Kids nowadays with their loud music and their assassins...
Igneous Rock Pie was many things. Farmer. Father. Faithful. And probably many more things that started with F, but he couldn’t readily think of any. However, more importantly, Igneous Rock was humble. He knew that he couldn’t do everything. He knew that he didn’t know everything.
But right now, he knew one thing.
And that one thing was: This accursed music is too darn loud!
Not that he even considered it to be music. Music was something sacred. Something beautiful. Not a cacophony that sounded like a broken tractor.
“What does a tractor sound like?” was one of the things Igneous Rock did not know, for he had never owned one of these newfangled machines. However, he assumed that tractors, just like this “music,” went something like this: “BRRRRRR DOOOT DIDIDI VWORP VWORP VWORP SKREEEEEEEEEEE BADADA!”
Igneous Rock sighed. Life had been simple just a few short years ago. Every morning, Princess Celestia had lowered the Moon and raised the Sun, and the Pie family would tend the fields. Just Igneous Rock, his beloved wife Cloudy Quartz, and their daughters. Granted, Pinkamena would move out quickly, and so would Maud. Still, life had been simple. Life had been good.
And then things had become slightly less simple.
It had all started with the return of Nightmare Moon. And then there had been the return of Discord. And the return of King Sombra. And a whole lot more folks returning, probably. And each time, Pinkamena, his wonderful (if slightly eccentric) daughter, had been there with her friends to meet them. The accolades quickly started to pile up, even though Pinkamena, humble as her parents, had never made a big fuss about it.
However, the fame of being a hero of Equestria still allowed Pinkamena to organize slightly more... daring family get-togethers. Which ultimately brought things back to the present, and thus back to the broken tractor noises in a crowded stadium.
Oh, and the lights. How could he have forgotten the lights? It was hard to forget (or ignore) them, what with them flickering on and off and sweeping across the crowd the entire time. Igneous Rock rolled his eyes as he was blinded and plunged back into darkness at a pace of what felt like three times per second. Blasted things. Can’t make up their minds if they want to shine or not.
The ponies around him, of course, didn’t seem to mind much. They were jumping, stomping their hooves, and screaming their young lungs out. And way at the front, a single mare was standing behind a table, pushing buttons, adjusting dials, and occasionally telling the assembled ponies that she had dropped a bass. Igneous Rock pitied her, and not just for her apparent clumsiness. No, she was also suffering from illiteracy to the point where she couldn’t even write her own name correctly. This “DJ Pon-3” was clearly the result of a failing education system, but at least she still managed to hold a job as... whatever this night-time show here was about.
Igneous Rock sighed and turned his eyes away from the stage and to the heaven above the Royal Canterlot Stadium.
“Huh.”
He frowned at the lone pony sneaking along the top of the stadium wall. Aside from being rather reckless, the entire endeavor struck Igneous Rock as somewhat pointless: the music was loud enough that one could “enjoy” it even from a mile away without sneaking in. It was also so distracting that this pony could have led a marching band without being noticed. So why bother with stealth?
The pony unsheathed a sword and dove into the rafters above the stage.
“...ah.”
Igneous Rock grimaced - or at least he visibly frowned. This young pony was not an enthusiast trying to sneak in but an assassin of sorts. And there was only one possible target on the stage.
A lesser pony than him would have entertained the thought of not doing anything. The noise and flashing lights would certainly stop earlier than feared, which would be a huge plus in many ponies’ books.
But Igneous Rock Pie was an honorable stallion. Not to mention that my dear Pinkamena would be saddened by the loss of her illiterate friend. He glanced aside and saw Pinkamena bouncing and screaming along with the rest of the crowd. So be it. He sighed and narrowed his eyes, seeking out the pony-shaped shadow in the rafters. He had been raised to avoid violence and fighting, but he had also been taught to protect those in need. “Maud.”
“Father.” Maud’s voice was quiet but impossible to miss; a rock in the sea of screams and noise.
“Kindly give me a Number Five.”
“Of course.” There were no questions. No back talk. No hesitation. Maud simply reached into her bag and produced a rock the size of a large apple.
“Thank you, dear,” Igneous Rock said as he accepted the rock. Then, without missing a beat, he threw it towards the stage. He leaned over to his wife before it even hit its target. “Trouble,” he whispered.
“I see,” Cloudy Quartz whispered back and looked straight ahead when her husband stepped aside.
Igneous Rock made his way to the back of the stage with ease. It was all just a question of efficient movement - if one walked with purpose, questions such as “What are you doing here?” became less likely. It probably helped that Igneous Rock was likely older than a third of the ponies outside combined. The power of age - and his plain black hat - did not make him look like part of the audience.
