“Well...that was quite something...”

Purple Patch’s short, flat summary was typical for him. The gaggle of investigators paused as the smoke around them formed and malformed itself, looking for the next point in the time they sought.

“I do not feel that well, I’ll be honest.” Wagensroll mumbled “Why...did that stallion have to make whatshisname’s death so long? It would be hard to describe that.”

“Meh...If you know what he was like before seeing that, you won’t feel sorry for him...And what he did with the testicles was pretty entertaining.” Dawnwind chuckled, her dark sense of humour quite famous in her circle.

“Dawnwind, that’s sick!” Wagensroll snapped “I don’t think I can ever eat dumplings again!”

“Hey, ladies, can we focus?!” Daring Doo barked as the five visitors massaged their temples.

“Sorry chaps. A pause is needed between these visions. You spend too long in one, you start thinking you’re always there. It’s not pretty.”

“Thank you Mr Patch. How long do these pauses last?”

“Not long. Just to remember you’re all still here. Everypony alright? Anything we need to go over?”

The ponies looked from one to the other.

“So that was Dvinius?” Starlight Glimmer asked “I remember reading about him. His belief in his own supremacy, this sick ideal of his own worship and the slavery of his own ponies. It’s one of the things that got me into my old obsession with equality...Guess I messed that up big-time.” she sighed despondently.

Maud Pie patted her gently on the back.

“What we, with unrelenting zeal, seek to oppose, we often, through mocking fate, become.” she said, flatly. “Laurelore said that. It happens to all of us.”

“Look, Glim, whatever anypony thinks about you, I met Dvinius face-to-face.” the Doctor added “What you fell into was nothing compared to his level of insanity.”

“...thanks...” Starlight mumbled.

“Okay...okay...I think we’re ready.” Cadence looked as she was recovering from some of hangover or, from experience, had been taking care of Flurry all night “Patch, would you...do your thing again.”

“Thing?” Purple Patch raised an eyebrow as if affronted “Your highness, this is a trans-temporal realiform station. First invented by Earth Pony Alchemists working in conjunction with Pegasi Engineers and Unicorn Scryers near the beginning of the Third Age of Magic though it was adapted from layout documents found in the Ancient Armoury of Empress Minerva, the Witch-Queen of Hippomorphia, who Archmage Mimic herself...”

“GET ON WITH IT!” the occupants of the room yelled, their headaches being actively made worse.

“Alright, alright, sorry. Mouth ran away with me.” The talkative librarian set about adjusting the nodes on his contraption.

“Patch, I swear to Singingwolf, your Cutie Mark should have been one of those clockwork false teeth with the way you yammer on.” Dawnwind snapped.

“Okay, harsh...but fair.” Patch sighed, flipping the switch as the smoke began swirling around them “Hold onto your sanity everypony. We’re going in!”

*

Midnight Blade had approached the Royal Throne of Equestria more times yet the sight of the majestic Princess Laurelore the Firsticorn, the Great Rejuvenator, never ceased to amaze him.

She was seated as regally as one could be yet always seemed to wear that level gaze that made her seem so approachable, complete with her smile which would be capable of taming storms and whirlpools if cast before the sea and sky.

She wore a trailing silk gown of sandy gold with a crown fashioned from gilded laurels and a necklace of consecutive ivory and ebony pearls.

On either side of her were the Lord Steward and the Captain-General, seated primly and attentively.

Knickerbocker, a trim and stately politician in a lustrous indigo gown of office, his cyan mane grown long and his magnificent mustachios lining his upper-lip, a monocle adorning his right eye.

And Bold, a rugged, dapple-coated steed of war in burnished golden armour, lounging in the seat. Practically his equal in rank and title, Bold and Midnight hadn’t always been friends. In their early years at Canterlot, they’d been at each other’s throats for one reason or another but, as they grew, Bold had grown to accept and respect Midnight and the dun pony had done likewise.

Midnight Blade and Star-Swirl approached, bowing respectfully.

“Lord Minister Archmage Star-Swirl, Knight Commander Midnight Blade, I am pleased to see you in good health. How may I be of help?”

Her voice had a curious ability to make everypony around her relax, collect themselves and speak to her with utter sincerity.

Star-Swirl began, tapping his staff on the ground for the court’s attention.

“Your Royal Highness,” he began “With your kind permission we, to our regret, bring foreboding news. New Hycarion is rising once more.”

There was a quiet but noticeable chuckle from the court.

“Archmage, without meaning any offence, I hardly consider that foreboding.” Bold said.

“Captain-General, please exercise courtesy.” Laurelore said, in a manner that was bordering on stern “Star-Swirl rarely if ever brings us misinformation.”

