Lux Perpetua

“Until noon tomorrow,” Filthy Rich whimpered. “Value Tax, that son of a bitch, exaggerates. The clerk could have given me an extension. More than 1,000 bits! Where will I find that kind of money by tomorrow? I am finished, ruined, doomed to end my life in prison! Let's not sit here, by the plague. I tell you this: that scoundrel changeling must be caught. We must catch him!”

The three of them were seated on the edge of the marble basin of a dry fountain, situated in the center of a small square surrounded by the homes of bourgeoisie with great wealth but extremely questionable taste. The water in the basin was green and horribly filthy, teeming with small fish that swam amid the refuse. Mouths gaping, they tried to gulp air from the surface, laboriously opening and closing their gills. Vinyl Scratch and Filthy Rich were chewing on beignets that the musician mare had stolen from a street vendor.

“If I were you,” said DJ mare, “I would give up the pursuit and start looking for somepony who could loan me the money. What will catching the changeling accomplish? You think that Value Tax will accept it as the financial equivalent?”

“You're an idiot, Vinyl. By finding the changeling, I'll get my money back.”

“What money? Everything your purse contained was used to pay for the damage and grease Value Tax's palm. There was no more.”

“Vinyl,” the merchant said, grimacing. “You might know something about music, but as for business, forgive me for saying so, you have an empty skull. You heard the amount of tax that Value Tax calculated? Taxes, they are paid on the basis of what? Eh? Of what?”

“Of everything,” replied the DJ. “Myself, I am taxed for playing music. And the fact that I perform to satisfy an internal need makes little difference.”

“You really are an idiot, as I said. In business, taxes are paid on profit. On profit, Vinyl! You understand? That scoundrel changeling stole my identity and organized a particularly lucrative scam! He made a profit! And me, I must pay the tax and also the debts surely racked up by this vagabond! If I don't pay, I'll end up behind bars; they'll publicly clap me in irons and send me to the mines. By the plague!”

“Ah!” Vinyl Scratch said cheerfully. “Then you have no other choice, Rich. You must leave the city on the sly. You know what? I have an idea. We'll hide you under a sheepskin and when you walk through the gate, you'll only have to repeat: 'Baa, baa, I am a sheep.' No-pony will recognize you.”

“Vinyl!” Filthy Rich replied hotly.“Shut up or I will put you through hell. Shining Armor?”

“Yes, Rich.”

“Will you help me catch the changeling?”

“Listen,” responded the Capitan of the Royal Guard, trying vainly to repair the torn sleeve of his jacket. “First of all I’m not on duty now. Secondly we are in Lower Canterlot, a city of thirty thousand inhabitants and perhaps twice as many passing through: earthponies, pegasi, unicorns. How can you find anypony in that mob? Furthermore Lower Canterlot is out of my jurisdiction. Royal Guard is a military service not a law enforcement. You have my help as a friend but not as Captain of the Royal Guard.”

Filthy Rich swallowed his beignet and then licked his hooves.

“And magic, Shining Armor? What about your Royal spells, which are the subject of so many stories? You did repel the last invasion!”

“The changeling is only magically detectable when he takes his own appearance. Unfortunately, he doesn't walk down the street in that form. And even then, magic wouldn't be any help, because the area is saturated with weak magical signals. Half the houses have magical locks; three quarters of the city ponies wear an amulet for some purpose or another: to protect against thieves, lice, indigestion... The number is infinite.”

In the silence that followed Vinyl Scratch threw the rest of her beignet to the fish and spat into the basin.

“Look,” she said, “golden carp. They say these fish grant wishes.”

“Those are red,” Filthy Rich remarked.

“What's the difference? There are three of us, and they grant three wishes. One per person. What do you think, Filthy Rich? Wouldn't you like a fish to pay your taxes?”

“Of course. I would also like for a meteor to fall from the sky and bash in that changeling's head. And then...”

“Stop, stop. We have wishes to make, too. Me, I'd like the fish to whisper me how to get Octavia back. And you, Shining Armor?”

“Leave me be, Vinyl.”

“Don't spoil the mood, Royal Guard. Simply say what you'd like.”

Shining Armor stood.

“I'd like,” he murmured, “for the fact that we are being followed to turn out to be a misunderstanding.”

Four ponies dressed in black and wearing leather caps were emerging from an alley and heading straight for the fountain. Filthy Rich swore quietly, seeing them approach.

Four others appeared behind them, from the same alley. These didn't approach. Arranged in a line, they were content to block the exit. They held curious hoops resembling coiled lengths of rope. Shining Armor examined the area. Vinyl Scratch gave a moan.

