> Blueblood: Cerberus
>  by SoothingCoffee
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prologue–It's a Good Day
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

		If I were to pick up a single moment in my life where I was thrust from my debauchery-filled life; of buying expensive wines, spending passionate nights with different mares, and other hedonistic activities, into leading a secret paramilitary organization bent on the extermination of all things supernaturally evil—monsters—, and defending Equestria with its inhabitants from said supernatural evil: It would be from the very beginning, in that accursed morning and that accursed letter from my accursed senile grandfather.
 
It was Tuesday morning, the morning birds chirping with intent of assassinating me, and as I clutched the temple of my head, feeling the white hot needles carving a sizable hole on my head, I made note for the maids to burn those critters upon sight. Groaning in pain, I became aware of the pair of slender white hooves wrapped around me, and tilting my head, I saw Golden Lock’s—the mare I’d spent the night with—muzzle leaning in close to mine.
 
She was a petite and heavenly svelte mare, not quite like Fleur Dis Lee—but close enough—with a white alabaster coat and a messy blonde mane that used to be wavy and smooth the night before. On those delicious soft flanks, a picture of a black grand piano, swirled in musical notes was stamped upon. Were I a more observant stallion that morning,—not to say I was not. Being a Prince (despite the lack of obligatory duties), the heir of the House of Blood, and Auntie Tia’s nephew, I have plenty of power to use here and there; power that many sycophants would want in the betterment of their life. Being observant is important, lest I become their puppet—I would’ve noticed the eerie similarity between Golden Lock and me rather than staring at the rippling muscles on her abdomens.
 
For a moment, I thought of returning the mare’s embrace and close my eyes to spend the morning away. After all, it would be improper for a noblestallion like me to leave a noblemare like her alone in the bed. The fact that I wouldn’t need to attend the Morning Court was a plus.
 
Golden Lock’s muzzle twitched, dashing away my shortly made plan, and released out a cute yawn, her blue eyes fluttering open. She looked surprise for a moment, before her lips turned sultry, and her eyes half-lidded. “Good morning, Prince Blueblood. How are you feeling?”
 
A charming smile replaced my pained frown. “A little hung-over, but your eyes definitely helped.”
 
She tittered, before nuzzling me on the neck. She was quite the cuddler, I had found last night. “Always the charmer, I see,” I heard her muffled response.
 
We broke off our impromptu morning cuddle a moment later with a mirthful smile, climbing down off the bed, much to the row of pounding hammers inside my head. We would separate into our own way after this, probably never to meet again, and if we were asked what happened last night, we would say there was no last night. A regretful notion as she was a wonderful mare to share the night with, but such is the life of Blueblood; certain commitment was never in his blood.
 
My horn glowed blue, and my headache vanished as one of the three spells—the others being other basic telekinesis and that neat contraception spell—I had the want and dedication to learn swept through my body: Sobering spell. I was sure that wasn’t the real name, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember what.
 
I noted, from the corner of my eyes, Golden Lock doing the same. I couldn’t help but smile, which she returned accordingly. “Sobering spell?” she asked.
 
“Sobering spell,” I confirmed her guess. It was actually a Mind Clarity spell, but sobering spell seemed more appropriate. I twisted my neck to the left and right, sighing in relief as cracking sounds was elicited from it. “Well then,” walking to the door of my bedroom, I twisted the knob with my magic. “Before we part ways, how about we share our last morning with a breakfast?”
 
The mare smirked, sashaying right up to my face. “With pleasure,” dipping her head slightly, her golden lustrous tail tickled my chin as she went past me; her swaying flanks given generously for my eyes.
 
I chuckled, closing the door before following her at my own pace, staring at the lines of white and gold intermixed on the wallpapered wall; golden strings swirled into complex art sticking on the skirting board. Several small tables were placed along the wall, supporting the motherly visage of Auntie Tia’s head busts, and the scowls and neutral visages of my ancestors’ head busts.
 
We passed a particularly large painting, of my father, who had vanished mysteriously one day, and now announced deceased. He was a stallion very familiar looking with me, wearing a black tuxedo with a blue rose sticking out of his left breast pocket. On his face, a golden thin moustache stood below his nose, somehow further emphasizing the aristocratic look on his visage; a thin frown, cold blue eyes, and stoic demeanor that simply screamed “You’re not worthy in my eyes” for whoever had the inconvenience at staring his eyes.
 
“Blueblood?”
 
Golden’s inquiry managed to snap me out of my reverie, and belatedly, I realized she was staring at me, then at my father’s painting, then back at me with an odd look I couldn’t discern. “Nothing to see here,” I said abruptly, more to myself than her as I approached her side, and directed her to the dining room. I made a small mental note for Silver Tray, my butler, to replace the painting with something else, even if he wouldn't do it.
 
Thankfully, Golden made no comment or complaint as I did so. When I was alone once more, I had no doubt it would make me ever so slightly disgusted of my reaction. An insufferable prick I may be to everypony—with few exceptions—but I was still Equestria’s Most Sought Bachelor for a reason. Once, Fancy Pants had taken my place, but it changed after he married to the Fleur Dis Lee. How that lowborn even managed to do so would be a question left unanswered.
 
Passing several paintings of the Blood ancestors, along with a floundering new maid behind schedule whom quickly darted past me after a harsh glare, and a mental of discipline through Silver Tray—an act I would’ve gone through if not for the news I would later receive—, we finally stood before a double door of the dining room; ornate engravings carved smoothly on both side of the doors, and a small table supporting another head bust of my many ancestors, Sparkling Blood.
 
One day, thought I, it would be my head on there.
 
Covering the door's handle with my blue aura, I opened the door with a step to the side, allowing Golden to enter first. “Ladies first,”
 
She did so with a smile, her flanks swaying hypnotically as she went inside, and a short moment later, I followed. The dining room of the Blood mansion is massive; in the long past, relatives and nobles alike would gather round across Equestria to celebrate many festivities for every year or so. But in today, it was rarely filled with any sort of festivities, nor ponies. Such was the fate of the Blood Family; so stretched were my family that with every sons, daughters, and bastards, traditions and history are replaced with another; forgotten. I wouldn’t be surprised—but I would be offended—if somepony from out of nowhere would acclaim himself having the blood of the Blood family in his vein, not that it would help him much.
 
It was only because I was born within the main branch of the Blood Family, the only one that stays true with its tradition, that there’s still a Blood Family. Being the nephew of the princess helps.
 
Still, it didn’t subtract any beauty from the room itself. A long crystalline table stood in the center of the room with a specially knitted unblemished tablecloth, golden and silver lines intertwined on its edges, draped over the table, supporting unneeded silver candlesticks and platters with eating utensils in front of several velvet chairs. Tapestries symbolizing Auntie’s sun—or rather, the mark on her flanks—and the Blood’s insignia were hanged high on the walls, seemingly flapping from unfelt wind—thanks to the age-old runes embedded on it.
 
 Atthe end of the room, there were two wooden doors, one leading to the kitchen and another as an exit in the case of emergency. Twenty maids wearing the required Prench maid uniform, ten each, stood on both sides of the room; their behind pressed against the wall, their faces soft and beautiful yet sharp. At the end of the crystalline table stood a gray coated stallion with back-slicked coal black mane and tail, garbed in the proper butler uniform, hiding the picture of a circular tray with a glass of wine on his flanks and the thinly veiled muscles under it.
 
He’s Silver Tray, the family’s personal butler. And perhaps the closest thing I could call a friend at the time.
 
 His brown eyes flicked at me as I moved to the nearest chair, my companion for the night followed me, and he gave me an almost imperceptible bow. As I took my seat at the end of the table, Golden taking one on my side, he gave the marble floor a tap with his hoof, and in an unspoken command, three maids of undistinguished feature stepped forward, and made a beeline to the kitchen.
 
“Good morning,” his old, yet strong and fond voice tinted with hidden amusement echoed in the room. “I hope your night and morning went wonderfully smooth?”
 
I chuckled, glancing at the tittering mare beside me. “I wouldn’t call it smooth, but it was wonderful,” from the edge of my eyes, I noted five—new—maids blushing furiously. The one I saw earlier from the hall was definitely the reddest of them.
 
Golden smirked in a way that I found both endearing and odd. “I find myself agreeing. The only thing that was smooth is your tongue, Prince,” she said in that silky and teasing tone.
 
 I smirked, propping a hoof under my chin as I leaned on the table. “Well, yes, previous endeavors have told me the very same thing,” I paused; my eyes glanced at the flustered maids, before back at the mare. “And I love the way you used yours as well.”
 
“You would be surprised of how many previous endeavors have said such similar thing,”
 
“Oh?” a brow rose from its place, and I ignored the niggling feeling in my head as my smirk turned into a challenging smile. “How many?”
 
Propping her hoof the same way I did, she leaned forward into my ears, and whispered, “Do you really want to know, my Prince?”
 
The musky scent from her mane wafted into my nose. “I’ll tell you yours,” whispered I as I tilted my head, nipping the tip of her ear, much to her shuddering delight and the embarrassment of the increasingly flustering new maids.
 
Humming to herself as if in thought, the mare finally answered, “One-hundred-and-twenty eight,”
 
My eyes widen, and it was only the composure training that was the life a noble ingrained into my head that I didn’t gasp, shot back, and shout her numbers in shock. Instead, I simply mouthed the numbers quietly in shocked silence. “How?” I asked curiously.
 
Though I couldn’t see it, I knew she was smirking in amusement. “Trade secret, I’m afraid. Now, you promised me your numbers. Do tell.”
 
Were I a lesser stallion, and a lesser noble, I would’ve told a fake number. As it was, I wasn’t, so I simply whispered back to her, “Eighty-two, including you.” I chuckled lightly, smiling as I leaned to the back of the chair, and I stared at her mirthful eyes. It was a shame this was only a one-night stand. “I’ve lost, it seems.”
 
The maids’—the older ones—collective gasp rang in the room, and I had no doubt Silver Tray was going to discipline them after breakfast. Good. They were lucky enough to be in this room.
 
If anything, the mare seemed amused at their reactions. “You’ll get there yourself, Prince.”
 
Just in time as well, as the kitchen door swung open and three maids walked out with a rolling cart beside them. On top it, plates after plates of breakfast foods—ranging from pancakes to Prench toast—, an array of syrups and fruit jams, and pitchers of ice cold juices. I had no doubt the food wasn’t all for me and my guest, but for the maids as well, judging from their slightly dazed look as the wonderful scents of fresh food covered the room like a plague.
 
Nothing I could do about it. Plebeians and peasants they may be, but they’re my plebeians and peasants, and they sure as Tartarus will get their nutrition. I glanced at Golden, her eyes closed and a dreamy smile covered her face as she took a deep breath in the sea of goodness.
 
Soon, the maids—two Earth, and the other Unicorn—, of which I had no idea what their name was, and I was sure it would’ve stayed that way were things didn’t go south as quick as a virgin in a room with five escorts in heat, stood on the side of the table and began to fill a quarter of the table with food and drinks, a pleasant and controlled smile on their face; remarking how long the mares had worked here.
 
“Enjoy your breakfast,” the Unicorn said, followed by a brief bow with her cohorts, before turning around, intent on returning to the empty spot in the middle of the rows of maids on my right.
 
“Thank you.”
 
The three maids stumbled to a halt suddenly, and I had to blink as I turned to who had said it: Golden Lock, a pleasant smile on her face as she completely ignored the stares in order to levitate various foods onto the plate before her. I glanced back at the muscular and supple behinds of the three maids, and I noted the stiffness on their backs. Not that I was surprised. Nobles don’t usually say ‘thank you’ when given something they’re already entitled to; especially when said receiver of gratitude is for someone beneath their hooves.
 
Nobles who did so, I found them extremely annoying. Just like how I found—and still do, admittedly—Fancy Pants annoying, or how ponies would soon be blaming the aristocrats for every small unfortunate thing that happened in their day-to-day life. Still, I did my best to quell the annoyance; it wouldn’t do, antagonizing the mare you’d spent the night with.
 
Maybe tomorrow, I thought as the mares stuttered their curt "you’re welcome" and hurriedly returned back to their spot after Silver tapped an impatient hoof to the floor.
 
As I returned my concentration upon breakfast; pouring coffee—freshly imported from Saddle Arabian deserts—into my cup, I levitated it under my nose, savoring its thick earthy smoke deep within my lungs as I closed my eyes, before I tilted it slightly to sip it carefully. I hummed blissfully, as the bitter nectar washed my tongue, and I sighed as it went down smoothly into my gullet.
 
The cup clinked as I put it down, and I saw Golden smirked at me; a cup of coffee within her magical grip. “Ah,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee. “Fellow coffee aficionado, aren’t you?”
 
I smiled at her; my early annoyance vanished as I levitated three Prench toasts, placing the two of them onto my plate while I took a nibble of the one left within my grip. “Indeed,” I nodded.
 
She hummed, taking another sip of the coffee, before eating the piece of pancake stuck on her fork. “I could never understand why ponies hate it,” she sighed. “And if they don’t, they would put too much sweet in it. Truly, its delicacy is not appreciated.”
 
“I agree.” I replied, pausing to take a sip of my own coffee. “Though I couldn’t really blame them for that, to be honest,” I continued, before I shuddered. “Even Princess Celestia’s not too keen on drinking it without pouring several dozen heaps of cream and sugar. I had to watch her do it.”
 
The shudder was shared by my fellow coffee connoisseur. “Truly?” she tilted her head curiously. “That sounds positively dreadful.”
 
I nodded solemnly; pausing momentarily to bite what was left of the toast, and levitated another from my plate, before I said, “Positively dreadful, indeed.”
 
The conversation died down after that as we ate our breakfast slowly in luxury, and perhaps I took too much fun in watching the maids fidgeting on their spots; a few of them looking downright pitiful and pathetic as they watched us taking bites after bites of Prench toasts. Or in Golden’s case, pancakes.
 
That silence was broken by a cough by my side. “Prince Blueblood,” Silver addressed me, his visage slightly stonier as he procured a stack of papers and letters from his back.
 
I hummed, putting down the halfway eaten toast onto the plate—much to the displeasure of the crestfallen maids—, and took the stacks of papers off Silver’s hold. Were I to glance slightly to the left, I would’ve seen the odd smirk on Golden’s face as I flipped letters after letters; invitations to a party, invitation to a garden party, a VIP ticket for another garden party, a party invitation from Fancy Pants—which I crumpled immediately—, and a scroll sealed with the blue sealing wax of my family’s emblem on it—a drop of blood on the front of a shield.
 
I blinked, dropped the other unimportant letters, and then blinked again. What. I floated the scroll right onto my eyes, narrowing my eyes at the blue sealing wax, making sure that my eyes were not playing tricks with me. There were three ponies ‘alive’ in this world that could’ve sent me the letter; the first was, obviously, me. The second’s my senile grandfather laying on his deathbed, and the last would be... my missing bastard of a father.
 
“L-Lady Lock?” I stuttered, not even bothering to regard her properly as I felt a familiar cold pit forming inside my stomach, the object within my magic trembling with my hooves. There was something more important within my mind.
 
I imagined the mare was doing something akin to a tilt as she said, “Yes, Prince Blueblood?”
 
I closed my eyes, and took a deep breath; forcing the shakes down, and shoving my fraying nerves into a spot where no eyes could see it. Opening my eyes, a finely crafted smile—and completely fake to the touch—touched my face as I stared blankly at the floating scroll. “Would you mind ending our breakfast a tad too early?”
 
“Not at all, Prince,” I pictured she was shaking her head, not that it mattered.
 
“Thank you for your understanding, Lady Golden Lock. Silver,” I regarded my butler, who snapped his head away from the floating letter, straightening the butler uniform. “Please escort Lady Golden Lock out.”
 
He nodded, walking out of my view. Presumably to Golden’s side, followed by the noise of a chair scrapping against the floor, and a pair of hoofsteps heading to the exit.

“And Silver?” the steps paused, and I had no doubt Silver was turning his around to face the back of my head. “Please visit my ‘office’ after you’re done, would you?”
 
“Yes, Prince Blueblood.” And with that, the steps continued, the sound of a door opening, followed by the stepping sounds and them fading away as the door clicked shut.
 
Silence; uncomfortable silence permeated thickly within the room as I kept staring at the letter, and the maids probably pondered to themselves whether they should leave or not. I suppose it was proper; even if the content wasn’t what I was expecting, it did change the entirety of my life.
 
After what felt like an eternity, I tore my eyes away from the scroll, ate what was left of the toast, and levitated the cup of coffee beside me as I turned to the door, hooves clacking against the floor as I left the room. As I made my way to my office, the scroll on my left, and the cup of coffee under my nose, I heard the sound of cheers filtered behind the door.
 

()_()_()


 

 
‘My’ office was a mess. And I used that word extremely lightly. So light, in fact, that if Silver Tray was there, I had no doubt he would slap me silly like a naughty pretentious little foal. Of course, then, I would have him arrested, unfairly trialed, and locked in a dungeon until his corroded bones would be the only thing left to the world.
 
Thankfully, Silver Tray couldn’t read minds, and he was either still in the process of escorting Golden Lock away, or midway into my office.
 
