Author's Note

The audio reading for this installment can be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z-GrtUwICxc

Entry 12

Entry 12 – October 31st, 1122, 17:30

I guess I really can’t say the stage is set, but Starfall and I are prepared to embark for the eventide event. I wish this was a masquerade, which would make our disguising options a little more open. Under my coat my rapier is tightly strapped to my side. I’ve beefed up a good bit, so the coat might just tear off before I may need it to.

The Inquisitors here all have their weapons ready. If they hear so much as a knock at this door, they’ll be ready to move out. They have to stay here in order to keep their faces from being needlessly seen. The party tower isn’t exclusively being used by us tonight, and the mayor’s personal security is scattered about the building, but the mayor’s guests and we will have the top floor ballroom to ourselves.

Starfall will be the runner if things go wrong. She can teleport, after all. The chefs at the tower should be mixing the potion into the punch batch as I write. I doubt there will be any unintended hunters at the gathering, but if there are, they’ll witness the potion’s effect, and I guess that would further corroborate its results. It would complicate things, though.

We’re about to go. “Happy Nightmare Night,” say a few.

Sal turns to me, as I’m furiously writing what may be my last written, “Remember, Luna is always watching.”

Although nopony in our midst is foolish enough to believe those apples, as it’s organizationally impossible for even Her Majesty to be keeping watch over all of us simultaneously, I suppose there’s enough chance she’ll be surveying tonight’s events since she has a personal stake in my success. If I fail, that stake will be a nail in my coffin. I must go. Love.

____

I’m not sure whether it’s the victory I feel or the remaining adrenaline coursing through me that’s permitting me to write, but I must recall the event while I’m awake so that it doesn’t escape me in my sleep. We’re on the train now. We may be fleeing back to the mansion to save our faces, but without a doubt Starfall and I, well, maybe Starfall has enough restraint to not admit it, but, anyway, we feel invincible.

The ballroom had nice tapestries and rugs. The walls and floor were cream yellow. Definitely a huge room; over two hundred guests were in attendance. Tables were scattered through the room, but they all encircled, with space in between tables, of course, the marble dance floor. There was a raised platform in the far back of the room, behind the dance floor, where a grand piano stood proudly, glossy, sable, and pristine. When Starfall and I arrived, the piano pony was already at play. There was a guitar up there, too, but nopony was playing it. What a waste, I thought.

The ceiling was also yellow, but right above where the tables stood and the dance floor was, the ceiling was a mirror. I never quite understood how mirrors were supposed to make places look bigger until then. There weren’t any windows on this floor; one entered it via a VIP elevator.

One would think a mayor throwing a ball to extol Her Majesty Princess Luna would have delicacies available for food, but the decadent things that were there included traditional party foods: chips and pretzels and the like. Wonderfully salty and thirst-evoking. This stallion was a little craftier than I had pegged him to be.

Starfall and I couldn’t manage to secure seats at the mayor’s table, but we made it clear to him that we had arrived. His mane parted straight down the middle. His hair was a little greyed, and his pigment itself was a grey blue. His eyes were a dull blue that belied his intelligence. Starfall and I had agreed not to ingest the punch until we could ascertain that everypony had consumed it. We got our drinks and sat down and watched some of the more eager ponies dance. Dancing music wasn’t really playing yet, but it was their prerogative to make fools of themselves. Nopony came to talk to us, and I look back now and imagine that my Mohawk was a deterrent.

The music stopped. The mayor stepped up to the microphone to make an address to us for the occasion. He encouraged all of us, before he began, to try some of the punch before he was to begin because he thought it was positively scrumptious. His word, despite his even, politically cordial tone, was authoritative. In fact, the sixty or so ponies who had not yet taken a potion stood up, as if in concert, and went to retrieve some for themselves and began to drink as he began to speak. Starfall and I looked at each other. I was getting a little hot in my coat and was tempted to take a drink when she swatted my hoof away.

