Progress

Orkney was sitting in his small house in Hoofington.  Light streamed in from the window in his sitting room, which afforded him a view of the picturesque street outside.  A few ponies had walked by, on their way to shops, or the cafe, or their homes, or their jobs.  Birds chirped happily and Orkney felt that everything was right with the world.

Hoofington was nestled in the fields to the north of the Unicorn mountain range.  The mountains were so far away that they were just dark monoliths on the horizon.  To the north of Hoofington the train tracks ran from Vanhoover to Canterlot.  All around Hoofington were fields of corn, potatoes, beets, wheat, barley, beans, and every other crop imaginable.

Hoofington was a truly idyllic place, nearly completely untouched by the world and it’s troubles.  Nightmare Moon’s coming had happened far to the south in Ponyville.  Discord’s chaos magics had reached Hoofington, but he had been so focused on Ponyville that he had caused little trouble.  The Changelings primary focus had been Canterlot and as such the events of their invasion had not disturbed the farming community.

The town had a fund set aside to hire a few unicorn mages to quickly and easily clear away winter.  The pegasi weather teams dealt with the rest of the years weather, and they were paid by the royal treasury.  The treasury’s money came from taxes, but taxes weren’t particularly high, only half of one season’s harvest.  Whatever was left over after food had been stored for the winter or eaten by the farm families could be sold to merchants for profit.

Orkney stood from his chair and left his little, wooden living room, and then left his little wooden house.  He walked down the lane that ran through the small town until he reached the cafe.

The cafe was a pleasant building, all done up in bright colors.  The exterior walls were painted a stark shade of white, while the roof was of stone.  The window frames were a shade of bright pink.  Under every window was a pink flower box, and the flowers in those boxes were a deep shade of blue.

Orkney sauntered in through the saloon style doors and sidled up to the counter.  The waitress looked up at him, then said: “The usual?”

Orkney nodded and went to take a seat in a window booth.  The interior of the cafe was just as bright and colorful as the outside.  The walls were white wallpaper plastered with colorful patterns of coffee cups filled with steaming coffee, pumpkins, salads, sandwiches, and other food related items.  The floor was a blue and white tile.  The booths were wooden affairs with red cushions.

Orkney had been a Captain in Celestia’s Covert Guard, a group of spy’s dedicated to keeping Celestia and Equestria safe.  For so many years his only dream had been to retire to a place like this, and now he had.  For the old Captain life was perfect.

Orkney turned to gaze outside, but he couldn’t see anything.  What appeared to be a roiling, black fog had pressed itself against the glass.  The stallion turned to look at the other windows, only to become aware that most of the light was now gone from the cafe, as if twilight had suddenly descended.  Orkney endeavored to go outside, to get to the bottom of this.

“Belle, I’m going outside.  Whatever happens, stay here.” He called back to the waitress.  Orkney walked through the cafe, his hooves making a strong knocking sound against the tiled floor.  Orkney could see the same darkness pressing against the doorway, suspended in the air, held back by some invisible force.

Stepping out into the darkness, it seemed that the world had disappeared.  He looked back at the cafe, but he couldn’t see it.  He couldn’t even see his own flank.  He instinctively stepped back, but his rear collided with something solid.  He had been half-way through the doorway, but now there was–

A scream rent the air.  A lifetime of military training seemed to come back to him in an instant as he ran for the source of the scream.

All there was was the darkness and the sound of his hoofbeats as he ran.  The scream was gone, and no other sound of life could be heard.

Orkney had to stop dead, having entered some sort of clearing in the darkness.  There in front of him stood Princess Celestia, but not as he remembered her.  The tall mare in front of him was clad from neck to hoof in what had been gleaming white armor, but was now dented and marked.  A long scorch ran down one side, as if the princess had been running through fire.  Her normally pristine fur was filled with soot and...and blood.  The sticky substance tricked through some shallow, fresh cuts on her face and neck, and her fur was matted in places with it.

Then, as quickly as she had appeared, the darkness swallowed her.

“Princess?”  Orkney called to the dark.  She had been right there, right in front of him.  “Princess!”