Papers and books of all kinds; mostly about topography and geography, flooded the red velvet carpet that was the office’s floor, creating a sea of browns, whites, and reds. On both side of the room, two bookshelves devoid of its content were pressed against their respective wall, and in front of me; in the center of the room, was a smoky brown mahogany desk, ancient old reliefs were carved on its edges; each depicting how Equestria was truly founded.
 
A tapestry map of Ancient Equestria and the old lands surrounding it covered the desk’s surface. Desk utensils lay cluttered above it, and I clicked my tongue as I noticed the dark stains from a tilted ink jar on the tapestry. “Well,” I muttered, carefully trudging my way through the floor of old dusty books and white papers for ‘my’ desk. “I could buy another.”
 
Not that it would matter, I thought to myself as I placed the empty cup of coffee on the desk. I sighed, sparing the stained tapestry a glance, before I turned around to face the door; my behind leaning casually against the unusually strong and heavy desk. The scroll came to my view with my blue aura around it.
 
There was a strange mix of emotions welling up inside me. Foreign stuffs. Stuffs, that while I admit I had felt before, I couldn’t put a pin on it. It was something that was both cold and hot; like that chemistry class involving fire and ice, fighting each other for the right to stand above. In the end, I snuffed that feeling with a mask of cold indifference, and I plucked the blue seal off the scroll, before unrolling it, revealing a tidy and cursive horn-written letters that would fit more as an art than a message.
 
If you are reading this, Blueblood, then that means three things has happened to me, your grandfather. First, I’m—hopefully—dead. Second, I’ve gone senile beyond sanity, and third, I’ve been spirited away to Celestia only knows—she doesn’t—where. If the first happened, make sure I’m cremated. If it’s the second, then please, euthanize me. But if things have gone worse than I had thought, which would mean the third case, try your fucking damnedest to find me, and do whatever is necessary to me afterwards.
 
Anyway, as per the tradition of the Blood family, I’m going to make this straight to the point: Congrats, Blueblood, you are now the head of Cerberus, a secret paramilitary organization bent on protecting the inhabitants of Equestria from everything that is both supernatural and evil.
 
I choked on my spit, a cold pit formed in my stomach. “W-what?” I reread the chapter once more, making sure that no; my breakfast hadn’t been poisoned to impair my vision. And it took every bit of me and a deep steadying breath to calm myself down. It had been a long time since I had last seen my grandfather; around five years ago, just right after my mother had been administered into a mental asylum in New Yolk after she almost had killed herself via ropes.
 
He was already senile then, spittle flew out of his mouth as he kept prattling and rambling and gibbering about an old fairytale parents usually tell to their foals to make them behave. And I took assurance from that. With that in mind, I snorted contemptuously at the scroll. For a moment, I thought of simply crumpling it into a ball, and throw it into the bin. But I didn’t. May as well, I thought, making a mental note to make the staffs’ life that were responsible in nurturing my senile grandfather and forwarding this scroll to me into a living Tartarus; starting with taking their job away from them.
 
A bit sudden, I know. The same thing occurred to me when your great-grandfather told me this. Which is why, I’m going to give you a brief explanation what is Cerberus, and the more supernatural world hiding underground Equestria’s pristine surface:
 
Monsters live among us. Vampires, ghouls, ghosts, and other otherworldly creatures that want to do us, ponies, harm. You never knew this, of course, and there’s a possibility that one of your many capture is a succubus. If you had felt sore and extremely tired one morning after a bout of passionate night, then congrats, that’s your first monster you’ve bedded.
 
I gulped. Memories of a certain mare in black tight spandex, pressing against her voluptuous bottom for the entire world to see came to the surface. Her alluring aroma as we touched, melting against each other.  And the utter exhaustion that followed the morning afterwards, the cold hollowness inside me, the doctor’s panicking shout, and Auntie Tia’s cold stony visage that reminded too much of Father when a noble pressed his button the wrong way. In retrospect, I should’ve known it wasn’t just a simple cold gone wrong.
 
 I felt sick, a shiver went straight into my spine, and I had to close my eyes to prevent dirtying ‘my’ office even more. My previous confidence crumbled faster than a virgin stallion in a room with an escort.
 
Such fact is kept well-hidden to those unaware. They know there are monsters out there, but they don’t know that they’re not much ‘out there’ than ‘in here’. Celestia knows the pandemonium that would happen in the case this knowledge is ever released to the world. I wouldn’t keep it out of my mind that it would release Discord from its prison. This is why Cerberus exists. Why it’s created: To protect this secret, to protect these unaware—and aware—ponies from the shadows, and to exterminate these dangerous monsters—parasites—living among us while we’re at it. 
 
Now, I’ve put account that you won’t probably believe me in the case that I’ve gone senile, and I honestly have no idea to convince you otherwise, except for you to have faith, and visit my friend, Class Ladder, where he will fill you in about your duty. Oh, and in the case you get the bright idea to visit Princess Celestia about this, be aware that the existence of Cerberus is a breach of law under the clause thirty-six of the Unification Treaty; wherein every member of an unauthorized and illegal paramilitary organization, involving their family members who are in knowledge of said organization, are treated as traitors to the crown. That means you, Blueblood.
 
Of course, this means you could visit Class Leader, whose house is in Silver Street, block seven, number 72 with a rather boorish purple roof, or you could tell this to Princess Celestia and see how that’d go.
 
Your hopefully-dead-but-probably-not grandfather
-Cold Blood
 
I stared blankly, hopelessly disbelievingly at the piece of parchment, floating right there before my eyes. My mind refused to believe what it was saying, trying to futilely denying it through other sorts of logical explanation; perhaps it was a prank by the hospice staffs, but the traitorous thoughts kept on coming, disproving any explanations procured but for the one already given to me. The aura around the parchment flickered, and the parchment slid down onto the veritable sea of papers and books.
 
Myriads of emotions struck me numb in that moment, and I couldn’t decide which one was which. There was fear, I was sure; waves of them roiling about, causing havoc in me. There’s a black denial, shriveling up, and slowly replaced with doubt; what if I was wrong, what if the parchment was telling the truth? And then there was that horrible cold pit; the prospect of my future, either to be cuffed and left to rot in the dungeon, or trying and failing to fight these terrifying monsters; spending most of my times hiding with paranoia, whether Silver Tray is a pony or not, whether Golden Lock was indeed a female pony and not some sort of otherworldly creature setting its mark upon me for further feast.
 
I closed my eyes as I leaned my weight to the table, cold sweat came from my pores, and I had to do Cadance’s breathing technique—one, two, breathe, one, two, breathe, one, two, breathe—which was more like something a laboring mother would do, but it managed to keep me away from staining the floor with my breakfast.
 
The sound of hoof knocking the door made me look up. I closed my eyes for a moment, quelling that queasy feeling with that cold indifference of a noble. “Who is it?”
 
“It’s me, Sir,” Silver’s voice, a touch of concern drifted inside. For a moment, I pondered if Silver Tray was a pony, and not one of those monsters the parchment mentioned. I shook those thoughts right away. “Is everything fine in there?”
 
No, I wanted to answer, but then I glanced at the parchment, and I gulped once more. In that moment, I wished I had dedicated more of my time in learning magic instead of lazing around, listening to peasants talking about petty problems, and nobles moaning for tax exceptions. At the very least then, I could burn the parchment, erase my memories, and return to drinking expensive wine, admiring passing mares’ round flanks, and listening to peasants and petty nobles moan about their unimportant complaints as if nothing had happened.
 
As it was, I took another gulp of air to steady myself, and leaned away from the table. “I’m fine, Silver.” I reassured the old stallion, lifting up and rolling the parchment as I trudged through the mess to the door. The door opened, and closed as quickly as it could as I stepped outside to Silver’s surprised face. For a moment, I thought he had seen the mess inside, but that thought died as he suddenly jumped backwards.
 
“Sir!” his eyes were wide as he held his hoof to his chest. “Don’t surprise this old stallion like that. You could give me a heart attack.”
 
I rolled my eyes, making sure that he would see it, before I turned to the left. “I’m going to take a bath, Silver. Prepare my suit on the bed...” I paused, hesitation in my movement, before I finally said, “And prepare a carriage as well. We’re going to visit my grandfather’s friend.”
 
As I made my way to my chamber, I heard Silver’s faint voice trailing behind me. “Of course, Sir.”
 

()_()_()

 
Properly dressed with the white tuxedo and blue bowtie—the only kind of tie deserving of my neck—that was personally tailored by the Hoity Toity for both exceptional beauty and practicality, clean and combed, I climbed up into the Blood’s personal carriage; white alabaster with golden linings twirled around in complicated knots over it, and the Blood’s emblem engraved on both flanks of the cart—a drop of blue blood over a shield. The white folding head above shielded me from Auntie’s morning—and rather hot—sun.
 
I frowned when instead of Silver Tray climbing up, and taking a sit on the red velvet cushioned sofa before me, it was a maid of an indistinct quality; ruffled and uncombed blond mane and tail, grey coat under the Prench maid uniform, and an unfocused pair of yellow eyes. I mentally sighed, has the requirement for the maid position dropped so low?
 
She waved a hoof at me; her right eye wandered to my left, while the other on my forehead. “Good morning, Sir.”
 
Cringing, I ignored the peasant as I craned my head over the cart’s window, and there he was, Silver Tray standing in front of the carriage... hitching the puller’s harness over his back. “What in Tartarus are you doing, Silver?” I asked, rising my volume so he could hear me properly.
 
“Ah?” he glanced back to me, before returning to make sure the harness would stay on his back. “I thought I’ve told you, Sir.”
 
“Told me what, Silver?”
 
“The carriage puller, Brown Nose, resigned the job two days ago, Sir,”
 
My eye twitched, and it took every bit of me not to scream profanities to the air. “And you let him?”
 
“Well, of course, Sir,” he answered simply. “Nothing I could do about it.”
 
I sighed tiredly, returning to sit back on my box. The mare in front of me grinned inanely at me, and I had hoped that she was doing it out of my expense, but I couldn’t find any malicious in it. I sighed once more.
 
“What’s your name?”
 
The mare blinked, before her hoof went to her forehead, creating a sloppy salute that would make the lowest rank of the Solar Guard to cringe, and slap her silly if they’re not honor-bound to not harm innocent citizens. “Ditsy Hooves at your service, Sir!”
 
I sighed again, and tilted my head to stare at the scenery as the carriage began to move. For a moment, I pondered on asking whether Silver Tray was fit to pull the carriage in the first place, but then I shook that thought away. Old he may be, but the old stallion was more of an Earth Pony with an additional bone on his head than a real Unicorn. I believed, right then, that he could handle it. And I was right, though not for the same reason I believed.
 
Auntie’s morning sun shone above Canterlot as the carriage began to move in its earnest. Passing the gate of my mansion and houses, we soon reached to the upper streets of Canterlot; rare morning type of nobles sat on an outdoor cafe, nursing their favored drinks—probably teas, the plebs they are—as their eyes lingered on my cart, watching with curiosity as we passed them. The few healthier type of nobles trotted away from my cart, and continued on with their jogging—though it was more of a lazy trot—on the side of the street. Most shops were still closed, but there were few already opening, like Donut Joe’s bakery; strange name for a pony, but a good and trustable baker if Auntie’s hidden stash of fattening cakes were any clue.
 
The carriage tilted forward as we went down a hill, and for a moment there, I was afraid Silver would buckle under the carriage’s weight, snapped his back, and send us right to our doom. Miraculously, bless that stallion, it never happened, and the carriage crawled to a slow Silver carefully guided us down. Ditsy, her back pressed against the front of the carriage thanks to gravity, smile uncaringly as she munched on a muffin she magically procured under the black and white frilly uniform.
 
Noticing my stare—Celestia knows how—, the mare paused on her snacking. “Muffin, sir?” she offered, a hoof shot out to my face; on top of it laid a piece of an innocent looking muffin that she had somehow, once more, magically procured.
 
I stared at the brown thing for a moment, half-considering slapping it away, before I hesitantly plucked it up with my magic. The mare watched me with an intensity that should be impossible with her wandering eyes as I floated the muffin close to my nose, taking a hesitant sniff of it; recognizing the hint of chocolate, sugar and...
 
I frowned, shooting the mare an odd look. “You used coffee?”
 
She grinned brightly, nodding her head like a foal being praised. “It’s my first time using coffee as an ingredient!”
 
I turned back at the muffin, giving it a suspicious look, then at the hopeful eyes of my maid. Tentatively, I took a nibble of baked goods, chewed it, swallowed, blinked, and then took a large bite of the muffin, savoring its flavor. There’s a small hint of cinnamon hiding behind the coffee flavor. The coffee itself wasn’t overpowering the other tastes, but it was there; lingering in between the background and in front with its smoky flavor that I always associated with a well-roasted coffee beans. The muffin itself wasn’t too sweet, a hint of bitterness from the coffee beans, and I pondered if Ditsy did it so on purpose, knowing I wasn’t too big on sweet foods.
 
Swallowing the chunk, I looked up at Ditsy; practically edging on her seat waiting for my judgment. “It’s delicious,” I admitted honestly, taking another bite of the muffin.
 
The mare cheered, letting out a happy squealing noise. “I’m glad you liked it!”
 
“Do you make other sort of goods?” I asked, and upon her tilted head, I decided to elaborate, “Cupcakes, pancakes, those sorts of baked goods.”
 
She nodded. “Oh yeah, I cook all sorts of food. But mom always said that it’s not healthy or delicious to eat the same thing over and over and over...” she trailed off, shuddering, saying something that probably wasn’t meant to be heard for me, but considering the closed space, I did anyway. ”And over.”
 
Not that it was anything worth listening.
 
I hummed as I stared at the piece of pastry; decision made in my head, before I ate it and craned my neck over the window. “Silver Tray, are you alright over there!”
 
The carriage shook suddenly, and then halted. A particularly new and loud curse was shouted from the front of the carriage. “I’m fine, Sir!” Silver shouted over, and the carriage crawled once more. “Your concern is appreciated. Anything I could help you, Sir?”
 
“Yes!” I shouted back, ignoring the few odd looks shot by random passersby. “Could you assign Miss Ditsy Doo here for our pantry?” I requested.
 
Truthfully, it wasn’t much of a request as it was more of command. It looked like one, but when one uses logic, or have been in either position, they would know it was most definitely a command. After all, refusing your employer’s—one that is extremely powerful—requests are never wise. Silver knew that. I knew that. Ditsy certainly didn’t.
 
“Absolutely, Sir!” he replied back, and if I tried, I was sure I could hear a tiny bit of annoyance leaking off of them. “Is there anything else, sir?”
 
“Yes! How far are we before arriving to our destination?”
 
“Not far!”
 
I nodded, satisfied and plopped my rump back to my seat, and I was immediately greeted by pair of hooves around my sides, and a fluff of fur smothering me. “Thank you! Thank you!” I heard a certain maid shouted atop me.
 
“Get off me!” I screamed, voice muffled by the patch of fur stuffing my mouth. Whether or not she heard me, she didn’t do what I told her do. “Get off, or I’ll change my mind!”
 
That immediately did it, and I was allowed sight once more. Ditsy sat back on her place, a pair of blush on her cheeks as she giggled nervously, scratching the back of her neck as I gave her a glare. Rummaging through her uniform, she somehow procured a muffin, “Muffin?” she offered, a nervous smile on her face.
 
I gave the muffin a suspicious look. Who knows where it had been under that uniform, but in the end, I swiped the muffin and took a bite with a grumble. It wouldn’t be the first—nor the last—time had I eaten something from under a mare’s garment, even if it was under different circumstance.
 
The carriage tilted itself to normal as we finally reached to a steady ground, and we had to stop for a few minutes as Silver requested for a rest, which I allowed. Despite the rumor mills’ effort to make me look like a total slave driver, for some reason; I was not, and am not a slave driver.
 
The rest of the ride went smoothly after that, the morning’s sun finally managed to wake most ponies up, filling the pristine cobblestoned streets with the sounds of their hooves. Their eyes would momentarily linger on my carriage, before turning their head away to return what they were going to do in the first place. Some rare ponies’ eyes would linger on my driver, before turning their head away with a disdainful snort.
 
Hypocrites, lots of them, I thought cynically, before returning back to stare at the wall behind Ditsy’s shoulder.
 
Soon, the carriage came to a stop as we reached our destination. Peeking outside, I saw a two level box-shaped house with a style that Canterlotians’ architect seemed to love very much. Dull white bricks composed most of its outer wall, two makeshift pillars stood in place to hold the house’s porch, protecting the two chairs and a coffee table placed nearby the house’s front door. On the house’s second floor, a small balcony jutted out, and a line of garments—and other... questionables—were held by an almost invisible string seemingly nailed down to the balcony’s pillars. The only thing that made the house distinctive—other than the seemingly floating line of dirty laundry—was the purple roof, just like how Grandfather described it.
 
I climbed down from the carriage with a grace that every noble should be taught ever since they’re born. Silver stood by my side, his uniform and coat matted with sweat as he tried to control his breathing. Behind me, Ditsy stood with a silly smile on the carriage’s steps, waiting for me to let her exit.
 
“Wait here, it’s a personal visit.” I told both of them. For a moment, it looked as if like Silver was going to argue, before he wisely kept whatever he was going to say stayed inside as I walked past the house’s uncared lawn.
 