His speech wasn’t the best I’ve ever heard, but he satisfactorily extolled Princess Luna. His eyes seemed to glide to us as he finished, and he raised his eyebrows before he walked off. The piano pony took up the mike and said that the dancing was to commence. Indeed, he started with a groovy tune. I was tempted to dance even though I didn’t know the song, but Starfall gestured to our drinks, and we took them simultaneously.

It was a good thing my mane was already styled to stand on end. Starfall and I exchanged glances of disbelief, but we knew without saying that it would be far easier to count how many ponies weren’t Changelings as opposed to counting those who were. I realized the stage would be a good vantage point for the task. We had to let the mayor know which ones were ponies so that he would escort them out.

Starfall and I pulled out of the room where we wouldn’t be overheard to form a game plan. She’d hang in the back of the room and record descriptions of the real ponies to be escorted out whom she could see. The piano pony was still suspect, so I had to approach him and spy from the stage for corroboration and so as not to miss anypony innocent. The mayor, the biggest wallflower at the event, no less, would be able to surreptitiously persuade the real ponies to leave with him, but there needed to be a distraction. I said I’d figure it out because we were running out of time before somepony decided to dance with him.

Starfall began her task, and I obtained a drink. The stage was white carpet, and, over the din of the amplified piano over the electronic speakers, I called to him, “I’ve got a drink for you! I’m coming up.”

“Son, don’t you dare. I can’t have you spilling a drink on this carpet!”

“Come now, I’m trying to do you a favor.”

“Keep it away.”

“You don’t even have a voice you need to protect.”

“I have a job to lose.”

“I’ll take the fall; you’re sweating.” Indeed, he was profusely sweating. His silence gave me the assent I needed. I walked up onto the stage as casually as I could manage. If it looks like you have purpose being onstage, you’re meant to be onstage, I thought. I placed the drink by the microphone. It smelled irresistible. I hung back to the back wall and looked out as he completed his groove. Not any more than eight real ponies besides the mayor, Starfall, and me. The piano pony looked over to where I had placed the drink, frowned, and took it. One gulp. He didn’t change. He was a legitimate employee. He started another piece.

I looked at the guitar. First, I wondered if I could use it as a weapon, but its real purpose clicked to me. I looked up. Starfall was squinting to see me.

Through the opaque walls of the ballroom, I could imagine where the moon was in the night sky, and I nodded to it, thanking Princess Luna for the opportunity of a lifetime.

I approached the piano player.

“How may I again divide my attention to you?” He bit his lip to prevent skipping a beat.

“Is that Show Pan?” In all honestly, I had no clue, but it sounded classical enough.

“You have a keen ear. It’s his ‘Big Shining Waltz,’ opus number 18.”

I stood silent, not knowing how to transition to my request.

“If you’re looking to reciprocate my compliment, the best gesture. . .” He played a sour chord that was probably not in the song. “. . . Would be to remove yourself and dance to my playing.”

“That’s just the thing. There’s been a change in the entertainment. Don’t worry; you’ll be paid just the same, but I’ll be covering the rest of the evening.”

“What in blazes-?”

“Once you’re done, you may want to clear out. I wouldn’t call my music suited to refined tastes.”

“You can’t be serious!”

“I tell you that I am. I’ll need the guitar to perform, but be sure you leave. I can tell you that it’s not up your alley. Everypony’s gonna enjoy it, of course. It may not be mayhem at first, but it’ll be a riot by the time I’m finished.”

“Big talk.”

I left him to report back to Starfall. She had caught six of the eight I mentioned.

“I saw you talking to the stallion at the piano.”

“You can see he’s not a threat. Make sure he leaves when I get on the stage. I’m going to play something ostentatious, and that’ll be your excuse to leave.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry; I’ll sing of love of many kinds. Just make sure you clear the building before you get the team here.”

“You’re making this a bigger responsibility for you than it needs to be,” she shook her head.