Orkney spun around and came face to face with nightmare personified.  A mare, of the same height and build as Celestia, but with black fur and stars in her mane, stood there before him.  Based on what he knew this was none other than Nightmare Moon.  She was clad in armor from neck to hoof as well, but it was armor as black as the darkness around them, as opposed to Celestia’s white armor.  An ornate shield emblazoned with symbols of the moon floated in front of her, a sword on her other side.  She mouthed a word that Orkney was pretty sure was ‘sorry’, and then the darkness swallowed her.

Then he heard a voice, a voice after working with her for ten years.  A mare’s voice seemed to echo around him, “Why send this fool with me?”

“Bolt!”  Orkney called out for the spy.  “Bolt, where are you?”

The scene changed again.  The darkness still surrounded him on all sides but he stood in a large clear with a number of other ponies.  In front of them was a building, with a balcony.  A madpony stood on that balcony, shouting words that Orkney couldn’t quite make out.  The crowd seemed to be shouting back approval.  Then red beams of light began to rain from the sky, hitting some members of the crowd.  Anypony hit fell to the ground and ceased movement.  Orkney was certain they were dead.

The scene changed again and the darkness was gone.  In it’s place was fire and ash.  Bits of soot that blew through the air stug at his eyes.  Orkney took a step forward, only to step on some odd rock.  Looking down he saw it was no rock, but an equine skull.  Reeling back in surprised horror Orkney fell backwards, sliding down a small hill of bleached pony bones.  The world had become naught but fire and death.

The old captain became aware of the fire creeping across the scorched earth towards him.  He tried to use magic but the fire would not stop it’s march.  It reached his hooves.

The Captain snapped awake, surprised at being greeted with a cool, dark room.  The details of his dream were already fading, leaving behind only a lingering sense of horror.

He was in his office in the palace, sitting at a fairly simple wooden desk.  A small window was set in the wall opposite the doorway.  The walls, floor, and ceiling of the room were all made of stone brick, like the rest of the palace.

Outside of the small window the Captain could see the inky blackness of night.  The only lights in the room were the specially enchanted candles that burned for weeks, afforded to each civil servant.  He must have been sleeping for at least five hours.

Turning his attention back to the desk, the Captain looked at the file he had been combing over before he had fallen asleep.

It was a file that had defined his career.  Only five years after being recruited, the Captain had come to believe that Progress, which had long been one of Equestria’s most powerful and most innovative companies, was somehow wrapped up in nefarious goings on in Equestria.

He had brought what little evidence he had to his lieutenant, who had laughed in his face, and then his captain, with much the same effect.  He’d gathered more evidence and brought it to the major over that captain, who hadn’t believed him.  He had continued badgering his way up the chain of command, until it finally landed on the desk of the general, who still hadn’t believed him.  Then he was ordered to cease all investigation.  Instead he brought it to Celestia.

Celestia hadn’t believed it either, but she was more humored by his insistence then his direct superiors had been.  After ten years of being in the guard, he had been promoted to lieutenant, and after twenty years, to Captain.  He had been a captain for ten years.

She’d been a little less humorous when she discovered he was spending a significant amount of time and resources still investigating them.  There’d been a terrible argument that the Princess had quite obviously won, and since that day he hadn’t mentioned the company until the assignment for Bolt crossed his desk.

The Captain let out a long, low sigh.  When he had joined the guard it had been a crisp military organization.  There had been many operatives, lieutenants, and captains, along with a hoofful of majors and colonels, and one General.  Now, somehow, he was the head of the entire organization despite his rank as captain, with another captain operating out of Manehattan, with ten operatives apiece.  The fate of Equestria was in the Covert Guards hooves, and there were only twenty-two members.

He had requested that he be allowed to recruit more members and reinstate the military order but the princess had refused.  Why can’t she see reason?  I need more ponies to better safeguard Equestria.  The Captain tried to focus his thoughts elsewhere.  This road only led to frustration.  He had often considered secretly recruiting more operatives, but there was no way he could pay them, at least not without the princess discovering what he was doing.  Of course, there was also the threat of what Celestia would do if he formed an independant spy organization.

But he couldn’t complain.  The job had been good to him.  The main concern of the last fifty years or so had been the sharp rise in anarchist cults.  They always managed to stop them, at least when the threat turned out to be real.  More and more they were following false trails.

It would be so much easier if there was a clear enemy to fight.  If Progress, for instance, was really some sort of anti-Equestria society, then it would only be a matter of finding enough evidence and then cutting the head off of the snake.  Instead they were fighting a group of disparate warriors, who all individually came to believe that Equestria would be better off without the crown.

