Chapters
Long ago, when the land had no form, and the sky warred with itself, there was nothing. From this nothingness stepped the gods, who wrought all creation, and it was good. Reality brought form to the void, and its beauty was loved by all.
This creation brought change to the static, bleak nothingness. The earth began to shift, mountains formed, and rivers flowed. Oceans spread, filled with beautiful coral and fish. All across the land, beautiful verdant greens appeared and further shaped the world.
Simple beasts could soon be found, stalking the wilds. Predators and prey of various shapes and sizes roamed along the ground. Teeth and claws their only weapons, while colorful birds claimed dominion of the sky.
Then there were the Fey, the most varied of all the creatures to roam the wilds. Some were small, others large. Some walked on two or four legs, while yet others had none at all! So wild were the Fey, and free, that all of the beasts were in awe of them and their beautiful magic.
Last to appear were the Men, though they were not the least! Cunning and intelligent, Man quickly became better hunters than even the Fey with their magic! They were smarter than any beast, and they stalked the wilds with fear of nothing.
The beauty of their creation, however, was brief. Soon the Fey became jealous of Man, and the beasts feared him. The Fey and Beasts decided to join forces and destroy Man, though they could not.
Life and death had constantly vied for dominance all across creation, though it remained in the favor of life. Nature began to suffer, however; there was no room for trees to grow, as they had already covered all the earth; there was not enough food for the animals, as they bred rapidly and had no way to grow it. The Fey, too, existed only within the means of nature, and so could not fight for more than what it provided.
Man was cunning and foresaw this, however, so they made weapons of war, and tools of agriculture. They felled trees and built homes, and used the open space they made to plant wheat. Nature held no sway over them, and so the Fey and Beasts were helpless before them. Death, being the final part of creation, begun to spread rapidly, stripping away all so that Man could grow in its place.
As for the gods, they watched with great sorrow. They wept for the destruction of their beautiful children. As they made more and more life, they had finally created a child which could care for itself. Men cared far more for themselves than their distant creators, or their weaker brothers, and they went on with reckless abandon.
So it came to pass that the gods separated their children. The separation was so vast, yet so small, that it defied knowing. This separation came to be called the æther, and it is from here that magic is born. The æther is the Ocean, and Terra and Mythas are the land. Every spell is a ripple, and both worlds felt its presence.
Sometimes, however, the gods' children would come to miss each-other so, that they would cross the æther to find one another. Thus it came to be that the myth was born...
A gentle beam of moonlight slid through a pair of old, purple silken drapes, falling half onto a stone block floor, and half onto an old mahogany reading desk. The light of a candle helped illuminate the rest of the room; ancient bookshelves filled to the brim with even older tomes, a portrait which curiously shifted between several things and nothing, and a high-backed chair which held the room's only occupant.
This creature was odd indeed. It was a seamless amalgam of countless creatures; a goat horn, a deer antler, a horse head, a billy goat's beard, an eagle's claw, a lion's paw, a lizard's leg, a bat's wing, a bird's wing, and many other things. Such a creature was surely magical, for no womb or twisted science could give life to something so mismatched. And it must surely be ancient, too, for the distant look in it's normally manic eyes.
The odd creature sighed wistfully, staring off into the distance while gently pinching a page between two of the digits on it's furry appendage. This place was not real, and the creature lamented that it was stuck there.
This creature was called "Discord," though he never really appreciated that name. He had a name once, though he had changed so much, and lived so long that he had forgotten it. It wasn't really in his nature to take only one name, though, so he could answer to "Discord," he supposed.
"Discord" was the embodiment of change, and his job, as ordained by the gods themselves, was to curate the balance of the world. If it were too orderly, it would grow old and stagnate, shortly before whipping hard into the forces of chaos. If it became too chaotic, nothing would grow, and everything would start to come apart at the seams. His job was important, and he had been content to play from the sidelines... mostly.
Around 1,200 years ago, he sensed something odd. Life began to overtake the balance, just as it had in his chronicling of the beginning of creation. He knew what that could mean, so he went right to setting the scales into balance again.
For the past thousand years, though, he had been unable to move, much less do his job. Apparently, a couple of upstart demigods got their hands on a rather powerful fragment of creation, and he knew he had to get it from them. Such things could seriously alter the balance of order and chaos if used inappropriately.
What he didn't know was that these fragments of creation could be used against him! Those little usurpers were like ants to him, so he had been a little too bold, too uncaring. Now he was in a petrified state that only the will of a god (or a very determined demigod) could break from outside.
He could sense the shifting of the balance even from within his prison. It had been shifting toward order long before the upstarts put him there, though he didn't know why. As time went on, everything outside began to rapidly shift toward order.
He knew the creation was flawed, and needed to be tended carefully, lest it destroy itself in an attempt to find balance on its own. It was why he was created in the first place.
But this level of order... It was unnatural, and he could feel the world crying out in pain and fear. The passing of time affected him little, though he feared the wailing would drive him mad soon. The gods should have intervened by now, and the fact that they hadn't was worrying.
However, as he meditated on this, he felt a presence. It was a familiar one just outside his stone prison.
He stretched his mind, using all of his strength to see through his eyes .
A vast garden stretched around a particular statue, that being the petrified form of Discord. It was late in the evening as Discord roused his imprisoned senses, and the first thing he noticed was a rather large cat had decided to seat itself in front of his stone form.
The first odd thing about this cat, was that it wasn't a cat at all, being a jaguar in reality. The second odd thing about this cat, was that everything ignored it, including the moonlight . Discord knew who this cat was, and it was a rather welcoming sight.
"I had almost hoped you would have forgotten about me," the cat said. His tail swished lazily from side to side, accentuating his Cheshire grin. Discord would have immediately bowed, however, he found that being stone made bowing quite difficult.
The cat chuckled briefly at his internal struggle. "Do not strain yourself on my account, I only came to deliver a message, after all."
Discord couldn't respond, so instead he merely listened, intently. The seated cat's smile grew a little, in response.
"The balance of not only your charge, but Terra, as well, has shifted so drastically that action needs to be taken. I will send you a champion for aid, and I will see to it personally that the balance of Terra is righted."
The cat stood, beginning to pace slowly around him. "Do not worry, you will not be punished. We have deemed you too useful to kill over a single failure, and so we have found that your imprisonment is punishment enough.
"Regardless, the ponies- particularly Celestia of Helios, and my own Luna- have caused far too much order; they are going to cause a massive backlash of chaos so powerful, that it will destroy all of Mythas. You know what must be done."
Discord watched as the cat flashed him a final grin, before walking away in a direction that required perception of six dimensions to comprehend. With that, Discord was left to his own thoughts, though now he had hope. He felt his prison weaken slightly, and he certainly knew what he had to do next.
Author's Note
I think I'm satisfied with this.
"WO~AH! We're halfway there! WO~AH! Livin' on a prayer!" I screamed alongside the radio.
My car was currently blazing down a county road, blaring Bon Jovi loud enough to give a rockstar a mild headache. It was 2130 and I could give less than a quarter of a shit about anything but a tv dinner and my bed right now.
Tonight was especially dark, despite it being a full moon. The sky was overcast, and trees hung over the road like a tunnel (not to mention the high-beams from my car totally eliminated my night vision). I was on the way home from an especially trying night at work, and I was on auto-pilot for the past half-hour.
Normally I could work a 48-hour shift with little problem (via military training and lots of coffee), but after having been out for so long, and being out of shape, I could barely make the drive home after a 12-hour shift. (thanks for being sick two days in a row, Greg!)
Working at a bookstore was nice, though. I didn’t have to work too hard, and I wouldn’t look lazy reading while on shift (if anything, it made me look more enthusiastic about my job). Though the bookstore had some decidedly odd hours (being open until 9PM), and I hated driving at night, I got time and a half for staying past eight hours. Greg being sick did get me more money, so I couldn’t complain too much. Any overtime I can get is really appreciated.
Thankfully the workday is over, and I can finally go home and sleep. Regrettably, my life never seemed to let me have a nice, simple day.
"Bon Jovi is the— SHIT! "
My car lurched into the air as I hit something, before slamming down with a loud *BANG*, producing the classic *thumpthumpthumpthump* that meant I had somehow blown out a tire. "God dammit! A fucking flat? Now?" I released an explosive sigh as I pulled the car over, just before a four-way intersection.
I quickly walked around to the back of the car, having been thoroughly awoken by the near-death experience. With no small amount of stress induced frustration, I angrily threw the trunk open—only to find my spare tire had hardly any air in it.
"There's just no rest for a poor old sinner, is there?"
"I would hardly consider twenty-three old, child."
I very slowly stood up and closed the trunk. Either a bum had snuck up on me in the middle of nowhere, or I was in some deep shit.
"There's no need to be afraid. I'm only here to give you a little test," the man sweetly said.
I turned to see that there was no man, but instead, a huge fucking cat sitting on the road. "Hmm, you seem less afraid, and more incredulous," the cat pondered.
"Dude, what the fuck? " I must be high.
"Yes," the cat replied, amused, "it is quite the sight for someone like you to see a talking jaguar, I would suppose."
I merely sat there, confused and irritated, while it leapt to the roof of my car. It landed silently, and turned to face me. "Would you like to know why I'm here?"
"Well— yeah , I mean— fuck dude! Am I fucking trashed behind the counter at work again? Are you my "spirit animal," or some shit?"
The jaguar chuckled into a paw before it decided to answer, "No, but your kind have seen beings like me when connected to the æther before— albeit much weaker beings, but the point stands."
"So does that mean I'm high right now?"
"Were you but that lucky," the cat replied solemnly, "No, I saved you from death back there on the road, so you are close enough to the æther that I may directly speak with you."
"Oh, well... fuck . Thanks, I guess."
"That is not the only reason I have called you here, I fear," he replied listlessly, "I have use of you yet."
"There's always a catch, isn't there?"
"Ha!" the cat shot with a smirk, "You are entirely too cynical, but there almost always is, yes."
The trunk popped open again, revealing a pair of arming swords. The blades hummed with an odd, cold blue hue, casting a faint glow around us. One of the blades floated over to me, allowing me to see its intricate golden filigree all along the length of the blade. The car died as the cat spoke again.
"As I said before, this is a test— one of skill, but most importantly will."
"So you want me to duel you with a sword?"
"Precisely," the cat praised.
"What do I get if I win?"
"Then you will be a mortal of unparalleled intellect and skill, reaching the fullest potential of any man and be free from the bonds of fate."
"Wow... What happens if I lose?"
"Then you will be the equivalent of a blood sacrifice, and will be my servant until the task I have assigned you is completed."
"...And if I refuse to participate because I just want a normal life?"
He simply grinned, "You're still alive, aren't you?"
I let loose a small sigh as I gently took the blade from the air. I gave it a gentle swing, feeling that it was quite a bit lighter than I expected (even though I knew it should only weigh about that much). I held it away from my face so it would leave my sight unaffected, though strangely it didn’t seem to harm my vision at all.
As I turned to look at the jaguar, it was gone, instead replaced by a dark skinned man in scorpion-pattern Army fatigues. The name tapes were too dark to read, but he looked like he was from central America. He held out his hand, allowing the other weapon to gently float to him.
"It has been some time since I last wore this form, though it has changed through the ages," he said, inspecting the blade with loving care, "I wondered when next a mortal would catch my eye, and it has been some time since last I met a warrior at a moonlit crossroads."
I merely swallowed heavily and tried to plant my feet in a descent fighting stance. I silently summoned any knowledge I had about sword fighting—from Youtube videos to a German sword manuscript I kinda read that one time.
"What's the matter? No furious screaming, or taunting words to try and goad me?" he chided.
"Only fools rush to a fight, or their death," I replied, barely managing to not visibly tremble.
"Wise," he said smirking, "but this isn't a contest of wisdom."
He moved very quickly, but not impossibly so. He led in with a thrust, which I bat aside with the base of the blade. He immediately followed with an upward diagonal slash across my torso, but I was able to step back fast enough to avoid it.
I could tell that he was going easy on me, from his grin to his slow, exaggerated movements. We were moving at a training pace, and I was thankfully managing to keep up. He continued guiding me with slow attacks, and lightning quick defence. Eventually, though, I messed up.
I went for a lunging stab, but I overextended. Before I could bring the blade back into a sloppy defence I vaguely remembered from that manuscript, he stepped in. He flowed like water around me, getting close enough that the tip of his blade could make a perfect push-cut on the back of my unprotected ankle.
The pain was cold, and sharp, yet wholly unlike any other knife wound I had until that point. It was intense and freezing like stepping in ice water, yet it seemed to spread slowly across my entire body. My opponent's face never lost its cheshire grin as he waited, patiently, for me to recover. As soon as I managed to right myself, he was on me again.
He was slow, and sloppy, telegraphing his attacks and timing them to a steady rhythm; thrust... cut. thrust... cut. He even moved in a pattern, but it was all I could do to not be cut or run through by his amateur strikes. He was playing with me— or perhaps giving me a fair chance (after all, most people know even less than the paltry amount I kinda knew as a hobby).
Either way, it didn't matter— I'd lost. But the least I could do was form a draw— after all, I was already dead, right?
With a single desperate lunge, I threw myself on his sword and thrust wildly at him.
Unfortunately for me, he saw it coming, and thrust to meet me before stepping aside. Everything went cold, and the glow of the swords went dark. The clouds parted and allowed the moon to shine on the crossroads, painted with my blood.
"You are quite persistent, aren't you, Steven?"
I lost feeling in my torso, and fell over, practically paralyzed. A blood-filled cough was the only reply I could give him.
"Don't feel so down, Steven, you were already dead in the first place. I just wanted to try to give you a chance outside fate to win your life back."
Another bloody cough and wheezing was his only reply. I could feel myself drowning in my own blood.
"I will admit, it was perhaps unsporting of me to pick the game I did, but I already gave you a chance."
Silence.
"And hey, you might make some friends on your new life's mission."
Blackness— and I was dead. Nothingness surrounded me, and soon my soul would drift off to whatever it was that exis—
"What a drama queen!" admonished a new voice.
I wanted to open my eyes, but I couldn't, because I was dead. A sad fate, to be sure, but perhaps elysium or some other—
"Ugh! If you were dead, then how would you be able to hear me, or even think that?!"
I really wanted to tell him that I was dead, but I couldn't. After all, dead men tell no—
"He's right, you know, you aren't dead." It was the jaguar again.
"Mortals, they just never get it, do they?"
I could probably think of a witty retort, if I were alive... But I can't, because I'm dead.
"Well, if you won't wake up, I'll make you wake up!" the new voice shouted, shortly followed by a dull thump.
Ow, that hurt. But I didn't feel it be... wait.
"I think he's starting to come to..." the jaguar replied.
"A-am I...?"
"No, you're in purgatory, but you didn't cease to exist, like most mortals. If it's any consolation, you would have become nothing after you died had we not intervened."
I opened my eyes to see vast expanses of black in every direction, and then felt as if I were falling through an endless pit. "Oh."
I looked around in every direction to try and detect the new voice, yet there was nothing. I also noted that the jaguar was missing as well. Strangely , though, I could still see myself fine, almost like a cartoon.
"Worry not, mortal servant of mine, you will soon find your new place of duty, and there serve until I release you."
With a sigh, I simply fell through the void, allowing the gods to send me where they will.
"That's my lot in life, I suppose."
"Look on the bright side, kid, you'll get new powers, and live in a place of peace and harmony, and you might even get to be immortal!"
"What?"
