The Man Who Sold The World

by Lynaks

Rating: teen
Tags: Royal Guard, Adventure, Profanity, Violence, Princess Celestia, Human, Twilight Sparkle, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark
Length: 2140

Conman, trickster, thief, human. Yes, Mr. A T. Towards is all those things. And now, sitting in a small cell in the Canterlot dungeons, he finally has a chance to explain why and how he got there, and just how he got away with it all for so long.

Mr A T. Towards, petty crimelord and minor magician of no particular note, is finally in the dungeons of Canterlot where he belongs, thanks to the bravery, ingenuity, and relentless determination of Equestria's Finest.

Of course, that's not precisely how he remembers it. And he's not about to rot away in a wet dungeon without doing his damnedest to make sure some...pony gets it right.

Banished from a land of industrial magic and ancient terrors for a crime he... well, actually, he committed it with some considerable panache. Thrown into a broken mirror, passing through the fey realms, and turning up in the land of Equestria does tend to give one a certain change of perspective, however. And this is, more or less, that story.
Mostly.
Probably.

If he can resist the urge to embellish and lie long enough to recite a coherent tale, anyway.

Published 2018-02-23 01:40:07 UTC
Last updated 2018-02-23 01:40:07 UTC

1: My Name is Towards

Dungeons, Towards supposed, are always the same. Across the infinite expanses of universal possibilities, the idea of what a dungeon should be remained constant. Wet, dark, depressing, and bearing the 'rough hewn rock' motif like a shining medal.

As if to punctuate this epiphany a high, pained, and terribly clichéd groan of terror rose from the damp cobbles beneath his feet. It resonated through labyrinthine corridors, curling 'round large and empty cells to bring a dramatic, rising 'Nooo!' echoing into the stoney room where he and three ponies began his processing.

Certain other constants could be found, of course. Stars, for instance, were a permanent fixture. Intelligent life of some form or another (though sapient ponies was an interestingly fresh idea). Even little decorative plates atop fireplaces. But he'd never thought a dungeon built beneath an old manor house in a world of endless forest and frozen nightmares, would be functionally identical to another dungeon beneath an idyllic super-castle filled with happy, singing, multicoloured horses and their heavily gilded god-empress.

"Name?" Asked a dark blue mare, leaning her front hooves on a table covered in multiple, identical forms.

"A T. Towards." Replied the human, manacled and flanked by standardised grey guardsponies, his eyes casually roaming the room as though searching for hidden compartments, escape routes, or even just some aesthetic direction more interesting than 'beige-grey'.

"Full name, human."

"Arthur... Tiberius Towards."

The mare nodded to herself and started scribbling on a form, quill held in her mouth, which was... just... unsanitary. Towards smiled to himself as he spotted a drip in the corner of the room feeding a patch of delightful green lichen. Yes, this is a proper dank and dreary dungeon.

"Residence?"

"Never before the first date, darling." Admin Pony looked up at him with disgust. "Fine. The Black Palace of Sympan Albionopolis, Avalon-in-the-Sky, Dark Lands where Light Reaches But Slowly, and..."

The pegasus guard to his left interrupted with a jerk to his manacles. "The Princess ordered all post to be delivered internally, since this thing has no next of kin."

"Well, you're just a complete joykill, aren't you?"

"Thank you, Private Green Pond. Possessions?" She asked.

"He had a sword, a white stick, a chessboard, uh... a hat, a rock and a minotaur horn. All magical, all with Celestia's school. Also, two-dozen bits, nonmagic bloodcloth footwear, and the clothes he's wearing."

"And an ego about... yea big." Said the identical pegasus on his right, hooves held wide.

"... Seriously?" she asked, slowly. "You used bloodcloth for your feet?"

"If you're referring to my leather shoes, then yes." Responded Towards, looking at her with a nonchalant smile. "I've also eaten an arbitrarily large number of cows in my life."

Disgust turned to revulsion and finally horror as the two guards pulled on his chain, and left Admin Pony to her terror-filled thoughts.

Down stairs... left fork... down stairs... follow corridor, follow corridor, follow- oh, and down some more stairs...

