The Silver Dragon Inn

by Nugget

Lying deep within the mystic catacombs of Canterlot, corridors of brightly lit torches illuminate an atmosphere of stone and clay mason, dust, and white marble. For those that manage to find themselves within these places without a particular reason of being there, the passageways has been historically known to cause quite the hysteria due to the common look of most of its rooms and narrow, protracted hallways. Thus, it has usually left the average pony to go wandering aimlessly until they usually turn up missing.

However, for those who do have a purpose of wanting to come down into the murky depths of what remained from Canterlot’s medieval days, their reasons all remain to be similar;

The Silver Dragon Inn

“A way of light shall shine a path that leads to an oasis of drinks on tap,” he repeated to himself over and over, feeling his inner nerves wanting to shake from the excessive amount of time he has spent following torches that only provided spots of light between their mounted placements. If I was only a unicorn, instead of being a damn earth pony, I could just carry of one of these things and be fine… but, noooooo! he thought to himself as he rolled his eyes and swiveled head.

“Ugg! Get a hold of yourself there, Dusty! You’re almost there anyway,” he said before taking in a short breath of air. Turning towards his leather brown bag, he pulled out a single piece of paper and scrolled down the writing. Mentally checking off each step written, the dirty tan coat pony read off the last step needed to be done.

“Finally, when reaching a stick that reads the number “15,” pulling on it will lead yourself to the place where you wish to be.” Looking up at the torch directly behind him, Dusty blocked its light by putting a hoof over his eyes. Just faintly reading out the number “15” that was carved into the wood, the pony took his hoof off his forehead and wrapped it around the lower half of the stick. Careful to not burn himself from the fire that engulfed the top of the torch, he used a bit of effort to pull down the burning leaver. The sound of gears were then heard turning within the interior of the brick walls. With air pressure releasing a cloud of dust that outlined a hidden entryway, it finally turned on its axis like a bookshelf. It swung open to reveal the pony’s evening safe haven.

“Ah!” he exalted.

Dusty liked this place, and equally hated where it was located. However, since the city was located within a dry state, the inconvenience of reaching the Inn did manage to act as a deterrent towards local law enforcement trying to shut down another speakeasy within Canterlot. Couple on top of the fact that it’s hidden within the old catacombs, where only riddles help to guide even the most un-confident of ponies, makes it less desirable for some good-willed Equestrians to want to be lurking in a place that creeps out darkness like it was its own signature specialty.

Not like it was a bad thing though.

It actually suited quite well for an old tavern theme, since what remained from its original center hub has been completely renovated from its days of being a crypt. Hanging on brownstone arches that supported the Inn’s roof, there were iron cauldrons that contained new burning fires which enveloped the room in an azure colored glow. Complemented by its warmth, the light blissfully reflected upon the misty covered surface of the water located just beneath the center of the copper dome. The Mirror Pool, as called by the patrons, dominated the middle of the floor space in a fashion similar to a thrust stage, leaving ponies to navigate around the unique aquatic feature.

Surrounding the water, the entire plaza was tiled and arranged in a configure that showed off a silver, glistening mosaic which was engraved into the concrete. It’s resemblance was of the full crescent moon which wrapped itself around the outskirts of the small pond. Meanwhile, in the small alcoves that were located a single step above the main floor, wooden booths, tables, and chairs were arranged within these wide holes. They served as a place to rest and enjoy the heartening spot for quiet drunkenness and other bewildering festivities that each pony, whom occupied the place, enjoyed.

As Dusty stepped down into the auditorium, he also noticed the fact that the entire place was covered in small candles that adored the middle of each table, around the lake, and on top of any random shelf found within the Silver Dragon Inn. What caught his attention though was the small raft island that floated on top of the largest alcove. For on this lumber island was the main bistro itself, backed into the stonework wall and arranged to cover the entire width of the bay.

“Bingo.”

Approaching the long counter, the stallion set his bags beside a wooden stool before climbing up and sitting down upon it. Hearing the beat of the Celtic winds that echoed through the acoustics of the tavern, Dusty turned his head and saw the Silver Dragon’s folk band playing along to a tune that carried a melody that reminded him of the grasslands outside of Ponyville. However, his focused changed once the Innkeeper came over to greet him.