"Damn it, Discord! He wasn't to know these things yet! You may have ruined my plans!" the jaguar shouted.
"Whoops," Discord shot.
"What did he mean?" I asked, very interested in the new turn of events.
With a sigh, he replied, "I am not sending you anywhere on "Earth," rather, you will be sent to a different place; a place called Mythas. Specifically the country of Equestria. It is the birthplace of all legends, including myself and Discord."
"W-why? What could you possibly want me to do there that you couldn't?"
"It has changed much, and it is no longer a home to the gods. Most of us have little to no influence there, and it has suffered for it."
"He's right," Discord sighed, "It's become a place of stagnation, and if left unchecked, it would tear itself apart in a maelstrom of chaotic backlash. The demigods who still live here are young and stupid, thinking that they're always right, and so they ignore what we have to say. I fear it will soon become a graveyard of immortal idiots."
"Wow. That sounds like it'll be tough..." In truth, it sounded damn impossible! But if an apparent god tells you to do something...
Jaguar sighed, "Which is why I will be granting you a substantial amount of power, enough to challenge those demigods, at least. Though be wary, the two most powerful, Celestia and Luna, will be quite the challenge."
"What do you mean by "power" exactly?"
“Why, magic, of course.”
I could suddenly feel thousands of words, symbols and voices filling my head, and just as quickly as they came, they were gone.
"Now go, mortal. Go and spread change across the land."
And then everything was black again.
Everything in Canterlot usually went according to schedule, barring unforeseen eldritch horrors intent on ruining the day. Most everypony in all Equestria saw this same level of peace, and it was good.
"Your Majesty?" Ah, another royal petitioner, here to see some issue resolved, no doubt. He wore the traditional garb of one of the members of the House of Commons.
I didn’t recognize him, and I was unlikely to. Most of the members of the House of Commons were continuously traded around due to the House of Nobles sowing dissent to keep them divided and weak. It was petty and disgustingly corrupt, but I had dug my own grave by allowing the ponies some hoof in their own governance.
The only way to change it now would be a despotic overthrow of the current system. While that might work, I’m afraid that the entire House of Nobles would band their private armies together and try to overthrow me. Naturally spinning it as them protecting the commoners from my sudden bout of madness brought about by either old age or magical corruption.
After all, it’s what I would do.
"Yes," his name escaped me, "good councilpony?"
"You were aware of the massive vortex forming over the Badlands, correct?"
I wasn't, actually. Not that some random nopony needed to know that. "Yes, of course," I lied.
"Ah, well... did you have some plan to do something about it?" My, how brave this one is! Most ponies would sooner slap their grandmother than directly question me. Though with total authority and deific powers, there was a reason for that.
"No, I didn't. I plan to let it happen, and deal with it afterwards if necessary." A simple plan that incorporates my current inaction without me looking foolish.
"Ah, I see. I suppose it is the Badlands , after all." Assigning me a noble motive, which was good. While he was a member of my court, I could trust that he did that out of a mutual interest. It didn’t mean that I wouldn’t have him constantly surveilled for signs of ambition or dissention, however.
"Your Grace!" Another pony beat down the door, huffing and puffing his way to the throne. He was another pony I didn’t recognize, but his armor and chevrons allowed me another easy out to address him by a title and not look callous or forgetful.
"Yes, sergeant?" If he was here for the reason I think he might be here, I would need to immediately start doing multiple kinds of damage control.
"A massive ball of energy has been shot from the vortex, and is headed for one of the frontier towns!"
"Oh," Shit.
Author's Note
Finally edited thanks to this glorious bastard!
(That was not intended to be a pun deriding his heritage, but I'm leaving it in anyway (because it's kinda funny
Your glorious author,
~Lonelydarkness
Swirling colors, voices and images filled my mind, burning their presence into my memory. It was almost too much, the knowledge of so many being crammed into my skull! Everything there was to know about the greater forces of the æther, magic. It was surreal just how long it felt, even though I've been assured it was only a few brief moments.
Then, in a flash of blue and a very bright light, it was done.
Soon, I felt wind rushing past me, and a flickering heat all around me. A massive expanse of desert stretched beneath me, and a cloudless, blue morning sky soared above me. There was also the massive ball of flames that licked the air around me. Oddly enough, I couldn't feel them burning me, only a slight warmth emanating from them.
As I fell, something would also, on occasion, hit my outer left leg. I looked down (or up, rather) and saw that same sword from before, sheathed in a scabbard. It was a simple black leather thing, with a steel cap protecting the mouth and point, both of which seemed to be covered in that same filigree that adorned the blade.
By far, though, the most striking thing was the sudden power I felt. It was like being submerged in room temperature water that was being vibrated by an earthquake (an interesting experience, I assure you). I could feel it in everything, from my eyes to every strand of hair. It was almost overwhelming.
'So this is what magic feels like, huh?' It was certainly impressive, if I said so myself. With a wave of my hand, the flames disappeared, leaving only a ghost of their warmth behind. Not that I knew it would work, but I just knew it would (you know?). I began to wonder just what I could do with these new powers, all of this magic to myself.
I felt like a little schoolgirl, this magic making me feel unnaturally giddy. It was even enough to make me giggle.
Before I could rouse the Guard Captain, I heard a manic laugh echo across the great hall. A magically enhanced voice that carried on the wind, and one that would probably force several hours more from my schedule. Before I could lament my loss of sleep further, a nearby guard began to quiver in fear.
“Y-your majesty! W-what was that !?”
I will tell you, it was very seldomly that anything would make me seriously entertain a sabbatical.
I had no idea what that was, but I knew I couldn’t go around announcing my presence (at least, if the gods were to be believed). Before I could try any silly arm waving or incantation muttering, though, I felt... something in my mind.
The sound of banging pots, breaking wood and a yowling cat echoed in my head. ‘Jeez! This place is a mess!’
It was that other voice! Discord, I think it was. ‘Yes, yes. It’s me, the master himself! Now before we do anything else, we should probably get you to the ground safely.’
And with that, my freefall from a few kilometers stopped, and eventually turned into a gentle, almost lazy drift downward.
As I gently floated down, I could now focus on something that wasn’t the overwhelming feeling of magic, but the ground. Specifically, I saw a small village quite a few kilometers away.
To be entirely honest, it seemed like a western frontier town, save for the tiny size and massive orchard to the east (seriously, how would so few people maintain an orchard in a desert ). Though that wasn't the weirdest aspect of the town, by far. Roaming around the streets were technicolor ponies, dressed in childish caricatures of western stereotypes.
‘Yes, a small Equestrian town, Appleoosa, if I remember correctly. I would stay at a distance, if I were you. You’d probably cause a stampede.’
I absentmindedly nodded, wondering just what the fuck was going on. A few moments later, I was gently deposited on the ground, where a tiny dust-devil formed a translucent… well, I didn’t know what it was. Though it was almost exactly my height, and looked at me like we were old buddies from the army.
He gently extended his hand, “Why hello there, pal! Name’s Discord.”
I appraised him suspiciously while reaching for his hand— only to phase right through it.
“Ah well,” he said, shrugging, “It’s the thought that counts.”
I think I might just lose it. “Okay, thanks for not letting me go splat, but would you kindly explain what the flying fuck is going on?”
He chuckled, “Yes, I suppose I can take the time. What would you like to know?”
“Well, for starters, where am I?” I said, begrudgingly accepting my fate.
“Why, weren’t you paying attention? You’re in Mythas, specifically on the border of a country called Equestria.”
I sighed a little, “Alright, alright. What is it that I’m supposed to do then?”
He scratched his scruffy goatee, humming in apparent thought. “Well, I suppose you could realistically do just about whatever you want.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” he said, reclining on the air, “Your job is to help me spread some chaos, but we have to do it in a controlled way.”
“And how am I supposed to do something which is contradictory by nature?” I said, slowly getting frustrated by his laissez-faire attitude.
His impish grin was quite similar to that jaguar’s. “Well, it’s difficult, but that isn’t your job. You just need to cause the chaos, I’ll be the one making sure it’s controlled.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, slowly rubbing my closed eyes. “Alright... okay. Do you have something concrete for me, then? Maybe not a “do this,” but at least a “don’t do that”?” I begged.
He seemed to think that over for a moment, idly floating in circles around me. “Well, for starters, I would recommend against starting an ethnic cleansing, or other similar things. That would be a bit too much.”
I was dumbfounded, “Uh... yeah. No shit.”
“And changing a biome would probably end the world, too,” he continued, “So would a new invasive species, come to think of it.”
I was starting to get a scosche upset. “Yeah! No shit!”
“Hyper advanced tech might be okay. And a new philosophical or political outlook should be alright. Just don’t go with Nazis or Communisim and you should be able to squeak out fine.”
I let out a frustrated sigh.
“Anything else and you should be okay— I trust your judgement.”
“So essentially you want me to do some bad shit, but not get up to Hitler levels? Is that it?”
“Well, not exactly. This world needs some instability on occasion. If you do a Thanos and wipe out half the planet, everybody else would benefit, but at this point, it would cause a massive cascade of the balance. You’d probably end up killing everything then. Not that you even have enough power to do something like that.
“No,” he said, looking me in the eyes, “I am a force of nature here, and you are my helper. Nature does not care about feelings, it is not good or evil. It simply is . I do not delight in death, but it is a tool of balance in my arsenal, and it is sometimes necessary. This may be one of those times, and if it is, then you’ll just need to suck it up, buttercup.”
He returned to lazily floating around, but his words hung in the air like a headsman’s axe. “Okay,” I said, suddenly feeling very small next to him.
“But fret not!” he said, his cheery tune returning jarringly, “I know how mortals feel about killing things, so I will defer to your judgement on the frequency of its necessity.”
I slowly nodded, unsure of how to deal with the god-like being near me. “Will there be anything else?” he asked, folding a sheet of paper into a tesseract.
“Uh, yes, actually. I should probably ask you about how to use my magic.”
“Ah! Yes, that’s the tricky part. For now, you’re still in the divine envelope that brought you here. All you’ll have to do is imagine it and it’ll happen. After about a day, though, your ability will taper off as the hole in the æther connected to you closes. Once it’s shut, you’ll have to learn magic like the rest of the mortals do. And I’m sorry to say, I don’t have the time or desire to teach you.”
I sighed, realizing that I had a lot of work ahead of me. “Alright, thanks, I guess.”
His impish grin returned in full force, “I’ll be back in a few months for a progress report. Ta ta!” his form disappeared, leaving nothing but a rapidly dissipating dust-devil behind.
As he disappeared, I let loose a sigh of relief. ‘Now, what to do?’
After a few moments, I decided that I needed a disguise. I figured a human would stick out like a sore thumb in a land of myths and legend, and sticking out that much would probably be a detriment. The only question was; what should I disguise myself as?
Eventually, I decided on a Roman satyr, allowing me to keep most of my body the same, with a bipedal stance. I did just as Discord said, picturing myself as a satyr. I could feel the energy surrounding me, willing my body to change.
Slowly, my flesh began to bubble and shift, and I could hear bones snapping and shifting beneath my disturbing flesh. Thankfully the transfiguration was far more pleasant than it sounded; it felt like being dipped in a pleasantly warm bath.
My blue jeans fell from my newly changed body, exposing the most stunning of the changes. My goat legs were covered in a curly, raven black coat of fur, and I sported an impressive set of new horns stretching back and up in a gentle tilde shape, much like a Tiefling's would. A simple van dyke classed the look up quite nicely; I always had a particular fondness for this style of beard.
The only problems now were my clothes, as my pants still held my belt— and by extension my sword. My simple “Shadiversity” (and no, it had nothing to do with… him. Look it up on youtube, trust me) t-shirt seemed quite at odds with what I expected the local population wore. But while my shirt could be explained away, denim would likely be far beyond my ability to explain (assuming they didn’t have it). It’s not like I even needed pants now, anyway.
I decided to transform all my belongings, starting with my pants. I decided to shape it into an old-fashioned stove top hat. The items in my pockets now lay strewn across the ground, and a new hat rested safely atop my horns.
Next was my shirt, which was transformed into a silk/cotton blend black vest, buttoned with three anodized titanium buttons, gleaming with a rainbowy finish. I did decide to keep the logo, but as a small pin on the lapel instead.
Next, my phone was morphed into a sterling silver pocket watch, with a short chain. Its simple roman numeral face read the time of 0930. Its plain finish was slipped into my vest and clipped onto the middle button.
My belt was rather thin, so I made it into a passably thick and wide strip of braided leather, which was promptly fastened around my waist, with a shiny new silver buckle. I morphed my shoes into a rough pair of leather gloves, which were shoved into the pocket on the other side of the vest.
Finally, my wallet was changed to a simple coin purse, filled with a modest amount of blank gold and silver disks fashioned from my various business cards, credit cards, and actual money. I could always change the blanks to actual coinage when I knew what the local currency looked like. The only thing I kept was the picture of my late uncle, which I lovingly placed in an inside pocket.
With that settled, I decided to flex my magical muscles, stretching my magical perception as far as I could. I spread my net far and wide, searching for any signs of life and significant power. Countless details of my distant surroundings filled my mind, stretching it far beyond its capacity. If I focused on an area for more than a second I would simultaneously see down to quantum and macro scales, learning far more than what I was meant to.
As soon as I started I wanted to stop. I couldn't even comprehend what I was seeing, and every second was agony. Just before I stopped, though, I sensed multiple powerful presences.
One lay to the Southeast, around 800 kilometers from here. I couldn’t tell much about it, as I was getting bombarded with every single speck of information on it; the only thing I could make sense of was the smell of freshly-cut grass.
Three lay clustered to the Northwest, between 800 and 1000 kilometers from here. The closest was odd, as it made me feel purple. I’m not entirely sure what that means, but then again I could see through time and space into the beyond!
The final two were clustered very closely together. If it weren't for their night and day differences, it would almost seem like they were one being from so far away. The first, weaker one looked like the sound of a car horn, and smelled like turducken.
The second had a strong, smokey sound, and tasted like sadness.
After I ended my horrible experience, I wept miserably for a minute before I forgot why I was crying. Having decided to never do that again, I tried a more conventional approach.
I pulled out a blank silver disk and decided to do the opposite of what it told me; Heads for the grassy smell, and tails for the three things I couldn’t understand. I used my magic to scratch an “H” and a “T” on the disk before tossing it into the air.
I watched it spin in the air for a moment before I caught it in my open palm. Tails.
With my path decided, I turned south— floating off towards my unknown destiny.
A small black figure clad in a sickly-green chitinous armor quickly trotted down ornate, grey limestone halls carved deep beneath the earth. The massive catacomb’s ceiling rose forty meters high, and stretched on farther than any light illuminated in all directions. Great pillars supported the ceiling, and the dank smell of stale air was omnipresent.
Every fifty meters there were large bronze braziers mounted ten meters above the floor. They held bright, mesmerizing emerald flames, though they did little to pierce the oppressive darkness. Every one hundred meters or so, there were more black creatures which carried lanterns to further combat the darkness in the underground hall.
As it passed others dressed in similar barding, it nodded or raised a hoof in an outstretched salute. It paid them little heed, however, as it had an important mission.
Its pace was swift, and soon it arrived at a set of large doors, made entirely of bronze, polished to a brilliant sheen. It was lavishly decorated with flowers and flowing poems in dead languages, and at eye level were mirrors made of the same bronze. The only ones in the entire complex.
Flanking the door on either side were more braziers, though the flames they held were an icy blue, and seemed to whisk away the heat. They produced a very bright, white light, and seemed to combat the darkness far more effectively.
