Ponest Dungeon

Chapter 4: Halcyon Hamlet

Week 0, Day 4, Dawn

As Blueblood entered the servant’s dining nook, he saw Shining Armor take a bite out of a bagel he must have liberated from the pantry. Blueblood assumed that—like himself—Shining had avoided the main dining room, since both the table and chairs were still covered with dust cloths.

Shining wrinkled his nose and regarded Blueblood in the sort of manner one normally reserved for steaming piles on the sidewalk. “You look horrible, Sir.” And he had only gotten a look at Blueblood’s right side.

“Thank you, Shining. I feel about as well as I imagine I look—” Blueblood began to take a deep breath, but halted short. He craned his neck around to his barrel and jerked away, one hoof rising to his muzzle. “—and smell, apparently.” He lit his horn, grabbed an apple from the small table, and took a slow bite out of the fruit, savoring the juiciness.

“Woah, Shining what’s that smell?” Rainbow’s voice sounded from an adjacent room, her volume increasing in tandem with the sound of her hoofsteps. “I thought Blueblood said that all of the latrines were outside—” She ceased speaking as she entered the room and nearly bumped muzzles with the Prince. Her hoof immediately shot up to her face, whether in surprise, to cover her nose, or to prevent her gorge from escaping her mouth was up for debate. “I mean… what is that… flowery and… not totally-nasty smell?”

“A problem that will be remedied shortly,” Blueblood replied flatly, exasperation evident in his eyes.

Lowering her hoof from her muzzle, but keeping her eyes on Blueblood, Rainbow morphed her expression from one of disgust into one of quizzicality. “Um, what’s up with the fur on your face?”

“What do you mean?” The apple fell back to the table, forgotten as Blueblood brushed at his face with one hoof. Seeing nothing there, he began to rotate in place and tried, with abject futility, to maneuver his view so that he could visually inspect his muzzle. The spectacle might have been comical, were it not for the crazed look in his eyes. “Where? I can’t see… what is it!?”

Shining stood from his seat, his countenance beset by a look that teetered precariously between confusion and concern. “There’s dried blood all over the left side of your face, Sir. Did you hit your head or cut yourself or some—”

Blueblood’s sudden and intense rigidity prompted Shining to swiftly silence himself mid-sentence.

“...Sir?” was all Shining could manage after an indefinite amount of uncomfortable silence had passed.

“It—” Blueblood dared not mention the horrific dream he’d had the previous evening, especially not in light of the blood which was apparently smeared upon his face. Inspiration struck as he noticed Shining scratching absentmindedly at his own foreleg. “It must have been one of those blasted mosquitos. Probably smashed it on my own face and didn’t realize it…”

While the others seemed satisfied, Blueblood wasn’t so sure. The more he thought back on the previous evening, the more his muzzle tingled, and the weaker the excuse seemed. If it was all just a dream, then why was his mind racing to try and justify the terror that ran through his veins, like a fire that sapped heat instead of spreading it?

“Are you ok, Sir?” Shining’s concerned query removed him from his reverie.

“Just nerves,” Blueblood replied, the lie coming to him easily due to years of politicking. “Just nerves.”

“Well, it’ll take a few days to get this place fully livable,” Shining said with a grin. “And who knows how long Ditzy will be hospitalized for.”

“Yes, yes,” Blueblood waved a forehoof dismissively. “You and Miss Dash see what you can do about getting this place into working order. I’m going to see if I can find Celestia’s records.”

Week 0, Day 7, Afternoon

Unoiled hinges groaned in protest as Blueblood shouldered open the door he’d found at the top of a stone spiral staircase. By his estimates of the steepness of the ascent, he figured that it ran all the way from one of the doorways in the east wing of the first floor, all the way up to the third floor of the manor.

The opening door kicked a thick layer of dust into the air, eliciting a violent sneeze from Blueblood. Sunlight poured into the room through greenhouse-style windows that lined the entirety of the roof and each of the walls down to chest height. Curtains of illuminated dust obscured his vision, only allowing him to barely make out two rows of five boxy support pillars.