Stepping into the porch, I took a steadying breath, before I rapped my hoof against the door and waited for a response.
 
“Who is it?” A voice that held that old stallion’s quality, hopefully Class Ladder, shouted from the other side of the door.
 
I cleared my throat, feeling a tad too anxious. “It’s Blueblood,” I answered.
 
There was a moment of silence behind the door, before the same pony replied, “Come again?”
 
My eyes twitched in annoyance. “I’m Cold Blood’s grandson!”
 
“Oh!” inside, I heard a loud crashing sound that one would associate with several objects hitting the ground in unison. “Buck—just wait there for a moment!”
 
It was more than a moment later, filled with various crashing noises from inside and more streams of expletives, that Class Ladder finally broke the vicious cycle of fallen objects and expletives with the sound of hoofsteps approaching the door, followed by series of locks unlocked—by the sound of it—, chains unchained, and magical seals unsealed—a very distinct buzzing and clicking feeling that only the magically sensitive, like Unicorns, could sense when in close proximity.
 
“Uh,” the stallion said, sounding like he was in great strain. “Just wait for a moment. Damn thing ain’t budging.”
 
I cringed at the blatant butchery of proper Equish, but I kept my mouth shut in exchange of taking a few steps away from the door, sighing in relief as the annoying buzzing and clicking sound lessened to a background noise in my head. Truly, I would never understand why ponies that pursue magic, especially in magical seals, could ever bear such headache-inducing noise. There’s one thing having it inside ones head just for a few moments, but it’s another to have it buzzing inside until one couldn’t see the difference which is Equish and which is general buzzing noise.
 
“Take your time.” I told the stallion absentmindedly, not really meaning it. I actually thought of going home, and forget this ever happened, but before I could finish that line of thought—where it would undoubtedly end with me sitting in front of a fireplace, reading a book about Mind Magic with a pitcher of coffee on the side—, the stallion behind the door emitted a sound akin to a bleating goat.
 
“Aha!” the door finally opened outward, creating a small gap that showed the completely dark reserves of the house. Before I could open it all the way, I was abruptly introduced to Class Ladder as he poked his head out.
 
He was definitely an old Unicorn, dull gray unkempt and uncared mane that probably used to be a vibrant color was tied in a messy ponytail—obviously done in a hurry—, and dark brown coat that was probably more vibrant in his youth. Beneath his emerald green eyes, shining with recognition, I saw the folding of his sagged skin, usually seen in the victim of old age and time. Then there was that hideous smell—Oh, Auntie’s sagging teats, the smell!—of unwashed and strong body odor stabbed its prongs into my nose, and it took every disciplining lessons father had given me to be a proper noble—one that was cut too short after his disappearance—to not gag, wasted Ditsy’s muffins onto the old stallion’s ugly face, or punch him—and probably kill him too—for not keeping proper hygiene.

I took a breath, clenching my stomach’s muscles as I tilted my head slightly to nod at him. “Class Ladder, I would presume?”
 
The stallion grinned eagerly, showing surprisingly rows of well-cared teeth, and nodded. “You presumed correctly, lad.” Then he blinked, before chuckling at what I thought was his inner joke. “Ah, you remind me of your grandfather. But where are my manners, come in, come in!”
 
He stepped away from the door, swinging the door fully to allow me into the completely dark and bleak insides of Class Ladder’s house. I glanced back, staring at the fidgeting butler, and the happy waving of the airheaded mare. Sighing, I returned back to the grinning Class Ladder and stepped into the house.
 
 A wave of nausea and vertigo hit me the moment stepped through the door, and my legs buckled for a moment before I recovered quickly. “Ugh.” I winced, rubbing the spot under my horn. “What in Tartarus was that?”
 
Class Ladder regarded me with a curious look. “Whatever do you mean?”
 
I cringed, putting the hoof down. “Never mind,” I told him, shaking my head softly, and the feeling of my belly flopping on its own quickly fading away. “Forget I said anything.”
 
There was a ghost of a smile on his face, but I ignored it in order to look over the Class Ladder’s house. Surprisingly, unlike what I had expected, it was almost spotless. Hardwood floor nary of cluttering objects I had thought had fallen there, a long expensive sofa stood before a short wooden table, standing above a Saddle Arabian imported rug. The brown wallpapered wall were filled with photos and memorabilia of the past; in one, I could see what I assumed was a younger and dapper version of Class Ladder standing beside my grandfather, in his magical hold floated a foal bundled in blue blankets. It took a moment to register the happy looking foal was my father, and I quickly turned away to inspect other things. Against the side of the room, there was a large bookcase showing thick wordy books that I would never read by my own choice, while on the other side of the room, a staircase led to the second floor of the house. For some reason I couldn’t comprehend, I felt a strange feeling of déjà vu.
 
“Do you like it?”
 
I shrugged lightly, trotting down to the bookcase; even the books’ titles were dizzying in their own reason, and I had to turn around lest I bore my own self to sleep. “There’s too much brown, to be honest.”
 
He sighed, tilting his head slightly to mumble something incoherent, before he turned back to me, a crooked smile replacing his frown. “Well then, what do I owe the pleasure of meeting you, My Lord?” He bowed slightly, weakly so that I thought he was going to break his bones.
 
I gave him a frown, staring at him with utmost seriousness. “I think you already know why, Class Ladder.”
 
Ladder shrugged, moving over and plopped his flanks onto the sofa. “I’m old.” he answered with a pleased smile, as if that answered everything. “My mind wanders a lot these days. So please, enlighten me.”
 
Biting the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from doing anything I’d regret, I said, “My grandfather sent me a letter this morning. It said that I was to inherit... an illegal paramilitary organization, and that I should visit you for an explanation.”
 
“Aha!” he clapped his hooves together as he smiled. “I remember now! Ah,” he nodded wistfully. “Yes, I remember that old blood said he would send his heir to me.” His smile stretched as he leaned forward, and I fidgeted under his sharpened gaze. “Do you know why, Blueblood?”
 
I shrugged, looking away from his gaze to the photos on the wall. “I don’t know.”
 
“Because of all the friends Cold Blood could trust, I'm the only one alive.”
 
I blinked, slowly turning my gaze back at him. A question came unbidden from my mouth. “Why?”
 
He smiled sadly, tilting his head slightly to the side. “Hazards of the occupation, I’m afraid.” He shook his head suddenly. “But enough of that; you’re here because you need an explanation, and your grandfather sent you here so I could convince—“
 
“I won’t take over the organization.” I blurted out. The words went past the mouth before I could think about it.
 
He blinked, then he started to chuckle to himself. That chuckle became a full-blown laughter as he threw his head back; weak, gasping and rattling laughter filled the room, and I stared at the old stallion in part confusion, and part senseless and childish indignation of wanting to choke the life out of him. It would be very easy too.
 
“What’s so funny?” I asked, keeping my voice calm and cold like many other times I had to speak with oil-tongued and wannabe nobles.
 
 He didn’t answer my question immediately. Ponies usually do when I asked them. But then, he was too busy laughing. It was until he was reduced to a giggling wreck, gasping for breath as he put a hoof over his chest, did he answer my question. “Oh nothing that should offend you,” he answered, finally taking a deep breath to calm the laughter in him. “You just remind me too much of your grandfather. When we first met, he told me how he also refused the same offer from his dying father; not until he was convinced, of course. But I’m sure you’re better than him.” He said the last part with a wink to me in that conspiratorial way.
 
I frowned at that, raising an eyebrow at him. “And he’s not?”
 
The uncomfortable look flitted his feature was the only thing I needed to confirm my question. He shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, he’s dying peacefully, isn’t he?”—the last time I had seen him, he tried to strangle the nurse attending him, I wanted to say, but kept my mouth shut—“But like I said,” he stood up from the couch. “Enough of the past; let me at least try to convince you before you make your own choice.”
 
“Do I even have a choice?” I asked bitterly.
 
“Well,” he smirked, casually walking over the table to stand in front of me. “I wouldn’t tell you that if you don’t, would I?”
 
He chuckled, before his mirthful face suddenly grew grim, the senility in his eyes faded into that stare I would usually see in father’s eyes, and I felt a chill shivering up to my spine. “You don’t know this, but Cerberus is a critical part of the everyday pony lives. Without Cerberus, pony would die every day. Innocent creatures cursed by their own blood will die, while the not-so innocent ones would continue their merry ways to plague the world. There would be nopony keeping those monsters in check. And the peaceful life you’ve been leading from the seconds you were born?” He smiled coldly. “You could say goodbye to that. Without Cerberus, everytime you walk down on the street, or even your abode, you will have to look over your shoulder to make sure that moving shadow is just your imagination and not some abomination seeking for food. You and all ponies will live in fear, of the shadows, of each others, and of all things. Equestria will fall into a world of darkness.” He stepped back; his vibrant green eyes chilled into my bone. “Do you take your responsibility as a Blood, and ensure that Equestria is safe, or do you refuse to take responsibility and let Equestria fall into chaos?”
 
 I gulped, feeling a stubborn knot in my throat, my face paled into ashen white as Ladder’s words registered fully into my head. If he was telling the truth, the implication of my choice was world changing. I felt incredibly ill, my legs weak, and it was everything I could do not to buckle down and let passage to the bile forcing its way into my throat. Still, there was hope yet.
 
“W-what about the P-prin—“
 
He snorted, smiling at me in disdain, and though I knew it wasn’t meant to me, it didn’t stop me from shivering more. “Princess Celestia is not a goddess. You should know that. She’s a powerful immortal that could move the sun, but she’s neither omnipotent nor omniscient. She’s like a stalwart shield over Equestria, and it would only need a few smart thinking to strike from behind rather than to face her straight.”
 
Even though I tried to deny it as best as I could, I couldn’t refute his words—though I’d rather describe her as a mace ready to maul everything opposing its path, rather than a shield—; Auntie’s not a goddess. She’s powerful, but she’s not all-powerful. It hit me once more that I had to take this familiar yet distant thing called ‘responsibility’. I was not good with responsibility.
 
“If you are still undecided, I’ll give you an incentive,” Ladder’s voice pierced into my thought, and I felt a cold dreadful pit forming on my stomach as he continued, “do you remember the event that happened ten years ago?”
 
Of course, how could I not? It was the year where hundreds, if more, nobles were mysteriously spirited away. Ponies theorized the acts were done by the nobles themselves for reasons I couldn’t fathom, while some theorized it was some sort of a supernatural conspiracy. Nevertheless, it had caused chaos and fear amongst the nobles, causing them to lock themselves inside their home, trading suspicious glances, and left many colts and fillies fatherless and/or motherless.
 
I should know. I was one of those colts, after all.
 
Still, the only thing I could emit was a strangled noise of a kitten that seemed to be stuck on my throat. The cold pit of dread in my stomach worsened, and I could only nod in answer of Ladder’s question.
 
“Yes, you should be.” He gave me a sympathetic smile. “Your grandfather had almost driven himself into madness searching ways to where your father had gone, and it took several tries for me and his fellow friends to extract him out of his obsession.” He sighed, staring at an empty spot over my shoulder. “I will probably regret this, but I will say that with Cerberus behind your beck and call, you can continue what your grandfather had failed over the course of two years in order to search what had truly happened in that year.”
 
I blinked, and then blinked again to make sure I wasn’t going to tear up. “H-he’s not dead?”
 
The shrug on his shoulder deflated my hope. “I wouldn’t know. But what I do know is that knowing is better than not knowing, and beside,” he smirked. “Vengeance is a sweet thing.”
 
I gulped, took a deep steadying breath. I tried to use that method the professor had taught me when being forced to consider a choice. On the con side, I wouldn’t be able to return to my hedonistic lifestyle. On the pro, Equestria would stay as a safe place. On the con side, I wasn’t good in taking responsibility—my education was a proof to that. But on the pro side, I would be going to do beneficial to the society—not that I’d care—rather than sitting my flanks, listening to nobles and peasants complain daily. While on the con side, I would possibly be endangering my life and probably ponies around me. But on the pro side, I would be able to find what happened to father.
 
Decision was made, and I opened my mouth; barely seeing the eager and hopeful look on Ladder’s face. “I’ll—“
 
Then the earth shook. No, that was not an apt description. The world, the air itself, shook as a sound not unlike other exploded in the sky. We stared at each other with alarmed eyes, and I quickly rushed over to the window.
 
Atop the blue sky, the clouds parted and dispersed away as a ring of rainbow exploded in the sky. The sound followed soon, rattling the windows and the insides of Ladder’s house; several books and photos fell out of its nest and my ears folded on its own. A trail of rainbow soared up to the sky from the ring of rainbow; following whomever it was that had done the impossible.
 
We turned to share a look of disbelief. “Was that...” I trailed off, unsure how to say it.
 
He nodded dumbly, then his jaws hinged back into a goofy grin. “I was kidding at first, but it seems that even the sky—“
 
Another explosion cut him whatever he was going to say, and I watched in horror as Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns’—located in the middle of the city, a twenty minutes walk away from the Canterlot’s castle—roof exploded to let view of a gigantic bipedal, and utterly confused infant reptile.
 
“Or not.”
 
We shared another look, this time of horror, and I quickly rushed outside of the house before Ladder could say anything else that may jinx us all to Tartarus. Silver and Ditsy was there standing on the carriage’s side, staring at the gigantic and crying reptile in horror as its hands made debris flew in the sky.
 
“Quick!” I shouted, snapping them both as I climbed up into the carriage. “To the school!”
 
They both nodded; eyes wide in terror as they quickly dashed to the carriage’s front, strapping the harnesses onto their back. Not a moment later, the carriage was moving faster than it had before as my two servants galloped towards the school.
 
Ponies screamed in horror as we passed them, all of them running away from the school, while the weak hearted fainted on the cobblestone street, before quickly being picked up by ponies that had at least, moral decency. The carriage swerved to the left side, almost hitting a screaming pony. I looked back, and gulped in terror as the spot we had been before was sundered with a golden and dented statue of Celestia rearing on her hind-legs; the statue that was placed on the top of Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns.
 
 Guards garbed in golden-painted enchanted armor stood on the street, jaws gaping and their spears clattered on the ground as they stared at the gigantic monstrosity. Thankfully, much to my panicking mind questioning my wisdom on heading to the hub of disaster, some proper guards recovered from their shock and did what they were paid to do, helping the panicking ponies to evacuate, and picking up the unconscious ponies onto their back.
 
Didn’t mean I wasn’t going to file complaint to Auntie.
 
One of the guards idiotically jumped in front of my thundering carriage, shouting and ordering us to stop. Thankfully, Silver and Ditsy didn’t heed the guard’s probably wise advice and quickly swerved to the side, nearly grazing the poor guard’s side and most definitely implanted the irrational fear for carriages into him.
 
The sight of the school brought few bad memories into the fore of my mind—hours of waiting, pretending to be what they want, the absent road as the sun began to set—, but those were all shaken out as I saw the large hole atop of it, and the torso of the wailing reptile that covered it. The carriage stopped immediately, and I didn’t wait another moment to climb out of the carriage.
 
Debris of the school covered the mostly empty streets; few very unfortunate ponies ran out of the building, screaming with eyes wide with fear as they passed by me and the carriage. On the side of a road, I saw a guard lay unconscious on the ground; a small dent was visible on top of his helmet. On hsi side, a sword lay clattered and abandoned.
 
I snapped to my servants. “You two, take the guard into the carriage. Search the place for any left out ponies. I’ll go inside!”
 
Ditsy nodded, seeing no problem with my command. But Silver took a step forward, his eyes wide in shock. “But sir, it’s going to be dangerous!”
 
“Not now, Silver.” I said, before I made my way to the school, ignoring Silver’s protest of my safety. I passed the unconscious guard, and took out his sword out of its sheath, feeling the familiar handle of the sword covered in my magical grip. For once, I had another reason to be grateful for keeping my body fit.
 
“Sir, look up!”

I skidded to a halt at Ditsy’s shouted warning, and looked up. A large debris—another statue of Celestia, the small part of my mind confirmed—was soaring down from the sky, right into my squishy flesh. I tried to move, but my legs were locked in fear despite my best effort to urge them to move. Staring at the incoming debris, I let out a small whimper—
 
Before I felt something impacted my side, pushing me off the ground, and sending me rolling down on the cobblestoned street, pebbles and dust stuck on my coat, making me wince and grunt until I stopped on my back. I had no doubt it was going to be Tartarus to clean them off my coat.
 
Opening my eyes, I saw Ditsy atop of me, her fur drenched in sweat and for a moment, I thought I saw her eyes realigned to focus like any normal ponies. “Sir,” she gasped for breath, looking tired and dazed. “You’re safe.” She stated what she thought as obvious. The overly sized reptile was still wailing like a whale on a bed said otherwise.
 
I glanced to the side, watching in morbid fascination as the earth I had stood before was destroyed and crushed deep with Princess Celestia’s golden statue. No doubt had Ditsy been late, I would have my name carved on a tombstone, ‘Here lies Blueblood, crushed by Celestia’ written as my epitaph.
 
Shaking that thought away, I gently pushed the obviously tired mare off me. “Ditsy,” I said, standing up and dusting the soot off me. She snapped her neck to me. “Thank you. Tell Silver you’re now promoted as Head Maid.”
 