Before he had even a moment to ponder the poems on the doors, they were opened from within.
The room beyond was comparatively small, though the vaulted ceiling was still twenty meters above the small figure’s head. A small foyer opened into a rotunda that was at least fifty meters across. The room was lit by the same blue flames by the door, though they sat in large stone basins.
On the domed ceiling of the rotunda were carvings depicting creatures similar to the black figure, though unlike him, their faces were all joyous or contented. They appeared to weave in-between trees in a grove. None aside from those called Changelings had ever seen those carvings, sadly.
At the end of the rotunda, opposite the door, was a throne of stone, decorated with plush, velveteen cushions and pink doilies. A regal black figure lazed atop the throne, with a pair of green tortoise-shell reading glasses perched atop her muzzle. She was reading countless reports of the goings on in her kingdom.
"My Queen!" rasped a deep, gravelly voice.
"Yes, my son?" replied the feminine figure. As she turned her gaze to the smaller child, she smiled at his bowing form.
"It is the oddity you had asked us to observe, Your Majesty," he said, rising, "It has turned out to be an incredibly powerful being. It's since taken a different form, though of what, I couldn't say."
"Could you describe it then?"
"Well, it's upper half was similar to that of a Minotaur, while its lower half resembles a goat. But it's head was wrong, Your Grace."
"Hmm, a faun hasn't been seen for almost a thousand years," she mumbled, pensively.
"Beg pardon, Your Majesty?"
"A Faun, or Satyr— ancient creatures that were thought to be extinct," she said. "The Blight one thousand years ago killed them all, or so it was thought."
"It was last seen flying this way."
"Hmm..."
"What should we do, Your Grace?"
"Bring him to me, unharmed and untouched."
"As you wish, Your Beauty," he said, bowing. He stood up and began to trot out of the room, leaving the Queen to her thoughts.
Author's Note
Edited! (finally)
Twilight Sparkle was not a happy pony. Normally, she could be considered cheerful, or downright gay, but this was one of the rare exceptions to the rule. She received a letter today.
She had heard (along with the rest of Equestria) an outright soul-chilling laugh which seemed to echo from everywhere. She could only arrive at the conclusion that it was another villain come to ruin the peace and quiet once more (she would come to realize that she was only half right, though it would be far too late to do anything about it).
Currently, Twilight was hyperventilating and pacing across the floor (though if asked, she would merely say she was taking stock of the situation). A small, purple drake was watching her worriedly, trying to think of a way to calm her down. He waited until she was within reach before climbing atop her back and massaging her crest, working down to her withers.
She slowly began to relax, as she made her way back to the soft perch she had lept from in a worrying combination of mania and anxiety. It had been a problem she'd had since she was accepted into Celestia's tutelage, and it showed little signs of improving. She had begun delving into tangential thinking in an attempt to cope, but it often times made it worse. Thankfully Spike was here to help her.
Spike had been with her for the better part of her life, and was likely to outlive her by a wide margin (as dragons can live for hundreds of thousands of years). She had been responsible for Spike even being alive right now, so she thought (in moments of deep introspection) that it was only fitting that he be the one to see her pass safely into death one day.
On the day of her first ever test (administered by an educator), she had been asked to attempt to hatch a dragon egg (which was a nigh impossible feat for any but the strongest of unicorn foals), and an extremely convenient magical surge allowed her to do so easily. Magic surges normally destroyed a unicorn who was caught off-guard, which is why Celestia likely took her on as her apprentice.
"It's okay, Twilight," comforted Spike, "we'll get through this just like we did with Nightmare Moon."
Spike had always comforted her in her times of need, and she was eternally grateful. She always felt as though she placed too much on Spike's shoulders, almost forcing him to mature too quickly (truthfully he hadn't really matured very much at all; he just happened to be a wise young drake).
All Twilight could do was sigh in response. The two were settled in a lavender davenport, situated across the small room from a gently smoldering fireplace. She decided that this was her new reading spot with Spike due to her recent move to Ponyville (though that didn’t seem to bother him much, as he was able to relax idly while tending the library).
Spike had just gotten done telling her (as he usually does) that she was going to have to do something about that "born-again villain laugh" (whatever that meant). Spike had already read her the letter, but she lifted it from his grasp to reread it anyway. "Would you go and gather the girls, Spike?"
Spike nodded reluctantly as he let the letter float over to the unicorn. "Yeah, shouldn't take too long. It sucks that we have to leave, but orders are orders."
Twilight merely nodded and watched the short drake walk off the seat and out of the room. After he was gone, she returned her gaze to the letter.
Dear Twilight,
I hope this letter doesn't catch you off-guard, but I'll need you to assist Equestria once more. I am sure you heard that laughter earlier today, and I am thoroughly convinced that it merits investigating. I know that you have already helped me greatly by returning my sister to me only a fortnight ago, but I cannot oversee this potential problem, unfortunately.
I have begun readying troops to aid you with your investigations, though I hope they will prove unnecessary. A vortex of unknown origin and destination appeared over the badlands early this morning, and few know that the source of the laughter likely originated from this same vortex. The local guard received a note from me via Dragonfyre informing them of the situation, and have been instructed to keep this incident a closely-held secret. I trust you and Spike to handle this information discreetly.
I would like for you and the girls to investigate this issue quickly. Bring Spike along as well, I would like to be informed of changes to the situation A.S.A.P. When you arrive at Appleloosa, ask for Sheriff Silver Star. He has already been informed, and will assist you until the E.U.P. arrive. Major Stout Shield will be my Liaison, and will be bringing the 4th Heavy Infantry Battalion to fortify the defenses of the town.
Again, I can only hope that they will be unneeded. They should be arriving shortly after you, and will be at your disposal. Keep me informed of anything that happens.
Sincerely,
Princess Celestia
The looming Citadel was quite impressive, and seemed impossibly tall. A massive wall surrounded the keep, and guards armed with crossbows spanned its entire length. A tower split the wall every fifteen meters, and machiculations saw to it that the defenders could shoot straight down without leaning out past the protective crenels.
Directly in the middle of the road, a forward gatehouse loomed, flanking the road on both sides with guard towers, forcing attackers to penetrate an additional portcullis. Inside the first gate was a well-planned killzone, with archers high above on all sides. Inside the second gate, there were holes that led to a small room above, inside the ten meter thick main wall. I could only imagine whether they used boiling saltwater, or burning-hot sand to dump on anyone stupid enough to try and go through the gate.
Though, alongside the impressive fortifications were runes which practically hummed with energy. If I had to guess, I would put my money on them being used to keep fliers out. Especially when even the people allowed to be here didn't fly over the impressive battlements.
While there had been smatterings of guards along the streets and in the air, they were crawling thick as tavern air here. As I looked at them, I couldn't help but notice their equipment. They all wore four-in-one riveted mail, with a barbute helm. Given the dull grey color, I could also guess that it was likely iron instead of steel. The gambeson stood out beneath the mail, as it was a bright green.
It would be effective enough against a sword or axe, and perhaps even a mace if their gambeson was thick. Unfortunately, it wouldn't stop a longbow's thick arrow, or various polearms (to say nothing of a magical attack, or even a musket).
I could see little in the forms of ranged weaponry, and none more sophisticated than a simple crossbow. That isn't to say that any of it was crude, though. In fact, most all of their equipment seemed quite expertly crafted from quality material. The problem seemed to be that none of it was beyond the early medieval period technologically. That could prove to be quite interesting later on.
As I made mental notes on the technological levels around me, I came to the second gate, which also had armed guard standing above in the battlements. The great doors slowly opened just enough for three people to walk side by side through.
The sound of metal horseshoes could be heard clanging away all around, though it also seemed very distant at the same time. I looked around, seeing a massive open room, vaulted ceilings stretching at least ten meters up. Normally, I would question stone ceilings in a stone building of this size, but I figure magic made most of this normally impossible architecture quite probable.
“Zis one is proud to velcome you, graciously, to ze Citadel, Herr ," she said, giving a graceful quadrupedal curtsy. Her thick German accent was soft, and demure (which sounded odd).
She was quite different from the other changelings I had seen so far. She was covered in a fine, white, hair-like substance; it made her strikingly resemble a lunar moth.
"Uh,"
"Oh!" she exclaimed, "Zis one is quite sorry, its appearance must seem quite odd."
"I didn't mean to be rude."
"Not at all, Herr ," she said, motioning toward a grand staircase that wrapped around until it disappeared beyond the ceiling, "Zis one can understand your lack of knowledge."
As we walked, she continued, "Zis one is still in its pupal stages. All ozer pupae vould be in training at ze moment, save for Her Majesty's staff. Zere are few selected for such honors, und all are selected very young."
I hummed in acknowledgement, starting up the massive staircase. "I suppose that makes sense, but I'm forgetting myself— I'm Samaritan."
She shook her head, "Such pleasantries are vasted on Zis one, Herr . Dienerschaft alvays address guests as Herr ."
I frowned "Is that customary, or are you compelled to do so?"
"Oh, it is quite customary, Herr . Zis one vould be bestraft by its forebears for such disrespect."
I hummed, "I take it that the same goes for the impersonal pronouns, as well?"
She nodded, "Ja , Herr , all zose directly employed by Her Majesty do so unless zey are vis close Freunde , similarly to contractions. Ze only exception is in ze presence of Her Majesty herself; she has expressed ve not do so, but ve attempt to avoid all pronouns togeser to maintain our respect und love for her."
"Do commoners do the same, or only during formal events?" I asked, desperate to sate my curiosity.
"You vere quite correct vis ze latter, Herr . Most citizens see no need to be so formal, zough it is mostly a contemporary sentiment."
I hummed once again, letting this information sink in. I found it odd, but I suppose it's quite normal for them. I couldn't help but be reminded of my trip to Japan.
As we silently walked up the rather impressive spiral staircase, I took time to look at the tapestries hung along the walls. They were silken, and depicted scenes of history I had no context for. On the lower floors, I didn't see the changelings anywhere, though there were similar beings who were white with colorful wings and green eyes.
The white beings (which I’ve decided to call Progenitors) were talking (or singing? It’s hard to tell with medieval tapestry art) with Gryphons, Minotaurs, and a Pegasus with a horn. There was lots of wheat and flowers with some weird writing I couldn’t read.
Eventually, Dragons entered the mix. The Progenitors seemed to be whispering to the Dragons, and there was quite a bit more writing. A bit further up, the Dragons started to attack the horned Pegasuses (Pegasi?) while the Progenitors seemed to be stealing a bunch of valuables.
As we went up, the Progenitors were suddenly replaced with Changelings. They looked like they were screaming, while they were slowly burned with a green fire. What followed was what I could only describe as a depiction of Exodus, but with bug ponies.
Whether this was an actual religious event, or a fable to explain their origins, I decided not to ask. Based on what I saw, it would be traumatic and horrible either way.
As I trundled up the ridiculously long staircase, in-between looking at the sprawling cityscape below through a window, I realized that I was about to have a meeting with royalty, and I didn't bring a gift. I can't lie and say I know how a meeting with royalty is supposed to go, but I'm fairly certain I should bring a gift.
"Is it customary to bring a gift for the Queen?" I asked, suppressing the creeping dread.
She stopped for a moment, considering my words. "Normally, ja , it is, Herr . Zough you vere summoned suddenly, und visout notice, so I suppose a gift is not strictly necessary."
I'm doomed. "Could you, like, get me a hunk of wood and a few pounds of iron?"
"Vat could you vant zat for?"
"I, uh, planned to, um... transmogrify it into a gift! I think I know just what to make, too! It wouldn't take very long, I promise." I said, quickly trying to think of something.
She seemed quite leery, but nodded. "Very vell, Herr , Zis one shall make haste. Zis one asks you remain here for a moment until Zis one returns," she said, spreading her wings.
Her chest began to glow faintly underneath her blouse, before she disappeared with a small pop . Whilst I racked my brain trying to figure out how she did that, she returned a moment later, levitating a small piece of lumber and an ingot of iron the size of my forearm. Her horn glowed a sickly green as she lowered them to the ground, the same aura also disappearing from the items.
"Zis one vas unsure of ze size you vished, Herr , so Zis one hopes zis is ausreichend ."
I nodded, placing my hands on the plank of wood. "So how did you do that?" I asked, using my hands to shape the wood like clay.
"Do vat, Herr ?"
"Teleport. You guys seem to use your horns for magic, but something under your blouse seemed to be doing it."
"Ah," she said, placing her hoof against her chest, "all of die Dienerschaft are given pendants to use rapid gate teleportation. Normally you vould have to be in a physical location to place a gate, but zese pendants allow us to place gates anyvere visin ze Burgmauern . Zough zey can only be used so many times before zey must be recharged.
"Zis one can recharge its pendant manually, zough it is very taxing. However, so long as ze pendants remain inside ze Burgmauern, zey vill fully recharge visin vierundzwanzig hours."
While she was talking, I had managed to piece together a simple flintlock musket from memory. Even before getting magical superpowers I could build this, though it would take me significantly longer. Especially with the purification of the iron into steel.
"Interesting," I said, slinging the rifle over my shoulders, "is all teleportation gate-based?"
"Nein , Herr ," she said, resuming our trek up the stairs, "it can also be sight based or memory based, however zose are bos more taxing und dangerous. Gate teleportation vill push ozer objects out of ze way, but ze ozer mesods vill fuse massive objects occupying ze same space."
I merely hummed as I cocked the hammer into the middle position. I snapped the pan cover closed as I walked. "You're probably wondering what this is, aren't you?"
"Zis one vould never be so forvard, Herr ," she said, eyes glued to the death bringer like a child looks at a red hot piece of metal.
I chuckled, "This," I said, gripping the barrel to give the buttstock a gentle pat, "is a flintlock longrifle, with a rifled barrel. With just a gentle squeeze, it can kill from up to 270 Meters in skilled hands."
"V- You plan to present Her Majesty vis eine Waffe ?!" she hissed, quickly stepping in front of me. "Ze Guard vould instantly try to spear you srough ze chest if zey knew vat zat vas!"
"Frankly," I said, giving her a pat on the head, "I’m not that concerned."
She seemed quite frantic, but the pat on the head seemed to stun her for a second. "Though you don't need to worry," I said, continuing around her, "I don't plan on harming her. In fact, I wish to become close allies, or perhaps even friends. Who knows?"
That seemed to get her attention. She continued, unabated "Zis one must insist you not bring Her such sings! Her Majesty may find it as a sreat! You could be hung, or vorse, Herr !"
That made me pause, "Really? Do you think so? She isn't, like, paranoid, or something, is she?" I don't like the idea of bringing a stereotypical medieval ruler a weapon, just to be killed with it. Not that they could, though. As much as I wanted to help these Changelings (and perhaps receive aid in my quest as well), there was little they could do to me with a flintlock musket without powder (my eminently ridiculous magical powers notwithstanding).
"Vell, it is not its place to say," She said, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially, "but Zis one believes Her Majesty to be most kind und understanding. It is unlikely zat Her Majesty vould do such a sing, zough Zis one suggests you still be as respectful as possible."
I let out a small sigh as she returned to her previous position. "Then why would you say something like that? You made me seriously reconsider my life choices!"
She merely chuckled as a large door appeared at the end of a short hall. "Her Majesty must maintain an image, zough Zis one sensed no deception in your vords. If vat you say is true, Herr , zen Zis one believes you may be privy to her unyielding Freundlichkeit ."
