Strange Alchemy

“Wow…” Fyr’mond looked to the ceiling of the house, and suddenly felt dizzy. There were so many beams and joists and rafters above her.

“Yes,” said her new husband, sounding somewhat embarrassed. “I will admit, my home is not much compared to your royal standards, and I do apologize.”

“No, no,” said Fyr’mond, now herself embarrassed. “It’s just…I’ve never seen so much wood in one place!”

Dee raised one eyebrow. “Wood? Really?”

“Everything in the Citadel is made of stone and steel,” she explained, candidly. “But…wood, it’s just so much warmer!” She looked wide eyed at Dee. “Are all houses made of this material?”

“Many,” he said, dismissively.

“It’s so beautiful,” she said.

“Milady, may I take your coat?”

Fyr’mond turned and gasped, startling the servant who had addressed her. “An earth pony! A real earth pony! I’ve never met one in person before! You can- -you can talk!”

The servant looked confused, his eyes flashing to Dee and then back to his new mistress. “Yes, milady. Indeed we can.”

“What is your name, earth pony?”

The servant pony suddenly looked terrified, but did his best to hide the sudden surge of emotion. “My name is Upkeep, milady- -I mean, your highness.” He suddenly dropped to his knees in a deep bow. Dee rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry, princess, I’ve spoken out of term, please forgive me!”

Fyr’mond did not understand. “You haven’t done anything wrong, though.”

He looked up at her, and she did her best to smile, even though she was deeply confused. Her unicorn handmaidens never acted this way. Then again, they almost never spoke.

“Her coat, upkeep?” said Dee, sternly. “Or are you going to keep me waiting all day?”

“Yes, Master Dee,” he said, jolting upright and gently taking Fyr’mond’s overcoat, folding it neatly. “And might I say, your majesty, it is truly the honor of my life to behold you. I congratulate you- -both of you- -on your wedding.”

“Stop wasting my time,” said Dee, now sounding threatening.

“Yes, of course Master Dee. Princess, I shall store this in your wardrobe.”

“Thank you, Upkeep.” He did not seem to notice as he scurried away, her complex and extravagant overcoat folded neatly on his back.

“Earth pony servants,” said Fyr’mond. “I did not even know such a thing was possible.”

“Yes,” said Dee, walking across the tile of his spacious foyer. “Unicorns would obviously be superior, but their inherent magic is detrimental to my research. My instruments are quite delicate. Of course, at present, I only have manservants. I will send word to have some females brought for your use. Or geldings, if you prefer.”

She followed him deeper into his home, and she continued to marvel at the various sights. It was nothing like the Citadel. The walls were bare, if not Spartan, and the furnishings were limited and oddly clean, as if they were never really used.

“You could, of course, wait in the Citadel for my return.”

“But you are my husband now. I should be where you are.”

They had only been married for a few days, but Fyr’mond was already falling neatly into the wifely duties that had been drilled into her mind since she was old enough to walk. Their ceremony had been exactly as she had anticipated: lavish, as was appropriate for a Magus and a Princess, and well publicized, but also just as hollow as she had expected. It was really just a ceremonial recap of what had happened to her living sisters so many times before her.

Dee continued to fascinate her, though. In private, she found that he was becoming increasingly comfortable with her. The confident outward shell he portrayed never left him, but sometimes it cracked just enough for Fyr’mond to see the pain beneath: that the limp he bore was more pronounced than he let on, that he sometimes collapsed into uncontrollable fits of coughing, or that he was quite possibly blind in one eye.

This house was just another thing she had learned about him. Fyr’mond knew that every Magus had an extensive office and living quarters in the Citadel. She had always assumed that they just lived there. Dee, however, had a secondary house far beyond the city.

The room suddenly grew brighter, and when Fyr’mond looked to the walls, she gasped. The entire wall of that room was built of glass, forming a set of large, perfectly clear windows that overlooked the lake below. Its shiny surface reflected the light of the Red and White Spheres, mixing their color with that of the yellow sky into something like a pool of liquid jewels. Around its edges grew pines taller than any three Fyr’mond had ever seen. Beyond those were endless green moors that stretched out to the mountains in the distance- -and, on that far horizon, she saw the needle-like tower of the Citadel rising into the upper atmosphere.

“By the Madgod,” she whispered, feeling tears running down here face. “It’s…it’s beautiful.”

“It’s a lake,” said Dee, barely noticing the view. “Like any other lake, I suppose.”

“I’ve never seen one before,” said Fyr’mond. “I’ve only ever heard of them from books.”