“I understand, your highness, and I mean no offence, but let’s recollect here. This is nothing new and has rarely ever been cause for great concern. Since Dvinius took control, New Hycarion has never once posed us a threat.”

“Dvinius is no longer in control.” It was Midnight Blade who spoke up in a grave tone.

The court was quickly silenced.

Knickerbocker found his voice.

“Somepony finally did him in then?”

“No, but they certainly put him in his place.”

Midnight explained what he’d seen and what this would lead to. The stranger calling himself ‘The Warmonger’ could only mean bad news for Equestria.

“So this...Warmonger...simply stepped in and took charge?” Laurelore asked, her expression curdling with disgust “The methods by which he murdered Luximus Fulman...evidently this is one who enjoys death.”

“Certainly.” Midnight replied “I wasn’t exactly readily able to get a glimpse of his skill, one hardly needs much of it to deal with the Cosmos Legion, but he handled himself with almost utter surety. Like some sort of actor, his part scripted and rehearsed. It was very clear he was prepared to kill anypony who stood in his way and allowing him to take command may, quite possibly, have been the single smartest thing Dvinius has ever done.”

“And this...Warmonger claimed that he would bring down Equestria?”

“That did seem to be his primary agenda, your highness.” Midnight cleared his throat “In mere moments, he’d disassembled the structure of New Hycarionite society and is now on his way to do the same to ours. While he’s unlikely to have an easier time of it, it is my firm belief that he should not be taken lightly.”

“How soon do you believe he may raise an army?” Bold asked.

“Hard to determine. If he was planning on training New Hycarion’s slave population into soldiers, he’s going to have a difficult time. It’ll take him years to amass an army ready to march upon Equestria...but...”

“But?” Laurelore pressured the Knight Commander.

Midnight sighed and spoke his mind.

“There was nothing in him that suggested he hadn’t thought of that. Your highness, if he’s intending on raising an army against us, going by what I saw, taking into account his level of planning and calculation and huge sense of confidence...I have a nasty feeling he may already have his own army ready to march.”

“But then, why go to Dvinius in the first place?”

“Why indeed” Midnight replied with uncertainty “He has a plan, I’m sure of it. And when he puts it into action, all of Equestria will need to be ready.”

In a stately but weary manner, Laurelore breathed deep and made her decree.

“Captain-General Bold” At the mention of his name, the stallion left his seat, stood before the throne and placed a hoof over his chest in a salute “You shall give orders to all the eastern garrisons to muster on the border and prepare for invasion.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“Lord Knickerbocker. You shall inform all lords and officials across the realm that defensive preparations must be made. The crafting of weapons and the storage of provisions is tantamount.”

“Wisely said, your majesty. It shall be done.”

“Lord Minister Archmage Star-Swirl, you shall give orders to all senior wizards, mages and magical adepts loyal to the crown to observe New Hycarion by any means necessary and find out all we can about this ‘Warmonger’.”

“I shall, your majesty.”

Laurelore looked out across the court, her face still possessed of an unwavering aura of compassion and grace, as she made her decree.

“I shall send word to the Bearers of the Elements and to all those we trust with our lives. Ponies of Equestria. Guard yourselves and all those you love and prepare for the worst. As of now...we are at war.”

*

Servilia was no stranger to cold and dampness. The slave pens of New Hycarion were famous for it.

But this place paled in comparison. The wet stone floors chilled her hooves and every time a drop of moisture landed on her coat, she’d instinctively turn to check they weren’t being followed. The place resonated with an ancient terror.

Yet still she followed her new master.

“Keep calm, my dear, the worst is over.” She forgot how long it had been since he’d spoken. Upon asking her whether or not she wished to be part of the new order that would claim Canterlot, Hycarion and all within Equestria, she was sent into a strange sleep. Though she was certain the Warmonger had not been the one to send her into it.

Someone else had been with him. Someone very good at hiding.

Yet now they were alone, venturing into a deep and lightless cavern. The Warmonger bore a solitary torch yet even then, the light barely touched them.

Servilia shivered and finally found her voice.

“Will we...come to any harm, down here?”

“Not unless my friends wish us to.”

“F-friends?”

The Warmonger tilted his head and gave her a cocky smile.

“Don’t look so surprised dear. For all my faults, I’m told I can be quite charming.”

“O-o-of course, master, but...down here?” she took a nervous intake of breath and spoke her mind “Master, I really must ask. Where are we?”

The Warmonger paused, the nonchalant expression fixed on his face, and gazed up at the ceiling.

A drop of moisture splashed on his muzzle. Licking it off his lips, he spoke.

“Taste the water. It won’t hurt you.”

With equal curiosity and dread, Servilia caught a droplet of water on her fetlock and lapped at it, suddenly realising how thirsty she’d been.