I nodded as we reached the end of the hall. The ten meter tall door was flanked on either side by guards in sickly green plate armor. It was in aGothic design, but it looked like it might be made of chitin (all things considered, it probably was). As we approached, their horns ignited with a sickly green which covered the massive doors, forcing them open.
The maid bowed her head to the guards, who didn't move, and continued past them. Inside was a massive hall, surrounded on both sides with beautiful Corinthian columns. The vaulted ceiling was well over twenty meters high, and beautiful paintings of the creatures I saw on the tapestries seemed to play all around. In the middle of the mural was a drone reaching toward a slender female with long emerald hair. It was like seeing the Sistine chapel from the inside without knowing it existed.
Soon, my attention was drawn to the large stone throne on a large pedestal, with a small table and chairs set up in front of it. Sitting in the chair closest to the throne was undoubtedly the Queen.
She looked to be just under my chin standing, making her much taller than any of the other changelings. A comically small, black crown adorned with what looked like green pearls sat on her head, behind a long, jagged horn. She had eyes like the Colonel, though one was obstructed by a flowing emerald mane.
She was lithe, sleek and lightly muscled. Her legs were long and slender, though they seemed to be riddled with holes. Strangely enough, though, was the fact that the holes didn’t seem to affect her ability to walk much.
What was most odd, however, was the smile she had; it seemed wistful and resigned, like a dandelion seed caught in a gust of wind. Her demeanor was off-putting— it was like she thought she was going to die, but was fine with it. She still maintained a striking, regal, air about her, though.
As we approached, She spoke. "Thank you, Ostia— please return to your duties now." Her voice was two toned, the second adding a harmonic quality to it. She bore no accent, sounding like an American English textbook. Her resigned sadness was so stunning, though, that I almost didn't hear my guide leave.
Her gaze turned to me, and she motioned to the chair opposite her at the short table. "Please, sit. I think I know why you're here, but I would like to have a cup of tea first. Would you care for one?"
I nodded silently and sat the musket beside the seat, my attention wholly on the creature in front of me. Her long, jagged horn glowed slightly before a tea set popped into existence near her head. She quickly poured the tea as I removed my sword belt, placing it beside the musket. As I sat, The door at the end of the hall could be heard, signaling that we were alone.
Again, the Queen spoke. "I am Chrysalis, Queen of the Changelings. I ask that if you have come here to kill me, please leave my children in peace. I will understand if you cannot, so please be swift." A single tear rolled down her cheek as she closed her eyes and bowed her head.
Author's Note
Edited! (What in Oblivion is that?!)
I couldn't believe my ears! "W-what?"
"You're far stronger than me in my current state, and the entire hive couldn't hope to stand against you. My children don't know, because I didn't want their last moments to be spent in terror," she said looking up, now softly crying, "So I can only beg that you have mercy."
The words of Discord hung ominously in my head as I stood slowly, causing the Queen to slightly flinch. I walked around the small table and wrapped my arms around her, horrified that she thought I would exterminate them (or maybe by the fact that I might eventually have to).
She sat totally still, and silent for a moment. I had no idea what to say; I had never had to comfort someone like this before. So I went with the first thing that popped into my head. "I would never do that. I only wanted to be friends."
She wrapped her arms around me and miserably wept for a good five minutes. All I could do was hold her tighter and rub her back gently, being only moments from tears myself. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing.
Eventually she stopped crying, and let go. She sniffled as I settled back into my chair. "Are you okay?"
She merely nodded, sniffling. "I'm sorry for that, I didn't mean to have an outburst. It was rather undignified." She wiped her eyes while her horn flared, causing her bloodshot eyes to return to normal. She sniffled one last time, leaving no further trace of her tears.
"So, why did you think I was here to wipe out your race?" I asked, slowly recovering from that sudden emotional roller-coaster. There was no way she had heard my discussion with Discord.
She sighed and looked to the mural on the ceiling, a small frown on her face. "Long ago, when Mythas was still young, My people were very different. Originally, we looked quite similar to the depictions on this mural," she said, returning her gaze to me. I looked up, deciding to spend more time looking at it.
"We were loved by all, and spread peace wherever we went. That was our ordained purpose, and we were content with it for a time,” she said, taking a brief pause.
I looked to the start of the mural by the door. Much like on the tapestries (though in far better detail, thankfully), the mural showed the Progenitors laughing, playing, and drinking. Many appeared to be mid-sentence, and several other species were intermixed with them.
“As the centuries passed, however,” she said, sighing wistfully, “my ancestors discovered that we could benefit from our neighbors' unrest. We then started the first ever Fey War.”
My eyes shifted further down the hall, toward us. I could see the Progenitors talking with the Dragons and horned Pegasi. They seemed to be playing both sides against each-other, while they took food and money from the distracted combatants.
"As the Dragons attacked and slaughtered thousands of Alicorns, we raided their weakened cities and pillaged all their lands. The Goddess Dike, furious with our blasphemy, laid a terrible curse upon us."
She sighed, and I could hear her take a sip from her tea. I did the same, finding it to be cold. I looked back to her as I set the cup back in the saucer. "They twisted our shape and perverted us. Food could no longer sate our hunger, only love was enough. With our curse, the other Fey drove us from their lands, forcing us here. We have starved for centuries, slowly withering to nothing. The sands have reclaimed most of our city, and this is the only one that remains. All the others were swallowed, either by the dunes, or the Wyrms that live in the west."
"So, you thought the Gods sent me to finish you off?"
"Though it hasn't been for longer than I've been alive, the Gods have given similar punishments. I thought I'd acted impudently and angered them enough to send you," she said, placing the nearly full teacup back on its saucer.
"Well," I said, letting out a pleased sigh, "I think you'll be pleased to know that that isn't even remotely why I was sent here, Your Majesty."
"Then why were you sent here…?"
"Oh! Um, call me Samaritan, if it pleases you, Your Majesty."
She smiled, "There's no need to be so formal around me, Samaritan. You did just see me cry like a larva, after all. And please, you don’t have to use my title while it’s just us."
"Alright,” I said, smiling. I leaned back and cupped my hands behind my head, “I will if you do, Chrysalis. You can call me Steve then, too.”
She smiled, practically beaming. “Wonderful! But I believe we were discussing your purpose here.”
"Oh, uh, well I was sent here on a matter totally unrelated to you, actually."
"Really?" she said, leaning forward slightly, "Do tell."
"Well, my only directive, really, was to cause change."
"That's it? Change? Change what, exactly?" she said, shifting in her seat.
"Well, that's the thing; I’ve been given free reign to cause chaos, within reason."
"That's not exactly comforting," she said, gently pressing her hooves together in front of her face.
I nodded, “I probably take less comfort in it than you do, Chrysalis. I’m just an average Joe, and yet I’m probably gonna have to do some really bad shi— I mean, stuff.”
She nodded, her face turning grave. She placed her front hooves back in her seat, “I understand what you mean. As a Queen, I must do many unsavory things. Were I a lesser ‘Ling, I would have likely taken my own life in despair by now.”
Her answer was shocking, but not very surprising. A single city-state in a desert, whose population was globally reviled? Yeah, I could definitely have it worse.
“Looks like we both got a raw deal,” I said, reaching for my non-existent pocket to grab my missing cigarettes.
“Raw deal?” She said, cocking her head to the side.
I snapped my fingers, conjuring a pack of Camel Crushes. “Yeah, it’s a euphemism. It means we were both given bad lots.”
“You mean like drawing lots? I believe I understand, now,” she said, eyeing the cigarettes curiously.
I had to stop packing my cigarettes to think for a moment. “I actually forgot that that phrase was inspired by something so dark,” I said, taking out a cigarette and snapping the menthol ball in the filter.
“Yes,” she said, shaking her head, “Many things are forgotten with enough time.”
I nodded, offering her a cigarette, “Want one? I think I need one after this.”
She eyed it curiously before using her magic to levitate it. I heard her pop the menthol ball before I lit them both.
“Take a long drag, and then inhale it. It’ll calm your nerves.”
She did as I said, taking a few seconds to draw the smoke into her mouth before inhaling. She seemed to savor it, before slowly exhaling.
“Calming leaf and mint?” she said, taking another drag. “This is a hard thing to get here, even for me.” She released another cloud of smoke, smiling the entire time. “We usually partake in hænp, as it’s easier to grow here. This is far more mild, though, so I can appreciate it. Hænp is just far too intoxicating. ”
“Wait,” I said, almost forgetting that I might not get to have cigarettes in the future, “do you mean to tell me that you guys grow weed here?”
“We do indeed, if we’re both referring to the same thing. Though it is mostly used as medicine, paper, or cloth by us. We have precious little time to waste on narcotics here.”
“Huh,” I said, making an ashtray from nothing, “Who’d’ve thunk; Changeling weed.”
We sat in silence for a moment, contentedly savoring the smooth flavor of a menthol cigarette. I was, however, curious about something.
“So how did you know I was an agent of the gods, anyway?”
She looked back to me, drawn from her silent enjoyment of the delicacy. “I was performing a routine scan of a sensitive document when I felt a sudden surge of power far to the north. I had a forward scout relay information back to us, and he found you.”
“Huh,” I said, flicking more ash into the tray, “how much did you actually find out?”
“Very little,” she said, pausing to french inhale some of the menthol smoke, “but I suspect that you aren’t a regular satyr.”
“Oh? And why is that?”
“Well,” she said, taking a final drag on the cigarette before snuffing it in the ashtray, “Probably the fact that they were wiped out by a divine plague around one thousand years ago. ”
Damn, I hadn’t even considered that. Not that I had any information to go on, but still. “So what happens now? I don’t suppose you take too kindly to deceptions.”
She smirked, leaning forward slightly. “If that was the case, I’d have to give myself a slap on the wrist. We’ve been shapeshifters since the dawn of time— I can allow a crude disguise every once in a while. I wouldn’t suggest making a habit of it, however.”
“Right,” I said, silently processing the new information.
“That does beg the question, however,” she said, making a vague gesture with her front hoof, “What are you, really ?”
I let out a small sigh, “It doesn’t matter what I truly am, really. I’m a singularly unique creature either way.”
“I suppose,” she said, airily. She looked off somewhere into the distance, seemingly lost in thought.
We sat in silence for a while, thinking on what the other had said. Eventually, I let out a curious hum, placing my burned-out butt next to hers in the tray. “Well, what do you want to do now, Y— Chrysalis? There’s still quite a bit of time left in the day.”
“Oh!” she said, startled from an apparent reverie. “Well, I must admit, I hadn’t actually thought this far in advance. I thought I would have been thoroughly crushed into paste by now.”
“Ah.”
“I had actually cleared my entire day, too.”
“I see.”
“Sorry.”
I released a sigh, thoroughly feeling like a piece of shit. “It’s not your fault— if anything, it’s mine.”
She nodded, extending her hoof across the table. “Then now it’s settled.”
I smirked and gingerly grasped the offered hoof, giving it a firm shake. She smiled gently and let out a small giggle.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some governing to do,” she said, standing up.
“Actually, Chrysalis, I’d like to steal just one more moment of your time, before I forget.”
“Oh?” she said, seating herself once more.
“I’d like to give you your present.”
Author's Note
Edited! (*speaks in bitch* Sentries, what do you see?!)
(also, if you don’t smoke already, don’t. It’s a bad habit
The Golden Oaks Public Library was currently quite hectic. Between a garish blur of colors streaking about, shouting expletives, and a pink blur teleporting around talking about parties, the local librarian was beginning to develop a migraine. Twilight Sparkle was not a happy pony (nor would she admit to being hyperbolic in any way when stressed; she was quite measured and logical, if asked).
In actuality, six mares and one hatchling dragon were all anxiously discussing the implications of a new threat. They barely knew each other, and a tight timetable associated with disaster meant much more stress (though let it be said; one pink party pony persisted, perpetually planning parties).
"I say we go find whatever that was, and punch it in the face!" a particular prismatic Pegasus protested. She had a cerulean coat, reminiscent of the sky, and a mane and tail sporting a Roy G. Biv theme. Much like her attitude, her hair was wild and untamed, only having seen a brush a hoof-full of times throughout her entire life. She wasn't dirty, though! She bathed regularly and took lots of time to preen her wings! She didn't brush her mane because it wasted time she could spend practicing her stunts, anyway (plus it was too girly)!
"Land sakes, Rainbow! If you ain't orneryer'n a cat in a room full'a rockin' chairs! Sit yer behind down an' listen ta Twilight!" protested a peeved produce pony. This agrarian sported a tangerine coat, and a dirty blonde mane and tail, which were both tied with a piece of red silk ribbon. She could be seen wearing a wide brimmed hat, though she still had a freckled face from long hours of toil in the field. Normally she didn' like ta yell, but with Rainbow flyin' off the handle (like she always does), it was makin' Fluttershy a mite more nervous than she oughta'. But that Rainbow 'll never learn, bless her heart.
"Fillies! Please calm down and let poor Twilight speak; She's obviously stressed— the poor darling," the stylish seamstress said. The fashionista had a stark white coat, with an elegant purple coiffure, curled delicately at the ends. She also wore a gentle robin's egg blue eye shadow— the only in the group to wear anything more than mascara and eyeliner. She simply found it to be utterly dreadful that young mares should behave as anything less than perfectly civil. Though she understood that Rainbow Dash was quite a boor at all times, much to her chagrin.
"Come on girls! There's a friendly superpowered alien that likes parties, and we're just sitting around here!" proffered the pink party/pastry pony. The bubbly baker had a bubblegum pink coat, and a curly mop of a mane that was a lovely shade of hot pink. She really loved parties and cake! Like really, really loved parties- especially the kind with really loud music and hard punch (she didn’t really like vodka, but when she mixed it with punch it tasted okay , but she liked to get wild (not that she was really supposed to, since the Cakes always complained about the music and staying up until three in the morning with random colts making too much—!)!)!
"Um, Pinkie? Isn't that... irresponsible?" stammered the shy animal servant (um... can I stop alliterating? Um, if that's okay with you...). She was a shy, butter yellow Pegasus with a pastel pink mane hiding as much of her face as it could. Normally she didn't like to butt in, but that sounded like it could be dangerous and... eep!
Before Pinkie could turn and tell Fluttershy just how utterly ridiculous it was to mention something like that (as Pinkie was antithetical to logic and responsibility), Twilight had finally decided to loudly interject.
"MARES!" she shouted, cutting off everyone else in the room. "We don't have time to waste bickering here; the next train arrives in an hour, and if we miss it, it's a twenty-five hour journey one way. The line only sends one engine that way until the last one returns, so we'd have to wait over two days!"
"Twilight's right," spoke the apple farmer, "Ya'll need ta calm down. Ya kin lose yer heads on the train."
The other mares looked to each other and nodded, voicing their assent. As they began to rove about, either grabbing bags or sitting quietly to calmly talk amongst themselves. The only exception was Pinkie, who had mysteriously conjured a deck of playing cards and roped Applejack into playing 2-pony Solitaire.
Twilight quietly sighed and began to perform a last-minute inventory of her packed items. As she went down the list, ensuring that each item was neatly replaced into her stuffed-to-maximum-capacity saddle bags, Spike trundled up to her.
"You okay, Twilight?"
She released another sigh, letting her checklist sit on her newly inventoried items. "Yeah, Spike, I'm fine. I just wish we didn't have to deal with these crazy ponies. Individually, I feel like I could handle them. Tartarus, I feel like I might even get along with some of them, but when they get together..."
"Yeah, I get that feeling too. They don't play together too well, but when fate says you have to be friends, it's what you gotta do."
"It's annoyingly coincidental, isn't it?"
