Ponest Dungeon

Chapter 2: Plans and Preparations

Week 0, Day 3, Dawn

“Prince Blueblood, as a fellow member of the Royal Council, I feel that I must protest: you simply cannot leave Canterlot at this time!”

Blueblood recognized the voice of Lord Fancy Pants, but he didn’t look up from overseeing a group of swarthy stallions who were hefting luggage and supplies onto the storage rack of Ditzy’s stagecoach just outside of Canterlot Castle. “You mean the other members of the council convinced you to come and try to talk some sense into me, because of our friendship?” He paused and chuckled. “What are your feelings on the matter, Fancy?”

Blueblood’s refusal to use Fancy’s title or surname caused the normally unflappable unicorn to hesitate. “We… I understand that Celestia’s letter has left you feeling distraught. The council… oh, bugger the council, Blue. You know I understand completely: you desire to discover what events have transpired, and I would wish to do the same, were I in your place. But please, Blue… if you leave now, I fear that things will deteriorate here very quickly.”

Blueblood turned and locked eyes with Fancy, favoring him with an expression that only barely echoed the resounding sense of pain and internal conflict that he felt. “If I stay, Fancy, things will still deteriorate, albeit more slowly. But I cannot, in good conscience, remain sequestered here in Canterlot, where I’m rendered impotent to find an actual permanent solution to this problem. By investigating the Castle of the Two Sisters, I will have, at the very least, some chance to find and rescue Celestia or to… I don’t know… maybe even harness the power that she spoke of in her letter. If it was fathomless to one such as her, it would likely serve as an adequate replacement should she be unfit to resume her duties with the cycle of the sun and moon after my return.”

Fancy Pants scoffed. “Blue… you could not be so foalish as to want to harness whatever evil power she unearthed?”

“Evil?” Blueblood scoffed. “Fancy, old friend, there is no such thing as ‘evil.’ I have seen and studied quite a bit under Auntie’s tutelage, and while I have seen many a pony who would use various magicks for nefarious purposes, I have never seen anything to lead me to believe that ‘evil,’ as you put it, exists anywhere other than in the minds of ponies with bad intentions. Natural forces are powerful and dangerous. This magick she uncovered is no more evil than a manticore or a hydra or a badlands dust-storm; all will kill you, but try as ponies might to ascribe pony characteristics to these things, none of them are malignant by nature.”

“But Blue,” Fancy pleaded, “surely you see the unfavorable results of her actions: it was her pursuit of this power that she says is the reason for the crown’s current—and quite distressing—lack of funds. That very same power which drove her to excavate those accursed ruins, that caused her to place her own life in jeopardy, that consumed her entire expedition, that drove her to write you that letter?”

Blueblood shot Fancy a hard look. “Yes. That letter of which you speak, in which she begged me to go.” His look softened again. “Fancy… I would not be going if I felt even the slightest inkling that my efforts would be better spent here.”

A hint of a smile came to Blueblood’s face. “Besides, I’m not leaving the Royal Council in charge. Even when not pursuing their own agendas, they take forever to accomplish even simple tasks. The kingdom needs leadership that can respond quickly to this new situation, yet fairly represents all three races. That’s why I am electing to follow the precedent I found in the ancient texts on pony law, which predates Alicorn rule, and to name a Triumvirate to rule in my absence. Earth ponies, pegasi, and unicorns will all have one representative.”

He hoofed Fancy a roll of parchment which bore his personal seal. “Here is my signed proclamation. I want you to read it before the council, old friend.”

Fancy Pants looked suddenly less comfortable, if such a thing were possible, than he had mere few moments ago. “If I were to hazard a guess, would I be correct in assuming that I—”

“Will have the dubious honor of sitting in the unicorn chair,” Blueblood finished. “Fancy, old friend… you are the only unicorn smart enough, level headed enough and, most importantly, kind enough for me to trust with this task.”

The frown on Fancy’s muzzle deepened “You will, of course, understand if I express... concern over your concept of the word ‘kind,’ due to the incident with Neighsay—”

“Regrettable,” Blueblood interrupted, “but necessary. He would have had us starving and frozen before taking action.”

“I understand, old colt, but I’m still concerned,” Fancy said. His expression slowly morphed into one of curiosity. “Who will the other two ponies be?”

