“Sir Spike...!” bellowed Flash Sentry from the lengthy hall that stood adjacent to the Royal Canterlot Laboratory. The bearded guard was dwarfed by the enormity of the polished marble architecture surrounding him, but his well-trained voice echoed off every bookcase, table, glass container, and ancient artifact that filled the thoroughly-cluttered study. “Her Royal Majesty, Princess Twilight Sparkle, officially requests your presence in the East Chamber library!”
Spike the Dragon, Royal Advisor to the Ruler of Equestria, was usually quick to respond when summoned. However, his attention was presently absorbed on a tall cylinder of shiny arcane metal, a tall cylinder of shiny arcane metal that was currently emitting an ominous ticking sound, a tall cylinder of shiny arcane metal befitted with a big black button—a big black button that Spike's razor sharp claw had just impulsively pressed twenty seconds ago.
Tick-Tick-Tick-Tick-Tick.
Tick-Tick-Tick-Tick-Tick.
Whirrrrrrrrr-SCHLUMP!
Before the adult dragon's blinking eyeslits, a ring of arcane metal retracted viciously into a blood-red base. It suddenly occurred to Spike that there were four more rings left to the device, constituting its remaining cylindrical structure. The base hummed now with malevolent purpose, and the ticking continued.
Tick-Tick-Tick-Tick.
Tick-Tick-Tick-Tick.
Spike blinked. His green spines drooped slightly. A steady, heavy pulse rippled through his draconian limbs. Icily, he peered away from the artifact.
His gaze rested on the large open crate that had ferried the cryptic object from Daunting Do's hidden headquarters in the Writhing Wests all the way to Canterlot Palace, a feat that had been financially arranged with much labor and reconnaissance between the adventurous archaeologist and the reigning monarch of Equestria. All in all, it took the studious mares seven months to arrange the item's expensive transportation, and Spike just seventy seconds to unbox it and another five seconds to press the curiously large black button.
Another blink. Spike looked back at the object once again. The ticking persisted, and the red glow of the artifact's base was starting to reflect off the polished marble around it. The first of several beads of cold sweat formed across the advisor's purple scales.
“... … …Sir Spike?!?” the hollow of the Palace echoed once again.
“Yes. Yes, Captain Sentry... uhm...” Spike nodded without looking back at the guard. “It will be about ten minutes.” The dragon's eyes glinted with the intensifying crimson gow. “... … … or perhaps three.”
Spike sensed the guard bowing in his peripheral vision, then disappearing. Sensing that he was totally alone, Spike desperately hunched over the tick-tick-tick-ticking machine and stabbed the black button once again with his claws. The small round input was permanently pressed, fully sunken into the same glowing red base that housed the four remaining rings of arcane metal.
Biting his bottom lip, he tried digging the button back out with the edges of his talons.
Licking his teeth, he attempted popping the frame of the button off completely.
Hissing under his breath, he grabbed a mass of tweezers, scalpels, and blades from a nearby laboratory table and attempted prying the button back to where it once was.
No avail.
Huffing sulfur and smoke, the dragon began pacing. And pacing and pacing and pacing. His claws and tail scuffed to a stop against the marble floor. Spinning, he looked towards the open crate lingering just beside the device. A scroll had been neatly rolled up and stapled to the interior of the box. In a violet blur, Spike rushed over, ripped the note loose, and unrolled it before his feverish eyes.
A carefully-written mass of text unveiled itself before Spike, transcribed in Daunting Do's unmistakable hoofwriting:
Dear Princess Twilight Sparkle. At long last, I have completed one of my late aunt's most challenging searches. It took many years, arduously spelunking and mapping out the long-abandoned breeding hives of the Bastard Queen Metamorfillian, located deep within the Necrotic Depths of Dread Abyssalmageddon—
Fidgeting, Spike skipped again.
—thanks in no small part to the incredibly rare and precious Soul Silver Survival Armor that you generously commissioned for me, crafted by the wise Yakyakistanian Manasmiths of the Zenith Monastery, I have miraculously avoided being poisoned with the fatal byproduct of the Irradiated Changeling Tar, a material that blankets all of Metamorfillian's former lair, and which no doubt took the life of my precious aunt after so many years of exposure, even though she fought admirably to stay on this earth and teach me everything she knew—
Spike flipped and flipped through the scroll, eyes darting.