It did not take him long to find the assassin. The pony - a fellow Earth pony stallion, as Igneous Rock now realized - had suffered from a nasty fall (and a rock to the head) and was still recovering in a dark corner.
“Art thou in need of medical attention?” he asked politely.
The assassin hurriedly pulled his hood back over his head, concealing his features. “Get back to work, gramps,” he hissed and struggled to get back to his hooves.
“Thou took a blow to the head,” Igneous Rock calmly said and picked up Maud’s rock. Blood was sticking to it, but it was nothing some warm water and polish wouldn’t fix. “Thy fall certainly only made matters worse.”
The assassin stared blankly as Igneous Rock pocketed the rock. Then his eyes widened in realization. “You!” he hissed. “You chucked that thing at my head!?”
“That is correct,” Igneous Rock calmly confirmed. “Thou clearly hast come here with evil intent. And while I may dislike this concert, I shall not let my family suffer from the sudden death of their bard.”
The assassin gave him a long look as he apparently tried to make sense of Igneous Rock’s words. “Y-...” He tilted his head. “Your family, you say?”
“Indeed. My wife and daughters are in the audience, enjoying the spectacle to various degrees.”
“Suffer from sudden death, you say?”
“Thou seemest to struggle with remembering my last sentence. Shall I write it down to make things easier for thee?”
The assassin smirked before making a show of pulling a curtain aside to look at the crowd. “These your folks?” he finally asked and pointed at the assembled ladies of the Pie family. They were admittedly hard to miss, considering that they - except for Pinkamena - were the only ponies not engaging in exaggerated physical activity and ruination of their vocal cords.
“Indeed,” Igneous Rock intoned. “But thou shalt leave them be. We did not come here to seek conflict. So lest thou intendest to make thy situation worse, I advise-”
The assassin didn’t let him finish. In one quick motion, he reached into his pockets and tossed a small satchel onto the ground, setting off an explosion of smoke, disappearing without being seen.
Igneous Rock huffed and pulled back the curtain. It was difficult to see, and he had to rely on the short times when one of the many spotlights washed over his family.
The spotlight illuminated his wife and daughters, and Igneous Rock could see the assassin standing behind them, ready to strike.
Darkness.
Then another flash of light. The assassin was still standing behind the Pie family, but he was looking a bit less certain about his intentions, in part thanks to the mane pin that was sticking out of his neck at an odd angle. Cloudy Quartz was staring straight ahead, pretending that nothing was amiss even though her mane looked a bit disheveled now that it was only held aloft by s single pin instead of two. The pin had likely not ruptured anything vital, but it had surely sent the message to not threaten the family.
And then Maud looked over her shoulder and made eye contact with the stallion holding a sword.
Darkness.
Igneous Rock sighed and started to walk toward the exit. “Youth is wasted on the young,” he muttered.
He stopped and turned when he heard quiet cursing. “You!” the assassin hissed even as he dragged himself into the corridor connecting the audience area with the backstage one. He deserved praise for making it here so quickly, considering that he had apparently suffered from at least two broken legs on top of his neck wound. Igneous Rock frowned. Maud had always been more... enthusiastic than her pragmatic parents when it came to defending farm and family against threats. Maybe a talk was in order.
“It is I,” Igneous Rock confirmed.
“Think you’re so clever, huh?” The assassin grinned, but it was either fake bravado or a massive adrenaline spike. “I will come back with backup.” He held up another one of his smoke bombs. “Say your prayers, gramps, for they will be your last.” And with that, he tossed the smoke bomb.
It landed with a soft thud and a notable lack of smoke, making the assassin blink. He looked down and frowned at the boulder the size of a smoke bomb that was lying on the ground. Then he looked back up at Igneous Rock, who was holding the actual smoke bomb.
“I commend thy tenacity, but it is time to file a complaint with thy boss.”
Princess Luna took a look out the window. It was the twenty-third time she had done so in the past hour.
Something had gone wrong; that much was certain. The question was if said something would be a mere inconvenience or if she would have to draft a press release and endure yet another lecture from her sister.
She narrowed her eyes and looked out the window for the twenty-fourth time. The concert was still going strong, much to her dismay. “How difficult can it be to get rid of one troublemaker?” she wondered.
“In all fairness-”
“Yes, we know we gave permission for the concert,” Luna interrupted her aide and rolled her eyes. “However, how were we supposed to know that said concert would be... this?”
The aide considered this. “If you had sampled DJ Pon-3’s discography, you would have quickly realized-”
“Yes, yes.” Luna waved her hoof impatiently. “Mistakes were made. And now we attempted to rectify said mistake, but alas, it shan’t be my lucky night.”
