The Hasbro Conspiracy

Maghreb Region - 1400s

“Seriously?” My apprentice really surprises me. I can explain the plan over and over again, yet he still cannot retain the simplest instruction. I reiterated.

“The rhythm cannot be in a basic time signature, lest the vibrations misalign with the lunar photoreflection frequency. I know the style is tad ... unorthodox, but you need to think outside the box. Do not think of it as a problem, but more of a … necessity. We cannot simply live in a world of basic four-four child’s play! Indeed, my dear Spines, this is your time to shine! One day, this style will change the very definition of music. Spines, you will be known throughout the ages as the Sultan of Music. The master of what is called... jazz!”

Spines gazed up at me with those beady little eyes of his. “Seriously?” The poor kid seems to only dwell in confusion. Talented with a horn, certainly, but he really needs to focus.

“I will make this simple: just come up with what you can and I will review it later. You can handle that... I trust. You are dismissed.”

My apprentice gave a little nod, and scampered his way down the hall. “And make it funky!” He slapped his forehead; the bugs in this area must still be prevalent. Curious. I thought the sandstorms would have removed them with the flora.

But I am thankful for those same sandstorms. Without their ruin, I would never have been able to acquire the use of this palace from Tirekan so … easily. Tirekan may have wealth and power, but he can be overly trusting. I just scrawl up plans for an astronomy project, and he let’s me have full operation! That old king certainly loves the night. In fairness, however, it is difficult to ponder up any ulterior motive for a scholar transporting a small crew to an abandoned structure. That aside, I count myself fortunate that those sandstorms cleared the path... metaphorically speaking. Though the event did benefit from a little... help.

I made my way through the corridor, intaking the artwork that adorned the walls. Sadly, the coarse rock had deteriorated sections of the finer interior design. Though the calligraphic nature of the pattern was never my artistic preference; personally, I prefer fine equine portraiture, despite conflicting... religious beliefs. And I have reached my destination, colliding with the door in a purposeful manner, as even architecture partakes in the delight of my... handsome visage.

The door opened with a most unsettling creek. As the sun inched toward the horizon, it seemed the structure itself was trying to warn me. Upon unsealing the room, the deathly silence voided the ambiance and exposed an aura of dread and hopelessness. Whatever creatures lay within had never felt the warmth of life, and the reaper so afraid they would never feel the touch of death. As my eyes adjusted to the somber, these premonitions were confirmed. These beings serve an empty purpose, unwavered by eternity.

Bureaucrats.

Nonetheless, they do prove themselves useful dealing in the more … unpleasant work.

“I assume you are all performing … efficiently?” I inquired, knowing well the rhetorically of the question.

“The predicted locations of the selected astronomical bodies will be processed shortly,” the bureaucrats stated. Of course, only one of the five or six uttered the statement, but for all practical purposes they act and think unanimously. Essentially this renders the perception of conversing with one, or more accurately, zero persons.

“Your reply was not exactly the one I … requested?” At least Spines responded in a direct manner. “But nevermind the star charts, I am able to recite heavenly locations by heart.” This is true; excellence is essence, is it not? “I am currently concerned with the more... atmospheric elements. Do we anticipate clear and fair skies this twilight?”

“We have calculated within a small margin of error that there is a nine-hundred thirty-five in a one thousand circumstance that there will be no obstruction of the selected astronomic bodies.” I still ponder whether they speak in turn, or if the order is more... haphazard. “No significant alterations in climate are expected within six and forty-seven hundredths standard hours.”

“If that is the case, this section of the procedure is approved. Most excellent work, gentlemen. Continue to follow protocol.” I began my leave, preparing so my countenance would find it contrasting with my entrance in a more … sympathetic manner.

“We thank you, SCORPANUS.” Okay. This time, they spoke in unison. For such impersonal persons, bureaucrats do know how to disturb one’s innermost sense of security. To remove all grandeur from my beautiful name required an almost impressive and refined ability. Almost. When I appraise the word, I feel “bureaucrat” is overly human for those... entities. There was a more appropriate term the princess once mentioned, amidst all her “jive.” She referred to a mechanical construct of sorts from the far east; an inorganic collective whose purpose is to compute. I must inquire about the term later.

For now, I must make my leave.

I ascended the tower; the diameter of the spire was quite narrow in scope. Echoless were my footsteps, the sound muted by my …physique, unable to resonate against the unkempt interior. I attempted to apply my garment sleeve to shield my breathing from the dust, but space restriction had besmirched it against the wall. Curse this tower! As I coughed my loathing for the architect soared; what fool designs a hidden chamber but fails to give its pathway sufficient proportion? I was relieved when at last I reached the chamber door and ended the ascension’s... remorselessness.

Discounting the elevation, most nearly everything in the room was within the standards of a small parlor. A tad luxurious to be sure, but nothing unexpected of a palace. Imported carpet? Accounted. Gilded chandelier? Of course. Quaint mahogany table and seating, with which one could recline and converse whilst consuming herbal teas and confectionaries? A proper parlor would not be complete without! Though what gave the chamber uniqueness, and confidentiality, was that toward which I now drew my attention. A window.

By its appearance, this window would seem to be ….unexceptional, if not rather mediocre when contrasted with its environment. Indeed, the glass was hastily made with a provincial... semblance. But an innate property bestowed this window a very grand and authentic power, though within a limited timeframe.

Fortunately, I had managed to arrive just in time, as I surmised it would be necessary to consult the princess one final time before the ceremony.

The full moon had followed my ascent, and the window began to refract its luminance. Scattering its beams across the room, the lunar radiance presented itself as the dominant aura; I experienced a rush of power that overtook my being. I clenched my hands, enveloped by a strengthening glow, but it began to consume me, as a blaze does to its fuel. This final safeguard would destroy any who could not fulfill as a proper host, but my ancestors of the northern peninsula discovered the phrase for redirection, to act as conduit.

“Parvum meum CABALLIO! Parvum meum CABALLIO!” I howled in agony as the scorch within was released. But as suddenly as all had become blinding white, it was finished. I was left in an empty, cold stupor, slipping from consciousness as I collapsed toward the floor. But as I fell, I felt a soft glow cushioning my descent. A midnight blue aura had caught me. Her aura had caught me.

With the magical assistance I regained my footing, and as I regained my senses I began to … cognitate... the figure in front of me.

Princess Luna. She relaxed her poise and rested small grin on her face whilst I foolishly reconstituted myself from my dazed state. I flushed a little as I wobbled and flailed to regain my balance, but the princess showed kindness enough through her patience. We stared at one another in a peaceful silence for a short time; though equine, her beauty was more comparable to the loveliness of a lady than the majesty of a mare. The allure of her slender figure was rivaled only by the angelic quality of her wings. A flowing blue mane of nocturne magnificence complemented a soft coat of a darker hue, which in turn gave its charming color to a luxurious and powerful horn. The emblem on her embellished necklace and fetching thighs radiated a supreme royalty, a lunar insignia that has lent itself as the crest of my family. But in this moment I was enticed by her eyes, which had a playful quality, that of youth and vitality, though mature enough to express calmness and serenity. After a lengthy period of stillness, Princess Luna sauntered in my direction, and greeted me with a most melodious voice.

“Sup homeslice! What’s the 411?”

Albeit with some most ... perplexing word choice.