“I don’t see how else you can get those ponies out of here without the Changelings being fixated on somepony other than the mayor.”

She sighed. “Be careful. Don’t dig your own grave.”

“If I am digging it, at least I can play the dirge.”

“Do tell.”

I waltzed back to the stage and awaited the pony’s finish. When he did he just walked off! I seized the guitar when I got up there.

“Give me a second; I’ve gotta tune this. While you wait, I’ll introduce myself.” I looked up from my guitar briefly to see that Starfall had successfully isolated the mayor and was briefing him as everypony and everything gawked at me. “I understand that big, shiny waltzes and grooves are appropriate tunes for a spooktacular occasion such as this. I can’t play you ‘Danse Macabre,’ but I feel it is appropriate to celebrate the emotion we should be directing to Her Majesty this night.”

Some of the Changelings frowned when I referred the Inquisition’s staunchest figurehead by her proper title, but I knew what to say next. “It’s love, my friends. I’m a country pony; that means I love my friends, so I shall share my songs of love to you.”

Malignant grins all around except on the ponies.

I began to play. “This one’s ‘LowDown’ by Thomas Abides . . .”

The Changelings were mesmerized by my vulgar song before I finished it, but Starfall and the rest were out the door. Disgust, I guess.

No time to stall, I continued, “I understand you city ponies like your showtunes, how ‘bout it now?”

The Changelings stomped. “Good! Here’s a more refined taste you might like. ‘Some enchanted evening.’ . . .”

That did it. Already, some showed signs of not being able to contain themselves. A song about longing might have done well after it in a real performance, but I began to feel the pressure to slow things down. Literally, I was playing at a strangely fast tempo for such a song, but I guess it gave a little originality to my performance.

“Awright! I’ve got another serious song for you all. It’s about love for one’s country, but you could construe it as being about a special kind of pony.”

I knew it was too high for my voice, but I hoped my nerves would get me up to the high notes. The Changelings performed a collective shrug.

“’Anthem.’ . . .”

I couldn’t help but think of how the hunters might not make it in time. The room had a grave tranquility whenever I wasn’t singing, and I couldn’t stand the silence of the intermittent song descriptions; I could feel the Changelings’ voracious eyes on me. I mustn’t look into them. I mustn’t look into them. I almost lost my place in the song.

I wasn’t breathing. I was feverish, and I was ready to die. Any moment, I’d catch the eyes of the wrong Changeling, and I’d be done for.

One thing called out to me, “Hey, you should really look at your audience when you sing.”

I snapped back to my sensibility. I looked up and into the voice, wherever it was. My expression was stoic, but I let a grin out once the words had escaped me.

“Okay, Simon Cowbell.”

There was a collective laugh from the audience and a stomping of cloaked legs.

Once it had subsided, I realized that I had been up there for ten minutes or so. The hunters should have arrived. I realized that the sword was above my head, anyway, so I’d go out with a bang.

“You know, there’s a guy I really respect. His name’s Johnny Two-Bits. I gotta Stallion in Black classic to sing. ‘Walk the Line.’”

I couldn’t believe I was singing it. There came a silent flash from behind the doors in the back, and I had to look up. The green eyes didn’t follow my gaze because I didn’t stop singing, but rather they were trying to catch it. My peripheral caught something. There were two Changelings stalking up the stairs to my platform on each side. They were following my rhythm with each step, so I stopped.

The doors opened, and the Changelings remained transfixed for a moment.

In retrospect, I juxtaposed two sentences very ironically, but my comrades knew what I meant.

“It’s safe! Kill them all!” So began the bloodletting.

All the Changelings in the front flipped their tables, giving me time to move back. I didn’t know why I was picking up the piano as I did so, but my reason came to me. About eight Changelings lunged straight for me. My muscles were strong and fast enough to sweep them in one swing.

“Huuruh!” I chucked the piano into the wall to my left. SPLAT! Ten Changelings to my credit, and I was not dead yet.