“Of course...” The aide licked his lips nervously. “But don’t you think that literal murder is a bit overkill?”
Luna tilted her head very slowly, and he shrank under her gaze. “It is about making a point. The night is for-...” She waved her hoof vaguely. She had somehow never fully considered what the night actually was for. It wasn’t like there had been a mission briefing or anything. Nopony had ever seriously questioned her about it, and she had never given it all that much thought. It was just... night. And the occasional monster. And dreams. And maybe going insane when ponies didn’t appreciate it. The works. “Thou knowest... sleep... and... contemplation...”
The aide carefully considered whether or not a snarky response would earn him a place on Luna’s List Of Naughty (And Soon Dead) Ponies as well, but a knock on the throne room doors rendered the question moot.
(For the record, the answer would have been no. Luna knew how hard it was to find competent aides who were willing to tolerate her working hours.)
“Well, this better be good,” she muttered. “ENTER!”
The door opened slightly, and a Night Guard entered. “Your Highness,” he intoned and bowed even as he made his way to her. “The assassin you sent has returned.”
Luna made a show of looking out the window yet again. “Kindly inform him that he shall return to the stadium. His task is obviously not finished.”
The guard slowly tilted his head. “He... is likely going to check into the hospital wing after his, ah, debriefing. What with him having two broken legs. And he should probably get his neck wound more professionally bandaged.”
Luna gritted her teeth. “Two broken legs and a neck wound,” she hissed. “What happened? Did he fall down from the rafters?”
“No. Well, yes. But that’s not why-...” The guard grimaced. “I only got the short version, Your Highness. But... he obviously got into a fight. And lost. And...” He took a deep breath. Obviously, the worst was yet to come. “There’s this old guy with him. He looks really grumpy, and he says he wants to file a complaint?” He lowered his voice. “I think he’s why the assassin requires medical attention.”
“...old guy,” Luna repeated slowly and gave the guard a questioning look.
“Looks old enough to be your elementary school teacher, Your Highness.”
That earned him a smirk. “Well, let us hope it is not, in fact, Sky Journeys.” But then she steadied herself. “So. We have a wounded assassin who may or may not have broken his oath of secrecy and an old stallion who may or may not be former military. And we need to resolve all of this before sunrise.”
“Why before-”
Luna gave the guard a wide-eyed look. “Celestia. Will. Not. Hear. About. This.”
The guard gulped. “Understood, Your Highness. Shall I send them in?”
“Yes... yes.” Luna cracked her neck. “We have dealt with monsters three times our size,” she muttered. “How hard can it be to convince one old stallion that he made a mistake?”
“Come in, please,” the guard said after opening the door again.
Luna forced herself to smile when she saw that, yes, it was indeed her assassin who was being dragged into the throne room by an Earth pony who looked about a hundred years old. She also took note of the assassin’s two broken legs and the oversized needle sticking out of his neck. It was likely kept in place to avoid worsening the bleeding. Well, now. “Good evening, gentlecolts,” she intoned. “What is thy business here?”
“Your Highness,” the old stallion acknowledged her and bowed after taking off his hat. “I believe thou shalt reprimand thine assassin for acting recklessly.” He gave her a look. “Surely, he acted without thy permission?”
Luna blinked. It didn’t often happen that ponies addressed her in the proper, traditional ways, especially not unironically. Then she blinked. Did he just give us a way out? ...did he just cast himself in a position of power over US? She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be impressed or insulted. But she did know that she wasn’t just going to roll over like this. She was royalty, after all! “We do not know this pony, but thou can rest assured that he will receive proper medical attention. Thank you for helping a fellow citizen, Mister...?”
He narrowed his eyes almost imperceptibly. “Pie,” he finally answered. “Igneous Rock Pie.”
Under her coat, Luna paled. Pie. What are the odds that he is related to Pinkie Pie, hero of the kingdom? Her eyes darted to her aide, who gave her a nervous nod. By our sister’s sock warmers, could this possibly get any worse? “Mister Pie,” she said, fighting to keep her voice from cracking. “Like we said, we shall investigate this incident and take care of this pony’s injuries. We thank thee for thy services. Wouldst thou prefer a ride back, or dost thou prefer to walk?”
There was a long pause, and Luna saw her chances dwindling. “Your Highness, this assassin attempted to sneak up on the... performer... at the concert. I secured one of his smoke bombs. High-class equipment.” He fished a familiar-looking smoke bomb out of his hat. Several guards started to move, but she quickly shook her head at them. He paid them no mind and instead held it close to his nose. “That’s high-quality sodium nitrate. There are only three mines in Equestria where nitratine of this caliber can be found, and all three of them are owned by the government.”
