What is Death? This has been a question of religions and of wise mares for centuries. But the answer was pretty simple. Death was well past due for a vacation. He was done with his field work and was heading back to the office. The Death of Equis was known as the Grey Colt. He was a foal that the word pale didn’t do justice to. He had died as a child from famine before earning his position and that look had never changed. The only thing of color he had was the glowing edges of the four soul blades that flowed in orbit around him.

The Grey Colt entered the core of his citadel and looked upward to the pendulum of life. It was shuddering. The pendulum of the master clock for the world of Equis which had run like Germane engineering for eons, was shuddering. Worried, the Death of Equis reached out his senses and filled the world with his power. “Show me!” Wisps of smoke rose before him and began weaving themselves into the solid shapes of letters. He read the message and blanched.

There was an accounting error in his world and he could feel the ripples flow outward alerting the Deaths above him. Faust, the ripples could even reach the notice of Asreal himself. In the entire run of the world of Equis, not one of his predecessors had a single accounting error. Now here he was, staring down a huge anomaly. “Show me the error report.”
He waited as the smoke slowly wove itself in to his answer.

The accounting error report showed three souls completely unaccounted for. He needed to narrow down in which ledger the anomaly had taken place so he summoned his abacus. He changed the parameters of the accounting spell. He hit execute and watched as the beads shuffled themselves into new positions. He frowned. “The souls collected ledger is correct.” He changed the spell again and hit execute. He studied the beads in their new positions. “Souls to undead, correct.” He tried again. “Souls Born, also correct.” Death slammed the abacus down and paced the room. Souls collected is right, souls born is right, and no shortage in undead status. He scowled. “Well, let’s at least see who you are.” With that, he called for the life timers of the three unknown individuals.

A persons life timer differs from world to world. In some worlds, a persons timer could be an hour glass, on others, it was a pocket watch, On Equis, the life timers were burning matches. Death stood in all his glory, hoof out and waiting for the matches to materialize. He waited in perfect silence, his pale eyes blinking. Nothing happened.

He flared his power and called for them again. “Show me the flame of the three individuals involved.” He waited with the certainty gained through centuries of dominion over every soul born to Equis. The Colt blinked. He straightened his posture. He raised his hoof higher. He blinked again. He frowned. His eye twitched. Were these three souls outside of his dominion?

He screamed for his personal secretary.

“Frauenhäuser!”

At the call, a shapely but extremely disheveled succubus rushed to his side. The grey colt looked his dripping assistant over and sighed. “… Frauenhäuser, Were you having sex in the office supply closet again?”

“Me? No sir. Never.”

“What is that on your muzzle?”

The demonesses tongue whipped out to check. Her face went carefully blank and said, “Froth.”

“Froth…”

“Froth… From a latte… goats milk… froth.”

“I See…Froth…” Death shook his head, he was getting a bit too old for this sort of thing. “Frauenhäuser, I have a job for you. There is a..”

At that moment a messenger walked in, handed a note to the assistant and left. The incubus looked at the note, blanched and handed it over to Death.

“Sir, It looks like the Managing Directors are on your case again. You're called to an urgent meeting in the directors office.”

“Sigh…”

Death remembered the good old days when his department consisted basically of… well… him. Then came the New Managing Directors, with their new ideas. Modern ways of doing things that just seemed more complicated. While the Grey Colt was old and didn’t like changes, he did give the new policies his full effort.

Then came the centuries of budget cuts and downsizing, all to make What the Director called; “Sleeker more “efficient” departments.” It wasn’t long until you had to request office supplies with a note explaining why you needed it, and then finally young Midnight Fun retired. Midnight Fun was the Department Head for the Succubi, and when he retired and after receiving his fruit basket engraved with “800 Yrs Of ServAce,” the Director decided that his position wasn’t really needed. Rather than replace him with an expensive Department head, it was decided to merge the Succubi department with his own. So now Death, who had worked quite happily alone for centuries, was now surrounded by office staff. Office staff that while he really tried, he couldn’t figure out for the life of him, what any of them actually did.

He worked his way from his grey and lifeless stone corridors, through the green and orange cubicle farms that made up most of the departments and finally entered the management wing. The Management wing was all mahogany furniture and marble accents. He glanced disdainfully at the frescos and ornate sculptures as he made his way to the elevator that would take him to the directors offices.

"Sir, you can’t use the elevator without the key.”

The grey colt turned to look at the secretary station next to the elevator. Spying a bowl of candy, he reached up and took one.

“I’m sorry young colt but you cant reach the directors without a key.” She smiled at him. “Who should I say is calling?”

Death smiled at her. She felt a chill. “I can reach, everyone.” and with that, he stepped into the elevator and said, “Rise.” The doors closed and the elevator began to move. The secretary shivered.

The Grey Colt did not head to the Chief Directors office. He knew the Director would not be there. It was part of his Special Talent. He knew where he needed to be and when he needed to be there. It saved him a lot of unnecessary walking. Death entered the conference room for upper management and looked it over.