The pressure from my flexing muscles severed the lining of my coat when I heaved the piano, so I was ready to cut. The four stalkers had taken longer to awaken than the rest of the Changelings took to snap out of it, and I had to face them next. I saw a flying hunter headed for the two on my right, so charged to the left, building momentum for a lethal haymaker. The other foe facing me decided to charge me, hoping to impale me with its deformed alicorn. However, I was ready to combat point with edge before it could race to me, and I cut it down. I turned around instinctively. Two of our unicorns had trapped about a hundred Changelings in a barrier to make dispatching the free ones easier on the rest of us.

I was broadsided by an airborne Changeling. It had me on my back, but I was in a position to kick it off me, so I did, and a scarlet bolt obliterated it. I picked myself back up, and there was yet another horned Changeling before me. I smacked hooves together and sheathed my rapier. The thing was built for pugilism. I swung first but missed, yet it blocked the miss. Big mistake. I ducked when it aimed high for my jaw, but, before I could throw it, a lance pierced its outstretched foreleg. It screeched, but I ripped it from the lance and performed a lethal vertical suplex on it.

I got up and dusted myself off and rebuked, “You think you could use a more cumbersome weapon for indoor combat?! You almost skewered me!”

“Throw me your rapier, then,” Jackson called back.

“Very well.” I reached for my rapier with my mouth.

“Wait!”

I unsheathed the rapier more quickly than he had expected, cleaving a Changeling charging for me. I tossed Jackson my weapon, and I looked at his work. So far, so good; he had slain about five and was still alive. I couldn’t help but catch his stoic work face.

We looked forward from the stage. Everypony was engaged with some group of Changelings except us. The unicorns had probably vaporized about ten each. Some of the Bat Ponies were getting clobbered midair, so Jackson flew to help them. The two maintaining the barrier had been protected up to this point, so I wanted to maintain their security. A couple Bat Ponies were on the ground protecting their right flank while the unicorns checked their left flank once about every five seconds.

I called to Jackson, “Help out at the barrier retainers’ left flank. I’ll meet you there.”

The Changelings were about to pounce on the two Bat Pony soldiers when I plowed through them from the back. Dispersed, some flew into the air, and the Bat Ponies chased them. On hoof I chased a few flightless Changelings and smashed them into the walls with brute force. Jackson helped herd them, as he flew about, reaping at the Changelings as though my rapier were a scythe. It was a decent fight until all that remained were under our barrier.

We probably could have survived the second wave, but, as elites, these ponies had lives too valuable to expend in the name of honorable fighting. We opened a hole in the barrier and zapped the Changelings as they made to escape. None actually escaped. Watching them be destroyed as they tried to escape through the chokepoint, I knew we were being as pitiless as our foes, but we were justified. They had invaded us, and now our public’s sense of security would suffer. The hecatomb of a couple hundred Changelings could not outweigh safety of mind masses of ponies will lose when the word spreads of what the Changelings nearly managed to do.

As I said, we had to leave for fear of having our faces too widely recognized. Ponies can forget and reimagine faces they’ve seen, but photographs never do.

I think, though, that fear is on our side. Nopony loves the feared pony, or Changeling, as it is. There have been campaigns to paint the Changelings as benevolent creatures willing to resort to coexistence, but, to use the words I think Princess Celestia shall, come the daytime’s press conference, “We cannot coexist with monsters.”

We’re getting close to the mansion now. My body has ached to return to that familiar mattress and especially does now, as it quite literally aches. One of those nasty Changelings bit my foreleg when I swung at it, and I’ll have to bandage it before I go to bed so as not to ruin my sheets with my own blood. Starfall sterilized it, but she says it’s going to itch. Great. Out of all Changelings’ features, their teeth are what I most despise. In biting me, that Changeling gave me an idea that may just be the ruination of their race. A one-two punch, they may call it, from a pugilist alchemist.