—from the hundreds of ancient texts gathered and carefully translated, combined with Daring's entire lifetime of research, I have every reason to believe that this is—indeed—none other than the Obsidian Obelisk of Harmonic Purging, manufactured from the congealed bone marrow of Precursor Alicorns, and empowered by the Hyperempathic Hatred of the Bastard Queen Metamorfillian herself. It took a forge hotter than all of Equestrian's ancient volcanoes combined and the genocide of no less than twelve sapient equine races in order to properly conjure a fire adequate enough to melt calcified alicornia into the form you will have delivered before you. Such an urn no doubt houses what remains of Metamorfillian's soul, and the only mechanical function of the device is a release mechanism that—once initiated by the simple press of a single input switch—will unleash the highly-pressurized essence of Queen Chrysalis' long-forgotten sister at the speed of sound in all directions, with enough force to blanket an entire continent, and enough saturation that it will take approximately five thousand years to completely dissipate, upon which it will ultimately retract back into the cylindrical container, awaiting yet another release.
The scroll slipped from Spike's hands. With a jerk, he fumbled and fumbled and re-gripped it. But before he could exhale—
Whirrrrrrrrr-SCHLUMP!
He looked to the side.
The cylinder was smaller now. Three rings remained. The crimson base glowed a little brighter.
Tick-Tick-Tick.
Tick-Tick-Tick.
Spike blinked.
His eyes turned towards the scroll once again.
Judging from my beloved aunt's last dying research notes, it would seem that—if activated—this device will engage a 'countdown phase' of sorts, upon the culmination of which the artifact will ultimately and irrecoverably enact Metamorfillian's final solution for obliterating the spiritual fabric of pony friendship and love in all places everywhere all at once. Whether this 'phase' takes ten years or ten minutes—it was never truly determined. Although I doubt this is of any consequence to you, your Majesty, because with the given consequences at hoof it would take uncharacteristically moronic impulse on your behalf to even consider the very notion of physically engaging with the input mechanism of the Obelisk—
“Spike?” A youthful mare's voice rippled into the room. “Spiiiiiiiike?!”
“Uhhhh—” Spike stood up straight. “Uhhhm—” He hid the scroll behind his massive frame. “I...”
Luster Dawn trotted gaily into the room. Upon seeing the draconian advisor, her golden eyes lit up. “There you are! Are you in the middle of something?”
“This... I mean...” Spike's emerald eyeslits darted between the royal pupil and the thin stalk of arcane metal. “...just about finished.”
Luster's gaze followed his, reflecting the red glow of the artifact's base. “Oh, schway...” she cooed in slang. “Is that a new water heater?”
“... … ...maybe?” Spike belched.
“Anyways. My brain is full of farts today.” Luster turned to face him, smiling upwards. “I'm putting together a portfolio for school. Headmaster Glimmer has us researching local ponyfolk history.” She rolled her eyes with a cockeyed grin. “Naturally, Princess Twilight has imparted oceans of geographic knowledge on me—but almost nothing when it comes to very recent history. Like, yesterday's news, y'know?”
Tick-Tick-Tick.
Tick-Tick-Tick.
Spike looked at the device, sweated, then looked back at Luster. “Are we talking hoofball statistics, or...?”
“What's the name of that fancy school that was built in Lower East Canterlot?” Luster Dawn asked. “Y'know... the one that was built in honor of that one racist pony who died in a flaming stagecoach crash?”
“Moondancer High...?” Spike droned.
“That's the one!” Luster Dawn slapped her hoof down on the marble floor and let out a cheer. “Woo! It was gnawing at me all day! Hah! Once again, you're a life-saver, Spike!”
“So I've been told...”
“Gah...” Luster shook her head. “Y'know—Twilight has the knowledge of thousands upon thousands of books all down pat. But when it comes just useful everyday info—you're the ultimate go-to dragon! Every time, without fail!”
“Right...”
“I guess that's why you're her most trusted assistant and royal advisor!” Luster added with a cheeky grin.
“Sir Spike...?!?”
“Uhhhhhh—” Spike craned his neck towards where Flash Sentry's voice had once again echoed.
Luster Dawn blinked confusedly. “Oh—do you need to go now, or...?”
“I'm molting!!” he shouted towards the furthest end of the palace.
Luster Dawn squinted, muzzle scrunching fuzzily. “You look fine to me—”
“Luster, do you ever...” Spike paused to gulp, then continued: “...do you ever have an itch to know something—anything about life—but you never get around to finding out because... because you just keep telling yourself that—”
Whirrrrrrrrr-SCHLUMP!
Spike's spines drooped doubly as his eyeslits turned to emerald dots in the center of his mile-long gaze. “'There'll always be time.'”
Tick-Tick.
Tick-Tick.
Luster Dawn squinted at the crimson-glowing artifact. “Uhm...” She pointed. “I think your water heater's acting up.”