After coughing into one hoof Blueblood tried to wave away the choking cloud as he progressed into the room. He could begin to see the outlines of paintings and charts which adorned the pillars. A glint of reflected light next to the wall of glass at the far end caught his eye, prompting him to walk towards it.

“An observatory,” Blueblood said as he beheld an antique telescope and smiled. As an amateur astronomer, he was certain he would be able to make good use of the instrument. His muzzle turned down into a frown. “Perhaps I can use you to have a look at that comet after we find Celestia,” he mused to himself while he approached the piece of astrological equipment.

His advance abruptly arrested, and Blueblood looked down to see that he’d run chest-first into a table that he somehow hadn’t seen despite its placement in the middle of the room. Circular and about three hoof-spans across, the piece of ancient furniture was covered with all manner of runes which both defied classification and made his eyes water slightly. He spotted several suspicious lines in the dust on the floor which suggested that the table had just been dragged from a spot against one of the pillars.

But the only hoofprints in the room were his.

Blueblood’s hackles suddenly rose as he felt unseen eyes upon him. “Hello?” His voice was swallowed by the vacant room, defying his expectation of any manner of echo. He turned in place, looking for the source of his sudden dread. “Hello?”

A sudden rustling sound drew his gaze back to the table, where he saw that his tail had swished some of the dust from the surface, revealing more of the painfully enigmatic runes, and a single piece of parchment.

Lighting his horn, Blueblood looked back and forth, still uneasy with the questionably empty observatory. Finding nothing despite his intense scrutiny, he allowed his piqued curiosity to overcome his wariness and spared a glance back to the parchment. Lifting it with his magic, it hovered in front of his face. He lifted an eyebrow as he read.

Week 1, Day 1, Morning

Ponyville’s tavern, a dilapidated, structurally questionable building belonging to one Berry Punch, was surprisingly loud for so early an hour. Blueblood wondered if the town actually believed that ten in the morning was a good time for boisterous drinking; with the massive hole in the thatched roof, they could probably hear every last shout from within. Regardless of his own distaste for the atmosphere, Blueblood took Shining’s advice; such locations were typically the best places to find itinerant seasoned mercenaries.

The inside of the establishment was thankfully in better condition than the outside. A tarp had been stretched below the roof hole, and sloped down to an empty barrel, which sat next to several that were filled with water. A set of stairs ran up the right side of the expansive barroom, to a balcony against the back wall. Several working-colts leaned on the railing, looking down at the gambling and drinking tables for prospective clients.

Below the balcony was the bar itself, being mared by a wine-colored earth pony. If the town records Blueblood had read were accurate, it was Berry Punch, owner and proprietor. She had wine glass in front of her, and was taking occasional sips as she looked out over the commotion.

Berry’s gaze moved to Blueblood as he, Shining, and Rainbow approached. “What’ll you three have?”

“We’re here on business,” Blueblood said. “Looking to do some hiring.”

“Fine by me,” Berry said, following a sip from her glass. “As long as you buy drinks, that is.”

Blueblood grinned. “Three ciders—” he saw Shining make a hoof-gesture in Rainbow’s direction. “Better make that four,” he said, hoping he’d properly divined Shining’s meaning. His hopes were rewarded when Rainbow gleefully took two of the cider mugs for herself.

Placing a simply worded piece of parchment on the notice board outside the tavern’s front door brought them remarkably poor results, not wholly unexpected for the first day. Still, the severity of the ineptitude displayed by the applicants who approached them left Blueblood questioning if he should continue his recruitment efforts locally.

Most were ponies who either had never been on an expedition before, or had no place being on one in the first place. One was a farmhoof who simply wanted to get away from the chores his parents forced upon him; he couldn’t even lift Shining’s longsword from the table. Another was a merchant who said she wanted some adventure in her life; when Rainbow Dash aimed and cocked an unloaded pistol at the merchant, she shrieked and then ran away crying. As the day continued to wear on, Blueblood found himself shaking his head in disappointment at the prospects.

It was late afternoon when a figure in a long curving mask and fully-concealing dark robes approached the table to introduce herself. Various vials and flasks were held by loops of fabric or stuffed into half-pouches that had been sewn into her garments. But it was her discreetly sheathed knife that caught Blueblood’s attention.

