nils walking by with some jars of paint in an open wooden crate, he stopped him, and took some for himself.
The stained glass in the castle was alright, Erik thought, but it could always be better. So, with all the loving brush strokes of a master painter, he gave all the other depicted horse people within his reach some visual enhancements. Some of the parasprites noticed, and even pitched in on the work, dipping themselves in paint and bouncing against the glass. When he was satisfied that all the horse people now possessed proper beards like the unicorn wizard's, Erik the Bearded smiled and merrily trampled his way out of the throne room, leaving the poor red carpets beneath his heavy footfalls wrinkled and stained with white paint.
Some Vikings were already in the foyer, trying to scrape gold and filigree from various surfaces and prying light sconces off the walls as their chief made his way up the stairs.
The second story was, unsurprisingly, teeming with parasprites and more rampaging Norsemen. Their renovating seemed to be more extensive and unrestrained up here. Several walls and windows already bore holes from the impacts of berserkers' war hammers. Warriors and heavy drink are not always the wisest combination when it came to the preservation of property, you see.
Erik admired the handy work even further, before making his way into a noble's deserted bedchambers. The furnishings were lavish, as expected. What wasn't expected was the bizarre jewelry Erik found within. One piece of gold regalia with a purple gem inlaid at its center was actually long enough around to fit around the Viking's thickset neck almost like a yoke.
After accidentally breaking the strange water-flowing device in the adjacent bathing room and flooding the floor of the bedchambers, Erik hastily padded back out into the hall with dripping boots and a new gold circlet on his head, holding his conical chainmail helmet at his side.
Parasprites forming a cloud passed by him, carrying the war band's skald, Bjorn, with them. The older white haired man was heavily inebriated, smiling and singing a battle hymn aloud while blowing through a war horn as the tiny creatures held him aloft down the steps.
Scratching his head, Erik continued on to the next suite of rooms down the hall. When he emerged, his feet were once again dry, and a second, jet-black crown had appeared on his balding head. In addition, a long black sash with a silver crescent moon inscribed on it was draped about his chest. His helmet was full to the brim with swiped jewelry, golden coins, and assorted gemstones.
Some of the chief's men nearby who saw him as he made his way further into the castle's corridors thought that his new fashion sense strongly clashed with his armor, but none dared to speak so aloud. Erik's exploration eventually lead him to the palace's observatory.
Completely at a loss as to the purpose of all the cogs, lenses, and other machinery, Erik ended up unintentionally breaking the telescope as well. With the shiny machine in shambles, the Viking felt it threw the rest of the room into an unbearable imbalance. To correct this discrepancy, Erik turned the other furnishings to splinters with his axe blade, collected some of it as firewood, and then promptly moved on, satisfied in the knowledge that the observatory was in a state of harmony once more.
When he returned to the ground floor, the Viking chief called all his men to gather in the kitchen once again. All fifty men stood around the place, in varying states of cleanliness and glimmer from all the stolen finery and other valuable loot that was being worn or carried.
"Well done, lads! Another great haul of booty, now it's time to see what's outside this castle that's ripe for the pickings!"
For the second time that night, the Norsemen broke out in collective cheer, holding weapons, helmets, and still foaming tankards high in the air. But just before anyone could act on Chief Erik the Bearded's proclamation, everyone and their new loot mysteriously vanished in a surge of lightning as quickly as they had arrived.
When the dawning sun shined lazily though the kitchen windows, the rays of light revealed a floor now occupied with nothing but spilled tankards of ale, two royal crowns and a sash, and a group of parasprites flying low above the tiled ground in upside down circles.
"Did you hear what some of the citizens had been saying this morning? Some claim that they saw what looked like minotaur burglars through some of the castle windows in the night," Celestia said worriedly, gazing up at their castle.
"One does not simply 'break' into Canterlot Castle of all places, Tia," Luna stated, leading her sister up to the front entrance. "Probably just idle fantasies. I'm sure it's just as we left it – parasprites and what they've eaten, notwithstanding."
"Burglars or not, that spell I uncovered in the old book from that antique shop just happened to be what I was hoping for. We should be rid of the parasprites soon enough."
The doors parted open to reveal the grand foyer. Both alicorns' jaws nearly dropped when they beheld the scene of sheer devastation that greeted them.
"Discord!"
The Draconequus fluttered over to them from the top of the stairs, apparently having been trapped in the body of a parasprite the entire night. "What?" he answered back, visibly insulted by their accusatory tones. "I'm not the one who left the TV in their private study tuned to History Channel when you all dashed out of here! There's been a marathon of the Vikings series running all day long."