But it was even worse than that now.  In the last year alone there had been the reappearance of Nightmare Moon, the freeing of Discord, and the attack of the changelings.  The Covert Guard could only fight against predictable organizations.  They could infiltrate a military, they could weasel out terrorist cells, but they just could not fight against lone rogues that could not be predicted.

The Captain looked down at his cutie mark.  It was a silhouette of himself.  The Captain could send a sort of shadow of himself, which he used to deliver messages to his operatives.  If he focused his magic he could even hear conversation.

The Captain walked to his little window and sighed again.  He had always dreamed of retiring to a small country town, the kind of place where everypony knew everypony else, the kind of place where the biggest concern was the yearly yield.

Staring out into the darkness the Captain became aware of just how tired he was.  Striding to the door, he opened it and stepped out into the hall.

He glanced back at the door, which was emblazoned with:

Orkney

Director of Road Finance

Upon being promoted to captain, and being made the unofficial head of the Covert Guard, it had become necessary to live in Canterlot and meet regularly with the Princess.  As such he had been given a fake department in an out-of-the-way office.

The Captain turned back to the hall, and came face to face with Princess Celestia.  The Captain leaped back to avoid colliding with her.

The Princess chuckled to herself.  “I didn’t mean to startle you Captain.”

To his credit, the Captain had recovered from the surprise, though his cheeks were dark with embarrassment.  “It was my fault ma’am.”

A flicker of emotion the Captain couldn’t place passed across the Princess’s face.  The Captain opened the door to his office once more and ushered Celestia inside.

The Captain sat down at his desk, Celestia sat opposite from him.  He looked at her expectantly.

“Any word from Operative Bolt?”  Bolt?  She knows her name.  But why?

“No ma’am, it’s too dangerous.  If Progress were to even suspect she worked for us we would lose this chance forever.  By this point she should have gone to the recruitment center.  No doubt she is already inside of their facilities.”

“You honestly believe they’re against the crown?  They’ve shown nothing but loyalty.”

They had been here before.  “Even if they are, I doubt they would be happy if they discovered we had a spy in their midst.  Besides, even if the majority are loyal a few could be corrupt.”

“Ma’am, I have a question.”  The Captain said.

“Ask it.”

“Why did you send the other pony?”  The Captain looked about nervously.  It wasn’t his place to question Celestia’s decisions, but he had to know.

“You mean Red Remmington?”  The Captain nodded at that.

Celestia sighed.  “Do you know why you are Captain?”

“Because I’m good at what I do.”

“Yes, that is one reason.  Another is that you do not enjoy it.”

It was true, he’d never wanted to be a spy, never particularly enjoyed it.  “I don’t follow, ma’am.”

“The first mission we sent Bolt on, she performed spectacularly.  You remember, Captain, how she climbed through the ranks of that organization and discovered two criminals?”

“Of course.”

“But she also loved it.  In her grab for power she endangered the positions of several innocent ponies.  She’s dangerous and greedy.  It’s why I’ve given her so many poor jobs.”

“So why did you send Red with her?”

“I’d hoped that he might rub off on her.”

The Captain felt his stomach think.  Celestia didn’t seriously believe that Progress was a threat.

Celestia must have sensed his change of mood.

“What are you thinking, Captain?”

“Ma’am, it won’t work.  Bolt is too angry and too serious.  We’ll be lucky that she doesn’t throw Red off the roof in frustration.”

Celestia looked embarrassed.

“I see.  I’m sorry I didn’t consult you.”

Celestia’s eyes rose to meet the Captain’s.  “There is a chaos cult active in Canterlot.”  If the Captain were a dramatic individual, he may have fainted on the spot.  As it was, the only sign of shock was a sharp intake of breath and a sudden dilation of the pupils.

“Where?”  His voice had lost all of it’s conversational tones, instead becoming crisp and short.

Celestia produced a file from nowhere and levitated it to land on the desk before the Captain.  “This should have everything you need.  Captain, I want you to deal with this personally.”

“Of course, ma’am.”  The Captain saluted, and the Princess rose and left the office.

A customer waited impatiently, tapping a hoof as loudly as possible.  Fluffy Coffee wrapped a knife in her magic and cut the latest order of daisies while rushing to take the customers order.  This resulted in her plunging the knife through the order sheet instead of a quill.