It was the way it was worn—not displayed obviously, yet properly placed for an easy draw and resheathing, as well as the uneven wear and tooth-marks on the grip—that told Blueblood that the figure knew how to wield the weapon. And, more importantly, that she did so frequently.

As Blueblood regarded the masked pony standing across from him, he realized that this would be the first time that day that he did not have to give the hoof signal for Shining or Rainbow to scare the potential away. “So, what do you bring to the proverbial table?”

“Potions to injure and keep our foes at bay. Also, here is my resume.” A gloved hoof set a piece of paper upon the uneven surface of the thick oak table that Blueblood had commandeered.

“Your name is… Zecora?” Blueblood looked up from the proffered parchment which, aside from being penned in a progressive prose, presented a list of previous professional posts and performance, even providing those poorly planned pursuits which had produced pitiably poor payoffs. Blueblood was impressed; usually mercenaries were stingy with details regarding prior botched jobs, and most tended to value a false reputation of perfection over an accurate accounting. He found himself curious about her name and accent, which most definitely were not local. If Blueblood had to guess, he would say that a female zebra stood before him; not that anypony could tell with her concealing attire.

“Your pronunciation is better than most.” Zecora tilted her expressionless mask slightly, giving Blueblood the impression that she was eyeing him. “But your pallor and eyes; have you seen a ghost?”

“Didn’t sleep well; it’s these Tartarus damned mosquitos,” Blueblood lied as he smashed one of the offending insects on the tavern’s thick, oaken table. He scraped the mess off with a half-hearted grunt of disgust and used his unbloodied hoof to try and rub the bags out from under his eyes.

The reflective goggles of the plague mask regarded him for a moment before Zecora’s voice sounded from within. “I know that look all too well; horse-apples to me, you need not sell.”

“Watch your tone around Prince Blueblood, you—”

Blueblood held up a hoof. “She means nothing hostile by it, Shining. And,” he stared into Zecora’s mask as he spoke, “I wouldn’t want to work for somepony who wasn’t forthright about themselves either, especially considering the dangers inherent in what you’ll be doing.”

Running his hoof through his mane was more of an attempt for Blueblood to gather his thoughts and consider proper phrasing than it was an actual attempt to straighten his errant hair. “Zecora, I did not sleep well because… I have killed more ponies in the last two days than I have in the last two years.”

Zecora stood silently for a moment before speaking. “It is well, if killing haunts you; but know it bothers me less, Mister Blue.”

Blueblood grinned grimly. “Excellent, welcome a—”

The mask canted to the side. “To work for you, I have not agreed. There is one more thing from you I need.”

As Blueblood’s patience vanished, so did his grin. “What do you want?”

“Of course, to discuss my fee. This Zebra does not work for free.”

A laugh almost escaped Blueblood’s lips. “My apologies, again. I was getting ahead of myself.”

It was a matter of minutes to discuss Zecora’s pay. In the end, she insisted on rates by the day.

Week 1, Day 1, Afternoon

The crumbling masonry of the Abbey was in keeping with the rest of Ponyville. Like most buildings in town, it appeared as if somepony had erected the structure and then forgotten to perform even the most basic maintenance over the following decades. Or centuries, Blueblood thought as he took in the sight of tattered tapestries and sundered stained-glass windows. Also in abundance were rows of wooden benches, which were strewn haphazardly about, suggesting they had not been used in a long time. Monsignor Mare was supposed to be the community’s religious leader, but he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of her since entering town.

Blueblood was actually unsure as to why he’d come; being related by blood to the object of worship made him singularly faithless. He supposed he was drawn to the place by a mixture of curiosity and nostalgia. Despite his heathen beliefs, he was inclined to show respect in such a place, and lowered himself in a gesture of supplication before the altar which, aside from bearing Celestia’s well-known cutie mark, bore the same unmistakable emblem as the shield they had recovered from the wagon yesterday.