“It tastes...salty.”

“Because it is” her master said, flatly “We are, at present, several feet under the sea.”

Before Servilia could startle, the Warmonger chuckled.

“Not to worry, this place has guarded us from the depths for centuries and shall guard us for millennia more. Down here, we are protected. Down here, we survive.”

“We?”

The Warmonger simply smiled and gestured to the darkness further down the cavern.

Walking onwards, Servilia’s ears pricked.

She was certain she was hearing a third pair of hoof-steps.

Then teeth appeared inches from the torch-head.

Giving a slight cry of alarm, the Warmonger raised his hoof for pause and slowly waved his torch around.

A great statue was standing in front of them. A great effigy of a pony with its head bowed offering up a small foal in its hooves.

“Bow.” The Warmonger said flatly.

Bowing came naturally to Servilia, having spent so long in servitude, but it did nothing to impede her confusion.

“To the statue, master?”

“A sign of respect. One must bow at the figure...or she’ll get you.”

“Th-the statue?”

“No.”

Servilia waited on who exactly ‘she’ was but the answer never came. For reasons she didn’t quite understand, she didn’t feel any wish to press for it.

The Warmonger rose and tilted his head toward the ongoing cavern.

“Come along.”

More ghastly figures met their torchlight as they ventured ever deeper. Each one bearing expressions of pure rage and disgust before the visitors, their teeth filed to fangs, their eyes sickly, glowing, yellow pearls, boring into them.

Servilia wondered who would willingly carve figures with such expressions. Their gaze seemed to sap the confidence from any observer.

“Master...these statues...” she mumbled “Are they...monsters?”

“Of a sort.” The Warmonger said.

Every answer only prompted more questions that Servilia didn’t particularly feel like answering.

With a grunt of pain, she stumbled into a rocky outcrop. The Warmonger stopped, turning towards her.

“You alright?” he asked, no clear expression in his tone.

“Yes...” Servilia rubbed her hoof as she glanced at the outcrop.

It appeared to have carved to form the figure of a pony...no...Many ponies. Crouched, huddled, clustered, what remained of their faces locked in screams of fear and despair. Some of the stone had corroded but the intention was unmistakable.

“And...what sort of statues are these meant to be?”

She heard the Warmonger chuckle.

“Those aren’t statues, my dear.” he said, a sardonic mirth in his voice before turning back towards the shadows “We should make pace. We don’t have vast amounts of time.”

As the cavern finally reached its peak, Cascadius held up his torch. The wall at the end of the tunnel glistened in the light and showed itself to be made up of a strange, thick, dark-green glass.

The Warmonger dropped the torch, letting the flames dissipate on the wet floor as he placed a hoof right in the centre of the glass.

With an almighty grinding snarl, the glass door shifted, rolling away to the side as a great but colourless light hit them like an ice storm. Servilia shielded her blinking eyes a moment as she and the Warmonger entered.

Greeting them was an immense amphitheatre and overpowering stench of blood and decay. In the centre of the room was a great red pool where over a hundred corpses lay rotting in piles around the edges of the circle. On the steps, inches from the pool, a huddled figure knelt, giving off a demented, gnawing sound.

Before Servilia could say anything, dumbfounded as she was at the sight before her, the Warmonger barked at the creature.

“Ratbag!”

The figure jerked round fearfully, nearly falling in the pool as he scampered up the steps to address the visitors, throwing away a bone he’d been chewing scraps of meat off.

He was a goat, a gelding, shaved of fur and removed of horns, his eyes a dark puce, sunken in their sockets, his voice high-pitched and wheezy. Swathed in a heavy maroon cloak, he stared up at the stallion, his bizarre appearance reminding Servilia of some unsightly foetus-like creature.

He spoke.

“Oh...m-m-master, your presence warms old Ratbag, great lord of battle. The elder has awaited your coming, oh anointed...”

“Yes, yes, spare me the pleasantries, Ratbag.” the Warmonger sighed “Just inform the elder that I’ve returned.”

“Y-y-yes, master...” the goat tilted his head and smiled a grin with many missing teeth and many more rotting ones, eying Servilia with more than simple curiosity.

“And...Who is this?”

“My friend. Her name’s Servilia.” The Warmonger turned to her “This is Ratbag, our acolyte. He tends to the place.”

“Ah...welcome, dear beauty...” Ratbag licked his lips “Any friend of the Warmonger is a friend of Ratbag’s”

“I rather think not.” the stallion said flatly, a threatening tone hidden behind his usual calmness. Ratbag cleared his throat, eyed the Warmonger fearfully and turned away, scuttling into one of the tunnels.

The goat disturbed Servilia.