“Welcome to the Inn,” greeted the unicorn barkeep with his thick Northern Equestrian Accent. “I’m guessing you're new to this place, aye?”

“Afraid not.” Dusty sighed, “I had a friend of mine once show me this place before while we were on a romp through the cities old taverns, but I never really had the chance to settle down, you know?”

“I guess so, since I usually am not a custom to memorizing faces unless you have been here a million times... like some other folks around here,” said the server, levitating a glass in his hazel aurora. He then cleaned the mug with a napkin.

“That understandable.” Dusty placed his hooves on the counter. “I guess for a pony like me, you would just consider another customer, no?”

The keeper chuckled. “I usually prefer the word, patron… but, I guess that will do as well. So I am guessing that your friend comes here more often than you, correct?”

Dusty scratched his chin. “Usually… This water hole had seemed to grow a custom to him and it left me to wonder about why he likes it so much.”

“Ah! Well your friend is very smart and I can probably guess why he like this place as well.” He waves his hoof behind him to show off the different assortments of bottles that each individually contained a certain brand of ale, wine, whisky, or vodka. “My name is Barnes, and you, sir, have managed to find one of the best hideaways in all of Equestria!”

He wipes a dry tear from his eye and sniffs. “Can’t say that I’m not proud.”

Dusty cracked a grin. “You should be.”

“Right? Holding a collection such as this brings all the happy patrons!” Barnes leans onto the counter where Dusty sat. “To which, I guess I shall ask you the same question that I give to everyone that comes here each night.”

“What will be your liking tonight?”

Dusty was confused by the statement. “What?”

The server sighed in brief frustration, for one again somepony didn’t quite understand his lingo. “What kind of drink are you looking for tonight, lad?”

“Oh! I see.” Dusty scanned the bottles before him, however he wasn’t able to find anything that satisfied his eyes. He asked in a curious manner, “Do you just so happen to have a bottle of cinnamon whiskey available?”

In what seemed to be a quote that made his day, the Innkeeper cracked a smile. Stepping away in a prideful stride, he walked over to the other end of the isle, searched among a stack of tall jars and found a particular ruby stained glass bottle. He returned to where Dusty sat with it levitating in his own magic.

Float the container near his head, he popped off the cork and read, “Imported from the lovely state of Vanhoover, sixty-six proof Fireball… Guaranteed to spice up your night!”

“Thank you,” Dusty replied, beaming like he was being honored in a toast.

“Now how will you like it, bub? Shot, on the rocks, or mixed?” Barnes asked, wondering upon the idea of how Dusty would take his liquor.

“I think I will just have a shot of it to start off my night.” Dusty looked back over at the isle of containers. “And if you also happen to have a bottle of low point Smirnhoofs… Shoot me one as well, please.”

Since Smirnhoofs offered more than just a regular lime-based taste of a malt beverage, the Innkeeper let out a silent groan as he was required to ask, “Regular, Screwdriver, Green Apple, Red Apple, or Raspberry?”

“Screwdriver.”

“Twenty bits.”

Reaching down and grabbing his saddle bag, Dusty sticked his hoof into its left pocket. Pulling out a small bag that was sealed at the top with a thread of amber-colored yarn, he pulled it loose and turned over the small parchment to let a stack of coins spill from within and onto the table. While he was making out the exact total, Barnes prepared his order by placing his shot of Fireball near Dusty.

“Eighteen, nineteen, aaannnddd twenty,” the tan pony exclaimed. “There you go, and I will throw in a five bit tip for you as well.”

“Thank you.” The Keeper scooped up the payment in his magic as he let go of the earth pony’s other requested drink, the Smirnhoofs.

Having both refreshments stand before him, Dusty took the shot of whiskey into his hoofs and smelled the faint aroma of cinnamon mixed with strong alcohol. Making him want to cough, he threw out an expression that reflected the essential task he had to accomplish. Rather than fighting it, he decided to take his drink in stride as he lifted it up to his lips. Downing it in one single gulp, Dusty immediately regretted his decision as he was meet with the mighty, stomach burning resistance of whiskey. It was then followed by him asking for a glass of water.

After Barnes brought over a cup filled to the brim with water, Dusty drank it down within a matter of seconds, helping him to wash away the Fireball in his mouth. Feeling the warmth the billowed within his guts, he again thanked the Innkeeper as he took the already open bottle of Screwdriver and siped upon it. While Dusty didn’t care for the mouth burning booze, he loved the taste of his citrus-flavored vodka.