Before she could say, or do anything to probably stop me from my foolish endeavor, I had taken the sword back in my grip and rushed into the school. As I ran through the wrecked hallways, I was glad that the school was having an examination day, where hopefuls accepted by the school would be tested upon their affinity on magic in front of stoic-faced examiners. As such, there were no fillies and colts garbed in their respective clique’s outfit running around like headless chickens.
 
A tile overhead fell, and I immediately stepped to the side before it could give me brain damage; the many tapestries that adorned the wall fell off its perch, and doors fell out of its hinges as the whole building shook once more. Despite my current situation, I couldn’t help but remember the years I was here. I would lean alone on the wall, smiling and waving just like they expected me to do. I would nod and grin when a professor called me to the front, even though I couldn’t answer his ridiculously hard question. I would stay last in the class when others went out to go to their homes, and asked the professors questions and I would smile and nod at their answers even though I couldn’t understand them
 
Just like what they expected me to be.
 
I shook those memories away, gritting my teeth as I let my Cutie Mark led me to my destination. There was something much more concerning than dwelling in the past then, like for example the increasingly loud wailing of a titanic-sized reptile. I came up to the double doors—the auditorium’s entry—; brightly glowing magenta lights seeped out from the doors’ creaks, and I didn’t give much thought as I turned around and bucked the doors out of their hinges.
 
Looking inside, I realized then, that I was too late.
 
In the middle of the room, in front of the tables and chairs where students would sit to listen to either a seminar or a pony from outside preaching about how great their jobs are, a filly floated in the air, twitching spastically; magenta light, pouring out magic that I had to grit my teeth from buckling down formed an orb around her. Her eyes were white and her lips parted open into a soundless scream.
 
Behind her, was the wailing oversized infant reptile that had filled the citizens of Canterlot with fear.
 
But my eyes weren’t on the filly. Well, no, my eyes were on her, just not fully on her. They were on Princess Celestia standing before the filly, her eyes closed and face scowled in concentration as her horn touched with the filly’s horn. It took me a moment that she was trying to calm the eye of the magic storm, before I had to use my sword to prevent me from falling by the magic pressure’s alone.
 
 I didn’t know how long I stayed like that, watching as Auntie tried her damnedest to calm the raging storm that was the filly. It was quite familiar, the scene. It reminded me oddly of Sunset Shimmer’s examination day; the shaking of earth and the licking tongues of fire lashing out of her, threatening to melt the table that I, the examiners, and other students hid behind before Auntie Tia arrived to save the day.
 
I think that was the main reason why the school decided to examine the hopefuls one by one. How it repeated once more, twice as worse than before, I didn’t know. But it was probably on the faculty’s back.
 
A spark of purple thunder lashed against me, but it fortunately only singed the tile before me. But it was too close. Too, very close. Once more, I questioned the sanity of my mind for charging into the eye of the storm like a fool.
 
Any thoughts died as the Princess suddenly pulled her horn back, and for a moment—no thanks to my earlier talk with Class Ladder—I thought she had failed trying to save the filly, and was considering a more drastic method to stop her. Thankfully, my thought was for naught as a smile graced her face, her golden-shod hoof reached up to tap the filly’s back.
 
The effect was immediate. She blinked, and then blinked again, the light on her eyes receding back into purple pupils, and her screaming lips closed. The lashing magic slowly dissipated; the oversized wailing reptile suddenly returned to its original size, and I realized it was a baby dragon instead of a giant reptile. How there was even a dragon in the room, I blamed the faculty once more.
 
The flowerpot and cactus beside the filly flashed purple and a pair of unicorns—probably the filly’s parents—replaced the plants, looking rightfully disoriented. On the back of the, I watched as four flowerpots were replaced by the shocked and fearful examiners, though the fearful expression vanished when they realized there was the Princess in the room.
 
I gulped. That could’ve been me, even if only momentary.
 
The filly flashed purple, and then she was standing on the floor, her eyes wide as she took in the room around her. Then she looked at the princess around her, squirmed under her gaze and then bowed before her and I saw tears leaking from her ears; a stark difference to the magical transmutation machine that was a moment ago. “I-I’m s-sorry—I-I didn’t mean to, Prince—“
 
The motherly trademarked smile was on her face as Auntie placed a hoof over the filly’s shoulder, snapping the filly’s already frazzled thought. I couldn’t help but blink at the similarity with that event with Sunset years ago. “It’s alright, I’m sure the place could be fixed up. But I have to say, I don’t think I’ve ever come across a Unicorn with your raw ability!”
 
The filly blinked, raising her head to meet Auntie’s eyes. “Huh?”
 
She nodded, happy to herself, and I knew where she was going with it. I supposed, right then, it was about time she moved on from Sunset Shimmer. “Yes. In fact,” she spread her leg towards the mostly destroyed room. “I would like to make you my own personal protégé in this school.”
 
The filly blinked, then blinked again, and this time, a large grin accompanied with it. “Yes!” she ecstatically jumped in the air, and I thought that it would be pretty depressing when she saw the damage outside from her magical outburst.
 
“But.”
 
The filly blinked again, the joy vanished and replaced with trepidation. “More?”
 
Auntie pointed at the filly’s rumps, and I only noticed now the starburst mark that adorned her previously bare flanks. And then the filly did what any foals would do when they received their cutie marks: They jump around in joy.
 
I cleared my throat, and Auntie blinked, before turning to me. The rest of the ponies in room didn’t seem to notice me, while the examiners seemed happy hiding behind the tables. “Blueblood?” she asked, surprised as she approached me. “What are you doing here?”
 
Despite the two very life threatening hazards that nearly happened minutes before, and the fact that I would be towed away for treason if she knew what had happened earlier in this morning, I couldn’t help but crack a smile, standing up straight despite the tiredness that followed after the fading adrenaline. “Isn’t today just a good day?” I said, smiling tiredly, despite the fact that no, it wasn’t a good day.
 
She frowned, and I supposed I should’ve expected that. But I was just so tired that I didn’t care about it anymore. She touched my forehead with her fetlock. “Are you feeling fine, Blueblood?”
 
“Heh.” I chuckled, completely using the sword to lean my weight. “Just peachy, Auntie.”
 
I felt her wing wrapped around me. It reminded me the time I had used it to sob my eyes out, hearing her soft cooing into my ears. I looked up at her, watching her frown harder. “I think you need a rest, Blueblood.”
 
“Ah, y-yeah,” I nodded shakily. “I think you’re right.”
 
“Can you move by your own?” she asked, leading me to the overly happy hopping filly. “I could fly you home if you can’t.” She offered.
 
“Auntie,” I gasped in mock-anger. “Can you imagine the scandal it would cause over the newspaper if you do that?!”
 
She smirked, the wing around me tightened, and I felt her warmth soothing my inside. “Yes. Yes, I suppose you’re right.”
 
I hummed, nodding to her assent. Even if it was a jest, I could already picture the headline on first page of Canterlot Daily ‘Nephew Riding the Princess!? Scandal in the Royal Family?!’ or something along the same line. “I already have a carriage waiting for me outside.”
 
She nodded; before her head reached down to nuzzle me. I blushed at the intimate gesture. Even if we had done it several times, it was another thing to do it in public, however small said public was. “Be more careful with yourself, Blueblood.” I heard her whisper into my ear as she parted away.
 
I offered her a small smile. “I’ll try, Auntie, I’ll try.”
 
She hummed, and almost seemingly hesitantly—which I was sure, was just my imagination—pulled the wing back into her side. “Yes, you do that, Nephew.”
 
I smiled, before I turned around. It was now, adrenaline gone, did I feel the soreness and pain on my legs, and I would’ve stumbled to the floor were it not for the sword I had used as a makeshift crutch. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Auntie!” I called over, before I left the room, completely beyond exhaustion. I exhaled a deep breath, taking over to look at the destroyed hallway that would probably need a few days of renovations.
 
I shrugged, making my way to the exit; the tip of the blade clinked against the floor for each step I took. Once, I had almost slipped, and I probably would’ve if not for the wall I had leaned on. The carriage was there as I expected where it would be as I stepped out of the school.
 
Ditsy looked tired, ragged, her previously pristine mane was now covered in debris dusts, her headdress gone, and parts of her uniform was shred. Were it not for the grim situation of the wrecked street, I would’ve thought it be alluring.
 
Silver Tray stood by her side, his face stoic and cold. He regarded me with a stare, and I winced. I was going to hear a mouthful from him later, I’d know. Or probably now, I thought bitterly, as I reached to them; his mouth open to chide me of my foolishness.
 
“Not now, Silver.” I said as I passed by him, and carefully climbed up to the carriage. The previously unconscious guard was sitting on the chair, looking slightly dazed, but awake. “Get out.” I told him.
 
He blinked, and then blinked again as he recognized who I am. “Y-yes, My Prince!” he stuttered drunkenly with a sloppy salute that would’ve made Ditsy thousands better than him, before rushing out and falling down off the carriage.
 
I scoffed, tossing the sword away through the window. I heard him yelp. That was good, I didn’t accidentally kill him. “Back to the Mansion!” I shouted, and the carriage began to move as Ditsy and Silver pulled it.
 
I sighed, staring up at the red ceiling. Despite the bumpy ride from the pebbles and debris, I closed my eyes to sleep.
 

()_()_()


 

The door to my bedroom slammed shut as I stumbled inside. My coat stank with body odor, matted with dried sweat, and covered in sticking gray dusts I had collected. It was still morning, probably afternoon, yet I felt like I had gone through three days without a wink of sleep.
 
I considered taking a bath, a shower, anything to clean me up, but that was dashed away as my eyes fell to the soft, well-made bed. Sluggishly, I moved, eyelids drooping even with the pain from my legs with every step I took. When I reached the bed, I considered to just plop myself; I didn’t even have to climb up, just plop my head, and the soreness would be future Blueblood’s problem.
 
Before I could, however, I noted the piece of scroll on the edge of the bed. I looked up immediately to the window; no letters were to be send to me unless it was under Silver’s confirmation. To my dismay, I found it slightly open. I groaned, not caring as I levitated the scroll to my view and ripped the seal off, my blue aura was the only thing that made me able to read the content:
 
Dear Blueblood,
 
I know our meeting was cut short by certain... interruption. And I hopefully that you were going to answer ‘Yes, I’ll take over Cerberus’ before we were interrupted. Regardless, if you don’t, you could stop reading this. If you do, please don’t stop reading this.
 
 I’m going to keep this short. As per tradition, I want you to pick a city as your ‘base’, so to speak. Yes, that means you have to move away. Your grandfather took his base on Trottingham, for your information. I recommend you to pick either Detrot, for easy recruitments, or that new small town near Canterlot, Ponyville. Take your pick. Each of them has their own advantages and disadvantageous.
 
Second, you need to take several advisors to help you lead Cerberus: Diplomacy, Martial, Magic, Research, Intrigue, and Stewardship. I’d take up for the Intrigue advisor as I did when I was working with your grandfather. I still got some years in me, enough for me to search for a good and loyal replacement. You can also set up an interview—in secret, of course—among my many connections if you don’t know who to pick as the position. Alternatively, you could also control one of the departments, if you’re sure you could handle it. Also, a bit late and hypocritical, but you might want to choose somepony you could trust your life with, to be your advisor.

Your tentative friend
-Class Ladder
 
I twitched as I finished reading the damn thing. I stared at the blue sky over the window, and reached over the curtain to close it. Giving the scroll one more look, I rolled it back, and put on the nightstand, before I promptly collapsed onto the bed.
 
I’ll deal with that when I’m awake.
		
> Startin' Out
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The moon had already taken over the sky when I woke up from my slumber, and belatedly, I realized that somepony—probably Silver—had moved me up into a more comfortable position. It took awhile for the grogginess to go away while the soreness lingered still, but when it did, I winced. Memories of that morning suged into my mind. Idly, I tried to remember the last time I had done something as reckless as this morning. Two years ago, my mind provided, shortly after Sunset had spirited herself away, when Canterlot's crown-funded orphanage was set ablaze by a few misbehaving orphans who seemed really eager to find why adults usually say, "Don't play with fire."

Thankfully, I had escaped the damned burning place with my body mostly intact, four foals on my back, and the best doctors the Crown could get, courtesy of my only known and favorite Aunt.

My neck gave a series of satisfying cracks as I turned it to the side, and turned it to another side for another series of satisfying—if sounding unhealthy—cracks. My eyes stopped suddenly upon the scroll casually lounging on top of the bedside table. I licked my dried up licks, smacking them against each other as I levitated the scroll to me.

Unrolling the scroll, my eyes skimmed through the words. I blinked, and then I re-skimmed the words to make sure I was reading it right. And then again to make sure I was entirely sure the darkness of my room wasn’t playing anything with my eyes. Then, after what felt like minutes, the scroll unceremoniously dropped from my magic and fluttered to the ground.

Slowly, despite my protesting leg, I introduced the bottom of my hoof to my face. “Oh Celestia,” I groaned pitifully.

The hoof kept there as I thought about the choices I was given, partly because moving it was already a pain. Ponyville, Detrot... or Canterlot. The last one wasn’t in Ladder’s recommendation, but they’re just that, recommendation. Unlike the two choices he had offered me earlier in the morning, I could take the third choice, or the fourth, and so on.

The first that came to mind was Detrot. My heart wanted to say no, and my mind most definitely agreed with it. Perhaps twenty years ago, but now? Not only was the city’s filled with criminals of all sorts, it’s already a few knocks away from complete bankruptcy; staying there would be like setting up a house in the center of a volcano. That’s not even counting the monsters; if Canterlot, where Princess Celestia herself live was infested with monsters—if my guess was right—then what would be of Detrot? Even then, I doubted Celestia would let me go stay in the most dangerous city without some questions I couldn’t answer.

Tartarus, I’d even sooner be shanked in some dark alley by some money-grubbing swine, have my organs stolen, and sold to the black market—thus, fulfilling my foalhood dream of being in many places at once—before I’d even get the whole Cerberus business started.

But then, I licked my drying lips. I could use that as an advantage. I didn’t know much about economy, that’s Silver’s thing. But I knew I had plenty of money, money that if used correctly, could possibly return Detrot into its former glory, and ensure me to be at the top of it. Then there’s also the recruitment matter. Ponyville would be hard, while Canterlot would be... risky.

My mind switched to Canterlot, the city I had spent most of my life in. There’s a reason why Ladder didn’t recommend it, and I knew why: Princess Celestia. But it was home, and it was my birthplace. I was sure that if I told Auntie everything, she would understand, and I seriously pondered on that before Ladder’s words from the morning rang to mind. 

Without Cerberus, ponies would die. Or there will be a certain doom knocking right at the gate.

With a grimace, I began to weigh the advantages and disadvantages of staying in Canterlot. There’s the double edged sword: Auntie Tia. I would be safe in here, right under the wings of the most fearsome being alive. But that would be all down to ashes if she knew what I was doing in the shadow.

Then there’s the game of Intrigue in the court, of trying to scrounge up favors, of trying to push a pony off a metaphorical cliff, or putting said pony into a literal jail cell. A game of which I excelled in. A game that which could break the masquerade that I had been made aware of yesterday. Or perhaps destroy Cerberus before it even started?

Then there's the monsters walking on the cobbled stone streets as if they owned it. Or hiding in alleys like the parasites they were. The urge to clean my home city was there, but I pushed it away in favor of keeping my head on track.

Ponyville. I didn’t know much about it, other than that it’s a new backwater farming town, set up beside the infamously chaotic and filled to the brim with flesh eating creatures—and plants—Everfree Forest. I dearly hoped whoever had that great idea was currently staying in Tartarus. I’d be honestly surprised if they have a proper plumbing. Or know what plumbing is.

But Ponyville was a new small town. The chance of monsters infesting said town was low, and it would be the perfect place to stay quiet, safe and in peace. That was why Ladder recommended the town to me. And even if there were monsters, they were either benign, or easily exterminated.

Of course, I could follow grandfather’s footsteps and go to Trottingham passed my mind, but it was viciously cut down as I remembered the city’s well known drink. And I knew for a fact that teas are the drinks of the uncultured. I wasn’t going to associate myself with those uncultured anytime soon.

I sighed, slowly returning the hoof back to my side. There’s a small sting on my face, but I’d been given worse by Father. “I suppose I could decide that for later,” I murmured, before turning my mind to the next matter.

Advisors.

“Well,” I muttered, licking my dry lips. “I think I just have the stallion...” I trailed off, frowning. “I hope he would take it.”

I opened my eyes, took in every air I could get into my lungs, and shrieked, “Silver Tray, come here! I need help!”

 The effect was immediate. Too immediate for my own health as it was not even five seconds, before I yelped, jumping up despite the pain as the door to my room was slammed open with such ferocity that I thought its hinges were snapped right off to reveal the stallion I had called.

For a moment, I thought I saw red, but I stored it away a trick of the light as I tried to sooth my frantically beating heart with Cadance’s surprisingly effective breathing technique while rubbing my chest.

“Sir?” He asked, his eyes equally wide as mine—if by a different cause—and his usually cared mane was bedraggled and messy, fringes of it obstructed parts of his eyes. “Are you okay?”

I took a gulp of air. “I think.” I answered, before shaking my head at him. “What is wrong with you?”

He blinked, stared at me, then at my bed, then back at me. Slowly, his hoof rose to point at me, “So you’re not in danger?” He dumbly asked.