Dee’s gaze suddenly sharpened, and Fyr’mond shivered. She had seen that look in his eyes before. It was uncommon, and not unpleasant in and of itself. To her, it looked as though he had suddenly become interested. The reason she shivered was the implication that for the rest of the time, he had only been maintaining a façade.

“You can read?” he asked.

“Oh, yes,” said Fyr’mond, embarrassed, realizing that she had let some unfortunate information slip out. “I…I can.”

“I was not aware of that fact,” said Dee, stroking his beard. “Most of the nobility never learn how. In fact, it would be rather frowned upon for someone in your position to take an interest in reading. It is a skill beneath you, for workers like myself.”

“I know,” said Fyr’mond, highly ashamed and hoping that her dishonesty had not destroyed their marriage before it even had a chance to start. “A princess should not need to know how to read…but I really do enjoy it…”

“Tell me, Fyr’mond,” said Dee. “What is your favorite book?”

Fyr’mond look up at him. She was confused, both to why he had asked the question and why he did not look cross. “Well… ‘The Life and Exploits of Single Horn’, I suppose.”

“Bah!” said Dee, waving his hoof. “Nothing more than propaganda and overblown legend. If you want to read her true story, it would be better to start with ‘La Biographie de la Jument Grise’ by Primary Source.”

“But…there are no copies left of that tome.”

Dee smiled. “Except for the one I own.”

Fyr’mond gasped. “You have a copy?”

“That, and of many, many more. My library is quite extensive, although, I admit, rather lacking in fiction, as it serves so little purpose. Philosophy, metaphysics, magical theory, history, science- -those are what truly matter. In fact.” Dee withdrew a key from a fold in his brown robe with his magic, and held it to his horn. A yellow spark clicked against it, and then he passed it to Fyr’mond. “I have given you access to the rooms of my Mortlake home, including the library. Many of the books, I’m afraid, will be beyond you, but if you choose to read them, at least try to be careful. They are very dear to me.”

“I will,” said Fyr’mond, accepting the key with her hoof. “Thank you, husband.”

“There is one condition, though. Please, and I do mean please, do not enter my study or my laboratory. My work is delicate and intensive, and I need absolute concentration to accomplish it.”

Fyr’mond thought that the request was strange, but knew that it was her husband’s right to make such a demand. “Of course.”

“I actually have some work to attend to now.” He waved his hoof, as if shooing her away. “You can explore at your leisure. The servants will show you to your room.”

“Don’t you mean our room?”

Dee’s gaze sharpened, and not in a good way. “I sleep in my study.”

“But…husband. If I may be so bold, part of the purpose of our union is to attempt to sire an heir to the Dynasty.”

Dee sighed. “Yes…well, I suppose I can get to that eventually. I’m far too busy now, though.”

“If I may ask…what is it you are working on?”

Dee stared at her for a long moment, as if she had overstepped her boundary with that question or were accusing him of a crime. “If you must know,” he said at last, “I am planning a research trip to a distant ruin.” He paused for a moment, and then sighed when he saw how interested Fyr’mond was in what he was saying. “I suppose you can come, if you desire.”

“Oh, yes, thank you so much!” she said. “I’ve never seen the countryside, or a ruin! It will be such a beautiful honeymoon!”

“Honeymoon,” said Dee, turning away unceremoniously and walking into the shadows of his house. “Sure. But first I need to work.”

Fyr’mond watched him leave, and then turned and sat in front of the great window. Before, she had only ever seen the world from high above. She had never had any idea that it looked so beautiful, that it was one endless garden with no walls or ceiling.

Never before had she been so excited- -and yet, somehow, she felt oddly sad.

Doctor Dee entered his study and closed the door behind him, locking it. He had not expected Fyr’mond to be so clingy. His original intention had been simply to marry her and then leave her behind at the Citadel where she could continue her life. That was, generally, what most princesses did, assuming that their husbands did not simply take up residence in the city-sized lower levels of the tower. She had instead insisted upon coming to Dee’s sanctuary at Mortlake.

That alone was annoying, but he supposed that her doing so was not entirely a catastrophe. She would simply populate the upper levels, which he had never really used anyway. The servants would take care of her needs, and though she was a unicorn her power was so insignificant that she could not possibly interfere with his work.

That, and she could read. That bit of knowledge had forced Dee to reassess her slightly. Initially, he had just expected her to be like any other princess: bred from an early age for no other purpose except to breed, to be compliant and stupid, just one of an endless series of substantively identical ponies. Her ability to read- -and her interest in doing so- -made her slightly more appealing.