It would be uncommon for a slave to not have seen a master gaze at her with lust in New Hycarion but she had rarely ever been subjected to it. In the slave pits, the masters knew her for her plainness and back when she was serving Luximus Fulman, he was thrash her ‘ugly, bent, old features’ whenever he was in a bad mood and noticed his serf looking him in the eye. The pleasure slaves had been kept in larger, cleaner wards and always given adequate food and warmth but their position was no less enviable than the serfs, labourers and fools. Luximus, though he had a wife in the Cosmos Legion, enjoyed paying the pleasure house visits and felt the most pleasure when striking the girls in the face or burning them with hot water or metal. When his wife, Astraluca, found out, she would find the slaves who bore his mark and inflict her own, with abject fury.

And the Potentate Magnificence himself would often order one of the most beautiful slaves and two of the youngest to his chambers.

Yet nopony ever saw them leave.

New Hycarion was a kingdom of horror and decay yet it paled to this death-strewn sanctum and its inhabitants.

“Rest easy, my dear,” the Warmonger assured “He’s quite harmless...at least while I’m around.”

“Master, please answer me in clarity, I must know...” Clear dread was on her voice “Where is this place and why have you brought me here?”

The Warmonger gave her a look, sighed and paced towards the centre of the amphitheatre.

“You will have your answers. But not from me. I am not the master of this place. It was not so long ago that I was but a humble novice. Alone, afraid, uncertain of my place in this world...just like you.”

There came an eerie moan from the tunnel Ratbag had disappeared to and a flash of shadow and flickering flame.

In the time Servilia had taken to blink, a stallion stood at the top of the amphitheatre.

He must have been the oldest pony Servilia had ever seen. Gaunt, grey-coated with a shockingly-white mane and trailing whiskers at the side of his sunken cheeks that nearly reached the ground.

He was dressed in unkempt but ornate robes, mahogany and maroon with a half-mask of what looked like obsidian. In his hoof was a staff, also obsidian, twisting and winding up and up and topped with a great yellow pearl held in place with four spiky talons at each corner.

He raised his head, observing the scene and met his gaze upon Servilia.

The imposing steed caused her to quake in her hooves, bending her legs ready to kneel on his wish. Whatever dread and awe the Warmonger had cast about the court of New Hycarion it would not have been a fraction of what this pony could have done. Looking at him, staring at his cold, unimpressed expression and harsh, lightless eyes, Servilia knew this stallion was one to be feared.

“You have returned, Cascadius.” he said, his voice like a deep commanding echo from the plane of death “And, I see, not alone.”

“Yes, Master.” The Warmonger turned and knelt respectfully “I have completed my task. New Hycarion will bow to our command and our army is assembled, ready to march.”

“And the final Lodestone?”

In his eyes, Servilia could have sworn the Warmonger betrayed a hint of fear, perhaps even shame.

“It was not in their champion’s hooves. I believe Dvinius keeps it where it’s safe. We will need time before we can seize it.”

There came a low growl from the elder’s throat but he neither moved nor spoke.

Ratbag made his way out of the tunnels and secluded himself in a dark corner, scavenging.

“Who is the mare?” the elder asked.

“Master, her name is Servilia. She is a serf from New Hycarion that was the first to support me once I had claimed the life of their champion. I believe...she will make a fine initiate.”

Servilia felt herself blink, almost against her wish.

Opening her eyes, the elder was standing bare inches in front of her face.

Squeaking in alarm, Servilia struggled to remain steady on her hooves as she caught sight of the stallion’s eyes.

They were without white. Sheer pools of ink-black with a pair of tiny rust-orange specks fixed upon her intently.

He tilted his head slowly from left and right and hummed deeply.

“She is a frail thing, sickly, bruised, marks of the whip and chattel rake her flesh...” he nodded “But behind it there is...a certain inner strength...perhaps a calling...She will serve.”

“M-m-master...” Servilia stammered.

“I am not the master, Servilia, not here.” The Warmonger rose and turned to the elder “May I introduce you, master, or will you let the Ratbag do the honours?” Ratbag jumped, startled, at the mention of his name, scattering pebbles and bone fragments he’d been collecting.

The elder tutted with distaste.

“You may do so, Cascadius. I prefer my name spoken from your tongue to one who lets it waggle like a fool.”

“A wise choice, m-m-master...” Ratbag stammered.

“Thank you, Master.” The Warmonger nodded and spoke “Servilia, this is the Keeper of the Deeprisen Sanctuary and the acting-Grand Master of the Mundane Order, Master Vovin.”

“I-I-I-I see...” Servilia whispered “A-a-and wh-what’s the M-M-Mundane Order?”

“Do not quake, child, the Order has no place for whelps.” Vovin tilted his head “And in answer to your query...The Mundane Order is the hope and heirship of all Equestria once was, will become and always must be.”