Spike chuckled, giving Twilight a gentle and comforting pat on the withers. "Maybe, but you can at least pretend until you can force yourself to let them grow on you."
"Thanks, Spike," she said, ruefully chuckling with him, "If I didn't know you so well, I'd swear that you were trying to butter me up."
Twilight simply smiled and rolled her eyes, pulling him in for a hug. The rest of the mares smiled at the heart-warming sight, save for a pink mare who giggled, alluding to foreshadowing and something about a dingy. The only mare to react to Pinkie was Rarity, whose lip slightly twitched in a subconscious way.
They eventually returned to preparing for the midday train to Appleoosa.
"What is this?"
I looked at Chrysalis, reclining comfortably in my chair. She used her magic to levitate the flintlock, carelessly spinning it. I winced as she looked directly down the barrel. It wasn't loaded, so she wasn't going to blow her brains out, but my training with rifles still made me very sensitive around it.
"It's your ticket to becoming a global power," I said gently moving the barrel away from her head, "a weapon the likes of which this world has never seen."
"A weapon?" she said, her face flashing with multiple emotions, settling on uncertainty. "I don't know how to feel about that, Steve. Why would you give me something like that anyway?" She set it down, pushing it away from herself.
"I want to help you, Chrysalis. If what you said is true, you deserve it," I said, running a hand over the buttstock. “Besides, this would probably meet the criterion of my mission without spreading global ruin.”
"While I appreciate the sentiment, Steve,” she said, giving a brief conciliatory smile, “I don’t think it will end well for me. If it’s a weapon of enough note that my having it would cause chaos, it would likely bring a devastating war to my people.”
I hummed in thought, "You don't necessarily have to go to war..."
"What do you mean?" she said, leaning onto the table.
"Well, once these weapons have been produced, and the soldiers trained, you release the information. Once word gets out, someone will probably attack as you said; however, once they do, you obliterate the invaders and march to their capital with a token force and demand parlay ."
"And you think this weapon will allow me to do so?" she said, tilting her head slightly.
"Yes," I said, leaning back in my chair, "I think it’ll also mean the fewest lost lives on both sides."
"Be that as it may,” she said, her skepticism practically dripping from every word, “I don't see how that would be possible. We are a city-state with a population of 30,000 and an army of 3,000; any conventionally sized army would be able to wipe us off the map, even with this odd, cudgel-thing."
I smiled as Chrysalis eased back into her chair with a look of confusion. "Maybe if it were only a cudgel," I said, causing her confusion to grow. "This is a force multiplier of 1,000 against your average foot soldier."
"What?!"
I smiled, "Let's move outside, and I can show you."
She was suspicious, but stood up anyway. "Very well, Steve. I’ll trust you, even though every instinct I have tells me not to."
I smiled, taking the teacup and downing it to the bitter leaves at the bottom. “I think that this might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
She merely rolled her eyes, silently standing up. She walked around the small table to wait next to me.
I gathered my things, putting my sword-belt on and slinging the musket over my shoulders. We walked the short distance to the doors in silence, which opened as we approached. I nodded to the guards in chitin as we walked passed, watching as they closed the doors and fell in behind the Queen.
By the time we made it to the front doors, she spoke up once more. "You have me very curious, Samaritan. How could that weapon be so powerful?"
"Well," I said, almost forgetting that we were in public, "It’s pretty simple, once you know about it, Your Majesty. I will explain more as we get to the outskirts of the city."
She nodded, following my lead as I ascended into the sky. We quickly began flying toward the edge of the city, following the same path I used when I first arrived. I looked at my watch, which told me that it was now a quarter past four.
"Basically, it launches a small piece of lead— the bullet— at very high speeds towards a target. Circular grooves along the length of the metal tube— called the barrel— causes the bullets to spin, making them fly straighter."
She nodded, listening intently, ignoring the bows of Changelings as we passed. "How fast do the bullets fly? I'd imagine it would have to be very fast to make it effective."
"Yes, at a rate of about 500 meters in a second."
"How far is a meter?" she asked, noting that we had passed the threshold of the city limits.
"I'm exactly two meters tall," I said, landing about fifty meters outside the city. There was little activity here, and none in the desert beyond. A large sand dune blocked the horizon about 100 meters away, making for a perfect berm.
The other Changelings we passed seemed curious, though they quickly went about their business when the Queen’s guards looked at them.
She thought for a second, and blanched, going slightly pale. "T-that's impossible! How could a mechanism or conventional magic possibly hope to propel something that fast?"
I smirked, giving the longrifle a loving pat. "Directed explosives can be a very powerful thing, Your Majesty."
"Explosives? Well, I'm glad you had the forethought to bring it all the way out here for a demonstration," she said, still looking a little shaken.
I chuckled, looking to her guards, whom remained stoic, save for their wide eyed amazement. We’d only been flying for a few minutes, but I realized that I hadn’t eaten anything since four hours before I “died,” and I was starting to get hungry.
"Am I to assume that their armor is quite standard, Your Majesty?” I said, eagre to get done and find something to eat, “Or is it significantly better than the common guards'?"
She shook her head, clearing away her previous thoughts. "It is quite a bit more durable than my common soldier's equipment, yes. Why?"
"Would you mind asking one of your boys to place their helmet in the middle of that dune out there, Your Majesty?"
She looked out to the berm in the distance, "You wish to test your weapon against my Royal Guard's helmet then? Very well," she said, motioning the guard on her right to do as I asked.
"Alright," I said, picking up a handful of sand, "as I said, Your Majesty, this weapon uses directed explosives, so it will be very loud."
She nodded, pinning her ears to her head in an adorable fashion. I noted that the guards did the same as I used my magic to turn the sand to gunpowder as I poured it down the barrel. I used the rest to make a .45 calibre miné ball. They gave me odd looks as I opened the pan and placed a small amount of powder there, before closing it. Once the hammer was cocked, I brought the iron sight to my eye, ensuring a proper sight picture before I gently squeezed the trigger.
As I exhaled I applied slightly more pressure to the trigger until the bang sounded, just as I finished releasing all of my breath. I could see the helmet roll down roll down the dune in a small cloud of dust, resting at the foot of the berm.
I turned to see the queen rubbing her ears, looking at the puff of sand drifting away on the wind. "That wasn't as spectacular as you made it sound. Though it was quite loud."
I merely smirked as I stood, using my magic to levitate the helm to us. "Maybe so, but I think you'll want to see the results before you disavow it, Your Majesty."
She harrumphed, watching me grab the helmet from the air. It felt a lot lighter than it probably should, and its surface was pleasantly smooth and cool to the touch. I turned it over, looking at its face, and smiled.
I could hear the Queen gasp behind me, seeing a new hole punched through the brow of the helmet, about five centimeters above the eye-slit, right in the middle, with a matching hole on the other side. Cracks spiderwebbed out from the hole, leading me to believe the helmet was quite hard, but also somewhat brittle.
Before I could examine the rather interesting helmet any further, it was snatched from my grasp by magic. I turned to see the Queen staring at it in terrified awe.
She let the helmet drop to the sand, startling the dumbfounded guards back to attention. "I think you might be right about the capability of that weapon, Samaritan. That helmet was crafted from Giant Scarab chitin, making it harder and lighter than any iron or bronze equivalent. Yet your weapon tore through it like paper."
"I honestly thought those helmets would be like steel, but to hear you compare it to iron..."
She looked at me with an exasperated grimace. "Steel is quite rare, you know. It would be obscenely expensive to make armor from it. We don't even know how it's made, it just appears in the bloomeries when we forge the iron."
I hummed, slinging the longrifle. "This weapon is mostly made from steel. It wouldn't function properly if it were made from iron."
She slumped slightly, chuckling ruefully. "I should have known. A weapon we could never hope to make is our only chance at salvation. Truly, the gods’ punishment is ironic."
"Actually, Your Majesty," I said, causing her to look over to me, "I know of a few ways you could mass-produce steel. You could not only make yourselves the military might of the globe, but also the only producer of steel."
She was in my face so quickly I didn't even see her move. "Are you entirely serious?" she said, a desperate hope gleaming in her eyes.
"As serious as the grave."
She turned to the two guards who had followed us, who stood stock still at perfect attention. "You shall tell no one of what you heard here, is that understood?"
"Yes, My Queen! Long may you reign!" they responded in near perfect unison. I noted that the still helmeted guard sounded distinctly male.
The Queen turned to me, smiling excitedly. "We have a great deal to discuss, Samaritan."
I smirked as we took off, heading back toward the Citadel. "Indeed."
Author's Note
Applejack is simultaneously hilarious and infuriating to write. I think it might be the countryisims, or the fact that I actually needed several references from family members as well as online translators to be able to write it. It's also funny how she can be madder 'n a box 'o frogs and you wouldn't be able to understand her insults. It really dills my pickle!
I felt like the relationship between Twilight and Spike was artificially weakened to prevent a strong male lead, so I decided to let Spike have his wisdom shine at most times. I also let them have a stronger relationship, because it feels so unnatural to treat someone you spent most of your childhood with like a mildly amusing slave. This just feels more wholesome to me, but let me know what you think in the comments below.
Also, for those who didn't know, the original smelting process for iron didn't liquefy it completely, meaning only small lumps of steel were formed due to the carbon from their fuel sources. For the longest time, we didn't know that to make steel, you had to liquefy the iron and introduce carbon, so steel was as precious as gold. The more you know...
Anyway, please leave a comment below to let me know what you think.
~Lonelydarkness
EDITED!!! (It's in the clouds!)
You Take The Moon, and You Take The Sun
I hate the Gryphon Ambassador; he was ambitious at the best of times, and downright warmongering at the worst of times. Thankfully he wasn't here to hear the "laughing incident," but he seemed suspicious. He arrived around 11, a few hours after the incident.
He has been going on about "Poor game" this, and "No suitable farmland" that. He just wants me to give him money, or farmland. They actually tried to take it from me once, around 600 years ago. Once.
Our relations cooled significantly since, thankfully. Apparently having the Archduke assassinated in broad daylight put the fear of me back into them.
Recently, however, they claim to be falling on harder times than ever before— hence his visit. I know for a fact that they have a very wealthy merchant class, though. I even had to impose some large, unofficial tariffs to stop a large portion of our goods from fleeing our borders.
Normally, I didn't like using highwaymen, but it offers me the ability to claim ignorance. Plus, this solution allowed me to keep the stolen goods (not that the royal coffers needed expanding). Thankfully, I made it so that only licensed mercenaries could accompany merchants 500 years ago, meaning I could keep the casualties to a minimum and still have a believable resistance.
I'll admit, it wasn't one of our finest fixes, but it served multiple purposes. If I let the goods flee our country, then I run a risk of driving up prices to the point of damaging our economy as well. The House of Commons would start rabble-rousing, and the House of Nobles would demand I “put the peons in their place.” The last time the price of grain rose a haypenny , I had at least thirty ministers breathing down my neck constantly.
Not to mention, the Gryphons would likely ignore the fact that there is practically no tariff on exports to them— a benefit that even some Equestrian colonies didn’t get. They would only see that I hadn’t sent enough goods to them, and be upset anyway. With this solution, I get the approval (on paper, anyway) of the Gryphon King, and risk nothing in my own economy.
Luna wouldn't approve... but she doesn't need to know about our dear ambassador's visit anyway. She would have suggested either helping them directly or outright refusing, and either option would be too costly. She loathed my backroom dealings, but they keep Equestria happy and healthy, and her rabble-rousing would be… inconvenient.
"Your Majesty!" squawked the ambassador, ruffling his chest feathers. "Please, you need to do something about these bandits! My people are starving, and we can't mobilize our small police force to help because they never cross our border!"
I leaned back, putting on my best "Imperial Ruler" look. "I assure you, Ambassador Goldbeak, I am doing all that I can to find these bandits. I have already moved a whole brigade to scour the countryside. I can move no more forces to the border without violating the treaty that I wrote."
"I understand... Your Eminence." He knew, I think. He certainly acted like he thought I was behind it.
I switched to my best "We both know, but you can't stop me" smile. "So how is your daughter, Ambassador? Grizelda, was it?"
The color drained from his face, along with the defiant anger. If he wanted to get testy with me, I could push right back. I wouldn’t need to act on that thinly veiled threat, because he knew I had him by the metaphorical scrotum.
"S-she's fine, Your Majesty. She graduated from your "Junior Speedsters Camp" three years ago, and she's attending Cloudsdale University. She's trying to follow my example," he said, hanging his head.
So dramatic! It almost seems like he believes the "Sun Tyrant" line, himself. Do I really give off the impression that I would kill an innocent just to shut an ambassador up? Surely, he must know his muck-raking is such a non-issue that I would never risk tarnishing my name?
"Well," I said, slightly adjusting my crown, "I hope she makes for as good a conversation partner as you!" I said, actually meaning it. Most ambassadors were rather cut and dry, but Goldbeak was actually funny (when he started out, at least). I do miss the days when I argued passionately with firebrand Gryphon ambassadors, but the chances of war became too great. I will always place Equinity above my personal amusement.
"Thank you, Your Majesty. I hope she is far wiser than I was," he said, standing from his cushion. "Good day, Your Majesty." As he walked past, I swear I heard him whisper "Sun Tyrant" under his breath.
I want to make that phrase sedition, but I know it would only play into their favor. Martyrs look better for a cause than annoying gnats buzzing around ineffectually.
As he left the waiting room, I looked around. Maybe the cries of despot weren't so far off? Marble floors, silk cushions, mahogany tables, gilded columns, and a vast, beautiful garden just outside. None of it is strictly necessary, and all of it was paid for on the back of the taxpayer. Nopony really seems to object to it, at least, in Equestria. The other provinces, though, they do not care for it.
And don't even get me started on the foreigners...
"Your Majesty."
Ah, it was another guardspony. I was really starting to dislike them, necessary as they may be. Not to mention that they all looked the same, making them really hard to distinguish, let alone remember their names. Thankfully, I could refer to them by rank and not seem impersonal and callous.
"Sergeant, report."
The bronze-clad guard saluted, and proceeded to remove a scroll from his armor using magic. "Here's the preliminary report from Major Stout Shield, Ma'am."
I plucked it from the air, reading it quickly. Apparently the fireball dissipated before it reached the town, and there were no casualties or property damage. There was nothing of interest to follow, but the town still needed defending until we got some reliable intelligence.
I conjured my sealing wax and stamp, resealed it, and handed it to the Sergeant. "See to it that my sister reads this— and be quick, Sergeant. I want us to be able to act swiftly if something goes wrong."
He saluted and briskly trotted away, leaving me alone in the lavish sitting room.
The noonday sun bombarded Castle Canterlot, causing its defenders to take to the cover of shade, lest they risk a burn from the sun's fiery rays. Her defenders were stalwart and stoic, though some flinched upon seeing the balcony to the Tower Firmamental.
It was the second tallest tower, next to the Donjon itself. The Tower Firmamental lay to the west of the palace, with the balcony set in the perfect position to observe the setting sun. Normally, this tower's occupant rose shortly before the sun set. Today, however, her sleep was fitful. She stood at the edge of the balcony, looking out over the daytime proceedings of her nation's capital.
Princess Luna, Regent of the Moon— Taker of Lives and Harbinger of Sleep, felt doubt. She had been a battlefield commander the likes of which the world had never seen before— or since. Yet here, amongst the descendants of valiant and brutal knights, the nobility were like insects to her.
Infantile weaklings reduced to inbreeding to "maintain the purity of their blood," totally oblivious of the fact that in her time, they shed blood with peons . They were once worthy of their titles, having actually been noble at one point, though now they acted like spoiled children!