Dee crossed the room, igniting the lamps with magical energy. The light that flooded forth from the stone and wood walls showed and endless array of stored scrolls, charts, diagrams, and books that he had borrowed from his storage library for immediate use. This was his study, which was in turn connected by a small door to his alchemical laboratory and by a narrow staircase to the observatory on the roof. The observatory was also accessible from the house, and Dee recalled that he had not expressly banned Fyr’mond from it. He paused for a moment over his desk, and, looking down at a chart of solar motion, wondered if she might actually enjoy looking through the grand telescope at the heavens above.

He shook his head, driving the thoughts from his mind. He needed to concentrate. Looking around the room, he found a spot on one wall that was, from his perspective, curiously bare. Other ponies might not have noticed it, but he always did, and always thought it looked suspicious- -even though no pony ever came here except for him.

As he approached the spot, he charged his horn and shifted the spell that coated that part of the wall. The magic that held togather the hundreds of tiny wooden squares that made up that particular segment shifted, and each one pulled apart from the others with mechanical precision, revealing a dark space behind them. Dee immediately stepped through, the gap closing behind him.

The choice of a house on Mortlake was not a coincidence. Nor had it been for the beauty of the lake. Through occult means, Dee had long ago discovered the presence of something buried deep beneath this particular section of the moor, a kind of underground castle. He was not entirely sure what it was, or what it had been used for, but it seemed to be one of many that surrounded the farthest perimeter of the Citadel- -and quite possibly connected to it through a series of complex pitch-dark tunnels.

Like so much of the previous world, these catacombs had been lost to history. Dee was the only one who knew of them. They were not particularly useful; upon excavating the chambers below, he had found a large quantity of large-scale magical machinery, but all of it had decayed far beyond the point of being salvageable. Still, the ancient castle beneath gave him a place to store his most crucial research.

Dee had no need for a torch as he descended the tight stone staircase. The golden light of his horn was more than adequate to light the way as he spiraled down into the depths. Light was not nearly as much of a problem as the scale of the stares- -they had been built by some race that was far larger than ponies, and descending them was challenging.

Eventually, though, Dee reached the bottom and moved quickly through the maze of tunnels to his key sanctum. As he entered, the presence of his magic caused an internal reaction in the systems that still remained from long ago, and several bright lights sparked to life, filling the long, arch-ceilinged room with light.

Dee smiled at the sight of his true research, his true purpose, and then bowed deeply.

“My Queen,” he said, fully aware that she could not hear him. Then he stood and approached her position of honor in the center of the room.

It was almost ironic that Fyr’mond had been so enamored with Single Horn. That made sense, of course, considering that the Horn Dynasty itself had descended from Single Horn- -but she had no way of knowing that her new husband shared that interest, if not more so.

What sat in the center of the room was not a pony, or at least, not just a pony. Rather, it was a large mass of enchanted, eternal frost. Through the dense walls of barely translucent ice, Dee could sometimes see the silhouette of what he knew it to contain: the tall, gray body of Single Horn herself.

“My Queen,” he said, rubbing his hoof against the frost, watching it start to creep over the surface of his own flesh. “My true Queen…”

He knew that it was all a farce. His allegiance to Third Horn was nothing more than a joke, as if a sorcerer of his might could ever be servile to a magicless charlatan like him. His true allegiance lied with the pony entombed within this ice. She was the first of their kind, one of the first batch of monohorns ever synthesized. Her body, her magic, her very being was perfect. It was said that in her life, she had used the magic of one hundred generations, to the point where it was all that remained of her- -and that that overuse of magic was the source of the Horn Dynasty’s curse.

Doctor Dee leaned forward and kissed the ice over her lips. Fyr’mond was his wife now, but his Queen was the only one he truly loved. Even against him, she was infinitely greater in strength and knowledge, and he owned her, or what was left of her, the pony who had faced and defeated Choggoth Void, the Element of Magic herself.

Dee took his lips away from hers, and cast his gaze toward the table that stood before her. On it, in a specially constructed case, sat six stone objects. They were what remained of the Elements of Harmony: Loyalty, Honesty, Laughter, Generosity, Kindness, and Magic. At present, they were nothing more than stone, considered lost to history for millennia. Only Dee knew that they remained, and perhaps only he could comprehend their power.

Though he did not know how to use them, or even remotely understand their limitless power, he had still spent so much of his life studying them, attempting to unlock their secrets. With that power, he would be unstoppable. He could not only restore his love to the realm of the living, but he would be able to reclaim what was rightfully hers.