The local ponyfolk identified the symbol as Celestia’s family crest and indeed Blueblood had noticed its presence in several places throughout her townhouse. He found himself perplexed as to why he had never seen it before coming to Ponyville; he was beginning to wonder if Celestia was hiding more than just her nascent researches into the hidden mysteries of the world.

“You are Prince Blueblood?”

The voice shook Blueblood from the reverie he hadn’t realized he was indulging. He stood and turned his head to see a unicorn mare whose colors ranged through various shades of magenta and purple. She was encased in a robes of worn cloth and a suit of platemail, wore a rusted mace strapped to her belt, and had a thick tome, which spilled out of the saddlebag it had been forced into.

“Who wants to know?” Blueblood replied, immediately on guard.

“I am Amethyst Star. I understand you are mounting an expedition into the Everfree, to the Castle of the Two Sisters.”

“What of it? And why didn’t you speak with me while I was in the Tavern?” Blueblood was wary. That this mare had approached him, not only after he had left the tavern, but also after his companions had returned to the townhouse, raised his suspicions. He found himself searching for signs of a possible ambush.

“I apologize for not approaching you earlier, but I find the tavern to be extremely distasteful; it offends three of my vows directly.”

Blueblood noticed the holy symbols set into her armor and suddenly understood; “You’re a holy vestal, aren’t you? Forbidden from drinking, gambling, and pleasures of the flesh? Ah… it makes sense now, the tavern has those things in abundance. You probably wouldn’t be violating your sacred oaths just by stepping hoof in there, though.”

Amethyst shook her head. “No, but Berry Punch had me banned from her establishment after I publicly protested her den of debauchery.”

“My apologies then,” Blueblood said, forcing his muzzle into a wan smile. “Truth be told, I’m not particularly fond of the place either. I think I’ll be holding all further recruitment meetings at Celestia’s townhouse—is that why you’ve stalked me to the church then? You wish to join the expedition team?”

Amethyst nodded her head. “Indeed, I do.”

“Follow me then; we’ll discuss your qualifications. If I bring you aboard, we’ll have enough ponies to perform an initial foray into the Everfree.” As Blueblood walked away from the altar, he saw Amethyst prostrate herself one last time in front of it before turning to follow him.

Week 1, Day 1, Dusk

After the sun had set, the five ponies returned to the townhouse and gathered in a large hall around a lengthy table which was strewn with ancient maps and diagrams. A dozen or so lit candles provided scant but sufficient illumination.

“So, you’ll be directing us from the manor?” Shining Armor sounded relieved that Blueblood wouldn’t be joining the expedition.

“Yes,” Blueblood nodded as he spoke. “Aunt Celestia seems to have a plethora of papers secreted away around the manor. It will likely take me months to sort through all of it. But this particular parchment—a set of instructions—was the sole occupant of the enchanted table I uncovered in the observatory. They describe a basic spell which will allow me to link up to four individuals to the table. Through a magical viewing window, I will be able to see and hear your surroundings from the observatory. I should also be able to communicate to you any information I’m able to unearth about either your location or about things you encounter.”

“But now—” Blueblood turned his attention to the largest of the diagrams. “—for the map I found in her study.” Clearing away the other papers, he gestured over the mostly blank parchment. “As you can see, her records are woefully inadequate. The first expedition is going to be to quickly survey—” He tapped a hoof on one of the few sections of the map that had notes on it. “—this small section of the ruins adjacent to the castle. The journal I found with this map indicates that this small basement that she catalogued here—” His hoof tapped on a specific building. “—is actually an opening into sprawling network of labyrinthine catacombs underneath the area.”

Blueblood regarded the scantly filled-in map with a frown. “This reconnoiter is to both test the waters and to get a better idea of what other areas might be suitable for exploration. You should be able to camp safely in the above-ground portion of the ruins. We have no idea what kind of dangers lurk below and it will behoove us to do this as carefully as possible. Do not tarry for more than a day, not on this first trip. I’m not sure how much equipment I want to load you down with either; Celestia’s records speak of the crypts containing ‘wealth beyond measure,’ the return of which will be of utmost importance in funding our continuing efforts.”

“I thought you said she’d exhausted the royal treasury,” Amethyst pointed out.