Luna blinked slowly. “...that is some impressive research thou hast done,” she admitted.
“I’m a rock farmer, and one of my daughters is a geologist. We know our business.”
“Thou dost possess immense knowledge in thy field. However, we are afraid that that does not mean that this individual works for the government. Equestria maintains healthy trade routes with other nations and corporations.” There. That ought to settle things.
“I also found a note in his pocket,” Mister Pie said as if Luna hadn’t said anything, “that reads, ‘We hereby assign thee to unalive the menace that-’”
“THOU WEREST SUPPOSED TO DESTROY OUR INSTRUCTIONS, THOU IMBECILE!”
The injured assassin cringed. Mister Pie did not appear to be fazed by the outburst.
She groaned. At this point, there was little to no chance that Celestia would not hear about this. “Very well, then. It was indeed us who sent him.” She huffed. “And if thou wilt excuse us, we shall send somepony more competent next. Somepony who won’t suffer from-...” She frowned and finally took a closer look at the young stallion. “What fate hast befallen thee, anyway?”
There was a long pause as the assassin weighed his words. “I... took a rock to the face... and fell.” He opened and closed his mouth several times. “...yeah.”
Luna leaned to one side to get a better view of his injuries. “We would be willing to believe that thou brokest thy legs after the fall. But... didst thou fall onto... is this a knitting needle?”
“It is my wife’s mane pin,” Mister Pie answered on the assassin’s behalf. “I would kindly request it be returned to her as soon as it is medically feasible.”
“We are half tempted to just pull it out right away,” Luna muttered, ignoring the assassin’s whimpers, “but we believe our sister would scold us for getting blood all over the floor.” Then she parsed the information he had just provided her with. “...dare we ask how thou-”
“Uuuuuugh,” the assassin groaned. “Could this wait? PLEASE? I’m in a lot of pain, and I don’t know if I’m getting lightheaded from the blood loss or the fact that BOTH OF YOU are talking in Ye Olde Canterlotte Equestrian.”
Luna narrowed her eyes dangerously, making the assassin groan for different reasons. “We do not take lightly to being interrupted,” she informed him curtly. “Especially not when it comes to criticizing the proper, traditional use of language.” She suddenly gave Mister Pie a sympathetic look. “It’s a lost art, we are afraid.”
“Indeed,” Mister Pie agreed, “language has unfortunately changed, and with it, attitude.” He gave the assassin a pointed look. Then he shrugged. “But this is a discussion for another time. Thou hast an assassin to treat and debrief, and my dear family might start to wonder where I went.”
“Of course, Mister Pie. We shall arrange for you to be returned post-haste. And once we dealt with things here - and the concert itself - we shall arrange for your wife’s possessions to be returned as well.”
He hesitated. “If I may be so bold, Your Highness, I would kindly ask that you leave the concert be.”
She raised an eyebrow at that. “That’s right... thou didst defend Miss Pon-3. Dare we ask why? Surely, ‘tis not because you enjoy her music?”
He rolled his eyes at that. “Music!? Pah! Noise!”
She nodded rapidly. “Yes! Finally, somepony understands! ‘Tis a terrible cacophony!”
“It sounds like a broken tractor!”
“We don’t even know what a tractor is!”
The assassin looked from Luna to Mister Pie, then back at her. “...are you two trying to out-old each other?”
They both ignored him.
“So we agree upon the fundamentals,” Luna stated. “Then why art thou defending her?”
Mister Pie let out a long sigh and slowly walked away from the throne and further into the room. Luna followed him, trying to ignore how inane it was that he led her around as if he owned the place. They ended up at one of the windows overseeing the city and, of course, the Royal Canterlot Stadium. “My daughter invited us to this concert,” he said, and for the first time, he sounded as old as he looked. “Dear Pinkamena, bless her heart. From what I gathered, she even had to trade in some favors since the concert had been sold out.”
Pinkie Pie’s actual name is WHAT? Luna barely held back the question and instead merely nodded.
“She of course knew that I wouldn’t get the same degree of enjoyment out of it as she would. But this is how she expresses her love, and I appreciate her for it.” He nodded solemnly, then looked up at her as if only noticing now that he wasn’t alone. “Dost thou know what I witnessed during the concert, Your Highness?”
“...hearing loss?” she tried, and they both chuckled at that.
“It was... joy.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I saw all these young ponies... enjoying this spectacle. Somehow. I will not pretend to comprehend it, but alas, it was genuine.” He sighed. “I am loath to admit... that times change. That society changes. That tastes change. My dislike tonight was pitted against hundreds of voices who embraced the musical chaos of young Miss Pon-3.” He huffed. “And who am I to tell them that they are all wrong?”