A prideful smile found its way to Blueblood’s muzzle as he nodded. “For the earth ponies, I’ve selected the Countess—”

“Coloratura? But I was under the distinct impression that she had quit politics to pursue… music, was it?”

This elicited a bark of laughter from Blueblood. “Yes, indeed she despises politics. She will want to turn the position down, I’ll wager.” He put a hoof on Fancy’s withers. “But don’t let her decline, Fancy; she has the admiration and respect of the earth ponies and she won’t allow any dishonest politicking or fillybustering to prevent you three from doing what you need to.”

“Well, I must say, I am feeling slightly less apprehensive about this already. Who is the pegasus representative?”

“For them, I selected Soarin. He’s… why are you looking at me like that?”

“Well, pardon the impertinence, Blue, but I thought… what I mean to say, is… it's common knowledge, isn’t it? Isn’t… isn’t Soarin… dead? The talented flier disaster was big news.”

Blueblood shook his head. “Rumors of Soarin’s death were greatly exaggerated outside of Cloudsdale. Out of the four Wonderbolts who tried to save that insane unicorn diva, Soarin is the only who survived—though he crashed through a tree. One of his wings got caught on his way through and arrested his momentum enough to prevent him from perishing on impact. But the wing itself… was mostly left behind in the tree.”

Fancy held a hoof to his muzzle. “How dreadful. But you say that he’s—”

“He made a recovery afterwards but the Wonderbolts retired him on full pension after that, which is probably why everypony thinks he died; he did attend every event prior, and his sudden absence at shows was noticed more than his sudden interest in isolation and altruism. Suffice it to say, he’s been living in relative obscurity since the incident. The only time he goes anywhere is to console the families of those who didn’t make it—including the diva’s family. He visits them every year on the anniversary, makes sure they don’t need help with bills, or anything else. He’s a pony of integrity and generosity, if I’ve ever seen one.”

The last bag was thrown onto the stagecoach and the pony porters proceeded to push off. Ditzy Doo, having an apparent preternatural sense for timing, immediately landed by the coach’s flight harness and started strapping herself in.

Ignoring as Fancy stood to the side and looked on with a worried expression, Blueblood double-checked the carriage. He made sure that the bags which carried his garments, the trunks with his personal effects, and the cases of wine, were loaded and secured.

The attendants flowed around the approaching platemail-clad form of Shining Armor, who had been serving as captain of Prince Blueblood’s personal guard. He was accompanied by a shifty-looking, boiled-leather clad, rainbow-maned pegasus that Blueblood didn’t immediately recognize. Shining seemed to be chatting about something that had the colorful one blushing furiously.

Fancy gave Blueblood a pained expression. “If you will not be dissuaded from leaving on this… quest, Blueblood, please at least take more guards than just Shining Armor and this vagabond.”

“Hey, chump! Who are you calling a—whatever you just called me?”

Shining Armor looked askance at his pegasus companion. “Rainbow Dash, that’s Lord Fancy Pants… and, if we’re being honest, you do look like a vagabond.” The statement was met with an angry, betrayed look.

Blueblood facehoofed. “Shining—” his voice carried a tone of exasperation “—take your friend here… Miss Dash, was it? Anyway get in the coach; we’ll be leaving momentarily.” He turned back to Fancy before either pony could respond. “Fancy, I can’t in good conscience take more guards from what is already a severely depleted force. You’ll need organized protection here far more than I will in Ponyville, especially once the populace finds out about the cost of keeping the solar cycle going.” He then placed a hoof on Fancy Pants’ withers, and paused briefly. But moments later—foregoing all traditional decorum—he wrapped his other hoof around the stallion in a tight embrace. “Goodbye, Fancy. I know the dangers of this journey… and if I do not return, I want you to know that you have always been like a brother to me.”

When Blueblood released Fancy Pants from his grip, he was not surprised to see that tears flowed freely down Fancy’s muzzle. He placed a hoof to Fancy’s chest. “Harden your heart to it, old colt. You’re the leader of a nation now, and can’t be wasting your tears on the likes of me.”

“Return,” Fancy choked on barely restrained sobs as he spoke the words, “swiftly, and safely.”

Blueblood gave Fancy a sad, knowing smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.