Mentally twitching my eyes at having my question ignored, I cocked my head to the side, quirking an eyebrow at him. “What makes you think so?”
 
He opened his mouth to probably say something, before he clamped it shut. Shaking his head with a sigh, he said, “

I huffed in irritation. “Be that as it may, you nearly gave me heart attack, Silver. Be careful next time.”

He closed his eyes, and then opened it them, bowing his head to me. “I apologize, Sir, I’ll be more careful next time you scream for help.”

“Apology accepted.” I nodded is satisfaction, despite the fact that it was my own fault. He probably knew that I knew that I knew he knew. Not that he would say it out loud; he’s too disciplined for that. “Now close the door. I want to...” I paused, gulping. “Need to tell you something important.”

It was a miniscule movement, but I could see his brow twitched in askance, before he clicked the door shut with his magic. “What is it, Sir?”

Keeping a lid over my nervousness, I used my magic to procure the crumpled, dirtied, and folded scroll from the earlier morning from the slip of my tuxedo. It floated just right before me, almost taunting me as I regarded it with a mask of indifference. Slowly, it floated away from me and to Silver.

He gave me another eyebrow, this time not even bothering it. Seeing my severe look, he kept his mouth shut as always and took the scroll with his magic just as I released my magic, and unrolled it.

It would’ve been amusing, I supposed, seeing myriads of emotions passed by Silver’s usually calm countenance if the result wouldn’t affect me in a disastrous manner. It was at first a mix of surprise and confusion, but those eventually gave to shock as his eyes went down, and shock finally evolved—or devolved—into something near to catatonic, but not there yet. Still, as worrying as it was, it was still amusing in some way.

“Are you okay, Silver?”

His head snapped up with an audible popping sound from his neck, he flinched slightly as his hoof shot up to rub his neck. “I’m alright, Sir,” he said, his tone the exactly opposite of what he was saying. He glanced up to me, curious. “And what do you want me to do about this, Sir?”

Smiling lightly, I released a satisfied groan as I shifted onto my belly to face him. The scroll I had received from Ladder levitated itself from the floor, and to my wary butler. “Read that.” I told him.

He did so quickly, his eyes traveled from words to words until he reached till the end. Looking up, he scrunched his face slightly, perhaps when he was younger, it would’ve been the dream of all mares. “I still don’t get it, Sir.”

I had a suspicion that he already did know where I was going, but it didn’t matter much. At the time, I was simply hoping that his loyalty to Father, ergo to my family, and by proxy, to me would be strong enough for him to accept my offer. I exhaled a breath from my nose. “I trust you, Silver. You at least acknowledge that, right?”

Slowly, almost warily, he nodded. “Of course, Sir.”

“Would you like be my Steward, Silver?”

He looked surprise for a moment, but the look was gone as he composed himself. He gave a hum, glancing up at me. “And what would you do if I say no?”

I shrugged lightly, staring at the empty wall over his shoulder. Perhaps I should start learning on a Mind-wipe spell. “I’d just have faith that you won’t tell any of this to Auntie Tia.”

He stared at me, and I stared at him back. For a brief moment, I wondered if it was only old stallions that are granted the gift of making those younger than him to feel uncomfortable with just a stare. Even if being stared at aren’t comfortable to begin with. 

Finally, after what felt like an hour of nonstop staring, he gave out a thoughtful hum, and for the first time in years I was under his care, he relaxed his stance; a nostalgic wan smile appeared on his face. “Have your father ever told you how he met me?”

“He found and fed you while you were starving and desperately looking for food?” 

He blinked, the smile turned into amusement. “I suppose he would’ve told you already...” he trailed off, looking around the room until he caught sight of an old cushioned chair before a dusty old desk placed in the corner. “May I...” he trailed, looking at me in askance.

I nodded to his unspoken request.

The chair moved away from its nest with Silver’s magic, and soon, his bottom was sitting comfortably on it. There was a moment of silence as he closed his eyes in that odd serene way old ponies could only do. “Yes,” he finally broke the silence. “That was how he found me there. Crawling and crying in that dark alley, desperate for food as I rocked myself like foal, hoping that somepony would take pity on me, and offer me some of their food. And your father answered my call.” He opened his eyes, and though they were staring at me, I could see them losing in the past. “’Take what you need.’ He had said then, not even caring of my upbringing, nor my nature. And I did. I was so starving that I had almost taken more than what I had needed...” he chuckled at the memory old. “I had thought then he would kill me. Imprison me, perhaps. A stallion of that power could certainly do either without repercussion.” He steeled his gaze to me. “Instead he gave me a job. And call me old fashioned, Lord Blueblood, but I had pledged my loyalty to him ever since. Then to your family,” he cracked a smile, one that was not aimed to the past, but to me, “And by proxy, to you.”

I smiled at him, inwardly questioning some of the wordings he used for his recount. There was something in there that needed a proper context, one that I wasn’t getting, and one that I had to be there in that memory to get it. Still, it wasn’t mind to invade, so I simply stored it into the back of my mind. I was sure it was nothing important—and no doubt personal—if he didn’t want to share it.

I quickly crushed the growing sense of relief inside me. He hadn’t said yes. Something I had learned too early in the game of intrigues and politics, you have to wait until the end, before you could decide what and how to response. “So...” I trailed, looking at him expectantly.

He nodded with a grin. “I’ll be honored to be your Steward.”

A great wave of relief washed over me, and I released a sigh that conveyed so. “I appreciate your decision, Silver.” I nodded at him, one he responded back accordingly. Taking a quick breath, I wiped all of that off my face. “Now, let’s go straight onto another matter—“

A quiet, humorous chuckle interrupted me mid-sentence. Silver raised a placating hoof up at my glare. “I don’t mean to offend, sir. Forgive this old stallion for his wandering mind.”

My eye twitched, before I returned back with an indifferent cold mask. “As I was saying, let’s head straight to the matter at hoof: My Advisors.” I inclined my head to him. “Do you have any suggestion, Silver?”

“Ditsy.”

I blinked, moments were sacrificed as my mind tried to reboot itself. “I’m sorry, what?”

He grinned, nodding to himself, as if that would make him right. “I recommend Ditsy Doo as your Military Advisor.”

“Are you—“ I paused, closing my eyes as I felt a headache coming. Have I made the wrong choice, promoting him as my Steward? Came directly to mind, has he gone senile? I took a breath, and opened my eyes to glare at him. “Have you gone senile, Silver?”

He shot me a grin not befitting his usual stoic, if irritated, facade. “She saved you, didn’t she?”

I clicked my tongue. “True, but that—“

“She flew three hundreds meter distance in five second, and managed still to save you from a certain death. Which,” he frowned, shooting me a look that made me cringe inwardly. “We will talk about that later.”

Groaning, I rested my head into the embrace of my hooves. “Yes, Silver, she’s a physically powerful Pegasus, but that doesn’t make her—“

Once more, for the third time in less than five minutes, Silver cut me off. “She’s very gifted,” he said in a tone that told no lies and humor. “At both fight—“ he coughed, cutting himself off. “I mean, at self defense and tactics.”

I looked up from my hooves, staring at the back-to-stoic face of Silver with a suspicious look. “And how do you even know that?”

A twitch on the corner of his lips, but it was gone immediately. “I told you I’m a very old fashioned stallion, Sir.”

I sighed. It was in that point of my life; I realized that I was beginning to despise cryptic and senile old stallions. “What’s her cutie mark?”

He frowned, an unsure look flashed on his eyes. “I’m not sure, sir.” He shrugged. “It’s a picture of bubbles.”

“Bubbles?”

He nodded. “Soap bubbles.”

I sighed, feeling tired despite my early rest. “And you think she would be a good Military Advisor, counting that she even agrees on such offer, Silver?”

“Absolutely, sir.” He answered with a voice of utmost surety. 

“I’ll keep that in mind, Silver.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

I rolled my neck, groaning at the cracking sounds it produced. “Now, let’s move on to the other departments. Any thoughts?”

“You could be your own Spymaster, Sir.” He suggested, a hint of smile appearing on his face. “You’re excellent in it. Just like your father. Or maybe a Diplomat?” the smile stretched, and I felt a shudder crawl onto my spine as he said his next words, “I hear you are quite good with your tongue.”

I shot him a glare. “Do not ever do that again, Silver. It’s disturbing.” I sighed, massaging the temple of my head. “And I’m thinking of Class Ladder as my Spymaster.”

He gave me a dubious look. “Do you even trust him, Sir?”

I snorted in derision, shooting an offended look. “No. Dear me, of course not, I just met him for... what, thirty minutes?” I ignored the odd look he gave me. “I don’t survive until today with my status and pride intact for being a fool, Silver.” Again, I ignored the odd mixed with deadpan look he gave me. I paused as I thought on what I had just said. “But do check for a geass or dark magic on me if that do happen. Anyway,” I inwardly shook my head. “It’s simply because he’s more experienced than I am.”

“Experience wouldn’t help if you couldn’t trust him yourself, Sir.” He pointed, before he remembered something, “And I’ll make a note to check a geass or dark magic on you in case you’re acting out of character.”

“True.” I nodded in agreement. “But I have a feeling he would bring more than just experience to the table.”

He sighed, before shrugging. “I suppose it depends on your decision, Sir.”

“Yes,” I smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. One that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “I suppose it is.”

There was a moment of pleasant silence as we stared at empty air. “Sir?” I looked up from the floor to him. A worried and uncomfortable looked plastered on his face. “What about the maids, sir?”

I cocked an eyebrow. “What about them?”

“Well,” he shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll need every hoof you could get.”

I found myself once again in an agreement with him. Still, as I frowned, I couldn’t help but to think of the dangers inflicted upon them if I told them this. I may be a noble who looked down upon lower ranks, but I wasn’t going to inflict danger to them because of my own problem. Quite hypocritical, I realized, since I had done the same to Silver Tray, and possibly Ditsy, if I found her to be agreeable as my Military Advisor. 

“Do you think they’d agree, Silver?” I asked, frowning in thought of the wisdom in informing my maids. “And in the case they won’t, will they keep their mouths shut?”

“To answer your first question,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “I honestly have no idea. It’s up to them, as it was up to me to be your accomplice in crime.” He said the last part with a wry smile, before schooling it back to normal. “But to your second?” he smiled enigmatically, furthering my hate for old enigmatic stallions. “I’m sure they will.”

Sighing, I rubbed the spot just under my horn. There’s a time I envy those without horn, and that was the time. “If you think it’s a good idea, we’ll do it in the morning; might as well ask Ditsy if she wants to work with me.”

He tilted his head into a small curt bow. “I’ll prepare them in the dining room.”

“Good.” I said, about to dismiss him, before I remembered something. Pulling my nightstand’s drawer, a sheet of paper, a red feathered quill, and a half-full ink jar floated out, and I quietly wrote on the piece of paper.

This is Blueblood. Interview. Give me time and place. 

Satisfied with the curt message, I folded it into a tiny white square. Silver eyed it inquisitively as I floated it to him. “Send this to Class Ladder as soon as possible.”

The aura around the paper changed into green as Silver took it. “Anything, sir?”

I shook my head. “No, that’s it. You’re dismissed.”

Graciously, he stepped down from the chair, and gave me a curt bow. “Have a wonderful night, My Lord.” With that said, he opened the door, exited, and closed it back with a click.

I sighed, shifting until I was in a comfortable position. A few minutes passed as I stared at the ceiling, wondering what I was really going to do. In the end, I just sighed, and closed my eyes. When sleep didn’t come—I suppose eleven hours of sleep would do that to you—I rolled off my bed, and stretched my limbs with the grace of a feline.

Pops and cracks from my bones made a sound mixed with a groan and a sigh escape from my lips. Doing a bit more stretching for the good of my limbs, I left the room. The corridor outside my chamber was quiet and dark as it always would in the night, the red carpet barely visible from my eyes as my hooves created soft thumping sounds with every step I took. Not that I cared. I already knew the halls and shortcuts of the mansion through the back of my head, and even if I did get lost, there was always my Cutie Mark ready to guide me wherever I need. Or was needed.

With silence—aside from my steps— and the dim lights of the moon seeping through the cracks of the blue-curtained windows, my mind was a flurry of questions. What would happen after this? Well, obviously, I would need to look for the rest of my advisors; but what then? Would I be good enough to lead Cerberus? Would I be good enough to lead in the first place?

This was why I hated responsibility. They’re heavy. Too heavy. Weighing down a pony until he or she would buckle down, or continue on until the weight would simply be too much to bear, and cause the pony to be much worser than if she or he were to give up earlier.

believing Ladder’s words—, giving up under the weight right now would be the worst case scenario possible. Or at least, until another worst case scenario would procure itself in place of the previously worst case scenario. I didn’t know how Equestria falling into chaos, turning into a monsters’ food den would be worse, but I knew there’s one out there.

I knew, and believed—and still do—, back then, I wasn’t the greatest example of a pony. If given the chance, I would and still would imprison Fancy Pants under false charge, and maybe even that nightmarish thought of taking another’s life I usually would have during a duel with an uppity noble. But I knew I was no monster. I wasn’t going to let my home, Equestria, to fall into chaos simply because I didn’t want to bear the responsibility. Even if it meant betraying Auntie herself, and making me into a fugitive, I wouldn’t let Equestria fall because of my selfishness.

Maybe I’m too hard on myself, a thought popped up, but I shook it away with another thought, or maybe I’m not too hard on myself.

That would’ve be what Father would say if he hadn’t been spirited away. Then again, if he was still with me, I doubted that I would be the one forced to head Cerberus. 

A soft clattering and shuffling sound stopped me from my aimless wandering. Looking to the source, I belatedly realized I was standing before the dining room’s door; a dim fading light filtering out from under the door’s crevice.

Scrunching my brows in confusion, and muscles tensing in case for an unwelcome guest sneaking in my mansion, I quietly cracked open the entry, and slipped in with the grace of a feline; which would’ve been a better metaphor if I had padded my hooves for this occasion. Thankfully, even with the quiet clacks of my hooves against the marble floor, the shuffling didn’t stop.

The dining room was empty, and dark. But not so dark, as my eyes trailed onto the bright lights filtering out under the kitchen’s door. Long silhouette of shadows played on it, dancing as whoever was behind the door moved around. 

This day just gets better and better, I bitterly thought, holding the urge to sigh. 

Lifting up the silver knife that the maids were too lazy to clean from the table, I crouched low and crawled towards the door. The silhouette stopped suddenly, and I stopped along with it, my breath caught in my throat, and my eyes stilled. A moment passed, and then a minute, before the shadow moved like it had never stopped before. 

I heaved a mental sigh of relief, and started moving again. As I grew closer to the door, I realized the clattering sound from earlier had never stopped, but rather, went subdued. A new sound entered the fray; glasses and metal clinked against each other to create that chaotic mess of symphony. From the corner of my eyes, I saw the curtain of the window moved, and I froze.

I waited, stared, before sagging with relief as the curtain billowed once more to reveal an open window. Whoever was inside the kitchen, he or she must’ve used it to get inside. Staring at it, I pondered when the last time we had a case of robbery. Two years ago, if I remembered right, the stallion was quickly apprehended by Silver and locked into the jail for who knows how long. 

Shaking the irrelevant thought away, I returned back to the door, watching as the light intermingled with the shadow. Or maybe the window is a distraction. Moving forward, the hooves froze as I heard the sound of... whistling from inside.

I scrunched my brows. What kind of a mansion robber would make this noise of a sound? Granted, my room was far away from the kitchen, but surely, the robber wasn’t that stupid to make such mistake. Storing it away as, ‘yes, the robber could be that stupid to make such mistake’, I made my move towards the door; eyes twitching as I heard the telltale sizzling sound of something being pan-fried.

Now this is just insulting.

Not bothering to hide my flaring nose, I cocked my hoof and punched the door open. An earth-booming noise blared as the back of the door hit the wall; bright lights poured out, causing me to wince momentarily, but the voice of a startled mare forced me to squint through my eyes, and snapped to the mare that had invaded my mansion.

Blue eyes met unfocused yellow eyes. We stared in silence, unblinking, the anger from earlier faded into disbelief, and the shock in her eyes turned into sheepish. On top of countertop jutting in the middle of the room, I saw piles and piles of various ingredient being stacked upon, creating a veritable tower of vegetables and fruits, swaying back and forth as if pondering whether it should fall over to the stove and cause a massive fire, or to the floor and cause a harmless mess.

Ditsy was the first to break the awkward, if tense, silence. “It’s not what it looks like!” She squeaked, offering a sheepish smile on her face as she nervously brushed a lock of her messy mane away; her eyes wandering to the opposite of the other.

I noted, in the back of my head, she wasn’t wearing the required maid uniform, or anything. Which was fine; the mass rippling muscle beneath her skin, and the bubble cutie marks confirmed Silver’s words. And for a mare beneath my status, she was quite cute without the uniform. I would never understand why ponies find mares—or stallions—dressed in outfits would be more attractive.

I flared a huff, glancing at the floating silver knife, before placing it gently to the countertop. “Then do explain what it looks like, Ditsy.”

She fidgeted nervously, before stepping aside to show a batter of something being cooked on a fire pan, sizzling from the oil. “I’m hungry?” she answered tentatively.