“Not exactly a fitting drink to have around here,” said somepony with a thick Equestrian accent.

Dusty was caught off guard by the statement. Turning towards his side, he noticed a pony sitting next him with a cloak that draped over his head and lead all the way down to his lower back. He had his own drink sitting nearby.

“Um, ok.” Dusty took another sip of his vodka.

“Here take a shot of this.” The strange pony slid a over his amber colored bottle. The front of it adored a picture of a smiling pony holding a foaming mug.

“What is it?” said the earth pony as he further inspected the bottle.

“Equestrian Ale.” The pony slid out his grey hoof from underneath the cloak and waved it once towards Dusty. “Go on, give it a try. I promise it's not that terrible.”

That was all the encouragement he needed.

“Alright.” Dusty took the bottle to his muzzle and drank down one gulp of the brew. Having the taste of hops and fruit now mixed in with his orange malt, he took another sip of water, swashed it around his mouth, and swallowed it. He felt a bit of numb relief afterwards.

“Mmm, Strong…” he remarked. “But not that bad.”

“Aye,” replied the pony. “It's a favorite around these stones.”

From where Dusty sat, he could see other ponies were either holding, swinging, or drinking out of bottles that were similar to the one he was given. He even chuckled a bit at the sight of one other lavender pony trying to bribe, and what could be assumed was, a female bat pony into a drink. Sadly, the stallion was almost decked by the ill tempered mistress.

“So, since it seems like you haven’t been around these parts before…” The grey pony placed his hoof on the counter. “I must ask, where are you from?”

“A little town south of here… You might have heard of Dodge Junction before?” Dusty extended his hoof out towards the cloaked pony has he posed the question. He had his original drink in the other hoof, taking another sip.

“Ah! Yes, I fancy a visit there from time to time…” The grey pony took out a pipe. With the his piece of wood clenched, he levitated a match, lit it, and then warmed his pipe. A huff of white smoke then followed.

“You mind?” the pony asked.

“Not Really.” Dusty waved off his quote. “So, you’ve been to the old Junction?”

“Yeah,” he replied, after taking the pipe out of his mouth with another puff of smoke. “Given my old occupation that is.”

Curious upon what he meant by “old occupation”, the tan pony took a sip of his drink and leaned back a bit in his seat. “Well then, what did you do?”

“I was a traveler, for a short time that is…” The grey pony waved his pipe around, “Never really liked it much, although I kinda liked seeing Equestria…”

He reached over and bumped Dusty’s shoulder. “It beats dwelling here though.”

As he took his hoof off his new found buddy, the earth pony glanced over the aesthetics of the Inn again. While he could have been dismissive of the pony’s comment, he felt like he had to at least make a positive remark about the place. It wasn’t like it was a terrible location to hang out and drink.

“It’s nice, you must admit,” Dusty said before taking another sip of his drink.

“Well thank you,” replied the stranger. “Modeled it after my admiration for what laid beyond our own world…”

The pony looked up at the ceiling. “In the stars and vast areas known in the space beyond us.”

“Interesting…” Dusty paused momentarily to himself before realizing the full extent of the grey pony’s words. “Wait, do you own this place?”

The cloaked pony nodded, “Yes.”

“Well...” The tan pony was a bit baffled by the fact he was meeting the owner of the establishment, but also uneasy with the fact of how he viewed his Inn. It was beautiful after all, and no pony, not even its owner, should feel like it's terrible. “...You have quite the establishment. Oh tartarus, I would love to own this place if given the opportunity.”

The hooded equine chuckled. “I guess so.”

Dusty extended his hoof out with the intention of a hoof-shake. “Names Dusty... I assume your name is the Dark Cloak Owner, given the hood?”

The pony laughed from within his cover, extending out his own hoof to shake Dusty’s. “Just call me a storyteller.”

“A Storyteller?” Dusty asked, “Why that name?”

“Well, you see, my friend...” The cloaked pony explained, “...When I traveled around these States of Equestria, I wasn’t just visiting them for my own amusement. You see during my days when I was a professor up at the school, I became a bit of a culturalist and wanted to seek the far out regions of our land… To sorta, get a better understanding of the world in which we all inhabit. So, occasionally, I would take extended trips from the mountains up north to the deserts down in the east, and so on. Everywhere I went, I always meet interesting characters, such as yourself, that always had stories to tell about their homelands. Therefore, in my spare time, I would usually write down some of the more interesting ones into this book here.”