“This, Miss Servilia, is where I grew up.” The Warmonger added “Where I became the stallion I am. I hope you realise few, if any ponies are privy to this knowledge. We won’t tell you to guard it, only to treasure it.”

“Of course, master.” Servilia bowed her head and listened intently as Vovin spoke, pacing about the amphitheatre as he explained.

“Neither Equestria nor Hycarion ever admitted this but not all ponies wanted kings...or queens...or princesses...or magic. Eons ago, the tribes found their own individual magic or power or knowledge or whatever word they had for it. Unicorns mastered spells and enchantments, pegasi spread wings and twisted the clouds and earth ponies crafted the land they trod to serve and support them. Yet there were those who did not wish to make the world they stood malformed, however it would suit them. The delving of the three tribes would lead to consequences they would be unable to control. Their home had become cursed with a force not of this world that would do no living thing good. Your ruler, Dvinius, seems to have the same mindset, though he may not know it, denouncing the magic of many in favour of belief in his own power, instilled in all his subordinates.” he snorted derisively.

“But while ponies were still young and unfamiliar with the world, there were tribes that sought power in what they knew and those who sought power in what they did not know. I and many others belonged to the former. We were a simple race, dwelling in the faraway canyons and hills, keeping to ourselves. But this way...it did not do us well. When the tribes gained power, they sought more, as it is with every force that has its first taste of potency. We fought. We fought tooth and hoof with all we had. But against a foe with power we could not comprehend...we were defenceless. Our way had failed us. Too many masters, not enough servants, all knowledge forbidden, unable to change, unable to adapt. You and I have both seen what it is to live in a land where the laws you created cannot protect you.”

Servilia nodded slowly, watching with fascination as, out the corner of her eye, the calm, confident face of the Warmonger clouded with a haze, the smoke and flames of a war his kind could not have won.

Vovin continued regardless.

“And they called us savages. ‘The Wild Horses’, they called us. We were nothing to them. Just...insignificant.” The elder closed his eyes and tilted his head in something that could have resembled a twitch.

“But not to all. There were some who saw promise in the old ways...and sought them new again, sought to raise us and make us strong.” he gave the closest thing he could to a smile “You’ve seen them.”

Servilia turned to the cavern they’d walked through, now covered up by the great glass door. It dawned on her.

“The statues...they’re...”

“Gods. The real gods. The ones we saw, the ones who spoke to us. Not blinding amalgamations, nor monarchs drunk with power, nor figments of a weakling’s fearful mind to give them false hope and promise for an empty future. True gods in a form one could not place on parchment yet unforgettable to the eye, as the statues prove. They appeared to our kind and they offered power. True power.” he sighed “But true power, as all wise creatures know, demands sacrifice.”

His hoof rose to the ceiling. Carved into it and engraved with an oily black stone was a great pattern of circles, triangles, diamonds and wildly criss-crossing lines and arrows, forming an immense dodecagon with a gigantic yellow pearl in the centre, bathing the room in eerie luminescence like a lighthouse beam. The yellow pearl was darker in the centre and appeared to spin lazily in its socket.

“Thus was founded the Mundane Order, those who seek power and strength from that which was always there. These gods were as old as the land that would become Equestria itself or very nearly. They did not create the land but they conquered it as the beasts under their chattel would do, with blood and fury. No other civilisation on this earth could stand against them and with their favour we wracked vengeance upon the weak and faithless...until an otherworldly force called magic plunged our established order into unfathomable chaos. From magic was created the Draconequui, who thrive on the chaos and warp reality for their own amusement; the Changelings, shape-shifters, mood-readers and love-eaters; the Sphinxes, gatekeepers to the Underworld who know all and see all, existing between the worlds of life, death and undeath; the Smooze, the all-devouring mass of primordial force; the Spirit Kings of Storm, Fire, Water, Earth and the Life Cycle, who crafted Tartarus and opened the Gates of Paradise to mortal creatures; and most relevantly, the Alicorns with their Elements of Harmony and Marks for their servitors. At the turn of this age, these abominable forces toppled our gods and left us powerless, swarming the continents and inflicting their lies and blasphemies upon all living things, duping the weak and murdering the strong, their chief weapons treachery, deceit, greed, cruelty, misery and their unholy magic.”

Ratbag spat loudly, ignored by his masters.

Vovin stared Servilia in the eye.

“You have fought as a slave, I trust? In the shapeless hordes of Dvinius’s armies, sent against the full force of Equestria?”

Servilia nodded, the fires of a war her masters could never win still burned into her mind.