None were ready for battle, and few could meet the demands of a levy. Gone were the halcyon days of warrior leaders; in their place were duplicitous snakes, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. Most also wore their distaste for her on their sleeve— like a badge of honor.
This lack of civility called her to question her sister, but her fear (alongside self-doubt) crippled her tongue.
Her memories were hazy, and her mind felt as if it wanted to tell her something— yet she hesitated. She knew what this feeling was, and she had no interest to pursue it. The Night-Mare; a title she once bore (though she could not, for her own life, remember why she stopped using it). A part of her own mind that had been separated from her, and altered massively by the Elements.
Her sister had told her that these were only dark thoughts and emotions, and that she should refrain from touching them for her mental health and safety. Now, however, she wasn't so sure; her sister's leadership in her absence proved to be quite under-hoofed, and her memories had become disjointed and scrambled. This was troubling, as Alicorns could never forget, and it took a massive force to alter their memories (like the Elements of Harmony).
Such thoughts were seditious, however, and her sister had made it clear that she would be afforded little leeway. Luna feared her sister, but now—
"Your Majesty?"
Luna turned to see a Thestral guard holding a scroll under his leathery wing, looking quite concerned for her.
"Prithee, young Corporal, tell me why thou hast disturbed mine meditations?" Her tone was authoritative, though patient, as any commander's voice should be.
"Mine reasons are twofold, Your Majesty. Mine brothers wish to pass their benedictions to you, and your sister sends a missive unto thee. Her tone indicates that she prays you take heed with haste."
Luna noticed his reluctance to use her sister's title. "Wherefore dost thou neglect mine sister's title as Regent of the Sun?" she said, taking the scroll from his grip.
"I had intended no disrespect, Your Excellence! Had I a hundred heads to give for this transgression, only then could my neck rest light with penance," he said, bowing deeply to the floor. An exemplar of her one-time subjects— now, however, only those who serve in her personal guard spoke in such a manner.
"Rise, fair Corporal, you needn't go to such lengths for mine sister in my presence. I had merely wondered after thine motivations. 'Tis of grave import in mine Sister's presence, however. I pray you not forget this, so as to preserve both our names."
"Of course, Your Eminence," he said, rising to his hooves once more, "it shall be as you say. I will endeavor to make it so."
The Lunar Princess nodded, dismissing him, and unrolled the parchment. It seemed to her that her sister didn't see her as important, having already read the missive and haphazardly resealed it. The older seal could be clearly seen under hers— the red wax of a military seal standing out clearly against the gold of her sister's official sealing wax.
Apparently, it was a field report from Major Stout Shield, addressed to her sister, listing: any supplies used, what minor fortifications had been made, abridged personnel reports, as well as eyewitness accounts of a strange fireball that had threatened the town, though failed to even approach. Nothing of import followed.
‘A whole battalion was sent for this? Such things should have been handled by a local garrison! And lo- mine sister hast done away with such precautions, forcing her to send our personal guard to perform the duties vested in the local militia!’
Truly, she wept at the loss of her friends and enemies in the times of yore. The ponies had fallen so far that they would have been wiped out by their own ancestors for such weakness and folly. She was of half a mind to lop the heads off those responsible, only staying her hoof for her sister's sake.
She feared for the future and safety of her peoples. The only ponies who seemed unaffected were those who hailed from the far-flung principalities and colonies of Equestria. Her Thestrals thankfully had moved from Equestria, and founded a country they called Germaneigh.
She could find little in the Royal Equestrian Records of Germaneigh, and what little she did find suggested that Equestria attempted to annex Germaneigh, but it would appear that the Germans held them at bay.
The Thestrals had been eager to visit her, but her sister would always insist on doing something whenever Luna decided to schedule a diplomatic visit. It had gotten to the point where Luna was all but convinced that they had been unofficially forbidden from entering the country. Knowing her sister, that was a likely possibility.
These thoughts troubled her, but she needed to see for herself just what was going on.
"Dusky Rose?" she called, shaking her server bell.
"Yes, Your Majesty?"
The Thestral maid appeared around the corner, having apparently been behind the wall the entire time. Her mane was a dark red, similar to the color of rust, and her eyes were a dazzling green (a rare color for thestrals).
"I would like for thee to inform mine Sister that I shall be taking a sabbatical in Flankfurt. I shall accept the Germans’ request that I visit their beautiful country. Relay this missive only when mine presence is requested, and not a moment sooner."
"It shall be so, Your Majesty."
And with that, Princess Luna, Regent of the Moon— Taker of Lives and Harbinger of Sleep, began down a path that she had tread once before.
Author's Note
Edited! (DRAGON!!!)
And don't you worry, dear reader. There's more where this came from! (in the future)
Your magnanimous author,
(P.S. I'm not dead, and the story isn't either!)
The gentle hustle and bustle of a small-town train station was the backdrop for Twilight Sparkle’s current headache. The cutting edge of transportation in Equestria; the locomotive. Its top speed left quite a bit to be desired (as most ponies could outrun it, if pressed), however, it was tireless, and it made traveling across the country far easier. What’s more was that it let ponies carry much more cargo without needing a wagon at all.
None of that mattered to Twilight at the moment, however, as the witty banter between Rarity and Rainbow Dash— over accent colors, apparently— had gotten far too involved for her tastes.
She could understand passion for a favorite subject, but at this point, even Twilight felt uncomfortable around this much ‘sperg’ (though she wouldn’t be caught dead saying it— lest she validate Spike’s teasing).
Her attention was quickly directed away from the argument over the merits of periwinkle, however, by the blast of the approaching train’s whistle. She quietly thanked Celestia (though she knew Celestia had little to do with it) and prepared to board the train. With the assistance of the station’s Redcap, Spike quietly gathered their bags and loaded them onto the train.
The car they were riding in was thankfully devoid of passengers (likely due to Princess Celestia’s interference), though she still had to deal with the other Element Bearers. She just hoped that they would let her develop a few theories about their current predicament, though she silently doubted it.
Spike sat down next to her, silently at first, though Twilight knew he wanted to talk (she appreciated that he asked her if she wanted to talk first— even if silently).
“So what do you think of all of this, Twilight?”
“Yeah!” interjected Pinkie, “this is kinda spooky, so we should probably get ready for anything, right?”
Though jarring (as Twilight hadn’t noticed Pinkie had been sitting right next to her ), her comment had earned the attention of the other Element bearers. They all gathered close and looked on in askance.
“You are an egghead, so you should know better than us what to expect,” Rainbow Dash chimed.
Though the others didn’t seem to appreciate the wording, they nonetheless agreed.
“To be honest,” Twilight said, rubbing her hoof on the back of her head, “I have no idea what we should be expecting. From what little I was able to gather from my preliminary scans of the area, there was a massive surge of magic that quickly faded.
“I don’t know if the vortex was a result of the surge, or a cause. The only way I can find out is with a detailed scan, but I can only do that from nearby;” she paused with an irritated huff, “otherwise, we wouldn’t have to actually go there.”
The others seemed placated by this, if only grudgingly, and decided to return to talking amongst themselves. Spike, however, kept his focus on Twilight.
“Don’t worry, Twilight, I’m sure we’ll figure this out.” he reassured.
She smiled and thanked him before accepting that she wouldn’t get to think or study on this trip. Instead, she simply allowed herself to fall into the group’s dynamic, eventually getting to the point where she would chip in her two cents and laugh alongside her friends.
She hadn’t really had friends in Canterlot, but she accepted that a social life was healthy. Maybe she could soon accept the fact that she liked to talk every once in a while, too?
Captain Shining Armor of the Royal Guard, leader of the most prestigious branch of the world’s most powerful military, was nothing more than a figure head. What frustrated him more than anything was that he knew it, too.
His status as the eldest son of a noble house, as well as the nepotism of the princess on behalf of his sister was what landed him the position. Normally, the Royal Guard was selected from the most elite of the Royal Army’s soldiers. To be appointed the position of Captain of the Guard was unheard of. He and everypony else knew it, too.
What was worse was that he was essentially the commander of the Royal Army, at the right hoof of the Princesses. A vaunted position with many envious onlookers. Nevermind that he didn’t want the position (he had applied for a commission as a lieutenant), but he knew that refusing it would have been committing professional suicide.
The return of Princess Luna (then Nightmare Moon) had caught him and the rest of the Royal Guard flat-hooved, but that didn’t matter. The Royal Guard was lazy, and the greater Royal Army even more so. It didn’t matter how much he tried to flog them into shape, as an army in times of peace was lazy at best, and totally superfluous at worst.
And he and everypony else knew whose fault it was.
Today, however, his usually foul mood was absent. Major Stout Shield was one of the few top brass that had sympathized with his plight. And so when Princess Celestia had scrambled the Royal Army, he had insisted that she send him.
His little maneuver had been quite transparent, but Princess Celestia actually enjoyed the Captain somewhat. Had he been incompetent or lackluster, she would have ignored his suggestion, but they both knew how driven he was. Thankfully she hadn’t yet realized his ambitions, otherwise his scheme would have been dead before he even started.
For the first time in over one hundred years, the Royal Army had been mobilized, and Shining Armor had his stallion on the field.
Needless to say, that little stunt had earned his opponents' admiration— which was the last thing a nopony appointed power like him wanted.
Shining Armor was no fool, however; he was a very well-educated and cunning noble. He had already started to win over the other officers of the Royal Army, and while this little move had alienated a few, it brought more closer. It was difficult for him, though, as most of them were so inept it made his skin crawl.
Shining Armor, you see, knew exactly how an army in peacetime functioned. It was a political nightmare, with enough bureaucracy to choke even an Immortal God Empress. This, however, was fine with him, as he didn’t plan on being at peace for much longer.
He chuckled to himself in his little office. He knew he played a dangerous game, but he had already picked up the sword, and he was more than ready to face the consequences.
With little more than a flick of his eyes, he levitated his quill and began to write out a new set of orders.
He knew just what to expect in that desert, though most had forgotten. Far to the south lay the wastes of Tatzul, wherein no sentient species dwell for fear of the great Wurms. However, to the south and east was a long forgotten foe.
He knew that there were still at least a few of them left, as every once in a while, the body of a strange… creature, would be found on the outskirts of an Equestrian city, or along a road. The common pony could easily convince themselves it was a magical accident gone horribly wrong, but he knew.
As the highest ranking member of Her Majesty’s Royal Guard, he had access to old books, very old books, written by some interesting characters. Books that held the last accountings of Changelings . The perfect foe to use to start a war, perhaps?
He chuckled to himself again, signing the deployment orders with a swooping flourish. This was exactly what his country needed.
Most of the other nobility had a strong distaste for Princess Luna, which he understood. She wanted the same thing he did— a straightforward world with strong ponies. Essentially, she wanted to start a war to weed out the scheming nobility and put competent, good-hearted ponies in their place.
War was a crucible, cruel and fiery. The weak were skimmed off, and the pure were all that remained.
Some would say that he was cruel, or mad, but they were wrong. One thousand years of mostly undisturbed peace, and what was the result?
Most of the world was destitute, and his own home was filled with fat vipers. Even now, Gryphus was being actively impoverished by the unchecked avarice of Equestria’s elite.
Princess Luna was simply more cavalier about it than he was. He learned quickly that if he associated too closely with her that he would lose all of his progress. So he was more than fine with sitting and waiting. He watched as the vipers circled her, whilst leaving him alone. He sat, patiently waiting for the perfect moment to light the wicked snakes ablaze.
Shining Armor was fairly certain that it only took a few interactions for Princess Luna to learn his intentions. He observed the old ways around her, and sat with dignity and poise. That seemed to be enough to prove to her his intentions. And so, they worked together to root out their enemies.
Tradesponies tend to stick to their trade, after all.
He looked up from the slip of paper as he heard approaching hoofsteps in the distance. He looked with distaste at the various medals and plaques that decorated his broom closet. Virtually all of them were for excellence in some bureaucratic nonsense, however his most despised one was his bronze sun for perfect attendance .
Something which was normally awarded for valor in combat could be gotten for showing up at an appointed place, at the appointed time, for only a year. He had four of them, and had never even heard a whisper of combat. It sickened him just how many of his fellow officers wore them proudly .
Endless ribbons and medals, braided ropes, and pins adorned more than one noble officer. Lately, however, more and more only wore the bare minimum, as he did. It was a small victory, however it seemed to win over his enlisted men very quickly.
Before he could be lost in his musings further, however, the hoofsteps turned into a crisp three knocks at his door.
“Captain Flourishing Blade reporting as ordered, Sir!” shouted the voice from the other side of the door.
“Enter.”
A positively massive earth pony stallion shifted his bulk through the door-frame before offering a crisp salute in front of his desk. His uniform was simple— the white jacket with gold trim bore only two colorful ribbons, and the two silver bars on his epaulets to signify his rank. His mane was cut short, and his tail was practically nonexistent. Both turned blonde by the jacket’s enchantment, as well as his white coat. Shining Armor’s kind of stallion.
“At ease, captain,” Shining said, waving a hoof to a cushion propped against the wall, “and have a seat.”
The massive stallion nodded and pushed the cushion into place with his hoof before sitting at attention. His face was hard, though it gave no hint of emotion.
“Captain, I believe you know who to give these to,” Shining said, rolling the newly written orders before sealing them with his red sealing wax.
“Yes, sir,” he replied, his voice low to discourage eavesdroppers.
“And remember,” Shining Armor warned, “no one is to see these orders but their recipient.”
The stallion nodded, tucking the scroll into his inner breast pocket.
“You’re dismissed.”
The stallion stood and turned around, walking out without a word. Sitting alone in his office once again, Shining Armor let out a small satisfied sigh. Now, his real work could soon begin.
Author's Note
Hey! Just wanted you to know that I'm still alive. Also, feel free to tell me what you think in the comments!
(GUARDS! GET THE TOWNSPEOPLE TO SAFETY!)
The Alfather (Or, The Irefutable Offer)
Chrysalis seemed to brim with excitement as we walked back toward the Citadel. Every once in a while, she would even skip for a beat before returning to her stately walk. Her good mood seemed contagious, and it even made me forget my hunger for a moment.
I could understand her chipper attitude, though. I would probably be happy in her shoes, too — a stranger sent by a god gives me a fabulous gift of advanced technology? Things could certainly be worse.
Though, I was still curious about these… gods. I realized that I hadn’t actually spoken to any of them, save one. It made me nervous— why haven’t they spoken with me yet? All I get is a one man welcome, and a brief set of instructions from my immediate superior? Something wasn’t right... I just couldn’t say what.
I was brought out of my reverie, however, by accidentally bumping into the stopped form of Chrysalis. We were surrounded by a large group of curious changelings, all of whom seemed intent on learning what the loud bang they heard earlier was. Chrysalis gave them a short explanation— largely leaving out sensitive details— and sent them on their way.
Just before we got moving, she seemed to think of something and had a guard relay a message, but I didn’t really pay attention to what she said. I was once again lost in thought, pondering what all these recent revelations meant for my beliefs. I didn’t even notice when we’d made it back to the throne room.
The sun was well into its descent, as it was now around 5 PM (according to my pocket watch). The late afternoon sun was casting a lovely pattern of shadows across the floor, lending the room an otherworldly feel.
I was struck by the fine details of my surroundings. I could see the rough pattern of the stone heavily contrasted by the shadows due to the angle of the sunlight. My attention was then drawn to the scant few dust motes glinting in the sunlight, and the subtle scraping noise accompanied by Chrysalis’ hoofsteps on the stone. I could even detect a faint lavender perfume in the air.