Situated near the grey pony’s wooden stool, a blue threaded saddle bag laid on the floor. After he bent down and reached into one of its main sacks, The Storyteller pulled out a leather skinned book with the word “Harmony” wrote in gold ink on the cover. He presented the notebook to Dusty and said, “Afterwards, I began to take this book around more often and share the tales of our own state we live in while collecting more stories to narrate to others.”

Dusty took the book and opened it contents to reveal numerous notes and paragraphs written into the aged paper. Often times he passed by illustrations and ink drawn artwork of various creatures such as wolves, dragons, and other animals not even known to the earth pony. He also caught a quick glance at a mountain valley drawn across two pages, creating a detailed landscape similar to the valleys in the Crystal Empire. Wow, he thought to himself.

The Storyteller continued, “Eventually, and after I retired from teaching, I once again traveled the world and used my magic to bring to life some of the best stories I have heard from over the years… Thus, ponies began to refer to me as The Storyteller. A pony of a thousand tales.” He inhaled his pipe before before blowing out another billow of smoke.

“That’s amazing,” Dusty remarked, still flipping through the book. He then stopped and tried to read what the pony had written down. However, since he couldn’t understand the text in front of him, he had to ask, “Hey, what stories do you usually write in here?”

The Storyteller didn’t respond to the question.

Assuming that he was confused by the statement, Dusty altered his question. “What genre do you usually speak about?”

That got a response out of the stallion. “Oh, well, they are usually epic stories about love and romance, trying to find the right one in a sea of potentials… Or they are about overcoming the odds and having to fight for what you believe in.”

The grey pony inhaled and blew out more white smoke. “Other times, they are just about daily things like cooking or paying taxes and such.”

Dusty chuckled. “Well that's cool, I guess.”

As if their was a sudden mood change within The Storyteller, he leaned towards Dusty and asked directly to him in a deep tone, “Do you want to hear one?”

“Sure,” the tan pony replied, unfazed by the pony’s movement.

“Excellent, just give me a little bit… Oh, and I must warn you...” said the cloaked equine as he finished his pipe. “They can be very long stories if you have the time to sit through them.”

“No problem.” Feeling a bit snarky, Dusty added, “I’m guessing you are going to ask other ponies to gather around that way you have an audience?”

The gray equine took no immediate response to the remark. Instead, after he puffed out one more billowing cloud of white smoke, he just simply said, “You’ll see, my friend.”

Dusty questioned, “What will it be about?”

“Hmmmmm…” The Storyteller had to think about the tale of which he did want to share with him and the others. Pulling the book out, he flipped it to a certain page while strumming through the words of which were written down. After about a moment of figuring out where he was in his literature, he quickly cried out a short “Ah, ha!” before closing the book and resting it beside him.

Turning his head back toward the tan earth pony, he asked, “Are you very familiar with a certain pony named Princess Luna?”

“Well, yeah.” Dusty rolled his eyes. “She is one of our rulers… I think I would know who she is.”

“And are you familiar with the Crystal Heart…” The Storyteller included the words, “That thing that guards the Crystal Empire?”

“I am aware of its existence, but I don’t actually care about it,” Dusty replied while turning his head toward the cloaked pony. “What makes that thing so special anyway?”

“Well,” the old pony trailed off. “What if I was to tell you the story of how it was found and how it played into the disaster of multiple pony lives including that of Princess Luna’s?”

Dusty seemed to be intrigued by the idea behind the story. Taking a sip from the bottle he drank before leaning on the counter, he urged the stranger to tell him more with two simple words. “Go on…”

As the clock struck upon the eleventh hour of the night, Dusty watched as a grey pony walked from his wooden bar stool and over to a small podium positioned in front of The Mirror Pool. He then looked past the surface of the water and focused upon the whole tavern itself while seeing the candles adored throughout the Inn burnout at his presence. Settling into the position he was in, he lit his horn and levitated The Book of Harmony in a golden aurora from his saddlebag and over to where he stood. He flipped through the pages until he found a title at the top that read Spiritus Anima.