The bemused stare I gave made her fidget more. And I admit, even if I’d deny it, it granted me some sense of amusement despite the mentally tiring day. I pointed a hoof at the swaying tower of ingredients. “And what about that?”

She cringed, her right hoof rubbing the other. “I’m very, very hungry?” She answered nervously. It was less of an answer and more of an uncertain question.

I sighed tiredly. I briefly entertained the idea of throwing my hooves up, but threw that into the mental bin as it was probably more tiring than its worth. Grabbing a stool from the corner of the kitchen, I walked next to the countertop and took a sit, and promptly dropped my face, letting the cold marble surface to wrap my face despite the veritable food tower beside my head.

There was a moment of awkward silence; the other occupant of the room didn’t seem to be volunteering anytime soon to break it. Raising my head, I stared at the top of the food tower, and carefully levitated the one on the top to my level.

It was a roll of green asparagus. I hate asparagus. Not that I cared as I took one away from its friends, and munched loudly on it. The stalk of the green vegetable ended faster than I had liked, so I took another and munched on it as equally loud as the previous one and munching on another stalk after I finished the previous stalk.

As the cycle continued on, I was a pot of boiling self-deprecation, embarrassed by the conclusion I had pulled earlier. Another part of me reasoned that I shouldn’t be embarrassed, but then another part popped up and explained that I should be embarrassed for trying to reason why I shouldn’t be embarrassed when I should be embarrassed. Then another popped up and reasoned why I shouldn’t be embarrassed because I tried to reason why I shouldn’t be embarrassed over something I shouldn’t be embarrassed, but then another part would pop up again, and told me that I should be incredibly embarrassed for reasoning that I shouldn’t be embarrassed over reasoning I shouldn’t be embarrassed on something that I shouldn’t be embarrassed.

And so, and on the merciless cycle continued.

“Sir?”

I snapped out from the endless cycle with a blink. Belatedly, I realized, I had spirited half of the asparagus into my belly. I looked up, staring at the nervous, yet concerned frown on Ditsy’s face. For some reason, I couldn’t help but think that it looked rather unbefitting on her face.

I sighed. “What is it, Ditsy?”

“Erm...” she fidgeted once more, her right wing twitched, before shifting to a more comfortable rest; her eyes moving here and there without proper coordination. “Do you supper with me, Sir?”

I blinked slowly, glancing at my asparagus, and then at her. I was about to refuse her generous offer, before I was hastily reminded the other alternatives were I to refuse. Staring at the dark, blank ceiling or wandering aimlessly at the halls musing and sulking about my future outcome came to mind. And besides, I figured spending my time to get to know my possible future military advisor would be the more productive activity.

“Yes,” I answered, smiling slightly as I dropped the rest of the asparaguses back to the marble surface. “I would like that, Ditsy.”

She grinned in response, probably pleased with herself. “You’ll like what I’m cooking!” She exclaimed bubbly, before side stepped back to the spot before I caught her red hoofed. Using her wing, she turned the knob until it clicked, and fire was ignited.

I chuckled lightly, my early worries washed away as I watched her rear swayed right and left. The owner of said pair of rumps, unaware of my focus, hummed a soft tune that was accompanied by the sizzling sound of frying pan. “Tell me what you’re cooking first, Ditsy. And maybe I’ll consider it.”  

She giggled. “Pancakes!”

I didn’t respond to that. I certainly didn’t dislike pancakes, but I certainly didn’t like them as well. They’re too sweet, in my opinion, and depending on its ingredients, highly unhealthy, and prone to cause other illness. But I didn’t comment, and simply appreciate Ditsy’s cute swaying behind.

Minutes passed as Ditsy continued to cook her dish; adding more ingredients from the countertop whenever necessary. My eyes wandered away from her rump and to the surrounding. It wasn’t every day I visited the kitchen; most of the time, it involved me half-asleep looking for a cold carton of milk to soothe me back to sleep. 

The room was painted in dull gray metallic color, tinged with few blues here and there. Atop of me, a lamp was dangled by a cord, casting a glaring light at me. There were two large white ice boxes dominated the area on the left—opposite of Ditsy—, accompanied by a metallic door that led to the pantry room. Wooden cabinets storing finely crafted porcelain plates, bowls and a china tea set that had never seen its uses ever since my mother was sent to the asylum were hung on the walls, usually on top of countertops and a dishwasher. Dangling with the hooks nailed down on the cabinets’ edge were sharp cooking utensils; from peeling knife to a butcher knife that I had to shudder upon seeing. Why it was there in the first place, I would never know. 

Ditsy, surprising me for the third time of the day, maneuvered through the mess of a room with the grace of a practiced dueler; whirling around every now and then to add more ingredients, wings stretching to grab many spices resting on the corner of the countertop, and the knife on mouth chopping the chunky ingredients into tiny pieces as her wing took control of the pan. It was a mesmerizing to watch. Briefly, I pondered if she had lied about the pancakes—very doubtful—and instead made a gourmet dish of some sort.

As if she was capable of mind reading, a porcelain plate was served before, and I realized Ditsy had finished whatever it was she was making. She sat on the opposite of the marble table with her own stool, staring eagerly at me like a happy puppy. It probably would’ve been more adorable if her eyes were more focused. As it was, I simply found her amusing.

Chuckling mentally, I looked down to my plates. Pancakes and hay bacons. I felt a smile taking place on my face despite the dread that was forming inside my stomach. Breakfast for dinner? Unhealthy, greasy, fattening, probably too sweet to my own liking, and most definitely detrimental for my wish to pass the night with a good sleep, but I was hungry. Choices choices. In the end, hunger won out. I most certainly was going to feel it the next morning, but that was Future Blueblood’s problem, not the Then Blueblood’s.

It was stupid, but I could be stupid for once in awhile. My morning feat of charging into danger certainly cemented that fact.

Picking up a stray fork, a gray hoof entered my field of view, balancing a bottle of real maple syrup. “Syrup?” Ditsy asked, her voice pleasant as my stomach rumbled in hunger.

“Definitely,” I responded, and Ditsy generously, too generously poured the syrup all over my food. That dying sensible part of me which hoped the hay bacon's’ saltiness would balance out the sweet kneeled to its death. 

The food was practically a sea of syrupy goodness when Ditsy pulled the bottle away to dress her own plate. A small part of me gagged in disgust, but that part was quickly culled as I took a bite of the pancake with my fork.

I grimaced, chewed, trying to ignore the sticky over-sweetness. Definitely going to regret it in the morning. I took a strip of hay bacon, thought up and made by the sick minds in Equestria’s Food Industries. Twenty five years ago, back when it was first invented, ponies wouldn’t even dare touching it, let alone putting it in their mouth. Twenty five years later, it was now the staple breakfast side dish in every house standing on Equestria, or at least the ones that don’t live under a big ginormous rock for the last few decades. 

It was greasy, as per usual. And it was sweet, salty, fatty, gross and delicious. I grimaced once more, but forced it into my throat, and then into my gullet. I shuddered, both in delight and disgust. 

“Anything wrong, Sir?”

I glanced up. Ditsy was wearing a concerned frown, once more unbefitting as before. Maple syrup stained the corner of her lips, ever so slowly crawling to her chin courtesy of gravity. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” I denied, putting another strip of hay bacon right into my mouth, and munched it despite that guilt you usually receive when you treated your body very badly.

Thankfully, Ditsy wasn’t as perceptive as she thought she was and returned to her own plate, practically a pool of sugary syrup, with just a tiny frown. The bottle syrup itself was halfway empty. It costed fifty bits, if I remembered right. Not that I cared. Bits were aplenty in the vault, and Silver took care of it.

Gulping down the mulched up hay bacon, I took a cut of the pancake, and put it into my mouth, and gulped that as well after a good munching. I stared at the daunting plate of sugary goodness, before carefully lay the fork facing down on the plate. Future Blueblood’s problem was going to be Present Blueblood’s, after all. On the corner of my eyes, I saw Ditsy looking up from her plate; her mouth and chin practically a mess of syrup and sticking bits of pancakes and hay bacons. 

“Do—”

I leaned forward to the countertop, and put up my staple charming grin. “Say Ditsy, I’m curious, how did you get into this line of work, anyway?” I not-so-subtly changed the subject.

Ditsy, I realized, was not the most perceptive of pony. Tilting her head to the side, she scrunched her brows in confusion. “What’s a ‘line of work’?”

My right eye twitched. “How do you even live?”

“Well,” she smiled cheerily, and rather proudfully. “By breathing, of course! And good parents!”

“That was rhetorical.” I said flatly. 

She frowned in confusion. “What’s a—”

By Celestia, talking to this mare was frustrating. “Never mind.” I said quickly, clicking my tongue before I forced the charming grin back onto my face. She looked clueless as ever. “What I meant to ask is, how did you get work as a maid?”

She blinked. “Oh.” She blinked again, this time a smile bloomed on her face. “Well, I was looking for a job ever since my sister went away. I got a few here and there, but that’s barely enough for a living. And then, I found a job vacancy looking for a maid, and I thought, ‘Well, why not?’” the emphasis her point, she did a small shrug. “Few days later after I sent out the letter, Silver visited my apartment, and invited me to…” she trailed off, scrunching her face in concentration. That all faded away as she quickly relaxed, and did another shrug. “Somewhere. Then he asked me some questions, and then told me to do some things, before giving me a test, and in the end of the day, he said I was hired!” 

“I… see.” I intoned, nodding slowly at her story. I would need to question Silver on his recruitment method… in the case I remembered it. “You said you have a sister?”

Something in her eyes dimmed, but it was gone almost immediately as she nodded her head. Almost. “Big Sister.” she said, her tone was slightly sullen before she took a pause to munch on her hay bacon. “She left me away seven months ago, said she wanted to do what she was meant to do, and promised me that she would send money and letters to me.” she gulped the hay bacon, her ears splayed on the back of her head. “She didn’t.” then her ears stood up, and her lips curled up. “But I’m sure she’s alright!” despite her uncoordinated eyes, I could see that she didn’t even believe her words. Hopeful, maybe, but not optimistic.

“Ah.” a part of me thought I should stop this line of conversation. Another part was curious. “What’s her name?” I asked, before quickly adding, “Maybe I could ask Silver to search her up.” 

A wanton act of kindness without a string attached. Despite that there was a chance it wouldn’t be fulfilled—as long as my sense of Nobility has not been compromised—, it left quite a strange taste on my lips. The only act of kindness I usually done was the one where I would get the better deal of it, or where I would get something I want. An unusual occasion, but not rare. Most of the times, it was in the form of promised favors. Quite rarely, it was in the form of rare maps; one beyond Equestria, or one long in the past.

 Point is, an act of kindness I did to Ditsy was not something I usually do. The last time I even did something like this was when the now-gone Sunset Shimmer requested a general map of the castle—and perhaps a few secret passages. Even then, it was under the fear she would turn me into a mere scorch mark upon the floor. A needless concern, as it would’ve made Auntie Tia particularly peeved—emphasis on particularly—, but one that should always be kept in mind when facing an overly and unfairly gifted Unicorn.

Ditsy’s eyes sparkled in half-shock and unabashed happiness as she placed both hooves onto the countertop and leaned forward, looking like an excited puppy. “You would really do that?”

I smiled charmingly, crossing my chest with my hoof. “Cross my heart.” I promised. And on second thought, I may be getting something out of this. Favors are as important as they are rare, after all.

Suddenly, she released an odd and excited squealing noise as her wings puffed open, and her fore-hooves moved apart on the countertop in a way that reminded me of a feline. Thankfully, I realized what she was going to do before she did it, and my magic—with a larger effort—returned her back to her seat before she could do anything unruly to my body that would no doubt involve asphyxiation and uncomfortable body contacts.

That kind of thing was only reserved to Auntie, and mares I bedded.

I shot her an annoyed glare, the blue aura surrounding her dissipated as I wove it away. “Don’t.”

A sheepish smile plastered itself onto her face as she furled her wings back on her side. “I promise I won’t do that again, sir.”

I huffed. “I hope you’ll keep that in the future.” I told her, before I hesitantly returned back to my greasy and unhealthy food.

“Yes, sir.” 

Silence, aside from the occasional clink of my fork against the plate, came and made a nest. Absently, I noted the lack of sound from my dinner partner. Glancing at her, I saw a hesitant frown on her face, her eyes moving uncoordinatedly as always. I ignored it in favor of keeping the grimace away from my face. Besides, I expected she was going to say whatever it was on her mind if I waited.

As expected, Ditsy broke the rather awkward silence with a small cough. “Uhm, Sir?”

I looked up; the frown turned upside down, though the hesitation hadn’t been replaced.

“You’re going your promise, right?”

I offered her a small smile. “I always keep my promise, Ditsy. Even ones that I don’t say with a second thought.” Untrue, as I had broken quite a few promises before, and would no doubt continue to do so. Still, the answer seemed to satisfy her if her nod and pleased smile was anything to go by as she returned to her food.

The silence—sans the clinking of Ditsy’s and mine plate—reigned once more, and made a grander nest as we continued to eat our supper. It was a nice, companionable silence, one that was the norm when eating dinner in the same room with somepony you don’t necessarily despise. Soon, after I had forcefully gorge the food down into my gullet, I quickly bid the mare good night and left for my room. Partly because the mare seemed to be staying in the kitchen for some time, and partly because I didn’t want to help her clean up the mess she made.

Sleep, I found, even with the slight sugar rush from the sweet maple syrup, came rather easily when supported with fully belly. I let out a small yawn, and allowed my eyelids to drop. As I waited for sleep to come, a belief of old, one that my mentally sick mother, and mothers of the past told their foals so they wouldn’t be a lazy slob. Don’t sleep after you eat, or you’ll turn into a bull. It was already disproven by slobs and curious scientists, of course, but I couldn’t help but think of that as I was lulled into sleep’s soft embrace.


()_()_()


Maids dressed in their required uniform stood in four lines in from of me, five maids per each line. Their gait was straight, schooled and discipline, just as their facades. In the back of the lines, the few new maids fidgeted ever so slightly, betraying their supposedly calm facade. In front of them stood Ditsy, proudly wearing a new black and white headdress that marked her superiority, and blatantly ignoring the tenseness between the maids with a grin equally as unfocused as her eyes.

It was thirty minutes after another morning of breakfast, a slightly different menu than the every other day as Ditsy flaunted her given rein of the pantry—and ergo, the kitchen—shamelessly, and we were standing in the sideline of the dinner table. One would suspect favoritism on her sudden promotion, but I really couldn’t care less. The mare did her job, and that was all I needed. It would’ve been preferable if we assembled in the courtyard, but I didn’t need—or want—a random ‘wandering’ paparazzi to foil my plan before it even started. 

Beside me, Silver stood vigil, his head high as he inspected the maids one by one. I cleared my throat, and the new maids in the background flinched, whilst the others snapped further to attention. “Good morning, everypony.” I greeted, more out of habit than anything else. 

Ditsy, much to the annoyance of her fellow maids—twitch on the eye, corner of the lips turning down, before returning back to normal—, Silver, and I, replied back with, “Morning, Sir!” just like proper filly in morning class, added with a sloppy salute that would definitely cause a proper guard to weep.

Ignoring her, I let my eyes travel across the maids. “This morning, I have an important offer that I need to inform you maids. What I will say from further on, must not be shared to anypony that is not within this room. Or else.” I watched fifteen of them twitched in nervousness, while two of them gulped. They knew from the second that Silver had told them to line up, there’s something important. Now they knew the severity of it. “Am I to be understood?”

“Yes, Sir!” they, and Ditsy, answered in unison, their eyes—sans Ditsy—straight ahead.

I nodded, acting satisfied. I wouldn’t bet their words on it. They slip too easily. “Good. Now, I’ll make this quick: As of yesterday, I am now traitor of the crown.” Eyes were wide, and almost all maids tripped on their hooves. Those that did quickly stood up to all four. Their legs were trembling, probably thinking of dark thoughts on the crime I had done, and the reasons why I had done so.

Ditsy, the second closest pony to me, simply blinked in surprise, then again in shocked as my words registered her brain.  “Oh.” She intoned.

I chuckled. “Oh, indeed.” I turned sharply to the other maids, causing them to flinch. I could already see their minds imagining on the heinous things I would do to them now that they knew my ‘crime’. “Now, the reason behind my hidden status right now is because of an illegal paramilitary organization, Cerberus, I’ve recently inherited from my grandfather. Now, you must be asking yourself on why I’m telling you this.” I grinned crookedly, partly because of my sense for dramatics. “It’s simple: I want you to be Cerberus’ agents.”

They all gasped, not even bothering to hide their shock—granted, I would’ve probably done the same in their place—their otherwise clean coat paled considerably. From the corner of my eye, I saw Silver’s lips twitched down in disappointment. One of the maid, a pegasus mare in her early twenties, an orange-red coat with a ponytailed auburn mane and tail and golden-brown eyes looked about to protest with her reddening face, and the snarl as she opened her mouth.



Granted, I was already risking the latter by exposing my recently acquired secret to twenty maids. But I was taking Silver’s words about them to heart. Hopefully it wouldn’t stab said heart.