“She had,” was Blueblood’s terse reply.

Amethyst’s frown made it clear that she wasn’t satisfied with the answer.

“I have no legitimate idea,” Blueblood added. “This is one of the main reasons we’re performing these scouting missions. All of the accounts Celestia kept in this townhouse are either incomplete or contradictory. One of the largest mysteries is the location of her accounting ledger; she managed to spend millions of bits from the royal coffers, yet still somehow managed to recover none of the wealth she states she discovered in her pursuits. So, while I do want you expending extra effort on retrieving bits and valuables, recovery of records and mapping the area will have to be of a higher priority. We need to try to understand her methods amidst all of this madness.”

“I talked about the route to the ruins with some of the locals,” Rainbow said. “They say it’s about a one day trot along the old road through the Everfree. We should be able to get there and get out in as few as three days, though we should plan on four or five, in case of delays.”

“Does anypony have any other questions or have anything else to add?” Blueblood looked around and saw only heads shaking from side-to-side. “Ok, we’ll get you provisioned first thing tomorrow, and then you can head out. I’m going to retire for the evening; the last few nights have not been kind, and I feel that getting a little extra sleep couldn’t hurt.”

Week 1, Day 1, Evening

“You haven’t just killed me, you fool—”

Blueblood opened his eyes, and was again face to face with a corpse.

Neighsay’s presence in his bed was a shocking, almost comical, occurrence; it would have prompted a quip about scandal and impropriety had Blueblood not been shaking with terror.

“—you’ve doomed all of Equestria to destruction!”

Blueblood’s trembling ceased as he came to the realization that Neighsay was just as pretentious in death as he had been in life. And, that he must be dreaming. His brows furrowed as he looked at the worm-ridden muzzle that was staring accusingly at him. “You were never a pony of action, Neighsay. But you would have surely killed us all with your inaction.”

“And you have killed us more surely than I could have ever—”

“You are unbelievable!” Blueblood poked Neighsay’s maggoty snout with his hoof, eliciting a sickening squelch. “Your arguments were always pompous; your views pedantic! You never even bothered to consider the reality of the situation!”

As his voice raised in volume, Blueblood became painfully aware of the fact that he was laying in bed arguing with the corpse of a pony he’d murdered two days ago. “You were always concerned with how you appeared to the public and the other members of the council,” he sneered at Neighsay. “You may just be a dream, but I find it hard to believe that even this version of you isn’t mortified to find yourself in the bed of another council member—the Prince, no less!”

Neighsay reached out with his forelegs, his hooves latching onto Blueblood’s head with a vice-like strength belied by their advanced state of decay. “You speak of impropriety?”

“What—” Blueblood’s eyes widened as he used his forehooves to struggle against Neighsay’s iron-grip and approaching muzzle. He strained with all of his might to try and wrest himself away from the advancing cadaver, grunting with exertion.

“I’ll show you impropriety!”

As Neighsay’s decomposing lips opened, Blueblood opened his own mouth to scream his displeasure.

Neighsay pressed his muzzle into Blueblood’s in a morbid mockery of a kiss. The cold clamminess of the contact raised Blueblood’s gorge as the Chancellor’s bloated tongue swam into his mouth, immediately dissuading Blueblood from attempting to clench his jaw closed, lest he wind up with the severed lump of flesh in his mouth.

Shooting his eyes about the room wildly, Blueblood looked for something, anything, to defend himself from his assailant. His eyes locked on the sheathed sword hanging by his traveling cloak. He lit his horn to draw the blade and hover it towards himself, but he gagged as the tongue continued to writhe about. He scrunched his eyes closed, concentrating on bringing the sword to his rescue. Blueblood thrust the sword down, through Neighsay, and the mattress—

Neighsay’s entire body went rigid and he gripped Blueblood’s head tighter, causing sharp pain to radiate across Blueblood’s scalp.

You’re not supposed to feel pain in a dream, Blueblood frantically thought as Neighsay started to convulse. Worse, the echoes of a retching sound began to reverberate through the Chancellor’s throat.