Dusty could then see the ponies within the tavern beginning to quiet down as the noise level began to dip into the silence along with the Inn’s music. As a few last whispering shushes could be heard from the ponies wanting to establish a silent environment, the flames within the cauldrons dimmed with a spotlight casted upon The Storyteller. In full basking light, he flipped up his hood to reveal himself as a rather old stallion with a long white beard.

“Mares and Stallions,” he spoke with an amplification spell. “I welcome you to The Silver Dragon Inn… and in part of keeping traditions alive in this old theatre, I ask you all to join me in a song and story for tonight’s entertainment. Otherwise, please remain quiet out of respect for the others in the audience.”

Dusty saw the old pony jester to the band, a signal to start a tune that had the auditorium’s flames turning their burning glow from azure to amber. The song filled the air with it’s soft, pleasant tone of pitch as the woodwind players seemed to gracefully sway along to the beat of drum. In front of the flutes, the strings were taping their hoofs along with the rhythm like a slow ticking metronome, keeping the pace at slow steady tempo.

Along with the rest of the ponies within the tavern, Dusty began to knock his hoofs to the counter while others used tables or their stools to produce a loud clack that could be heard around the auditorium. It filled the place to the brim with a sudden, harsh bashing sound of wood being hit on by pony hoofs. Thus, it reassured that everypony in the tavern was in unison.

All at once, after the opening measure of the song had passed, the Silver Dragon Inn became a choir of voices singing harmoniously to lyrics of the song being played;

“In the deep old crypts from those ages which have passed
A single pony laid in the ruins of the old and of the last
Crusade of which have laid their bones inside the crypt
To let the others outside the world know they have refused.”

The Storyteller took over and sung, in a deep baritone;

“They refused to give up their meade and die by the code they stand,
A knights dignity and honor which they sacrifice for the land.
To feast on the ale, vodka, and wine, or whiskey in the hand,
While they tell the days of which have passed in stories with a band.”

There was long musical rest within the middle of the song, to let all the ponies within the tavern continue to swing their mugs, clack their hoofs, or drink what hasn’t spilled to the floor. As for Dusty, he was enjoying the tune with a smile upon his face and a sip of his Screwdriver. He watched the old stallion upon the ledge began to sing the second half of the lyrics;

“That single pony that laid in the ruins knowed,
He had to keep the tradition alive and preserve the stories of the old.
He build this place and welcome those far and wide,
To safe haven of drinks and rye while providing a place to hide.”

The entire tavern then joined back into the song to finish out the rest of the tune;

“We thank the pony to which he build for us to play and hide,
as we drink all day and party on into the night.
As we all sit here and enjoy the tells of which he speaks,
To entertain us all tonight and remember for the rest of our years.”

After all the ponies within the Silver Dragon Inn cheered for their efforts in successfully performing their song, the flames within the cauldrons began to burn out. As it was an indication for everypony to return to silence, they all sat within the darkness, remaining quiet while Dusty could see the fog above the Mirror Pool beginning to clear out and reveal the surface of the water underneath. It swirled silently around the room until it formed into a giant grey sphere above the lake. It hovered in the space, slowly turning while some of the fog continuously seeped downward and back onto the top of the water.

Oh his cue, The Storyteller levitated his book into the air and casted a spell upon the parchment. It caused the text to erupt into a bright golden glow with the ink writing illuminating a series of rainbow colored arrays, only for the entire book itself to disappear in a flash after about a minute later. Darkness then consumed the entire tavern once again.

Then another subtle tune began to play as the ball of fog shaped itself into a clear picture of the Crystal Heart in its current glory. It brightened the room with a clear, glistening celeste color while it spun slowly, showing itself off in a three-dimensional spectrum that allowed all the ponies in the Inn to gaze upon its every side. For the most part, the heart looked like it was cut and crafted from the very best of Equestria’s jewelers.

It was the first image that began the entire story.

Author's Note

To the readers,

I want to thank you for taking the time to read the beginning to my brand new story, and I hope you will enjoy the entirety of it since their will be a lot more in store ahead of this chapter. As always, I invite everyone to comment, like, and favor this story while providing me with any constructive critics you wish to share. Also, if you see any grammar mistakes in these chapters, just simply PM me the mistakes and I will resolve them as soon as possible.

Thank you once again,

• Nugget