A gray unicorn of short stature, dressed in a white doublet and a short gray coat, appeared behind the ponies dressed in black. The gold chain he wore around his neck flashed, in time with his hoof-steps, with the golden hue of the sun.

“Chapel,” Dandelion groaned. “It's Chapel...”

The ponies dressed in black were slowly moving behind them in the direction of the fountain. Shining Armor horn glowed with light as he started to concentrate on both defensive and offensive spells.

“No, Shining Armor,” Vinyl Scratch murmured, pressing close to him. “By Luna, don't cast any spells. This is the temple guard. If we resist, we'll never get out of lower Canterlot alive.”

The gray unicorn in the white doublet approached them with a purposeful stride. The ponies dressed in black dispersed behind him to surround the basin and fully occupy the terrain. Shining Armor watched attentively, hunching slightly.

The pony in the white doublet approached.

“Shining,” the musician mare murmured, “by all the Princesses, stay calm...”

“I will not allow them to touch me,” he growled. “I will not let anypony touch me. Whatsoever. Be careful, Vinyl... When I begin, run for your life. I'll stop them... for a while...”

Vinyl didn't answer. She bowed deeply before the pony in the white doublet, which was richly embroidered with gold and silver thread in a mosaic of tiny patterns.

“Venerable Chapel...”

The pony called Chapel stopped and looked them over. Shining Armor had noticed that his horribly chilly eyes reflected the color of metal. His abnormally sweaty brow had a sickly pallor; blotches of crimson stood out on his cheeks.

“Master Filthy Rich, merchant,” he announced. “The talented DJ Pon-3, and Shining Armor, representing the ever noble brotherhood of Royal Guards direct servants of her holiness Princess of the Sun. Is this a reunion between old friends? In Lower Canterlot?”

No-pony answered.

“To compound the misfortune,” Chapel continued, “I must divulge that somepony has already reported you.”

It seemed impossible but Vinyl Scratch paled slightly. Filthy Rich’s teeth chattered. Not to be distracted from his surveillance of the individuals in black wearing leather hats who surrounded the basin, Shining Armor ignored Chapel.

At first sight Shining Armor thought they were armed with whips but now he saw they had lamia. In most of the countries Shining Armor knew, manufacture and possession of a barbed lamia, also called a Whip of Mayhem, was strictly prohibited. Equestria was no exception. Shining Armor had seen ponies struck in the face by a lamia. It was impossible afterward to forget the sight.

“The proprietor of the pub The Pink Grotto,” Chapel continued, “had the impudence to reproach your lordships for associating with a demon, a monster known generally as a changeling.”

No-one responded. Chapel stared at them coldly.

“I felt compelled to warn you that this denunciation had been made. I also inform you that the manager in question has been imprisoned in a temple dungeon. We suspect him of inventing the story under the influence of beer or liquor. The things these ponies invent. To begin with, changelings would had been repealed by non other that present here Shining Armor.”

No-one made any comment.

“Furthermore, no changeling could approach the holy walls of Canterlot now,” Chapel continued, smiling, “without being killed on the spot. The radiance of her holiness Celestia is enough to burn a wicked monsters soul. Isn't that right?The accusation of the pub manager would be in these circumstances absolutely absurd if a certain detail did not leave some doubt.”

Chapel shook his head in the imposing silence. Shining Armor heard the slow exhalation of the air that Filthy Rich had previously sucked deep into his lungs.

“Yes, a certain detail is very important,” Chapel repeated. “We are indeed dealing with an act of heresy and sacrilegious blasphemy. It is obvious that no changeling, I say none, and no monster for that matter, would be able to approach the walls of Canterlot by reason of the presence of its nineteen Temples dedicated to our holiness ‘Lux Perpetua’, whose sacred virtue protects the city. Anypony who claims to have seen a changeling in The Pink Grotto, situated a stone's throw from the main altar of Lux Perpetua, is a sacrilegious heretic who must repudiate his words. If it happens that he refuses to repudiate them, I will be obliged to assist in the form of forces and means that remain, believe me, at my disposal in my jails. You see, there is no need to worry.”

The expressions on the faces of Vinyl Scratch and Filthy Rich proved beyond doubt that they were of a different opinion.

“There is absolutely no need to worry,” Chapel repeated. “Your lordships may leave lower Canterlot without interference. I will not keep you, but I would insist that your lordships do not spread the imaginary allegations of the pub manager and do not comment loudly on these events. We, humble servants of the Sun Church, must consider stories questioning the power of the Princess Celestia the Lux Perpetua to be heresy, with all the attending consequences. The religious convictions of your lordships, which I respect for what they are, do not enter into this. Simply be aware, and do what you will. I am tolerant so long as one respects the holiness of the Princess and does not blaspheme against it. He who dares to blaspheme, I will condemn to burn, that is all. In lower Canterlot, all are equal before the law. The law is the same for all: anypony who blasphemes against the Princess Celestia holiness perishes in the flames and sees his assets confiscated. But enough talk about all that. I say again: you can go through the gates of Lower Canterlot unimpeded. It would be best...”