I took a breath for my first recruitment pitch. Silver wouldn’t call it that, but it was what it was, and it won’t be my last. “Before I start, I’ll fill you in on what is Cerberus. Cerberus is a secret organization with the responsibility of one thing and for one thing only: To protect the ponies of Equestria from any supernatural danger.” That gained some vestiges of color back into them; I suppose knowing that your boss is not working on a terrorist group would do that. I cleared my throat, gaining back their attention. “Now, being an agent of Cerberus will not be easy nor will it be safe. You will be trained by the best—”if I have any say in it”—to defend yourself, to protect others, and to exterminate or stop threats to the innocent ponies. It will be dangerous. Even if I hope otherwise, once you’re in, you will be risking your life.” not a few of them gulped audibly. Now was the time for the good news. For them, at least. Not so much for Silver. 

“As such, for those volunteering, you will receive an increased amount of salary per month, all of your living expenses, including taxes and insurances, will be taken care of by Cerberus.” few maids looked interested, Ditsy—for once—looked surprised and somewhat allured, while Silver flinched. Not that I could blame him. Working as my maid already got them enough bits per monthly was enough to feed a family of four for two months, more if they’re feeling a bit conservative. “Before you make your choice, is there any question?”

One hoof among the nineteen ponies shot out. She was a young lilac mare, probably new in the job. She fidgeted from side to side, not even bothering to look at me properly, and definitely trying to make herself small despite the attention she had gathered herself. “Sir, what if I don’t want to join Cerberus?”

I smiled. That was the question I was hoping somepony would ask. “Like I said, I won’t force you to join Cerberus. I will give you two choices to pick; the first is to continue your work as normal. Forget this ever happens. The second, you can put a resignation letter to Silver, and you’ll be given a hefty amount of bits in hope you’d stay silent about this meeting.” Some of the mares looked interested with the second choice. My next words destroyed that interest, “And you’ll also be observed daily to ensure you will not speak any of this to anypony. Any further questions?”

I waited for a minute; no hoof was raised, though the mares did look nervous. I waited for another two minutes just to be sure, and I took slight enjoyment as the mares grew frantic under my still stance, and wandering eyes. Ditsy, I noted, stayed calm as always. A tad creepy, but not unexpected. She was more than odd, if last night was any sign. 

“No?” they shook their head collectively, and I grinned. “Great. Now, any of you who doesn’t want to join for Cerberus may leave now, and continue work as usual. And don’t forget, don’t speak any of this to anypony unrelated.”

Their heads—excluding Ditsy’s—snapped towards the butler by my side, and then shuddered, before nodding fervently. Whatever it was that Silver had done to make them do that, it was something that reminded me of our last night’s conversation. I had the oddest feeling the maids won’t be speaking any words about this anytime soon. If ever.

Quickly, quicker than what had expected, maids trickled and shuffled out of the room. Twenty, fifteen, thirteen, ten. They remained for a minute, looking rightfully indecisive, before they too shuffled out of the room. From ten, the maids were reduced to eight. Six stood still, seemingly decided of their choice, while the two looked at each other, bit their lips, before they too, shuffled out of the room. And six mares remained in the room.

Despite the decisive look on their faces, I waited for a few minutes. Partly to make sure if they’d change their mind or not, and partly to inspect who were left. 

One was Ditsy, never moving from her spot, and never changing that bubbly expression on her face. It was a tad alarming that she didn’t react to my recently gifted and unwelcomed responsibility beyond a blink, a curt look of surprise, and an equally curt but expressive ‘Oh’. Even if I knew she wasn’t exactly normal since last night, it still made my paranoia twitch here and there.

Among five other mares, two of them were new. One was the orange mare that was going to protest earlier; she smiled nervously upon meeting my gaze, before her eyes found Ditsy’s behind was more interesting than my eyes. The next to her, new as well, was a milky tanned brown mane, with a straight and uncared pitch black mane and tail. Her dark brown eyes were straight forward as her tail flicked left and right in a sign of nervousness.

The other three were more of the older maids. If I trusted my memory, they had worked under me—Silver, to be accurate—for four or three years. The first was a Unicorn mare supporting a pair of bright green limestone eyes, a yellow daffodil coat with a sea blue long wavy mane that fell over her shoulders. The other two were more distinct than the latter. Earth Ponies, their eyes were blue, lotus pink and light blue alternated between the two of them as a well cared, well brushed, and well coated coat and mane.

Twins, I thought, and not bad looking either. Then I blinked in mild surprise. How in Tartarus have I not notice them before?

The question bugged me more than it should. I rarely associate myself with maids; Tartarus, the only maid here that I recognize and had a proper conversation with was Ditsy. But I should’ve noticed that there were two beauties—regardless of race— under Silver. And even if I myself never indulged my need on real maids—barring that night which left me quite disgusted of myself the next morning—, I should’ve still noticed the twins. 

Which left me another big question. How do I know they’ve worked here for three years?

There were holes in my memory, I quickly realized. They were all small holes; tidbits and trivias in my life that I had deemed unimportant. No big holes, a relief. I glanced at Silver, standing as relaxed as he could when not in private with that perpetual dignified frown of his. He knew something, I was sure, or perhaps he didn’t, but somepony out there do. 

I bit my lips from breaking my cold facade and returned back to the three mares, storing the rather disturbing revelation into the deep recess of my mind. The first copying Silver’s expression, while the twins had a small smirk playing on their lips. Still, there were still signs of nervousness over here and there—an eye shifted, ears twitched, and jaws tightened. Obviously, working for the Blood family for more than a year must’ve done something to their ‘surprise’ response, especially when you happen to be witness of the Princess occasionally visiting purely for fun, giggles, and perhaps an evening of cuddling—which was Auntie’s request, and most certainly wasn’t mine—would do that for the common ponies.

“Well,” I tapped my hoof to the floor, cocking an eyebrow at the five. Six, if you counted Ditsy, but I had a feeling she would be staying. “Anypony wants to change their mind?”

They certainly looked like they wanted to. Even the smirks on the twins faltered as if having a second thought, but that was all banished quickly as they, along with the four others—including Ditsy—shook their head collectively.

Inwardly, I smiled. Six. That wasn’t much, but that was more than what I had expected, which was none at all. Silver’s frown twitched upwards, but it returned immediately to a frown. I nodded. “Good. Thank you.” Ignoring the slightly stunned looks from five mares and one stallion, I glanced at the clock. An hour before the Morning Court officially started. “In the meantime, since Cerberus has not started yet, you six can return to your maidly duty, or ask Silver for further information.” I turned around, walking to the door. I paused when I had the door open halfway, and I looked over my shoulder. “I’ll be in my room. Silver, prepare the carriage and call me in thirty minutes.”

With that said, I exited the room, and closed it with a click. Before promptly pressed my back to the door. My hooves trembled slightly, and I was glad that the hall was bereft of ponies. I felt sick, perhaps a bit more than guilty. Who wouldn’t? I had just turned twenty ponies into my accomplices in crime, even if six of them were the only one that could be considered as one. 

I was a hypocrite, I knew. But Silver Tray, and those twenty ponies were different. I trusted Silver Tray, and I probably wouldn’t be what I am today without him. He practically raised me, after all, even if most hours were spent with Auntie Tia, and other nobles I was forced to deal with at young age. I barely knew those twenty mares.

Celestia would understand, I tried to convince myself. She would, truly. But even she couldn’t bat a blind eye at the law. She couldn’t just pardon me, nor she could with the twenty mares. Perhaps the fourteen, but definitely not the six, and the others I would no doubt get to work either with or under me. Exile was probably my best bet.



I was only slightly aware of the maids bowing their heads to me, before stumbling away as I passed them. The door to my room opened without any problem with my magic, before closing it from inside. I was about to head for the bathroom, and hurriedly so, as my stomach churned, before my eyes spied the little slip of paper on my nightstand.

Perhaps if I was less ill, I would be more concerned by the fact that a slip of paper just happened to be in my room. But I already had the feeling who it was from, and I felt a dreadful thought that this would become a regular occurrence.

Picking it up with my magic, I read it, and tore it to pieces as I practically flew into the bathroom.

Today. 3:30 PM, in the seventh alley of the seventh block in Lunar Street. The bar with dancing bats.



()_()_()


"Sir, are you okay?"

I blinked out of my harmless daydream of framing Fancy Pants from a crime he had never done and put to rot in the Canterlot dungeon and looked up at my maid. “I’m fine.” I waved her concern. “Just thinking.”

“Oh.” she quietly went back to whatever she was doing, which just involved nervously fiddling with her hooves. 

The mare was familiar, one that I recognized almost immediately the moment she shyly set herself up on the opposite seat. Immaculate, if slightly sweaty, orange-red coat and an auburn mane tied in ponytail that seemed to be hastily groomed. Her golden-brown eyes shifted up to me, offered me a shaky smile, and returned to her hoof twiddling. From my position, leaning to the side of the carriage, with my hoof propped against the window to support my head, I could see the slightest hint of her cutie mark from under her skirt. Something white and green.

“What’s your name?” I asked suddenly. Considering she was going to directly work for me, and the slightest of insubordination could threaten my life, it seemed proper knowing her name.

“Huh?” She looked up to me, startled. And then blinked once she registered my question. “Oh! My name’s Cloud Buster, sir. You can call me just Cloud.” she offered her hoof to me.

Sounds like a wrestler’s name, came to mind immediately, though I kept that locked away from my mouth. Mares rarely find it amusing when you compare them to a crude form of sport, regardless of the crudeness of said mare itself. 

My eyes trailed to the offered hoof, and then back at her with a bemused brow raised. I admit I took a slight amusement as the genuine smile on her face faltered, becoming more and more forced as seconds passed, and her hoof shook as if debating whether she should drop it or not.

Not a great start on acquiring friends, I admit, or loyal servants. But in that time, even though the weight of my new duty had partly settled comfortably on my shoulders, I still hadn’t learned that I’d need to be an actually good leader. Or boss.

Still, I took mercy on the mare, and shook her hoof when she was about to drop it with a flash of annoyance, contempt, and not a small amount of embarrassment on her face.

“Tell me, Cloud,” I said after I finished shaking her hoof, and few moments of stunned silence, of which brought a small smile on my face. “Why do you want to work with Cerberus?” I asked. It was a wandering question, and though I had a guess on why, it’s a nice way to wave away the silence as Silver pulled the carriage towards the Castle.

She blinked, and after few flashes of emotions later of which was composed mainly with variations of irritations, she took took a breath, and schooled her feature. “For the money, of course.” She answered with such conviction that it made me raise an eyebrow in interest.

“Oh? Just that?” 

She nodded. “Just that.”

Curious, I thought, the things that many ponies would do in order to get money. Granted, I never suffered through the woes and throes that the common ponies usually went through. And why would I? My Aunt was the Ruler of Equestria, and my family was the strongest—despite slowly diminishing—and most definitely, the oldest family in the whole Equestria. At least, the only one surviving one despite the many inbreeding that stained my Family Tree. It was probably a miracle that I wasn’t born with any physical or mental deformities that would probably cause my Father to drown me in a bathtub simply out of mercy and shame.

Crossing my hooves, I leaned back to the cushioned back of the seat, and shot the mare a skeptical look. “So you’re simply going to risk your life in the future simply for the bits? Even though being my maid in of itself is probably enough to supply whatever you need for life? Really, just for the bits?”

She glared at me, her ears perked up in a sign of aggression. “And what’s it to ya, anyway, huh?” She snapped out angrily, a familiar accent that I couldn’t pinpoint leaking out of her voice. “What, you think I can’t risk my life for more bits? You think it’s wrong working for your fishy organization just because I need more bits?!”

I narrowed my eyes at her, inwardly rolling them. “I advise you to keep your tone, Miss Cloud Buster.” I said sharply. She flinched, but kept her glare on me. “To answer your first question: Yes, it does concern me when somepony I’m going to work with could spell my doom with a few words.” And yours as well, I didn’t say as I looked out to the window. Ponies were starting to fill up the sidewalk, going out and about for various reasons. Most of which, I had to guess from several odd stallions and mares dressed in various uniforms and suits, to work. “And I never said anything wrong about seeking more bits, for whatever reasons it may be. I am, however, curious about your real reasons. Of course, if you’re not comfortable with sharing—”

“And I’m not.” She abruptly cut me off, and I had to quell the normal urge to fire her directly. Mares or not, it’s still impolite to cut off other pony.

“Then so be it.” I sighed, turning my view back inside and casually leaned my back to the cushioned seat. 

An awkward silence descended upon both of us, and Cloud Buster soon realized the mistake she had just made as her ears drooped to the back of her head, and her eyes widened in terror. A moment passed under my bemused stare, she released an audible gulp and realized the many wonders in the carpeted floor of the carriage, all the while nervously twiddling her hooves and generally fidgeting like a foal about to get whipped by his father because he just broke the established house rules.

“Uhm, Sir, I—”

Whatever she was going to say—probably an apology for her horrendous decision making—was replaced with a startled squeak as the carriage moved to a sudden stop, almost launching the mare careening to me. Of course, being the sensible pony I was, I had learned from previous incidents to always keep a hoof in hold in case of bumpy stops.

I looked out of the window, and there it was, the pride of Canterlot, where the Princess of Equestria lives, the Canterlot Castle. Statues crafted by only the best and most talented sculpturers adorned the open courtyard for all guests to see, while lush bushes and other sorts of plants and trees trimmed in many shapes accompanied them. Walls of ivory marbles and other enchanted materials trailed across the land, twirling and zigzagging, creating convoluted structures, ways, spires, and golden-domed towers that only a mad genius could comprehend. Trailing towards the end of the castle was largest tower of them all, with a large star jutting out of its top, marking it as Auntie’s private chamber; edging at the end of the cliff, yet never teetering.

Until this day, I couldn’t help but ponder how many architects the castle had dragged down into the depths of madness. A lot, if I have to guess.

“Sir, I—”

“Well, we’re here,” I said, cutting whatever it was Cloud Buster was going to say. Foalish, perhaps, but nonetheless satisfying. “Let’s hurry up. The Court is probably already starting by now.”

Which, by the growing line of ponies, common and ‘nobles’ alike, staining the beauty of the courtyard with their uncultured selves. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open and stepped out of the carriage.  Silver was already there by the time my hoof touched the concrete floor, looking a bit tired and bedraggled, but none he couldn’t handle after a couple hours resting in some shade.

After few stretches to limber up my numb and stiff limbs, I started to move towards the gate, and the only sign I knew Cloud Buster was following me was the hoofsteps I could hear behind. The two golden armored guards posted on the gate gave me a hasty salute as I passed them by, walking along the paved road heading towards the mini stairs leading to the castle’s entrance.

As I had previously seen, a long line of ponies had already formed as I reached climbed up the stairs, composing of ponies from different origins. The dominant one, as obvious, was the ‘nobles’ that practically littered Canterlot, regarding each other with disdain as they waited for the line to ever so slowly crawl to a move. The next was the ponies from the bottom level of Canterlot; few wore a cloak that covered almost the entirety of their body, shuffling nervously here and there, and I knew then, as I caught the tip of a dark leathery wing jutting out from their cloak, that those Thestrals were simply there out of a hollow hope. Then the final was the ponies from outside Canterlot—not that I could see any difference—with the usual purpose of asking for help to the princess or other legal matters that’s definitely more important than the usual requests—and sometimes, demands. Though those who did are quickly pacified—of tax reductions for themselves, and increased for the peasants.

On both sides of the large entrance, three stoic guards stood vigilant with their spears held upright. The only thing they could only do right, that. Not on guarding entrances, but pretending to be vigilant and stoic and that anypony around them would be safe. We skirted away from the line and entrance, ignoring the stares I usually receive, and towards the small guarded entry right of the main entrance.

The two guards straightened themselves as we stepped through the entry, right away into a small corridor with the occasional dim lanterns hung on the dull crisscrossing golden and blue patterned wall—

“Hey!”

I turned around and blinked in surprise. Slowly, the bottom my hoof met the surface of my face, sliding down slowly to reveal a frustrated scowl. There, standing beyond the entry was Cloud Buster, glaring at the two guards as they barred her from entering with their worthless spears. Sometimes, I can’t help but wonder if the requirements for signing up for the guards had been lowered or not. They’re not, of course. Few dimwits are bound to get in, and incompetents will get in through one way or another—like the gross tradition of purchasing a commision that many ‘nobles’ alike seemed to be keen on practicing.

Clicking my tongue in irritation, I returned back to the mouth of the entrance and cleared my throat, much to their surprise, if the slight flinch was any sign. “Let her in, you dimwits.” I said sharply. “She’s with me.”

The guards bristled on my insults, but did nothing else as they lifted their spears. Cloud Buster shot both of them a final glare before finally stepping inside, following me from behind as I turned around to the small corridor with the blue and golden stripes crisscrossing against each other, adorned with golden-brown curved motifs, dimly lit by the occasional lanterns.

The walk was quiet, and soon enough, I saw the end of the tunnel. It was also where I heard the voice of a stallion with thick Canterlotian, mixed with Trottish accent shouting.  

“... And this mare here just stood there, and didn’t do anything to stop it from happening!” 

A familiar sigh followed. “Yesterday was a very taxing morning, Count Tally. You can not expect Miss Blossom Cake to stop from simply running away from the chaos.”

“But my new carriage was destroyed! And it wouldn’t have had happened if she did what I told her to do, your Majesty!”