With a nervous smile, Fluffy removed the knife from the sheet and delicately picked up a quill in her mouth.  Better to write the order without magic than risk stabbing a customer.  She couldn’t handle another lawsuit.

She took the order into the kitchen and gave it to the chef, then hurried out to wrap the order of flowers.  With that done she spun around to grab the now completed garden salad and gave it to the customer.

The customer left, and Coffee was surprised that no new customer approached the counter.  This was typically a sign that the morning rush was over.

After five minutes with no new orders the chef exited the kitchen.

“We really need a window from the counter to the kitchen.”

“I know, I know.  I’ve petitioned the building council but you know how it is.  ‘Canterlot is a historical site.  We cannot allow you to cut a hole in the wall of history.’”

The chef, an older, greasy stallion, smiled at her impression.

The building council really was a problem.  As a result of being a thousand year old settlement, nearly all the buildings in Canterlot were historical sites.  As such if one wanted to make any alterations they had to consult the council, wait three months, and be told no.  She’d heard that the nobility could do whatever they wanted with their homes.

A new customer opened the door and approached the counter.  The chef sighed and went back to the kitchen.

The new comer was an older stallion with a grey coat and mane, both flecked with white.

“Hello and welcome to Coffee and Flowers cafe, what can I get you?”

“Coffee, black.”  He laid a couple bits on the counter.  The stallion took his drink and sat in a seat facing the street.

Coffee went about her day.  She finished her backlog of flower orders and tipped the delivery colt.  She swept the floors and cleaned the counters, then did the same thing after the lunch rush.  She wrote and rewrote several drafts to the building council and pondered starting that romance novel.  Despite all this, the stallion who had ordered the coffee had stayed there until lunch, then abruptly left.

Eventually closing time came and Coffee crossed the street to her apartment building.  She noticed three strange ponies carrying in boxes.  Must be new arrivals Coffee thought.

Coffee’s apartment was small, it was the cheapest place in Canterlot after all.  But even then the rent was extraordinary.  It was all worth it though.  Since she first got her cutie mark, a coffee cup with a flower in it, she had dreamed of opening a cafe and bouquet shop.  And to do it in Canterlot.

So she had.  It hadn’t been easy, but she’d found the smallest, cheapest building possible that she could serve food from.  She actually did quite well for herself.  Her shop was a place where business ponies going to and from work could go to and buy a quick meal.

Even then, it was barely enough to pay her leases, but it was worth it to own a business in Canterlot.

A letter from her mother rested on a nightstand.  It was all the usual.  ‘When are you going to bring home a very special somepony’ and ‘I want some grandfoals’, or even ‘why don’t you open a cafe closer to home’.

It wasn’t that Coffee didn’t want to find somepony eventually, but her life was just too busy.  All of her time went to running her shop.  It wasn’t like she hadn’t been on a date since school.  Well, she hadn’t been but that didn’t mean she couldn’t, she was just too busy!

Coffee lay down on her bed, one of the few articles of furniture she owned and fell asleep with her mother's imaginary nagging voice floating in her head.

Three days passed without incident.  The only thing out of the ordinary was a different delivery colt came to pick up that days orders of flowers, and that the stallion from the previous day came back.

The stallion ordered the same coffee, black, and took a seat by the window.  On all three days he left just after lunch.

Coffee was closing up when the stallion came back.

“Hello.”  Coffee said, with a slight nervous twinge.

“Hello.  Ma’am, can we step inside a moment?”

Coffee unlocked the door and stepped inside.

“I’m sorry to intrude on you like this.  I’m agent Barkly from the Royal Guard branch of investigations.”

“Oh my, has something happened?”

“That’s just it, nothing’s happened.  I was sent here to investigate some suspicious characters but everypony here seems so normal.  If you see anypony suspicious could you let me know?”

“Of course.”  Coffee said, shock in her voice.  It all seemed a little strange.

“Great.  I’m staying in the hotel at the end of the lane.  Just ask for Barkly.”

The inspector turned to go.  “Wait.  Is there anything I should look out for?”

“I’ve been told they may be dangerous, so if you see anypony suspicious, do not approach them just come straight to me, you got it?”

“Got it.”

“Good.  Thank you miss-”

“Coffee.  Fluffy Coffee.”