“Is it a monthly molting or—?!”
“No!” Spike growled down the nearby hall. “It's... it's just very very flakey!”
“Dry flakes or bloody flakes?!?”
“Neither!”
“... … …shall I have the servants fetch you some cream, Sir Spike?!”
“No, Captain Sentry, just—!!”
Tick-Tick.
Tick-Tick.
“Mrmffffffghhh...” Spike facepalmed as the noisy world—or what was left of it—swam around him.
“How do penguins have sex?”
Spike peered through his claws. “I beg your pardon?”
Luster Dawn was gazing back at him. “You asked me if there was ever something I had an 'itch' to know but never found the time to learn.”
Spike blinked. “How do penguins have sex.”
“I know, right?” Luster nodded with a flounce of her golden mane. “Like—do they do it in the water? Or above the water? On the ice?” She grimaced. “In such cold climate, wouldn't their... y'know... juices freeze?”
Tick-Tick.
Tick-Tick.
“I...” Spike squirmed awkwardly. As his ears echoed with the mechanism's whirring, he looked out the nearest palace window, absorbing himself in the rolling Equestrian hilltops full of trees and flowers and birds. “I always sort of suspected that they got married first.”
“In fact—I've never quite figured out just how birds do it in general, much less penguins. They're built differently than ponies. Like...” She pointed at her own flank. “They don't have two... they've just got one? Right? Like a building that's not up to code.” She giggle-snorted. “Get it? Cuz there's only one fire escape?”
“It's called a cloaca,” Spike sighed.
Luster stomped her hoof again, learning. “So that's what it's called! You really are a know-it-all, Spike!”
He sighed smokily out the side of his jaw. “Avians aren't the only ones with them.”
Whirrrrrrrrr-SCHLUMP!
Only one ring remained, centermost and turgid.
Tick.
Tick.
The clicks from the machine were heavier now. Weighted. As if the sky could no longer be held within the next breath or two.
Spike prepared to close his eyes—
“Pffft! You aren't molting!” Princess Twilight majestically entered the room. “For a second there, the Captain had me worried.” She stopped halfway into the room and smiled at her student. “Greetings, Luster Dawn! What a pleasant surprise!”
“We're talking about cloacas!” Luster Dawn smiled.
“Oooh, how interesting.” The monarch of Equestria looked at her royal advisor. “Spike, I've been trying to summon you for almost an hour how. Nice water heater, by the way.”
“Thanks.”
“What's all this about losing your scales?” Twilight stifled a giggle. “C'mon, Spike. We both know better than to lie! We had—what?—at least twenty-two friendship lessons about honesty alone. And that was even before we learned that Applejack's parents secretly had her genetically altered at age three to be better at tennis.”
Tick.
Tick.
“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh—” Spike kept staring at the bright beaming dais of the artifact. “...you wanted to see me?”
“Yes. I'm trying to schedule a very... very important diplomatic meeting with a distant visitor from Saddle Arabia. And I need to transcribe a letter. However...” She leaned forward, her majestic frame glinting in the intensifying red light. “...we are only allowed to write in updog.” She smiled.
Spike stared.
Twilight stared back, her grin unfaltering.
Spike sighed. His shoulders sagged a bit. “What is 'updog'?”
“Hah hah hah hah hah!!!” Twilight Sparkle slapped her gold-shoe'd hoof multiple times against the marble floor, full of giggles and mischief. “Ohhhhhhhhh—cheer up, Spike! Princess Celestia always warned us that royal service came with all manner of duldrums. We have to entertain ourselves somehow!”
“So you keep reminding me...”
“In all seriousness, though...” Twilight cleared her throat. “I need a proofreader who's well-versed in Saddle Arabian culture, so I would greatly value your input—”
“First thing's first—if I may interject, Your Highness.” Luster Dawn stepped between them. “How about you, Spike?”
He blinked down at her. “How about me—what?”
“Well, I always wanted to know about penguins.” Luster cocked her cute head aside, reflecting his deadpan expression in her polished eyes. “What about you? What have you always wanted to know?”
Tick.
Tick.
Spike stared off into space.
Whirrrrrrrrr-
A listless smile crossed his scaly face.
“Does she sit? Or does she squat?”
Luster squinted. “...who?”
Spike sighed heavenly. “Rarity.”
Vrommmmmmmmmm...!!! The cylinder glowed brighter then the sun.
Twilight Sparkle was too busy rubbing her head beneath her crown. “You mean... … … when she's reading a book?”
Spike slapped his hand over his face. “Faust damn it, Twilight~”
SCHLUMP!