“Then you know what it is to face them and feel the sting of their hatreds and hypocrisies.” the elder declared “The Mundane Order seek to oppose the Alicorn Magic and its ambitions to dominate the world through force.” He tutted “Oh, they claim it’s all for the greater good. They call it ‘Harmony’, ‘Peace’, ‘Love’ and ‘Friendship’. They instil such sweetness and comfort upon the weak who submit...But when faced with the strong, with one who would not stray from their path, what other decision do they take but force of raw power? The powers of a demi-goddess wiping out whole civilizations and overseeing all life under their gaze, twisting the world they were brought into by powers not even they comprehend?” he hissed with venom, his lips twisting into a snarl “The sins they propagate shall burn them to the core, thus it is decreed.”

“So...this was...a faith...the oldest faith?”

“Exactly.” The Warmonger stood up and spoke “The Mundane Order teaches ponies to endure, to become strong enough to brave the hardships of the world we came into, neither to destroy it nor to repurpose it. We take the world as it is, hard, wild and unforgiving. Just like us.” he smiled.

“Just so” Vovin nodded “With so many petty kings and chieftains running about chasing crowns and fighting over thrones, the Order needed to take control. So here, in Deeprisen Rock, where the gods were first beheld by the First Ponies, we began our work. Our acolytes spread the word of the pantheon among the hill tribes. We had a great deal of success among the foals. Young, learning, determined, longing to be strong. Perfect.” The rusty glint in his eyes flickered “But some of their parents, among them so-called kings of our kind, opposed our teachings. This would not do. The words of the gods were very clear. To deny them or defy them...is to unleash their wrath upon the world. And the Mundane Order is the instrument of that wrath. We gathered those with faith and seized those without. And here...for all to see...our sacrifice...in the name of true power.”

He waved his thin, unshorn hoof over the pool of corpses.

“The parents...” the Servilia slowly realised “And the foals...”

“All brought here, all to partake in the sacrifice.”

“...you killed them...”

“No.” The Warmonger spoke again. It was impossible to tell whether he’d been listening the whole time or only then “The masters of the Mundane Order shed no blood that day. They had the power already...We did not.”

“W-w-we?”

“The faithful...Longing to be strong...The perfect students...The perfect warriors...This was our sacrifice.” The Warmonger spread out one hoof, smiling with such an eerie serenity.

Servilia felt her throat constricting with shock, threatening to choke her.

“You...you killed your parents?”

“To strip away the taint of faithlessness upon their line.” Vovin answered “It was their duty, their sacrifice...and through this, they became powerful. To endure the pain of others and of themselves.”

There was a pause. Ratbag could be heard trying to suck the eyeball out of a pony’s skull.

Servilia slowly turned to the Warmonger, uncertain of what exactly she saw.

“How...how did it feel?”

The stallion paused, tilting his gaze upwards slightly in thought.

“I don’t quite remember.” he said flatly “We all felt differently about it. Many cried their eyes out. Others felt nothing. Some even found they enjoyed it. There’s mine, right over there.” He pointed to a pair of ponies, made unrecognisable in the pool of gore, removed of everything that made them whole.

“I had to cut their hooves off...They wouldn’t let go of each other. One must approach the underworld alone.”

“Thus it is decreed.” Vovin spoke again “The sacrifice also served as a message. That our ascension would not be an easy road and that only the strong would endure. Those who had joined our Order for their own sakes lost their nerve and turned to cowardice, fleeing the Sanctuary or seeking to interrupt us. And they were dealt with. The sacrifice awakened the gods. As it is decreed, their favour fell upon those with faith and their wrath fell on those without. You have seen their work.”

Servilia looked back at the caverns and even in the amphitheatre, the stone ponies were massed in corners or dotted about the room, horror upon their motionless faces.

“And there they shall remain for all time. Such is the wrath of the gods upon those without faith.” Vovin craned his neck “And afterward, there came the final test. If you will follow me.”

Into the tunnel he had departed from, Vovin led Servilia into the darkness once more, the Warmonger and Ratbag following behind. The yellow pearl upon his staff glowed.

Servilia needed to remind herself not to blink down in Deeprisen.

One moment, they’d been pacing down what seemed like miles and miles of pitch-black darkness. Yet in a moment, a door had materialised out of the shadow, standing before them as if staring them in the face.

The mare glanced at the pearl.

“Master Vovin.” she mumbled “What is that? I saw them on the statues...and in the mosaic on the ceiling...”

“Yes.” Vovin said, not turning to face her “These are Lodestone, jewels of the gods. Within them is their power, their favour and the oldest and truest magic. That which was born in this world, not crafted from another plain and used to subjugate it.”

“Th-that was why you were in New Hycarion!” Servilia exclaimed.

“Very good. This one possesses a certain insight.” Vovin muttered to the Warmonger. Servilia was unsure if he was being sarcastic.