“Thank you, miss Coffee.”  The stallion flashed her a smile and left the shop to walk down the street.

Coffee locked up the shop and went to her apartment.  She was a little on edge from the inspectors warning.  Nothing bad ever happened in Canterlot.  Well, nothing except the changeling attack a few months ago, but the speed with which the Princesses and the Royal Guard had dealt with the problem were a testament to how safe the city was.

Still, when she lay down on her bed she almost immediately fell asleep.

Coffee was jolted awake by a violent quake that shook the entire apartment.  The acrid smell of smoke assaulted her senses.  Fire.

Coffee leaped from her bed and sprinted from the apartment.  She was halfway down the stairs when she heard a feminine scream from the apartment she was passing.  Without even stopping to consider how foolish her actions were she gripped the door in her magic and forced it open.  This was odd given that Coffee was not particularly adept at using her magic for anything other than food or flowers but she didn’t stop to ponder it.

“Where are you?”  Coffee shouted.  The entire apartment within seemed to be burning.  Why am I still here?

Coffee rushed into the apartment and saw a mare standing there, shoveling papers into a briefcase.  She must’ve heard Coffee because she spun around in shock, briefcase in hoof, and stared at her.

Coffee was just about to rush forward and grab the mare but an ominous cracking of wood sounded throughout the small room.  Then the ceiling caved in, on top of the mare.  The briefcase slid across the floor to stop at Coffee’s hooves.

The mare was dead, or about to die, and there was no way Coffee could help her.

Suddenly a voice sounded out above the roar of the flames.  “They’ll kill you!”

“After all this is done,” the mare was racked by bloody, hacking coughs, “they will kill you!”  Coffee fled in abject terror.  When she stopped running she was outside of the chef’s door.

After a few moments of frantic banging the chef opened the door.  “What’s got you in such a–”  He stopped mid sentence when he saw Coffee.  Tears streamed down her face, and her white coat was black with soot.

“What happened?”

“Th-th-The apart-apart,” she was sobbing uncontrollably now, “fire.”

“Come inside, come on it’s all going to be alright.”

Coffee came in and the chef filled a tub with hot water.

“Come on, sit in the water and get yourself cleaned up.  You’ll feel better then.”  Coffee did as he asked, mutely nodding at the few questions the chef asked her.

“What’s this?”  Coffee looked over at the chef, who was holding a soot-stained briefcase.

“I don’t know, I must have picked it up in the fire.”  The chef shrugged and put the briefcase by the door.

Coffee bathed and the chef tried to coax what information he could out of her.  When she proved unforthcoming he laid out a blanket and pillow on his small couch and went back to his equally small bed.

The next morning Coffee felt as if she hadn’t slept at all.  She sat in the chef’s house until the evening, then decided she should go sleep at the shop.

She reached her shop, but couldn’t help but stare at the smoldering remains of her apartment building.  None of the adjacent buildings had caught fire, but hers had burned to the ground.

Rather than go through the front door, Coffee went around the to the alley that was behind her shop, sunk down next to the door, and cried.  After she had no more tears to shed, she just sat in silence.  It was then she became aware that she had taken the briefcase.

There were clasps to keep it shut, but no lock.  Her curiosity got the better of her and she opened the briefcase.

She didn’t know what she was expecting to find.  Family portraits maybe, or else letters sent between family members, or something.  All she found was paper.  The top sheet said, in hastily scrawled hoofwriting:

1.) general reconnaissance

2.) talk to citizens

3.) infiltrate local guard station

4.) set off amulet

5.) report back to progress

The rest of the papers seemed to be manuals of a sort, with titles like What to do in case of discovery, and What to do in case of fire.  There were several copies of each manual as well, all in the same hoofwriting.  Coffee noticed a theme though, they all mentioned something called Progress.

“Excuse me, are you Fluffy Coffee.”

“Yes.”  Coffee’s voice came out in a shocked whimper, her eyes fixed firmly on the papers in front of her.

A hoof collided with the side of her skull.  The blow sent her sprawling out into the alley, dazed and senseless.  She wasn’t sure how long she lay there, maybe minutes, maybe hours.  When she regained her senses, the papers were gone.

Tired and in shock, Coffee wandered the streets, crying.  She founded herself standing in front of the hotel at the the end of the lane.