“A carriage is easily replaced, Count Tally.” Somepony, probably by one of the many nobles participating the Court, snidely sniped in. “Something you could easily do, if your proud boastings a few days ago concerning a new business opportunity in Trottingham was any clue. Obviously, there’s an ulterior reason why you are here, blaming this mare for an accident she had no hoof in.”

The court was silent when I finally reached the end of the corridor, allowing me view of a large room that seemed bigger than what the castle actually looked like. Stained glasses were plastered on the walls, depicting the achievement by heroes of the past, and hanging from the sun-painted ceiling—of which had no doubt swallowed many unfortunate painters’ legs—was two crystal chandeliers from the tragic tale of the Crystal Empire that Auntie had told me for one of her many bedtime stories. Interesting as it was, and whether it was real or not, it’s certainly not a story you should regale to a sleepy and impressionable foal, as it left me with quite the nightmare, and a few weeks of skirting away from the dark, and screaming at the shadows.

Set up on both sides of the rooms was a row consisting of twenty luxurious chairs, seated by high-ranking nobles with certain connections, heritage, or excessive amount of money. They—we—were there simply just as the voice of ‘reason, so to speak. The old adage ‘two heads are better than one’ was the principle of what Auntie used. In this case, it was twenty-one heads. They—and I—would give insights only on the court matter—as she already had her own advisors—, insights wherein Auntie could’ve missed. And Auntie would be the one who decides.

I had no doubt most of them were there not for a completely altruistic reason—even I. There’s always an ulterior motive. Auntie knew. We knew she knew. And she knew we knew that she knew. In a way, I could see her the Court Members were created to ‘weaponize’ and to keep an eye on us. Although none of them—especially me—wouldn’t dare to do anything drastic that would bring the scorn of the Sun Princess, we were still a highly-influential ponies, and blunders could always be made. I didn’t even think any of them—us—even had the bone to put a bad name for the Princess.  

Set in the center was two ponies; one’s a Unicorn stallion wearing a vibrant and out-of-season green tuxedo slashed with white over a violet coat and slicked to the back periwinkle mane, stripped with the grey of old age, whom I immediately assumed as Count Tally, glaring at a none-so-subtly smirking noble on the side. Not so near to him was a camel brown mare with a braided copper-brown mane that fell down to her shoulders, and a limp, twitching tail. She looked pitiful, doing her best to make herself tiny, but failing to do so as she kept fidgeting like a colt drenched in a bucket of ice water, and curled into a fetal position from a lack of warmth. Even though nopony—at least ones that have enough common sense and moral—in the court was supporting Count Tally, I had no doubt that didn’t even registered into her uncultured—as most commoners are—and frozen mind.

But as always, disregarding the tense quietness in the room, it was the one sitting on the throne, led up with a small series of stairs that always caught my eyes—and without a doubt, others too. There, Celestia sat patiently on her cushioned throne, tapestries of her symbol hung freely on its sides from the ceiling. A few steps away from the throne, was another two golden-armored guards standing vigil, more for aesthetics—and their stiff ego—than anything else. 

Her expression was that of a mother, one that she usually used in front of public—or when we’re in private, which seemed to be much more genuine—, and one that my mother used to have before she had lost her marbles. I could quite see the slight strain on her smile, a small almost unnoticeable wrinkle on her white face, and the occasional tiny twitches on her eyes. She looked tired. I had no doubt the fallout from yesterday’s disaster played a part in them, and the monotonous Court certainly didn’t help one bit.

Heads were turned as I made myself known as I calmly stepped out of the entrance’s threshold with my head raised, befitting that of a fashionably late noble, and headed onto my own reserved seat, the nearest one to the throne. I had briefly debated of sneaking it, but I deemed it impossible what with having hooves, and my other two servants. As if to confirm that, I could hear Cloud’s hooves loudly clacking against the marble floor despite her effort not to as she nervously followed me.

From the corner of my eyes, I saw a slight twitch on Auntie’s smile, and the relief in her eyes as I sat myself on the luxurious chair that would no doubt cost the common pony a lifestyle to get—it was well worth it, in my opinion. To my right, slightly behind me, my entourage composed of a maid and a butler stood as upright, though I caught the look of dread on Cloud’s face when I tilted my head slightly to the side.

The silence on the court prevailed, Count Tally and most of the nobles staring at me like a frozen doe. Perhaps it was by my sheer audacity of coming in the middle of the court, late, and made myself comfortable as if I wasn’t late. Or perhaps it was my beauty of which enraptured so many old and young mares within the Throne room. Even Blossom Cake, who had then been doing her best impression of a gargoyle had snapped from it, and was staring at me.

I sniffed in disdain, shooting a look of annoyance towards everypony—sans Celestia and my entourage—in the room. “Well, what are you ponies staring on about?” I snapped pompously, as if I hadn’t done an incredible faux paus. “Let’s get this Court starting, shall we?” They all stared at me. Count Tally’s face was taking a particularly interesting shade of red. I clicked my tongue. “Well, what are you waiting for? Chop-chop!”

Not so few nobles in court, including Count Tally, sputtered in indignation. The purple stallion in particular looked about ready to throttle me right then and there—the miniscule twitch of my lips directed to him certainly didn’t help. Though I highly doubted that the stallion was capable of even doing that—it would be a particular boon, however. If he attacked me, then it would be less about Blossom Cake ‘letting’ his carriage destroyed by a fallen debris, and more about me putting Count Tally into the dungeon cell for an indefinite amount of time.

Auntie, sharper and savvier than anypony gives her credit for, shot me a disapproving glance, before clearing her throat, gaining the full attention of court. The motherly smile was already there as always. “Thank you for arriving, late as it is, Blueblood.” She nodded towards me, which I returned in reply. Then her eyes settled onto Count Tally, his color suddenly drained away as Auntie narrowed her eyes at his pitiful body. One would think he would lose his bladder control, if not for the shame it’d bring him. Not that it mattered. “Is what Blue Starch said earlier true, Count Tally?”

Sitting across the room, a blue coated Unicorn stallion garbed in blue suit and an equally blue laurel hat nodded his head with a pleased smile; his hooves resting on the chair’s arms as he twirled his pitifully small moustache. Sitting beside him was a similar looking Unicorn stallion but with red as a theme, openly glaring at Blue Starch. He was called Red Rum, if I remembered right. 

“Of course I’m right—”

“Lies!” Count Tally slammed his hoof down, glaring at Blue Starch with the intensity of a drowned cat. “Do not listen to him, Your Majesty! He speaks only—”

“I do not take kindly being lied to, Count Tally.” Auntie’s sharp voice killed whatever it was in Tally’s throat. 

The colors were sucked out off his coat as his legs buckled under the weight of Auntie’s glare, creating a resounding flopping sound as his fat rump fell to the marble floor. His ears were splayed to the back of his scalp, eyes just a tiny pinprick of blues. For a moment there, I thought—and hoped—that the stallion had let loose his bladder control. At least then, the court would be adjourned immediately.

The silence remained, stretching so long that a tiny itty bit of me almost felt pity to Count Tally. Not a movement was moved, and not a sound was sounded. And even though I knew Auntie wouldn’t do anything drastic, I couldn’t help but fear the worst.

Then she reverted back to the same motherly face that she always took when in public, and the room temperature returned back to normal. “Now, I want you to stay honest with me, Count Tally.” She said good-naturedly. There’s even a tinge of a giggle in her voice, as if she hadn’t just paralysed the whole court with fear. “Is there any other reason why you want me to punish Miss Blossom Cake here, other than her ‘letting’ your carriage destroyed?”

Heads swivelled immediately from Auntie and to the purple stallion shaking in the middle of the room, bullets of sweat poured out off his pores as his lips parted, and then closed again, before repeating the same motion over and over again. At that point, I wouldn’t be surprised if the stallion’s mind was too scrambled that he couldn’t give a proper answer, even if he wanted to. 


“He slept with me!”

I blinked, and then turned towards the source of the sudden confession. Blossom Cake stood defiant despite the tremblings of her hooves, for the first time proving herself to be anything but an inanimate object. Emotions warred on her face, until she finally settled with righteous fury mares are famous on, and determination—small as that one was. 

Auntie’s motherly smile never broke, but there was an almost imperceptible tightening around the corners. “How about you explain from the start, Miss Blossom Cake.”

The mare took a gulp of air, lips quivering as tears streaked from her red-puffy eyes. “I-I’m—”she thinned her lips”—was, one of Count Tally’s maid. O-one of his new one.” she let loose a hiccup, before continuing, “H-he told me I was beautiful, and h-he told me he fell in love with me upon sight. T-that his wife wasn't worth the years he had spent." She took another drag of air through her runny nose, hiccuping along the way. Not a few mares glared at Count Tally with the intensity of a burning star.

A self deprecating smile entered her face as she continued, "A-and I trusted him. I-I like the attention." She gulped, shame replacing her smile as she looked down . "T-that was two years ago. A-and now he just used me for his own pleasure. When the Mistress is away, when I'm cleaning room, when," she gulped again. "I'm asleep." 

Another collective gasp resounded through the court, this time it was aghast instead of scandalized. And I felt my vein turned cold as I directed a glare towards Count Tally.

Despite this, the poor mare continued. "Even when the Mistress is near. A-and I'm ashamed of myself. I knew he didn't truly love me from the beginning, and when I mustered enough courage to tell somepony... I couldn't bring myself to." She hiccupped, using her hoof to wipe her runny nose. "A-a week ago I found I was bearing his foal." No gasps this time. The novelty in of itself had vanished. Even Blue Starch and Red Rum, the always fighting twins, were glaring at Tally in disdain. "Then yesterday happened. And here we are.” She finished with another self-deprecating smile, sniffling as she dropped her rump to the floor. She covered her face with her hooves, before sobs wrecked her body.

“I see, Blossom Cake.” There’s a certain oddness hearing something warm, yet so cold from Auntie. She kept her gaze trained on Tally. “Guards, would you be a dear and escort Miss Blossom Cake here to the Infirmary? Tell the Doctor Liver Pain to do a check-up on her.”

The two Solar Guards standing a few feet away did a quick salute, “Yes, Your Majesty.” And stepped down from the stairs, and gently escorted the crying mare into a door leading into the deeper part of the castle.

Silence reigned for a moment until the trio hoofsteps of Blossom Cake and the guards could not be heard anymore. Then Auntie settled her hard eyes to the trembling, and generally doing a rather perfect impression of a pitiful mutilated cornered rat. Or a colt after a good hour of belting, and a bucket of freezing water dropped on him. 

Of course, Tally's sin was not for talking back to the head of the family, so there was no pity or love given.

"Blueblood?" I blinked at Auntie's sudden call, ears perking up in attention. "What do you suggest should we do to Count Tally?”

I blinked, forcing down a shudder from her tone. I looked up at her, and then gulped. She was serious. For those not in the know, Court Members are never to have the call to decide a case, much less to suggest such a thing. Especially in cases like this. Not only would it ‘threaten’—hah!—Auntie’s authority, but emotions and other motives would surely make the decision making biased.

It spoke a great big deal about Auntie’s trust to me that she would even ask me, the seventeen years old, lazy, slave-driving and hedonistic Blueblood who’d prefer to stay at his mansion and draw maps and call mares to spend the night with had he the option to.

I gulped. My lips felt suddenly dry, and I ran my tongue over them. Long forgotten anxiety came back to me as wide-eyed mares and stallions looked at me; either in shock or excitement. Count Tally was doing the most disgusting and repulsive effort of puppy-eyes expression at me, and I almost opened my mouth to say something I’d probably regret.

Barbaric as it was, beating him up for that transgression sure sounded enticing as the mare I had simply known as Golden Lock.

Celestia, I hated taking responsibility. And making hard choices.

I focused back on Auntie’s request. What would be a fittingly cruel and fair sentence for the scum begging before me? Dungeon for an indefinite amount of time? I shook that thought away. Angry as she was, I doubted Auntie would be that cruel. Or at least I’d think so.

Public flogging? As tempting as that sounded in my head, I even doubted other ponies—sans the ones sick in the head—would even find that appealing. Nor was Auntie that cruel. I think.

Or…

I grinned. It was not a nice grin. “I suggest that we let Count Tally free, Auntie.” 

The ponies blinked, balked at me. Count Tally looked hopeful. And Auntie tilted her head at me with a raised eyebrow which told her curiosity. 

“And why would you suggest that, Blueblood?”

“Well, Auntie,” my eyes traveled amongst the nobles. The ones sitting besides me, and the ones sitting across me. “I am sure that we all here, either through good moral sense or a more personal issue, do not necessarily favor nor support Count Tally over there. And I am sure, if say, Count Tally does leave this castle unpunished… well, scandalous news certainly spread fast in Canterlot, am I not right?” My grin, though I couldn’t see it, I imagined was that of a crooked stallion.

Slowly, a look of realization dawned upon their face, and though it wasn’t something pleasant to stomach, but the same thing could be said with a plate full of greasy hay bacons. It also wasn't particularly fair, but then again, if Count Tally expected fairness, he wouldn't present his problem into this Court. I had heard rumors from foreign visitors and dignitaries; how ponies are soft and naive, and could only rely on the Alicorn who could control the sun. Though the last part was certainly true, I never quite understood on the first two. In my eyes, as I stared at the growing grins shared on their face, and the dawning horror on Count Tally’s countenance, we were definitely worse than the race of flesh-eating bird hybrids.

In the corner of my eyes, I saw Auntie directing a look of concern to me, and I froze up for a quick moment before I crushed that feeling away. That was probably my imagination, right? The look certainly vanished as quickly as it had shown. 

“That’s… very unconventional of you, Blueblood.” I didn’t know whether it was a disturbed or worried tone hidden under her voice. She bit her lips, looking down at the pitiful scum.

“P-please, Your Majesty! I won’t do it again! I promise you!” Tally begged, weeping as he kneeled before her, pressing his expensively polished horned head onto the ground. “I promise!”

She sighed in response. A strange edge entered her smile, something that was condescending yet not actually condescending. Something that was pitying, yet not pitying. “I’m afraid I could not do that, Count Tally.” She shook her head, not sounding she was meaning her words. Or maybe she was, and I just wanted that she didn’t. “While I believe in redemption, and I certainly believe you will repent for what you’ve done, you have done a horrible thing, My Little Pony. Apologies and promises do not fix what has happened to poor Miss Blossom Cake, your wife, and perhaps other maids that Blossom Cake has not told me about. Please escort yourself out of the Castle.”

Count Tally did. And though I wasn’t here when he arrived, I had no doubt he was now a shade of his former self. Hopefully, I would never see his mug again for the entirety of my life. As it was, such a thing was impossible, and I felt a chill that it wasn’t going to be last time I was going to see him. Whether that next time was going to be under a cordial or violent circumstance, I did not know. What I knew was that it wasn’t going to be pleasant.

The rest of the Court went returned back to monotony as hours passed with each noble and peasant coming in and stepping out with a variety of changes on their face, depending on the result of their hearings. Some inane requests were outright rejected, two rare requests of help from cities outside Canterlot regarding infestations and mail blockages, and annoying nonsense disputes between small nobles who think they actually have power and hold.

As it was, the Count Tally fiasco was the only notable thing that these poor sods in the Court could share to their family. There were few short breaks between hearings, where a considerable amount of ponies opted to excuse themselves to lunch outside, or generally walk about without purpose to limber those numb limbs. While I, my entourage, and other remaining ponies opted to stay inside, and ate whatever it was that the Royal Chef had prepared: A pitcher of coffee with a mountain of sugar beside it—of which I immediately disposed of—, bagels procured from Auntie’s favorite bakery, and other assortments of food which figuratively made Cloud Buster dripping wet, and literally creating inappropriate noises, much to my shame, and Silver’s ire.

Oh, there were also requests by the remaining nobles for maps. One of them being a map for the Badland, and the land surrounding it which was filled with those land-freeloading Buffalo encampments. Apparently said noble, Apple Core, had a distant cousin who wanted to build a small town of sort nearby. I feigned interest, asking what it was going to be called, in the rare chance I ever going to visit that deserted part of Equestria: Appleloosa.

I quickly—lest I ended up insulting the stubborn pony via the Apple Clan’s famous inbreeding rumors and inherent retardations—confirmed his request and turned to another noble who was apparently dead set to spend his next holiday yachting to the Bolted Sea with his old friend from school. Apparently, he wanted—almost begged—me to make him a rather detailed map from Germane to the Bolted Sea, including the small islands littered around it.

It was going to take a lot of time, and I would be spending more of my time researching in the Castle’s Library. But I was nothing but the best, and I still had pride of what my Cutie Mark symbolizes. There were other requests, but none of them were worth mentioning, as many mundane things are.

In the end, the day court was dismissed by Princess Celestia with a low note exactly an hour before the interview with my possible colleagues, underlings, or peers in the future. 

“Blueblood?”

I paused from my steps, turning around from the door to face her worried frown. “Yes, Auntie?”

She smiled, just slightly. “Would you mind come with me? There’s something I want to tell… you something. And,” a soft lovely smile. “Perhaps introduce you to my most recent protege.”

I blinked, and then looked at my pair of companions. Buster shrugged, looking slightly bewildered on why I didn’t take Auntie’s invitation immediately, while Silver leaned just slightly to my ear. “You could always send us.”