Chapel smiled slightly, giving the impression of a malicious grimace: he puffed out his cheeks, looking around the small square. Witnessing the scene, the few passersby quickened their step and quickly looked away.

“... best,” Chapel finally said, “best to leave immediately, without delay. It is obvious that, in the case of Filthy Rich, the absence of delay signifies 'without delay after meeting his fiscal obligations.' I thank you, my lords, for the time that you have kindly granted me.”

Turning discreetly to the others, Filthy Rich silently mouthed a word. Shining Armor had no doubt that the unspoken word could only be 'bastard.' Vinyl Scratch bowed her head, smiling stupidly.

“Captain Shining Armor,” Chapel said suddenly. “With your permission, I would have a private word with you.”

Shining Armor approached. Chapel reached his hoof out slightly.

If he touches my elbow, I hit him, thought Shining. I hit him no matter the consequences.

Chapel didn't touch Shining Armor's elbow.

“Captain,” he said in a low voice, turning his back to the others, “I know that certain cities, in contrast to Canterlot, are deprived of the divine protection of her holiness. Suppose then that a creature like a changeling operated in one of these cities. You as an expert in dealing with those monsters could be hired to deal with that problem. Tell me, out of curiosity, how much would it cost to capture such a creature alive.”

“I do not offer my services in populated cities,” Shining Armor replied, shrugging. “A third party could suffer.”

“You are concerned, then, with the fortunes of others?”

“Well yes, because I am in general responsible for their fate. This cannot be without consequences.”

“I understand, but should the degree of deference to third parties not be inversely proportional to the expected remuneration?”

“No, it should not.” retorted coldly Shining Armor.

“I don't care for your tone, Captain. But no matter, I understand what you suggest by that tone. You suggest that you do not intend to undertake the... what I could ask you to do, regardless of the amount of your payment. And what about the type of payment?”

“I don't understand.”

“But yes, of course you do.”

“No, truly.”

“What I say is purely theoretical,” Chapel continued quietly, calmly, without anger or menace in his voice. “Would it be possible if the recompense for your service was the guarantee that your friends and yourself would leave this... theoretical city alive? What do you think?”

“This question,” Shining Armor replied, smiling unpleasantly, “is not one that it is possible to answer theoretically. The situation you describe, venerable Chapel, must be realized in practice. I am absolutely not in a hurry, but if need be... If there is no other way... I am ready to put that scenario to the test.”

“Ah! Perhaps you're right,” Chapel responded dispassionately. “We theorize too much and I see that, in terms of practice, you do not intend to cooperate. Perhaps it is better that way. I nurture the hope, in any case, that this will not be a source of conflict between us.”

“I too,” Shining Armor said, “nurture that hope.”

“That hope continues to burn within us, Shining Armor. Do you know the theology of Lux Perpetua? Ceaseless Light. A flame that never dies? The symbol of our holiness the Princess Celestia, our fortitude? Our path through the darkness? The Lux Perpetua, Shining Armor, is hope. For all, without exception. Because if something is given in part... to you, to me, to others... that thing is simply called hope. Remember this. It was a pleasure to meet you, Captain.”

Shining Armor bowed stiffly and kept silent. Chapel looked at him for a moment, then turned and crossed the square without a glance at his escort. The ponies armed with lamia followed behind in an orderly formation.

***

“Oh, my mother,” Vinyl whimpered timidly, watching them leave. “We were lucky. As long as it's over, as long as they're finished with us for now.”

“Calm yourself,” said Shining Armor, “and stop whining. Nothing happened, as you can see.”

“Do you know who that was, Shining Armor?”

“Not exactly. I heard about the Sun Church but never gave it much attention. Princess Celestia declared long ago that she is not divine being and forbidden veneration her as such. The Sun Church proclaims that they worship the eternal spirit of the Princess. Ceaseless Light. Lux Perpetua.”