Truth told, Towards had stopped trying to map his route once they got in the minecart.

"... so I told him 'Yo, Darkhoof Razorwing, stop being such a fucking edgelord and help me open this box!' But of course he didn't, too damn angsty, so he just set the thing on fire and ran off crying."

"Do you ever shut up?"

"Nope. So, Green Pond, how'd you get that cutie mark, eh? Fall into a pool of scum? Skid on too much moss on your way down to the ol' waterhole?"

"Please stop talking."

"Or were you just born near a septic tank, and you never changed the name to match your cutie mark? What is your cutie mark, anyway? I've been assuming a literal green pond, but I guess that could be confused for an ink-"

"ohpraiseCelestiawe'rehere"

The two prison guards slowed to a stop as they finally reached a large metal gate, bars fitted straight into hewn rock. On the other side stood a shorter, much older gentlecolt with faded green fur, and a softly chiming keyring on a necklace.

"Pond." He said, addressing the guards in turn. "Smoke. And Baron Towards, I presume?"

"My pleasure, I'm sure." Said the human. "Forgive me for not bowing, but between the low ceiling and these heavy-as-shit chains, I'm not sure I'd be able to get up again."

The green pony's mouth curled on one side, a show of mirthless humour. "Thank you soldiers, I'll take him from here."

There was a short ceremony of chains being handed over, and the guards turned to leave. "Oh, before you go..!" Called Towards at the retreating pegasi. "I would like to say that I feel very fortunate for having met two upstanding colts of the Equestrian military. But in all honesty, I have never been so bored in my entire life, and I very much look forward to having all memory of your existences wiped from my mind the next time I notice a particularly interesting slug." Then, turning towards his new jailer, "Okay, I'm done here. Lead on."

"You aren't a particularly pleasant thing, are you?" He said.

"Most probably."

The pony shook his head. "You know, you won't make many friends with that attitude."

"Yeah, well, maybe if the princess didn't renege on the deal, I might care. As it is, I'm not your friend, you aren't mine, and I'm not looking to make any more for however long this little sentence lasts."

"Forever."

Towards slowed down briefly. "Really?"
"The last time anypony made a serious go at attacking Equestria, the leaders were imprisoned and never seen again."

They continued at the slower pace set by the human, silence reigning, until, "I fear I've made a terrible mistake."

"Most probably."

The walk took them through tunnels and mazes of crystal. Soft pink light diffused through the corridors, and it might have been called beautiful and serene.
But, as it turned out, this was the Diamond Dungeons, reserved for potent or unusual magical menaces. And the sudden implication of eternal internment had severely curtailed Towards's appreciation of his new home. He was, in a word, miffed.

"Here we are." Said the green earthpony.

"Mmm."

The cell chosen for him was certainly... unique. The pink crystal seemed to have formed a natural set of bars, and more crystal had been fashioned into a gate and lock. A small beam of light cut the room neatly in half. In the light, a stone chair and table, adorned with wooden spork and bowl. In the dark, a bucket to serve as toilet. And in the centre, half-lit, a stone bed, complete with straw and rags.

"That's all yours. Two meals a day, served at sunrise and sunset - ordinarily there'd be three, but you're too far down for regular trips so we'll make up for it with larger portions. You'll be let out for a half hour trot...er, walk, and whatever ablutions you need at the same time as breakfast. At evening meals, you'll be allowed another toilet break, the bucket's really only for emergencies. Weekly papers delivered on Sunday. I've been informed your wardrobe will be sent down once it's been... retrieved and processed. Oh, and the crystals are thaumophobic, so try not to cast anything if you can help it. And I believe that's all, unless you need anything?"

"I suppose paper and quills are out of the question?" Towards asked, stepping into the small room and allowing the gate to swing shut behind him.

"Not at all." He turned to look at the pony with incredulity. "Mr. Towards, I don't know what you were expecting, and I shudder to think how you must have been treating your own prisoners. But Equestria is not a tyranny. You will be fed the same food as castle staff and you can ask for a specific diet, provided you don't push your luck. We know you don't eat flowers, for instance, so certain concessions will be made there, even if we can't and won't stoop to carnivorism. Paper, ink, even an infrequent table wine if you so wish." He smiled sympathetically. "I mean, we won't get you a set of chisels and files, but we'll allow you to make requests, within reason."