Blueblood’s eyes widened as he realized that Neighsay was going to vomit. He thrashed, raining his hooves upon the Chancellor’s skull, cracking bone and tearing away skin, but not loosening the bony grip even slightly. He flailed with his hind limbs as well, kicking and pushing for all he was worth, straining the muscles in his back and even eliciting several pops from his joints and spine.

It wasn’t enough.

Week 1, Day 2, Dawn

The cold light of pre-dawn shone down onto a fine wooden table strewn with alleged food. Prince Blueblood shifted his aching body in his chair and looked up with heavy-bagged eyes at Ditzy Doo, who had finally been given a clean bill of health by the Sanitarium… and who evidently also ran the Ponyville general-store… and had brought an inordinate amount of supplies for them to sift through.

“You dragged me… us out of bed, to show us this,” Blueblood uttered through lips that bore some kind of foul-smelling crust.

“You bet I did,” came the impassioned reply, punctuated by Ditzy’s outstretched, bite-ridden forelegs. “You said you needed to be ready to go first thing, so I brought the best stuff! Look at these muffin-rations, they’ll keep for as long as ya need! Plus, they’re iron fortified!”

Blueblood looked skeptically at the baked goods, tapping at one with a hoof.

“Don’t worry about it, Sir,” Shining took a bite of one of the muffins that Ditzy had spent the last few minutes stuffing into their bags, producing a noise not dissimilar from that of a wooden board snapping. He worked his jaw once, and he made a regretful, strained face, and began to masticate with a sound that suggested that the “iron” content of the baked goods was in ingot form.

“They’re hardtack.” Rainbow illustrated this by slamming a muffin against the countertop, putting a sizable dent in the polished wood. The muffin was unharmed.

“Hay! You break it, you bought it!” Derpy crossed her forehooves and glared at Rainbow—well at least one of her eyes did.

“Yeah, yeah,” Rainbow said as she waved the statement off and hoofed the muffin into her pack. “Either way, Ditzy’s right; this stuff will keep for months, maybe years. I don’t even think bugs can eat it.” She looked over to where Shining was still trying to choke down a single mouthful of the stuff. “I’m not sure we can either,” she said with a grin.

“Well then, since we’re getting an early start on provisioning… here are some torches.” Blueblood levitated a bundle over to Rainbow. “They’re for those of you without horns, and to lighten the strain on those of you with them.”

“Ahh, and what are these?” Zecora asked, prodding at a small rack of thin, wiry metal objects. “Of what use are premade skeleton keys?”

“They’re magic!” Ditzy grinned. “You put one into a lock and it reshapes itself and opens the lock without fail! They only work once though.”

Blueblood inspected one of the intricate pieces of metal. “How much are they, Ditzy?”

“Two hundred bits!”

“Two hundred b—That’s robbery! How about I trade you for some—” he leaned in conspiratorially “—crests we picked up, no questions asked?”

“Hay, Prince, crests ain’t gonna put Dinky through college. Now I can get them cheaper, but I’d have to go to somepony who has noooo experience in metalworking, or magic.”

After thinking for a moment, Blueblood snatched up three keys and hoofed them over to Zecora.

“Laudanum?” Amethyst Star said reproachfully as she tinked a hoof against a decent sized glass bottle. “How does tincture of opium count as expedition supplies?”

“I shouldn’t think you’d need any since you have holy healing powers,” Blueblood said. “But here, grab a shovel. Never know when you’ll need to clear some rubble.” He paused, his brows suddenly furrowed. He then turned his glare towards Zecora. “Oh great, now you have me rhyming!” He could swear that he heard Zecora chuckle at him from under the mask.

Blueblood lit his horn and raised up several sacks of bits onto the table, noticing with no small amount of dismay that he was spending over half of what little money he had been able to scrape together for the expedition. If the party didn’t recover sufficient wealth on the mission, the entire operation could be over before it even had a chance to get started.

Ditzy happily went about counting the bits as everypony else tightened straps and checked their gear.

With a loud swallow, Shining finally cleared the muffin from his mouth, which made a noticeable bulge as it worked its way down his throat. “Ok everypony,” he choked out, “let's get to this, daylight's burning!”