The night was still, the still of the deeply sleeping, or the newly dead. From Canterlot on its lonely mountain peak, to the Everfree Forest and its shaded trees, to the hamlets and cities and camps in which the innocent even now lay asleep, unaware of what transpired outside of their windows and doors, darkness lay like a heavy blanket. Tonight was a night just like every one before it, and every night that came after it. That was not to say, however, that this was an ordinary night. There was no such thing as an ordinary night, at least not where this story is concerned.
It had been two hundred years since He was freed, two hundred long years since He was brought forth by dint of war and strife and bloody struggle. In short, it had been two hundred years since Chaos had been unleashed upon the magical land of Equestria. Nopony knew of Him, not now. He had faded into the shadow of legend and allegory once more, Helped along by the three Princesses, and the Lady who had originally bartered with him. Now, the name of Discord was a myth, like the Crystal Kingdom, or the Elements of Harmony which had caused him such trouble. They too had perished in that conflict. Their Power lay scattered across the land, to be recalled only when needed the most. They hadn’t been used in concert in all of that time, though He had seen them used in pairs or twos or threes. He stayed away from them. It was a wise policy, or so He thought.
His cloak hid His face well, hiding His features beneath a veil of shadow that was much thicker than it had any right to be. It concealed His eyes, a violent red and yellow, and His ruggedly asymmetrical face, which gave him a certain roguish charm. A goatee, deep black and shot through with silver streaks of age, dangled precariously from His chin. When in thought or contemplating some plot or joke, He tended to stroke it thoughtfully. He did this frequently.
He was clothed in a suit of fine cut and finer material, though it was a bit rumpled, as if it had seen better days. It gleamed softly in the night, though there was no moon to light it in such a fashion. Not even the stars were out tonight. It was perfectly, quietly dark, which suited Him just fine. His hooves picked up their pace ever so slightly as He came over the next rise in the road, cart in tow. It was in no way attached to him, but it followed Him all the same. How else was He to carry all of His things? His bags of tricks and toys, His boxes of miracles and madness, all for sale or trade. Assuming you were able to afford His fees, that was.
He hummed a simple tune as He took in the town below him. It had no name, which bothered Him not a whit. It was just like every other town. It was simple, quiet, and almost commonplace. The only thing different about the town was its fountain, which was in the shape of a trout. He chuckled at that. Why a trout? There was certainly a distinct lack of ocean in this area, and the pond nearby was more decorative than anything. His cart passed into the city limits. He smiled to Himself as He traveled to the center square, near the statue of the trout. It was a perfect place to set up His shop.
The wood of His cart was dark, warped in shape but held together perfectly with a few bits of expert carpentry and elbow grease. Faded paint along the sides gave it an almost disturbing air of cheer, and the calligraphy along the sides was beautiful, though it was so intricate it would have been difficult to read, or indeed to look at it for very long. He had painted it Himself, by hoof. He had built the whole thing by Himself, no magic. That would defeat the purpose of the whole thing, after all.
“Doctor Duello’s Traveling Station!” the sign proclaimed in bright, inviting letters. “Anything Under the Sun, Available at Cost!” He was quite proud of that sign. It was like His services. Inviting, concise, and it promised exactly what was delivered. He sighed, looking out at the still buildings around him. Not even a light burning in a high window. They probably didn’t even lock their doors at night around here. It would be so easy for Him to sneak inside their homes, to do His work as they slept. But then He would be breaking His rules. And He did so enjoy His rules. They made His life so much more interesting.
A swift and silent kick to the cart, and a set of steps folded down on well-oiled hinges, leading to the door on the back of His cart. He placed one hoof on the steps, taking in the town once more before climbing the steps, the door opening of its own accord as He stepped inside the cart. A gas lamp on a nearby shelf flickered into life, revealing the contents of the wagon.
The floor was covered by a carpet, a deep burgundy stained with a few dark patches of wine and something best left unnamed. The air was redolent with the scent of tobacco and incense, which rested in bowls on a nearby table, next to an unlit brazier and a series of quills, pens, calligraphy brushes, and other writing implements. Sheets of parchment lay stacked in haphazard piles on the table, the only halfway neat thing about the room. It was also the most boring part.
The rest of the space was shelves upon shelves upon shelves, all of them packed to bursting with…things. He had made them or collected them or traded for them Himself, over long years. Most of their original owners were dead. Some of them had even died of old age. There were books aplenty, none of them with titles on the covers. There were crystals that gleamed with red and black and purple light, refracting it in strange and menacing patterns along the walls.
Boxes labeled with pictures of dragons and birds and flowers were interspersed with small statuettes and stacks of coins in various denominations, bolts of unidentifiable fabric laying alongside jewelry from cultures that had long ceased to exist and ones that had never existed, skulls carved with strange runes gazed balefully at one another, buried under children’s toys and seeming worthless antiques. All this and more was strewn along these shelves like so much trash. It was all for sale. At cost, of course. Always at cost.
The pony removed His cloak with a sigh, tossing it haphazardly into one corner. He couldn’t use all of His power, not anymore. It was spread far and wide, all across Equestria. He was spread all across Equestria, from the Evening Kingdom to the Celestial Empire and beyond. It was how He knew where He was needed most. And now, He was needed here. He nodded to Himself as He felt the sun and moon spinning in the sky. He had three rules, He reminded Himself.
The first and most important rule. Nopony would be turned away, not even if He hated them. Everypony should have their chance with Him. After all, sowing seeds far and wide meant a better harvest. And He did so look forward to His harvest.
The second rule, and the one He had the most trouble with nowadays, was that He was not allowed to use His magic except in such a fashion as His clients wished him to use it. Of course, He allowed himself to use it in order to entice clients. He had to drum up business for Himself somehow, after all. Some would undoubtedly want some small measure of proof. He was fine with that. He did make sure that it wouldn’t last, but then that was the nature of His bargains. Samples were free. His products, such as they were, lasted forever. No returns, no refunds, and no complaints, thank you very much.
And the third rule. The best one of all, or so He thought. It made things more challenging. One week, that was all He was allowed, and at the end, nopony should be able to suspect Him of anything. He would be completely blameless for the consequences of His gifts. After all, He only satisfied customers’ desires. It was hardly His fault that things got so Chaotic after he was through. And was that really so bad? He certainly didn’t think so. Chaos was interesting, it kept things fresh.
The town slumbered on outside, unaware of who had set up shop in their square, what He was or what He sold. That was just the way He liked it, at least at first. The pony in the wagon smirked as He pored over his supplies, making sure He had just what was needed for the tasks at hoof tomorrow. It was a big day, after all, and there was so very much to do. First impressions and all that.
As the strange, backwards clock on His wall ticked and tocked away the seconds and minutes and hours, the pony prepared Himself. Soon enough, the dark would give way to light, and He would be open for His first day of business. And He would have business, He was sure of it. After all, He provided everything. And didn’t every pony need something? Surely they did, He thought to Himself as He nodded and counted and waited with a fanged smile.
Surely they did.