Toward nodded as his jailer locked the gate. "Oh, one last thing, before you go."

"Yes?"

"What's your name?"

The pony straightened up, pushing out his chest in the pride of a family name associated with a family business. "Turner." He said, and Towards almost didn't flinch. "Turner Key."

"... Oh. Of course. Every name a pun, eh? Just like geography."

"You'll get used to how the world looks eventually, Mr. Towards." Said Turner, and trotted back up the pink pathway to the surface.

Towards watched him leave, leaning on the bars of the cage. "Though I'm not sure you understand what a tyranny looks like." He said, quietly.

Turner had just finished locking the last of the gates from the dungeon. Several of the keys hadn't been used in decades, and he was beginning to worry he'd have to get the blacksmith down to check the locks. Towards, or The Baron as he was known by the more melodramatic papers, didn't honestly seem all that vicious. Not compared to the likes usually kept in the Diamond Dungeons, though they were usually only being held there on the way to Tartarus.

"Turner Key."

His name wasn't used to grab his attention, nor to confirm his identity. The way the regal, matronly voice uttered it, was as a statement. And an order.

"Your Highness." He said, turning from the gate and bowing to the monarch of Equestria.

"How is our newest prisoner?"

Turner swallowed hard, trying to find the right words first time without stutter or stall. "He's... situated. And secure." He said.

Princess Celestia looked down at him. Not from any condescension, or prudishness, but simply as a matter of geometry. She was, at least, smiling. "Is that all?" She asked.

"He... uh, he asked for some paper. And a quill."

She nodded slowly to herself, deep in thought. "Paper." She repeated. "And he didn't put up any resistance? Or make an unreasonable demand?"

"No, Your Highness."

"Hmm."

They both stood there for several seconds, her staring into the space above Turner's head, and him desperately wishing the moment was over.

"How did the Baron... seem to you, Turner Key?"

"S-seem, Your Highness?" he asked, but she only looked at him an answer."

"Well, he... uh, well, he seemed sort of... lost, Your Highness."

"Lost?"

"Yes, as though he didn't really know why he was there." He swallowed another lump that had formed in his throat. "And, well, truth told Your Highness, I think he was a bit drunk."

Celestia nodded again. "Yes, he was in a bit of a state when we... apprehended him."

The awkward silence drew long once more.

"Well Mr. Key, I commend you on a fine job." She said, causing him to exhale a breath he hadn't even noticed he was holding. "Though if you could do me a personal favour..."

"Yes, Your Highness?"

Princess Celestia leaned down conspiratorially, and spoke quietly. "I want you to keep an eye on him. He may have come in willingly, but I have no doubt there's some greater plan at work. One does not climb the criminal hierarchy and plague our nation for several years, continually evading capture and even building a castle just off the North Lunar Coast only to turn himself just as we were about to give up on ever capturing him. There's something more happening here." She stood back up, wings fluttering slightly in agitation. "I want regular reports on anything you notice about him, daily if possible. Anything unusual he does, says, or requests. Have them sent to my aide, Clean Bureau, am I understood."

"Yes, Your Highness. Absolutely understood." He said, bowing once more, and only rising once he heard her heavy hoofsteps pass a corner and fade into the distance.

This was beginning to get ridiculous. True, the Princess always seemed rather anxious and excitable in the leadup to the Summer Sun Celebration, but this year had been particularly bad. Even before the Baron's capture, she'd been losing sleep and making strange, even contradictory requests. Even her guards noticed, and all they had to do was look intimidating and ensure the Princess never had to act against anypony.

The princess was on edge about something, and that was setting the palace staff on edge. The only pony who didn't notice it was the Princess's own protégé.

Still, Turner thought, picking himself up and returning to organising his keys. There's nothing we can do about it but wait, and hope everything returns to normal after the Celebration. I mean, it's not like Nightmare Moon's about to return.