Strange Alchemy

The laboratory was darkened, lit only by the harsh yellow glow of crystalline lights surrounded by polished mirror reflectors. Dee finished setting his instruments onto the hardwood rack: perfectly prepared tools of metal and delicately prepared scrolls. Looking at them glistening in the light made him shiver. The way the blades shined in the crystal light and the way the scrolls sat, perfectly folded, inscribed in a mixture of powdered bauxite and his own blood made it all seem too real.

Dee could almost not contain his excitement. He had spent nearly a day feverishly planning his spells, getting them ready. At some point, Fyr’mond had returned home, but he had ignored her. He was too busy: there was enough time, but he knew that hesitating for even a moment would be a terrible mistake.

A sound of a door unlatching in the distance made his blood race, and he covered the rack with a thin cloth. The door had not been the one to his study, but one from one of the service tunnels that led to his laboratory. They had originally been constructed to allow for the delivery of equipment or larger ingredients without the delivery ponies disrupting his home above. Which, he supposed, they were doing now.

From the tunnel, a trio of ponies approached. Two of them were tall, strong unicorns clad metal resembling plates of wrought iron. Their faces were nearly covered, and their horns glowed brightly, one pink and the other pale green. Between them was a third pony, his body covered completely with a dirty cloth.

“At last,” said Dee. “Put it here.”

One of the ponies pushed the covered pony into the direction where Dee pointed, and then brought his hoof down sharply on the pony’s back. There was a cry from beneath the blanket, and a jingling of heavy chains as the prisoner was brought to his knees.

“Bow before the Lord Magus,” growled one of the guards.

Dee approached, and grabbed the blanket with his magic. Swiftly, he pulled it away. When he saw the pony beneath, he gasped in delight.

In one set of his orders to Runner, Dee had made a request to the Equestria Central Dungeon. He had asked for a prisoner, and ordered that he conform to just two conditions: that he be an earth pony condemned to die, and that he be the most visually impressive stallion that they had in their inventory.

They had not disappointed him. The pony that kneeled in chains before Dee, though dirty and slightly bruised, was a brilliant cyan color. That alone was interesting enough, but the far rarer feature of his visage was his mane and tail: they were both long and colored like brilliant rainbows. It was uncommon enough for a pony to have bicolored hair, but this six independent colors. No other pony like him had ever been recorded in Equestrian history.

“Oh my,” said Dee. “He is indeed a handsome specimen.”

The pony glared upward at Dee with violet irises as Dee walked around him, examining him more closely. The guards had done excellent work; there were slight signs of pain spells burned into his flesh, but there were no marks of whipping or scars that might mar his appearance. The only mark he had on his body was an old scar running down his face, but that only made him more impressive.

Dee stopped at the pony’s cutie mark. Even it was complex enough to be impressive: a tri-colored vertical sword piercing a winged cloud. It was oddly appropriate.

“What is your name, earth pony?”

“My name,” he said, “is of no consequence.”

One of the guards, sensing his disrespect, shocked him with a pain spell, sending him convulsing. Even as he shook from what was most likely highly agonizing, Dee saw that the stallion was resisting, refusing to scream and letting out just a low moan.

“Enough of that,” said Dee, signaling the guard to stop. “Indeed, he is correct. His name does not matter here.” Dee gestured to the pony on his floor. “Stand, if you can.”

The earth pony took several deep breaths, and then stood. That alone was impressive; the pain spell should have rendered him partially stunned for several minutes.

“Look here,” said Dee. He pushed his cart forward, and quickly drew away the cloth cover. He saw the pony’s eyes dart toward it. Though the blue pony was strong and remained stoic, Dee momentarily saw his eyes glimmer with fear at the sight of all the surgical tools- -and at the pair of larger objects that sat in the center of the wooden surface.

“I am going to give you a choice,” said Dee. “So listen carefully, and choose well. I am not a monster. I abhor violence, and I despise the sight of blood. My intention in bringing you here is to make you the subject of one of my spells, a crowning achievement that will secure my own future. I do not claim to be altruistic, but I am honorbound to give you this choice. For me to proceed, I ask that I must have your permission.”

The two guards looked at each other, confused. They had never seen such compassion shown to a prisoner before; their own compassion had been taken from them long ago though modifications spells.

“And if I refuse?” said the blue pony.

“You are scheduled to die. I know not what crime you have committed, nor do I care, but if you refuse, you shall be returned to your cell, and in a fortnight, you shall meet your end at the gallows.”

“That is not much of a choice.”

“Yes, it is. You need to understand. This spell should work, but it will be dangerous. You may die, and if you do, you will die in exquisite agony. The gallows will be quick and painless. A simple drop and a snap.”

“But if I survive your procedure?”

“I am the Magus of the court of Third Horn. I can secure you a pardon.”

The pony’s eyes narrowed. “I doubt that even you, ‘Lord Magus’, can pardon my sins.”

“That is for you to take into consideration, rainbow pony. The decision is yours. But make it quickly. Before they spoil.”

The blue pony looked down at the table again, and at his potential future.

“I accept,” he said.

“Good,” said Dee. He made a motion to the guards, and they grabbed the pony by his shoulders. Dee pointed at a metal table behind him with leather straps. “Bind him,” he ordered, picking up a saw and a narrow fragment of a scroll. “Herbs to ease the pain might kill him. You two shall need to hold him down.”

The blue pony was slammed onto the table and strapped in. He struggled only slightly, as if his body could not allow what was about to happen to him to simply occur without a fight. With little effort, though, he was restrained.

Dee lifted the saw and coated it in yellow magic. He leaned over the pony’s back, and set to work.