It was a tacky place, in his opinion. It was a crystal room that screamed privilege and wealth. A huge mahogany conference table spanned the room and seated at its center were three ponies. His eyes moved across each one in turn. They were the three highest Directors and all three were frowning disapprovingly at him.

At the center sat The Chief Managing Director and to his left and right sat The Director of Accounting, and The Director of Human Resources. Death cleared his throat and sat. The Grey Colt had been to many battles in his time. The Battle of Sky Rock and the fall of Palomino were just a few examples. This made him very good at spotting sneak attacks, and there was an ambush right in front of him now.

The Chief Managing Director leaned forward and drummed his hoof on the desk. “Son, You have worked for us for a long time and in the past your work was exceptional.” He leaned back and opened a file. “But lately, your department has not been pulling its weight. We are seeing overages. Right now there are three souls running around out there that shouldn’t be.” He slapped the files closed.

The Director of Accounting pinched the bridge of his nose. “What do you have to say for your self?”

Death sighed. “I don’t know why there is an error, and I have my ponies looking into it. Once we determine what happened, I can prevent this issue in the future.”

The Director of Human Resources shook his head. “You mean that your lust demons are looking into it. Are they capable of dealing with something this big? After all, all they seem to do is screw in the office supply closets.”

The Chief Managing Director raised a hoof. Thats not important right now. What you are going to do, is go out there right now and remove those three souls. I want this resolved by the end of the week.”

The Director of Human Resources cut in. “If you can’t do it, then maybe it’s time we found some pony that can.

“I see..”

Death drew his power

“Stop!”

And with that, the world greyed and time stopped. Death addressed the room. “Show me the conversation that happened before I arrived.” He watched as the room obeyed.

The Chief Managing Director was pouring a whisky. “Look, the man’s a dinosaur. He is obsolete. He wouldn’t know a new idea if you showed it to him.” He twirled his glass. “You know it and I know it.”

The Director of Accounting nodded somberly. I’ve never liked the man. He should have been replaced years ago. His whole department is nothing but a drain. In the entire time i’ve been here, the Death Department hasn’t shown a single profit.” He wiped the suspicious powder from under his nose and continued. “I mean, do we even need death? Is there any proof at all that it would be harmful if we just scrapped the whole department?” Feeling on a roll, he cleared the table and toss out some spreadsheets. “Look, Ive crunched the numbers. If we scrap that department we can improve our bottom line by an entire thirty two percent.”

The Director of Human Resources nodded his head sadly. “We’ve gotten a lot of complaints about him. He makes the female staff uncomfortable.”

The Director of Accounting scowled. He makes all the staff uncomfortable!”

The Director of Human Resources frowned. “But it's the female staff thats important.” She sighed. “We’ve sent him to sexual harassment classes, anti discrimination classes. He went to every one and yet nothing has changed. They say that when he is near its like death walked into the room.”

The Chief Managing Director struck the table. “Thats just it, he isn't a people person!”

“It’s sad. I got a cousin who just graduated management school. Real smart kid.” He leaned forward and slapped the table. “Kids a real go getter.” He twirled his Gin. “You know, a cushy position like Death is a good place for him to start things.”

The Chief Managing Director nodded. “Thats a great idea. We get a new kid, one open to new ideas. He straitened his tie, “Lets face it, Deaths job is hardly work at all. Kid will have lots of downtime.”

Death stared at the scene in complete silence. “I see.” Looking to the room he said.

“Resume time.”

The Chief Managing Director leaned forward. Your department is short three souls, this is completely unacceptable. You have to the end of the week to make your numbers match.”

“How would you like me to do that?”

The Director of Accounting tapped the table in irritation. “We don’t care, as long as your numbers are right, thats all that matters. It’s about the bottom line!”

The Chief Managing Director sneered, “You heard us, just…I don’t know, find three useless ponies.”

“Useless ponies?” Death asked puzzled.

The Chief Managing Director huffed. “Yes, three useless ponies! I don't know. Someone incompetent. Someone useless. Someone who if you removed them nothing would change!” He struck the table, calmed himself and stood up. “Do you think you can do that? Do you think that even you can manage to find three completely useless people?”

Death sat quietly, his cold dead eyes slid across all three Directors in thought. “I see.” Making his decision, he leaned forward and placed a scroll onto the conference table.

Whats this?

“It's a copy of your directive, Please sign and I will correct the error.” He leaned forward, quill in hoof.

The Chief Managing Director straightened his tie with a smile on his face. “Thats better. So, are you going to do your job now?”

“YES…”

And with a grin he stood, the conference room door locked, and Death pulled his scythe.

Author's Note

This is a non cannon chapter. An Omake if you will.

The Concept of the hierarchy of deaths where where smaller deaths answer to larger ones with a death of the universe/multiverse at the very top, (Named Asreal) belongs solely to Terry Pratchett.