“That was Chapel, the officer of security.” Said Vinyl Scratch. ”Lower Canterlot's secret service is dependent on the Sun Church. Chapel isn't a priest, but the highest official of the hierarchy, the most powerful and dangerous pony in the lower city. Everypony, even the Council and the guilds, quake in their horseshoes before him: he's a scoundrel of the first order, Shining Armor, drunk on power like a spider on blood. Ponies whisper about his exploits: disappearances that leave no trace, false accusations, torture, masked assassins, terror, blackmail, ordinary theft, duress, scams and plots. The church’s teachings are very popular among ponies in lower Canterlot and so is the church itself, but the system is imperfect. The princess is immortal so her good governance is not corrupted by change of command. The church doesn’t always chose best leader. That’s the problem with choosing your ruler. One time you chose good, other time you get somepony like Chapel. Good that we have immortal and wise Princess and we don’t have to change ponies in charge of Equestria. Any way we are in deep hole here Filthy Rich.”

“Leave me alone, Vinyl,” Filthy Rich said. “You have nothing to fear: no-pony harms a famous DJ Pon-3. Even Chapel. For reasons that escape me, you are still untouchable.”

“An untouchable DJ,” Vinyl Scratch groaned, still pale, “may also fall under the wheels of a runaway cart, be poisoned by eating apple or accidentally drown in a ditch. Such scenarios are Chapels specialty. He agreed to talk with us, that's already an extraordinary fact. One thing is certain: he would never have done so without a good reason. He's up to something. You'll see: he'll fall upon us at the first opportunity, clap us in irons and torture us with impunity. Nothing is more normal here!”

“There is a lot of truth in what she says,” Filthy Rich said to Shining Armor. “We must be wary of the scoundrel who owns this land. They say he's sick, that his blood is spoiled. Everypony is waiting for him to kick the bucket.”

“Shut up, Rich,” Vinyl Scratch hissed timidly, looking around them. “Somepony could hear. See how everypony's watching. Break camp, I tell you. I advise you to reflect seriously on what Chapel suggested regarding the changeling. I, for example, have never seen a changeling in my life. If necessary, I am prepared to swear on the Lux Perpetua.”

“Look!” the merchant said suddenly. “Somepony's coming now!”

“Run!” Vinyl Scratch cried.

“Calm down, calm down,” Filthy Rich said, smiling broadly and smoothing his stubborn mane. “I know him. It's Apple Strudel, a local merchant, treasurer of the Apple Family Guild. We've done business together. Look at his face! As if he'd shit his pants. Hey, Apple Strudel, are you looking for me?”

“I swear on the Ceaseless Light,” Apple Strudel said slowly, breathless, dragging off his green hat and wiping his forehead with his sleeve. “I was sure they would drag you to the dungeon. It's a miracle. I'm amazed...”

Filthy Rich maliciously cut Apple Strudel's words short:

“It is kind of you to be amazed... Even kinder of you to explain why.”

“Don't play the fool, Filthy,” Apple Strudel responded anxiously. “Everypony is talking about it. The hierarchy has seen it. Chapel too. The whole city knows what a deal you got on the cochineal, and with what intelligence and cunning you profited from the events in Baltimare.”

“What are you talking about, Apple Strudel?”

“By Luna, Filthy, would you stop this gloating like the bird of proverb who thinks his nest the best? Did you not buy the cochineal at half price, for 5.20 a bushel? You did. Taking advantage of low demand, you paid with a promissory note. You didn't pay a single bit in cash for the transaction. And what happened? Within the day, you turned over the merchandise for a price four times higher than what you originally paid. Will you have the gall to claim that this was nothing but coincidence or luck, and that in buying the cochineal, you knew nothing of the upheavals taking place in Baltimare?”

“What? What are you saying?”

“There has been turmoil in Baltimare!” Apple Strudel shouted. “A... there... what's the word: a ‘rellavotion’ or revolution. Duke Polaris was deposed. The Blueblood clan governs now! Polaris court, nobility, and army wore blue. The local weavers only bought indigo. But the Blueblood family color is scarlet rose. The price of indigo fell and cochineal rose! Then we learned that it was you, Filthy Rich, who had on hoof the only store of cochineal available. Ha!”

Filthy Rich kept quiet, frowning.

“Filthy Rich the cunning, that's the least we can call you,” Apple Strudel continued. “And without a word to anypony, even your friends... If you had told me, we would all be able to profit. We could even have found a common agency. But you preferred to go it alone. That's your choice. In any case, no longer count on me. By the Ceaseless Light, the Ponyvillains are nothing but egotistical scoundrels. Adler Vivaldi has never endorsed a promissory note for me, and for you? Without hesitation. Rotten, every one of you! Plague take you!”

Apple Strudel spat and turned on his hoof. Lost in thought, Filthy Rich scratched his head. His cowlick rose.

“Something begins to grow clearer, my friends,” he said finally. “I know what we should do. Let's go to the bank. If anypony can get us through all this, it's my good banker, Adler Vivaldi.”