I was suddenly very aware that all of this was inescapably real. Everything that's happened so far was real, from magic, to actual gods.
“Well, Steve,” Chrysalis said, smoothly taking her seat, “I believe we have quite a bit to discuss.”
I gently shook myself out of my musings and took my seat as well. “Yeah. Sorry about being so quiet; I’ve just been thinking.”
“Think nothing of it,” she said, teleporting the tea set away, “I, too, have had quite a bit on my mind.”
I nodded and slouched into a comfortable position, resting my elbows on the table, and my head on my steepled fingers. “Before we get into it, though, do you think we could get some food? I’m pretty hungry.”
She nodded and rang a small hand (or, hoof, in this case) bell. A servant came and offered me a selection of food to choose from. Regrettably, they had little to offer, and nothing beyond vegetarian fare. I asked for some oatmeal with a side of hashbrowns— after explaining what they were.
I suppose getting that much was pretty lucky, considering Changelings don’t even eat food. I’m just glad they seem to like having pets here.
We settled in and waited for my food, while Chrysalis conjured herself another cup of tea. She also shot a conspicuous glance toward my pocketed cigarettes. I begrudgingly allowed her one, flicking open the pack.
“I suppose,” she said, easing a cigarette from the pack, “that the best place to start would be with the fabrication of steel.”
“Are you sure this place is safe from eavesdroppers?” I said, glancing around, “This is a massive advantage, and losing it could be… bad.”
She chuckled, lighting her cigarette. “Of that, you can rest assured,” she said, taking a leisurely drag. “There are runes hidden everywhere, making deliberate stealth nearly impossible. And as for my servants, well… I would put my life and city in their hooves.”
I nodded and gently stroked my new facial hair. “Alright, I suppose all the stakes are on you. Though you might want to get out some writing utensils, as well as some sort of scholar to ease the process along.”
“Aren’t you a scholar?” she said, cocking her head slightly, “Based on the fact that you know how to create steel , well, I suppose I just assumed you were.”
I gently chuckled, “Nah, I’m just a layman. I don’t know any of the metallurgical stuff, or the specific functions of the furnace, or how to set up a supply line to feed the production. I just know how to make steel; everything else is up to you guys.”
She sighed gently and nodded. “I suppose that’s fair. Thankfully I already called for one, and he should arrive shortly.”
As she said that, one of the guards stationed outside poked in and said that both the scholar and food were here. Chrysalis merely nodded and told them to enter. The guard disappeared behind the giant door, and moments later, a burly Changeling male briskly trotted over, followed closely by another maid.
“Привет, Ваше Величество. ” he said, offering both of us a nod.“You have task for me, да? ”
“Yes,” I said, making him sharply turn his head, “ I’m the one whom you’ll be speaking with.”
He clicked his tongue and loudly whispered “Грубая собака.”
I knew what one of those words meant, and that it was an insult. So I calmly said something that I said to make fun of my communist neighbor, “Будьте осторожны с тем, что вы говорите, вы никогда не знаете, кто слушает, товарищ .”
For a moment he looked stunned, before he started laughing uproariously. “This one is funny, царица! ”
He went about setting up his stationary while my plate was set down. I started eating before he could start with any questions; he didn’t seem to mind, which suited me fine.
“So,” he started, quill levitating over the page, “Where will start?”
“I think we should start with your field of expertise, that way I can gauge how much explaining I’ll have to do.”
He nodded, seeming to consider his words, “да, This is, eh, making sense. I study metal, and weapons. Also runes.”
I nodded, shoveling another bite of oatmeal in my mouth and quickly swallowing. “Alright, I suppose we should start with what you’re doing wrong.”
He looked quite cross, but said nothing. I continued.
“My people used a very complicated system of trapping gasses and routing pipes to produce staggering amounts of heat, but I think we can skip a step.”
“Why is heat issue? Bloomeries work for to make, eh, much iron!” He said, stomping his hoof on the table.
“Yes,” I countered, “But can it produce large quantities of steel?”
He seemed confused, “You make steel? How?”
I nodded and swallowed another bite of gruel. “The trick to steel is a homogenous mixture of different types of iron lattice structures… Do you follow?”
He took a moment, lost in apparent thought. “So, you need more heat to make liquid, да? To mix?”
I nodded, “Yes. The large problem is that simply burning wood or coal will not be hot enough— you must refine your methods. For a long time, my people used something called the Open Hearth process, but it was complicated and didn’t yield very good results.
“Nowadays, we use what’s called an arc furnace. It’s much simpler, and better, but it would take much longer to make and power.”
He nodded grimly, “да, it seems we, eh, need better option. What you suggest?”
I chuckled and gently shook my head, “You have magic, don’t you? Now that you know what the problem is, the solution should be apparent.”
He sat for a moment, gently tapping his chin with the quill, before he suddenly began writing at a furious pace. Just as quickly as he started, though, he stopped.
“Я решил проблему. I will make prototype, results seem, eh, promising.”
I nodded, not having a clue as to what was going on. He stood and bowed to Chrysalis, offering me a nod, before leaving.
“Well,” I said, wiping my hands on a piece of cream damask, “it seems like we’ll have an answer to that in a while.”
She nodded, gently flicking her head to remove her hair from her face. “I believe so, Steven. I think we can free ourselves up for some other tasks in the meantime, though. Was there anything else you needed my assistance with?”
“Actually, there is, Chrysalis. I was wondering if you had some sort of temple that I could use to try and commune with the gods.”
She nodded and shook her hoofbell. “I’ll have one of my servants escort you there, and another will take you to your chambers when you decide to retire. They will be tending to your needs, as well.”
I nodded and rose from my seat. “Oh, and Steven,” she said, “I will be seeing you in the morning, after you’ve refreshed yourself, yes?”
“Of course, Chrysalis,” I said, smiling.
We parted ways with a nod and smiles, and a decidedly female Changeling in a maid’s garb led me back down the large spiraling staircase, with a servile “Right this way, sir.”
We marched right back out of the fortress, and began down the exceptionally wide road. The gentle hustle and bustle of the city-state had returned, and most passers-by didn’t do much beyond a second glance.
We passed many tall buildings, all of which had entrances on every floor, however most had a very small footprint. They all had been built tall instead of wide, which I suppose made some sense. After all, every changeling could fly, barring the crippled.
Eventually, we came to a relative alley (by any human standard it was still a full sized road, however), and a moderately large building sat at the end.
It was only one story, but it was built from white marble, instead of the surrounding limestone. Its front was quite impressive, sporting columns, and twin oak plank doors. The windows actually had glass; however, it was warped soda-lime glass cut into a diamond lattice. It was definitely a church.
My guide bid me farewell, and said that someone else would be by in around half an hour to take me to my quarters within the citadel. I simply nodded and said “Thank you,” before turning back to the church.
I simply walked in, and was greeted with a tense silence.
The interior was well lit with a combination of natural and candle lighting. The floor was polished granite, with intricate rugs placed in presumably high traffic areas. Along the walls were various tables and shelves, all covered with various statuettes. Various paintings also filled almost every free space on the walls, and pews filled much of the center of the room.
Toward the back of the room was a low, water-filled basin, with a fragile-looking crystal ewer sitting on the edge. Beyond that was a podium, which had a large stained glass window as a backdrop. The window itself depicted a modern changeling standing on the ground, reaching for a progenitor in the clouds, albeit in a minimalist style.
There was only one changeling inside. He was wearing a simple, white linen robe, and he had his head bowed in prayer. I couldn’t hear what he (judging by the tenor of his voice) was saying, but I was certain that it was a prayer, and he was a priest.
In short, it was a very churchy church.
I decided that the best place to start was with the priest, so I casually strolled up to him. “Hello, good priest,” I said, stopping a meter short of his pew.
He began to turn, “Hello, Gods’ child. How…” He trailed off as he finally laid eyes on me.
“Y-you… can you be… the Anointed One?” He said, surprise turning to awe.
“I don’t know… probably?”
“A champion of the gods…” he said, smiling, “Please, if there is anything this humble cleric can do, let It know.”
“Well," I said, scratching my chin, “I don’t suppose you have any incense I could borrow, or a small sacrificial animal, perchance?”
“Actually, This One was about to light the incense burners and offer a sacrifice to appease the gods. It would be This One’s pleasure to have the Anointed One join him.”
I nodded, taking a seat on one of the pews. He quickly flitted about, grabbing incense and a knife. A smaller, white furred changeling entered from a side room, bearing a large bronze brazier. The priest took the artifact and ushered the altar boy away. He placed the basin on the pulpit as I walked closer.
“We cast our sins into this brazier,” the priest said, raising the knife, “and offer it to the gods, alongside our piety. We pray that they will see our penance paid, and finally forgive us.”
With a deft (and likely practiced) motion, he cut a thin, somewhat deep line on his foreleg. He allowed his green blood to steadily drip into the basin, quickly wrapping it once a fair bit had collected. He waved me over once he had tied his bandage.
“Come, Anointed One, offer your lifeblood to the gods. Pray for their favor.”
I cringed slightly at the thought of cutting myself with an already bloody knife, only to find it already in my hand, clean. With a slight shrug, I held out my arm and gave myself a decent cut. I nearly dropped the knife in shock when I saw my blood drip out looking like quicksilver.
The priest was also in awe, though he dutifully wrapped me with a bandage, too. “And now, with fire,” he said, literally igniting his horn, “We give an offering of lifeblood to the gods.”
Suddenly, the world fell away. I was in a void of black, with nothing but the now bright brazier, which had moved a bit away, and grown quite large.
“Such blasphemy,” thundered an unseen presence, “Not only to waste one’s own divinely blessed blood, but to let it mix with the blood of the disgraced? I vote that we smite the wretched knave!”
After a moment’s pause, several voices spoke out, with slight dissension, the answer was largely “Nay.”
Then, another spoke, “We have no power to waste. Especially after that stunt Tezcatlipoka pulled.”
Then, the first voice spoke again, “... The motion fails. I shall withdraw my previous comment.”
“Okay, I’m sorry, but what is going on? Who are y’all? And why can’t I see you?”
Suddenly, they appeared. Dozens of gods, from various pantheons arrayed themselves in a half circle around the now colossal brazier. The ones closest to the fire, I knew of, or their name came unbidden to me. The more distant ones, however, seemed to be in a haze, and even if I felt like I might know them, their name escaped me.
The darkness of the surrounding void now seemed oppressive, hostile, even. Before I even knew what I was doing, I found myself moving closer to the flame. I stopped at the edge of its warmth, waiting for one of them to speak.
“You, child,” said Odin Alfather, “are now our last hope. We do not know why, but the wretch, Tezcatlipoka, took our amassed divine power and made you our champion.”
“Wait, you mean I’m not chosen? I was just randomly picked by a rogue god?”
“You shall mind your tone, knave!” shouted Dike, daughter of Zeus, “You may have been randomly picked, but you were not chosen. Nor have your actions thus far pleased us.”
“Enough!” spoke a new voice, whom I didn’t immediately recognize. Other gods began to murmur amongst themselves, however they all stopped when Odin raised his hand.
“All of you, be silent.” Odin said, “Jehova, please speak when it is your turn to redress. If we constantly scream over each other, we will have wasted precious time and energy.” The gods nodded amongst themselves, and Odin continued, “Now, to address your question; no, you were not ‘chosen,’ at least not in the traditional sense. Dike also spoke correctly, though improperly. Your actions thus far have displeased a great many of us.
“However, you will not be held in contempt, as you had no way of knowing our will. Nor shall Discord, as he was tricked by Tezcatlipoka, much like yourself.” Dike looked like she wanted to object, but a harsh glare from Odin caused her to hold her tongue.
“What have I done that was so bad?”
“You helped the Fallen Ones!” Dike shouted.
“You mean the entire race you left to starve, for millennia?” I spat.
“Impudent child of man! I will smite thee myself!” She said, standing from her chair.
“Be seated!” Odin said, compelling Dike into her seat, “If you cannot conduct yourself properly, you will be ejected from this meeting!”
“Forgive me, Alfather, you are, as always, right. But I must object to the disrespect of the mortal.”
Odin grunted, but nodded after a moment. “Why is it that you are so upset at our treatment of the Fallen Ones, Steven?”
“I believe that they have suffered more than enough, Alfather. They are dying off now, and, contrary to the teachings of Jehovah , I do not believe that the sins of the father should be paid for by the son.”
Odin grunted more deeply, and nodded once more. “The novel human concept of liberty, agency, and self-determination; The veil of ignorance. You argue from this standpoint, yes?”
I nodded. Odin nodded, and looked around to the other gods. They seemed to fidget, and began to murmur amongst themselves. They fell silent as Odin raised his hand.
Odin stood and addressed the gods, “I propose that we end the punishment of the Fallen Ones. All in favor, say “Aye.””
A chorus of “Aye” rang out, shortly followed by an equally loud “Nay.”
“Shall any abstain?” two hands were raised, “Very well, then. The motion neither passes nor fails. I will amend my motion; we grant a probationary Demi-God status to Steven, and allow his performance to determine the fate of the Fallen Ones.”
This time, Jehovah spoke up. “Alfather, this is madness! You propose we reward the mortal for his impudence? That we further separate ourselves from the other mortals?”
Odin shook his head, “No, Jehovah. I propose that he stand by his words. If he speaks the truth, he will accept, and guide his people to redemption. In doing so, he will restore some of our power, and he will complete our task.
“I have seen that we cannot rule over the mortals as we once did. Like it or not, the mortal races have grown such that to exercise our control as we have will smother them, and bring ruin to our creation.
“So I ask again, all In favor?” A much louder clamor of “Aye” rang out. “Opposed?” Jehovah and Dike were the only two to oppose. “Shall any abstain?” No hands were raised. “Then the motion carries. Prepare yourself mortal; this will not be pleasant.”
Suddenly, the gods disappeared, leaving only the darkness and the brazier. Then, all I could see was pain.
Author's Note
I've put this off for far too long. I'm posting now; Hello.
Author's Note
Normally, I would wait until after editing to post, but I feel bad for missing Christmas, so, here ya go!
Awaken (unedited)
The bearers of the elements of harmony were currently discussing their daily lives. Normally, Twilight would find doing so quite frivolous, and possibly vapid. Lately, however, she found that being in their company made most topics interesting. For example; Rarity was just explaining how she got a free rose from Roseluck.
"Oh, yes, darling," Rarity tittered, "I'm sure I'd love it if the colts sniffed my roses all day!"
Twilight was enjoying herself; she had just heard an unexpectedly saucy pun from Rarity (as she seemed rather unlikely to engage in the "lowest form of humor") and got a good laugh from it. Unfortunately, life seemed to enjoy making her stress lately.
As the train hit a larger than normal bump, she felt a wave of power wash over her. The others seemed to notice as well, though none of them seemed more affected by it than a shiver. Twilight, however, knew better.
"Alright, girls. I didn't want to have to do this, but we can't wait on the train anymore," she said, standing from her seat.
"What was that?" Spike asked, seemingly more curious than worried.
"That," she said, "was an enormously powerful spell. I've never felt anything like it; it almost felt like a magic surge, but from a large distance. We need to get to Appleoosa now. "
"But how?" Rainbow Dash asked, " I thought we were taking the train because you couldn't teleport us there?"
"We did, but we're close enough now that I can move us all. I'll have to teleport us above the ground to avoid obstacles, so be ready to catch us."