“Dvinius has, in his possession, an orb of power, does he not?” the Warmonger asked “He claims it shares the power with the Magnifex you carted around for Luximus.”

“Y-yes...I saw it now and again. But it doesn’t look like this. It’s sheer black with blue lights that blink in and out.”

“We believe it’s contained in some way, not by Dvinius’s hoof. He found it that way and we believe he used it to take control. The final Lodestone. It’s...pretty important.”

Before Servilia could ask how or why, Vovin had opened the door without moving a muscle.

Every action of his made Servilia feel ever more unnerved.

A tomb greeted them, a tomb with a vast number of beds, all arranged row by row and each resting upon them a small, shrouded corpse. Each one wore a mask resembling the statues in the caverns.

There was no scent of death here. It didn’t smell of anything describable.

If it was possible for coldness to have a smell...

“All dead.” the Warmonger said slowly “The ultimate sacrifice.”

“H-h-how?” Servilia stammered “Wh-why?”

“Because power demands sacrifice.” Vovin said flatly “Each initiate was given a bed and sealed in the room. The final test. Endure.”

“All we had to do was remain alive by whatever means necessary. And it was not only our strength that was tested. Our patience, our resolve, our sense of strategy. Only one of us could live. Once the masters knew who that was, it would be opened. So do we sit on our bed and wait it out, working to minimalise our air intake as others slowly fell asleep around us? Or would we take the risk ensuring those around us died by our own means, wasting valuable breath and energy scrambling around in the dark. It was all up to us. But one by one, we all died...Until only I was left.”

He stared at the room of his departed brothers and sisters, his eyes cloudy with half-forgotten memories.

“At last I emerged, a master of the Mundane Order, the pinnacle of pony endurance. I forget the name I went in with but when I came out, I had a new one...”

He turned to her and slowly smiled.

“Cascadius. Taken from the old tongue and one of the Mundane Order’s decrees ‘Kasokari Dteusii’...The Fall Of Gods.”

“The false gods.” Vovin added “For his ascension, his rebirth, was to bring about the rise of the true. Here in Deeprisen, a new god was born and wielded in his grasp...” he turned to the Warmonger, Cascadius “...his blade.”

“To be wielded against all heathens and bring about the awakening of the thirteenth deity.” Ratbag hollered.

The lodestone on Vovin’s staff glowed again and they found themselves in the amphitheatre again. There had been no magical field, no shimmer, no noise. They had simply appeared here as if they had never left.

Servilia was dumbfounded.

Was this truly the magic of this world?

“Our path was set. We were ready to bring about the god’s wrath on Equestria...” Vovin continued “Alas...Our enemy knew. The wretched Firsticorn appeared to us. She called out to us and demanded our final surrender. We refused, of course...And so she showed us no mercy.”

“She flooded the valley.” Servilia realised aloud.

“The masters emerged and took to battle with the false god...None of them returned. The seas rose up and swallowed our home. Only I, the eldest and last-remaining acolyte, was left to oversee the Sanctuary.” In that moment, as he gazed upon the cold, empty room, he almost looked sad.

“And I have done so ever since.”

Servilia was quiet a moment. It was difficult to process and near impossible to imagine all that had transpired here.

“The new god?” she murmured “Where is he?”

“Quite close by.” Cascadius, that was his name, Servilia had to remember “In fact, just a few foot above you.”

All eyes rose up to the great lodestone in the ceiling mosaic. Now, it seemed, it wasn’t simply darker in the centre but...filled.

Something was inside it. Something large. And alive.

“The Lodestone Cradle” Vovin said “There within slumbers the thirteenth deity, he who shall bring about the Old World as the New. Mu’Und. The Nemesis.”

“Ruler, Judge and Conqueror.” Ratbag added “Unrelenting, Unwavering, Undying.”

“To be awakened by the Great War that will spell Equestria’s doom.” Cascadius finished “When he awakens, the advantages Equestria used to subjugate us will be overturned and the alicorns will be destroyed by the very powers they believed would protect them as they are cast out of this world.”

Servilia paused.

Meeting the Equestrians in battle, seeing her force, the minimum of their power demolishing the New Hycarionite hordes, one could scarce imagine their downfall.

Yet it was inviting to say the least. The playing field even once more. Kingdoms like Hycarion would no longer squabble about in the pits, placing chains on the weak and kissing the hooves of the strong.

There would be so much opportunity.

“And...what of Hycarion?”

Cascadius chuckled.

“Once we have the Final Lodestone, it will have served its purpose. I reckon the land will need better rulers than Dvinius...or none at all.”

“As it was for the oldest kings, their throne shall be the battlefield and their crowns the heads of conquered foes.”

“Eternal war where the strong may never lack for glory.” Ratbag piped up.

“We are close, Servilia. For decades, we have consolidated our power and gathered allies and resources. We are ready to march. We shall take our place in the new world as it was in the old...Will you?”

Servilia, for the first time in many hours, took her eyes off them and slowly looked to her forehooves.

The rashes of chains and the scarring of whips marred her like a clumsy etching.

Days before, the best she could have dreamed of was for her master to stay in a good mood long enough for the worst of her bruises to heal.

Now there was opportunity.

Now there was hope.

She wanted more.

She deserved more.

“Yes...” she said at last, louder, stronger and surer than ever “I want this. I want this future. I want to be part of this order...of this world.”

Vovin breathed deeply and did the closest thing he could to smiling. Ratbag whooped and hopped about frantically.

Cascadius meanwhile, offered out his hoof and spoke softly, craning forward to whisper in his ear, his forehoof gently raising and brushing her neck.

His breath felt warm.

“Come take a bath with me.”

*

The smoke dissipated suddenly as the three historians and their visitors jumped back.

For a moment there was pause.

The Doctor finally broke the silence, his face a picture of revulsion.

“I feel...so unclean.”

“Tell me they don’t bath in the...in the...” Starlight blanched, face turning white then green.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.” Dawnwind muttered “Equine mating habits are disgusting!”

Wagensroll took a few deep breaths and checked on his friend.

Patch glanced back at him.

“What?” he asked.

“Patch...You look disappointed.”

The patchy pony gave an indignant look.

“Well...don’t you want to continue?”

All eyes snapped towards him.

“Mr Patch...you are aware of what was about to happen, correct?” Dawnwind said, clear disgust in her tone and expression.

“Well, yes, but the stuff they were talking about, this Mundane Order, this faith that predates the First Age of Magic, this hidden kingdom beneath-”

“THEY WERE GOING TO BUCK...IN THE POOL OF CORPSES!” the doe bellowed.

“Well, we don’t know if they went that far and obviously that would be unpleasant to watch but hey, ‘He Who Increaseth Knowledge Increaseth Sorrow’- Cedrus the Gatherer.”

“You mean to tell me this thing lets you see ponies bucking?!”

“It’s not a ‘thing’ and it’ll show anything that’s relevant to the research, despite some...”

“Words fail me!” Dawnwind shrieked “You’ve been using this thing as a star-damned porn search?! I knew that stuff you wrote on Melusine and her filly-friends was way too detailed! You must have enjoyed that part, didn’t you, you bucking creep!”

“No, it’s not like that, okay!” Patch yelled “It’s not like the device can censor stuff! It traces lives and how they played out and that happens to be a part of their life!”

“Look, Dawn, it’s okay, trust me, this thing has you see it whether you want to or not.” Wagensroll interjected “I remember when Fletcher was here, we were getting down the Armbrust family’s history and ended up with a front-row seat for the time, place and manner he was...conceived.” he shuddered “It was pretty embarrassing. Fletch didn’t speak for days.”

“At least I learned what ‘Härter, Härter, Mein Schön Deckhengst!’ meant.” Patch added flatly.

“Sexless idiots.” the doe muttered.

“Look, um...Let’s just avoid that part...What really matters is finding out about these ‘Lodestones’ and if and how he got the final one.” Cadence piped up.

“I have a nasty feeling he did.” Daring Doo said grimly “I don’t remember seeing that giant yellow pearl in the ceiling. Looking back, I think there was a generously-sized gap."

“The traditional texts speak of gods before the alicorns but they have nothing good to say about them.” Maud Pie said, her face and voice betraying very little, as usual “Tyrants who saw living creatures as playthings. The Elements revealed their cruelty to the world as well as their weaknesses. Almost all their worshippers denounced them and adopted the way of Harmony.”

“Yet some survived. Perhaps yet to this day.” Starlight supposed “Okay, Patch, Wagen, Dawnwind, do whatever you need to do but we need to see how this played out. Where did he get his army from? Where did he attack? And, if Equestria still stands, how was he beaten?”

Author's Note

This was a long one.
I had no idea I could write so much about headcanon...oh wait...yeah, yeah, I did. I do it in the Group Forum, don't I.
Ah well. Sorry about the lack of action but I hope the intrigue, horror and humour make it count.
Yet more villains on the rise.
Ah, well. I've said it before and I'll say it again. MLP has too many heroes!
You need to balance the scales which isn't easy when you're enemies are mundane.
And the truth behind Deeprisen. Hope it didn't feel anti-climactic.
And don't worry. Cascadius isn't as religious as he seems.
Like most people he meets, the Mundane Order are a means to an end.
Getting Meta with Patch and Friends.
Hope you like it everyone and thanks for reading.