"No problem, egghead," she said with a cocky grin, "Just make sure that we're high enough that I can catch you all."
"Easily," Twilight said, with a matching grin, " I just need a moment to calculate the distance. Brace yourselves!"
The other girls stood and gathered around her, while Spike hopped onto her back. He gave her a comforting pat on the withers, which she returned with a smile.
Then, Twilight's horn ignited with a brilliant glow, before they all disappeared in a blinding flash.
Dinnertime had finally come, and I was famished. Thankfully, my meeting with Fancypants had ended right on time. Though, he always seemed to be strictly business with me, and ended our meetings exactly on time, or even earlier, if possible. He didn't seem to like me much, not that I necessarily blame him.
I put that aside, however, as our food had arrived. Tonight it was just Blueblood, my adopted nephew; Raven Inkwell, my assistant; and myself.
Normally, I'd eat dinner with all of my remaining family, but Luna seemed to be elsewhere. It saddened me to see her isolating herself, but I feared that forcing her to come would not go as I intended.
Cadenza, my adopted niece, seemed to just barely tolerate me, so she wasn't there either.
Blueblood was telling us about the interesting changes in Stalliongrad's philosophical environment as the servants placed food around us.
"I tell you, Auntie, this whole, "Communist manifesto," could spell disaster. It's bad enough that the Germans have been spreading their "Democracy and Liberty" nonsense for centuries. These satellites need to be brought back into the fold."
"You know we can't do that, Blooboo."
He let out a deep sigh, "I know, Auntie. I just fear that these new ideas will destabilize your already shaky grasp on the throne.
"The peasantry could get it into their heads that you're some tyrant. If they keep thinking like that, they might try to dethrone you, and I don't trust that they could find someone as benevolent as you."
It's been said that words of truth from the ignorant can cut deeper than a knife, and at times I believe them. I couldn't bring myself to look him in the eyes, so instead, I smiled and thanked him before busying myself with a salad.
Quiet briefly settled over the table before Raven decided to speak up. "Your Majesty, I would like to discuss your upcoming schedule."
I sighed inwardly before nodding my assent. She began to drone as I continued to eat, and try to pay attention. Though, the lazy evening was not to last, it seemed.
Suddenly, I could feel a strong pull on my magic from the one place that I didn't want to. A small portion of my power was taken before I could sever the connection. A drop in the bucket otherwise, but it could only mean one thing.
"Your Majesty?"
Oh shit. "Yes, Raven?"
"Do you feel well?" she asked, "You just took a bite out of your fork…"
I looked down to see that, indeed, my fork was now missing its prongs. "Cancel everything."
"Wha?"
"Now."
She started scrambling, "R-uh right!"
"And get Luna immediately. Tell her to meet me in the main council room."
"At once!" she shouted, already running toward the door.
Blueblood was to his hooves immediately, "Auntie? What happened?"
"Nothing good for us," I said, spitting out my fork's tines.
Everything felt like it was on fire. I could feel my bones breaking, and taste the unmistakable iron of blood. My eyes refused to open, though I could hear muffled voices.
I tried to open my mouth to scream, but my voice refused to obey. My throat felt like it was swollen shut, meaning I couldn't breathe, either. I tried to move toward the voices, but my limbs were sluggish, and restrained by some rock-solid barrier. I was trapped, and beginning to feel claustrophobic.
Whether my agony lasted for minutes, or hours, I couldn't say. Time seemed to blur and stretch as my torturous existence dragged on.
Eventually, the voices seemed to grow excited as I could feel my suffering ease. I began to regain control of my limbs, though I couldn't feel my fingers. My back also itched like mad, but that felt less important.
As the pain faded, feeling returned, though everything felt… wrong. My face, for one, felt… longer? My neck felt longer, too. Before I could think too deeply about it, though, I heard what sounded like shattering glass.
Light beat against my eyelids, and my throat opened. As I took my first desperate lungful of air, I tumbled to the cold marble floor.
"Gods' mercy!" I heard someone exclaim. Several other voices seemed to join, though I immediately recognized one of them.
"Leave now, my children! You may pray outside," Chrysalis shouted.
The sound of hooves scraping on marble could be heard, as the voices faded away, followed by the clack of the door's latch. Before I could find the strength to lift my head, I heard her speak again.
"... Steve?" she asked, hesitantly, "Is that you?"
The best I could give was a groan in reply as I slowly opened my eyes. I slowly lifted my head when I noticed the first change; apparently I now had long, shimmering, emerald green hair.
"What the hell?" I asked myself, and noticed the second change; my voice was now two-toned and buzzy, like Chrysalis's.
"... Steve?"
I turned my head toward her, "Yeah?"
"Gods' blood… it is you!" she said, rushing over.
"Who else would it be?" I jokingly asked, trying to stand. Before I could manage to steady myself, however, I saw a large portion of my body. I was so shocked, I fell back down.
"Well…" she said, levitating a mirror over, "I believe my shock was understandable."
I now looked like one of the Progenitors. My eyes were now blue, however, whereas the ones I've seen had green eyes. Interestingly, I also seemed to have 3 claws folded into the frog of my hoof.
I was more concerned, though, with the fact that I was an entirely different species! "What happened?"
"Your servant teleported directly into the throne room and frantically explained that you were encased in crystal at the temple. I arrived a while later to find she was right.
"Then, said crystal shattered and you fell where you're currently laying."
I could barely believe her, but the proof was right in front of me. "What do I do now?"
I looked back to Chrysalis and she explained, "I believe it's time to greet the people."
"What do you mean?" I asked, shakily standing on my new hooves.
"Whatever happened to you in there was obviously the work of the gods. Given your new form, it can only be a blessing. They will want to hear the good news!"
Before I could respond, I felt myself surrounded by a gentle warmth. I turned to see a bearded, emaciated old man, peacefully sitting in the lotus position on a small cushion. Chrysalis prostrated herself as he began to speak.
"Greetings, Chrysellia and Steven. You may call me Siddhartha. The council has decided that I will serve as your envoy."
"Buddha?"
He merely nodded with a small smile. "I have come to tell you two things; firstly, you are now the God of Liberty, Reason, and Compassion, for as long as you can uphold those ideals, at least.
"Lastly, anytime you need to speak with the council, merely pray to me. They have deemed you not yet worthy of a position on the council, but when your task is complete, you may yet be raised to the position, if you wish."
"Are you on the council?"
He smiled, "No. I have never desired to be, that is why they asked me to be a messenger. I agreed because I saw that you have the potential to do great things."
I thanked him, and he faded from reality with a gentle wave of his hand. I turned to Chrysalis, as she got up.
"Well," I said with a small sigh, "I guess I'll need a new name, then. Steve doesn't sound very god-like."
"What will you call yourself, then, mi'lord?" She said, bowing.
With a frown, I stood her back up. "None of that, now. I may be a god, whatever that means, but I won't have you bow to me."
"R-really?"
"Of course!" I said with a smile, "Friends don't bow and kowtow, now do they?"
She got misty-eyed, and said "Thank you. I have never even heard the gods speak to me, and here you are, calling me a friend."
"Don't worry about it," I said, draping my forelimb over her shoulders, "Now! What should my new god name be?"
"Well, I may have a suggestion."
"Oh? Do tell," I asked.
"Frelsi. It basically means freedom in Old Ponish. I think it suits you."
I smiled, "That sounds perfect! Ok," I said, turning to the door, "the people have waited long enough to see their new god."
Where You're Swept Off To
I was flying low across the desert, only fifty or so meters off the ground, as I didn't want to be seen from too far away. I was flying around a breakneck 160 kph, fast enough to get me there in just over five hours or so, but slow enough to allow me to enjoy the flight. To insure that I didn’t swallow a bug, I made an envelope of dead air in front of me, which also cut down on the noise.
Ever since I was a little kid, I wanted to fly, so this experience was amazing. It wasn't the Cliffs of Dover, but it would do. The wind whipping around me made the intense sun seem further away, but the total lack of cloud-cover made it incredibly bright and sunny. I felt so good, I almost wanted to do loop-de-loops, but that would last all day.
After about four hours of flying over plain desert, I noticed something. Two black specks appeared on the horizon, and were quickly approaching. As I flew, they split up, looping around and pulled up behind as I slowed down to let them catch up.
"Our queen has requested that These ones bring you to her," the creature shouted over the rushing wind. Its voice was deep and scratchy like an old man's, leading me to believe it was a male. He also seemed to possess a mild west african accent, which I found amusing.
His skin was smooth and matte, looking like a bug's chitin. His eyes were blue and compound, much like the eyes of a fly— the lack of pupils made his gaze quite unnerving, however. His muzzle was blocky and sharp, though a bit on the stubby side. He had fangs poking out from his upper lip, and though they were small, they looked quite effective. Atop his head was a small horn, though its purpose was a mystery to me, as it was small enough to discourage the idea of it being used like a normal horn.
"It would be wise to follow These ones," screamed the second, "They were asked to bring you to her unharmed, but this one can restrain you easily without injuring you." The second's voice sounded distinctly more feminine, and she seemed to possess a mild arabic accent.
These were likely forward scouts, meaning that whatever it was that I saw, has an organized military (with a very eclectic english teacher). I said nothing, but simply nodded and allowed them to guide me. I was interested to see just where this would go.
My brief, and horrible vision granted me no opinions of success, but I had a feeling that this was going to be interesting. We were only eighty kilometers or so away from the power, but I could see nothing yet.
As we flew, the two scouts said nothing, and didn't bother to glance in my direction. I allowed the silence to stand, as I didn't feel like screaming to drag out what I suspected would be forced smalltalk. After another hour of flying, I could see the tip of what appeared to be a mountain crest over a high sand dune.
As we approached, more of the mountain appeared, though it looked impossibly steep, and seemed to poke from the sand nonsensically. Though, as we approached, I realized that it wasn't a mountain at all.
"Welcome, stranger, to Vérdia," said the first scout.
"What?"
"It is the name of our capital city; it means nature, or green in the ancient tongue of Changelings."
The spires of the high-reaching city stretched across the sky, scraping the low-hanging clouds which swirled around it. Terraces holding beautiful gardens littered the towers, filled with the wonderful colors of nature. Birds could be seen as tiny, colorful specks against the sprawling limestone structure. The architecture reminded me strongly of pictures I had seen of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon.
I could see many specks of black against the green of the stone and gardens; its inhabitants were constantly abuzz with activity. Some wore outfits of sackcloth, while others were completely nude. A few wore clothes of bright colors, yet what exactly they were was too difficult to discern from such a distance.
Along the southern border of the city, an ocean spread forever in both directions, giving the beautiful green spires a backdrop of the glittering blue sea.
As we approached, the activity continued unabated, despite the strange creature only a few kilometers away. When we were about five kilometers away, however, a group of five dressed in a thick, chitinous armor met the two scouts. They flew in a standard “V” formation. With a simple nod, the scouts turned and flew back the way we came, likely back to their posts.
"Hello, stranger. This one trusts you are unharmed?" asked the one in front. This one was different from the two scouts; the voice was two-toned, and deeply masculine, and his eyes were green, with irises split by cat like pupils. I also noticed that he was slightly taller than the others, though his eye-level was still only just above my navel. His eyes were intense and focused, yet possessed the same levity his voice carried. He had the poshest accent I’ve ever heard, though.
"Yes," I replied, barely holding back a snicker, "the flight was entirely uneventful, save for your scouts' little greeting."
"Ah, very good. This one would hate to have to explain to our Queen why you were in anything less than stellar condition," he said, motioning me to follow him. I fell into their formation, just behind the apparent leader.
"So who are you?"
"This one is the 1st Colonel of Her Majesty's Royal Army," he replied, not missing a beat.
"No name?"
"This one does not know how things worked where you came from, stranger, but we do not use our true names here. Names hold much power, so This one suggests you not give yours so easily," he said, looking back to me. I nodded and thought for a moment.
"Well then, Colonel, you may call me Samaritan."
He smiled and nodded, turning back, "Well met." We were now in the city proper, and details I had missed before were now clearly on display.
Merchants could be heard, hawking their wares to the populace, and the sound of children playing and laughing could be heard. Changelings could be seen doing anything imaginable, and the sound of people talking was omnipresent.
Much of the masonry had small waves carved into it, swirls and loops made the city feel alive as we flew past. Many windows lacked glass, and had colorful curtains. Most of the designs were reminiscent of Persian rugs, while a few were a simple solid color. Far below, cobbled roads split the city into neat little grids, and left wide pathways for its populace to fly around.
We were headed for the center of the city, where the largest of the monolithic buildings was located. As we got closer to the huge tower, Changelings could be seen in the same armor as my escorts wore. As we passed, they snapped to attention and held out a hoof, which looked disturbingly like a Nazi salute. The gesture was lazily returned by the Colonel, who barely glanced in their direction without stopping.
"So what is it that makes you so different from the other Changelings here, Colonel?"
He slowed slightly for a moment before resuming his previous pace. "Well," he said, glancing back to me, "This one is what is referred to as inteligencia , which is Lingish for intelligent. This one was born with more cognitive abilities than most Changelings, as well as a few physical markings which few Changelings possess."
"So you have a caste system?"
"Oh no," he replied quickly, "our society is entirely meritocratic. Drones can rise to any position that they may, this one is simply more likely to be successful due to its predisposed ability."
"Hmm. It seems unfair, but I suppose life is unfair for the most part."
The Colonel simply sighed, "Yes, most Changelings know that better than anyone else."
I didn't reply, and the Colonel didn't feel the need to elaborate. We flew in an uncomfortable silence for the rest of our journey. When we were within a hundred meters of the mighty tower, my escorts angled themselves toward the base of the tower, and I followed.
"Welcome to the Citadel, Samaritan," said the Colonel, landing within meters of the large open door. "It was nice speaking with you, but we must part ways with you here. There is a member of Her Majesty's personal staff that will take you to her within."
I nodded and turned to the imposing doors. As they took off, likely to their posts, I took a steadying breath and walked off towards the keep.
The regal figure of the Queen lazed on the large stone chair that was used to meet visiting delegates, though it had been long before she was born that one such visitor had used their hospitality.
She stood slowly, opting to pace about the room to help her collect her thoughts. She knew that creature had not gained such power naturally, as such things slowly built over time. The birth of a demigod was something that grew exponentially over time, but it still took time to realize its power. What she was dealing with was a Champion.
A Champion was gifted godly power, having been chosen for their already considerable skill by their patron god. A demigod was not usually intentional, and though they might be utilized for their power, they were often enough just another person who happened to be incredibly powerful. A Champion was created, and they were always created with intent.
The only thing that gave her concern was that this Champion was on par with two of the strongest demigods in Mythas. Not only that, but it had decided to head directly for her shortly after its creation. She knew that even the combined might of the hive would do little against a Champion of such power. She could only hope that its mission was not to finish what the gods had started long ago.
As she contemplated this disturbing fact, she heard the stone doors to the highest point in the Capitol building of Vérdia. "My Queen," said a small bowing changeling, flanked on both sides by much larger guards. She had a slight accent, though it was difficult for her to tell just what type it was.
"Yes, my child?" She replied, quickly hiding any traces of worry from her face.
"The Satyr has arrived and is on the way here."
"Thank you, young one. You may return to your duties." The small one stood and nodded her head before turning and walking back down the short hall and connecting stairs.
The queen told her honor guard to return to their posts and allow the guest to enter when it arrived. They merely nodded and shut the door behind them, allowing the queen to return to her seat and thoughts of a fiery doom.
Author's Note
Edited! (again)