“Thou art experienced.”
“I am old.” He rolled his eyes. “At some point, the next generation will have to find its way without our guidance, even if we may disagree with some of the choices they make along the way.”
There was a long pause as they contemplated this.
“We see thy point,” Luna finally said and nodded towards the stadium. “Very well. The noise shall continue if this is what the populace craves. Although we wish we could do... more. ‘Tis not like us to just sit around and let the world move on without us.”
He tilted his head. “Well... you could do your part to guide them. Help them along the way.”
“Of course.” Luna gave him a look. “Dost thou have anything particular in mind?”
He smiled. “I do.”
It had been a great concert. Vinyl Scratch, better known as DJ Pon-3, knew this to be true... mostly because she was still feeling sore two days later.
She yawned and stretched before crawling out of bed. It was nearly ten in the morning, and it was an unwritten rule that whoever was still asleep at ten would be rudely woken up either with a cello solo or whatever dance music was at hoof.
“Morning,” she muttered as she shambled out of her room. She squinted and gave Octavia a look. Something was wrong, but she couldn’t immediately place her hoof on what.
Then it clicked - the Earth pony who was sitting at the living room table was grinning from ear to ear. “Good morning, Vinyl!”
“...what happened?” Vinyl asked slowly.
“You’ve got mail!” Octavia said and waved a letter around.
Vinyl couldn’t help but notice that the letter was open. “We talked about opening each other’s mail, didn’t we?”
“Oh, we did.” Octavia laughed lightly. “But this one was addressed to-” She made a show of looking at the letterhead. “-ahhh... ‘DJ Pon-3 or other available adult.’”
“...or other available adult?” Vinyl squinted at that. A part of her wondered if she was still asleep and having an especially odd dream. “Who would-”
“Princess Luna.”
“...Princess Luna,” Vinyl repeated, trying to keep the disbelief out of her voice. This is awkward phrasing, even for a royal who missed out on several centuries worth of cultural development. “Sooo... is this a ‘cease and desist’ letter?”
“It’s an invitation.” Octavia pretended to study the letter again. “To the grand opening of Princess Luna’s Remedial School for Fillies in Need of a Second Chance.”
Vinyl tried to parse the name. “So... it’s a what? School for dropouts?”
“I prefer her phrasing.”
“Princess Luna wants me to perform at the opening of her school for ponies who failed stuff like basic math?”
Octavia’s grin widened a tiny bit. She was clearly waiting for all the pieces to come together.
After a few seconds, Vinyl shook her head. “Look, I just got up and haven’t had any coffee yet. Either you wait for me to fully wake up, or you can just spell... it...” She blinked. DJ Pon-3 or other available adult. A letter would only be addressed this way if the primary recipient was incapable of reading it. But why would- She paled. “She wants me to enroll, doesn’t she?”
Somehow, Octavia’s grin broke all known laws of physics and doubled in size. “In basic literacy and-” This time she checked the letter for real. “-hoof/eye coordination. Although this feels more like something a doctor should check-”
“WHAT?” Vinyl finally snatched the letter out of Octavia’s hooves with her magic. She squinted at it.
“I can read it for you if you’re having trouble,” Octavia teased her and laughed when Vinyl shot her a withering look. “But you’re doing fine! You can do this!”
“...this is somehow Pinkie Pie’s fault,” Vinyl finally hissed. “I don’t know what she did, but she was at the concert.”
“Yeah, that’s damning evidence right there,” Octavia deadpanned but didn’t stop grinning. She watched as Vinyl headed to the door. “Maybe Princess Luna offers classes on correlation and causation?”
“I’ll ask her after Pinkie confesses what she did.” She opened the door and stepped outside.
“Oh!” Octavia shouted after her. “Vinyl! Don’t forget!”
“What?”
“A is for apple,” Octavia sang. “B is for-”
*SLAM*
Author's Note
Notes, inspiration, credits:
- In my mind, Igneous Rock shares perceived traits (and the fancy hat) with the Amish, but his views on tradition are clearly more flexible. Also, in a world filled with crazy monsters, I doubt that a family can keep a farm for generations while being complete pacifists. (Also, his daughters were clearly not raised as pacifists, and somebody surely taught them how to fight.) So no full-on Amish Igneous Rock, sorry.
- The name of Luna's elementary school teacher was generated on Seventh Sanctum. I briefly considered to reveal that said teacher was a distant Pie ancestor (or even Igneous Rock himself!), but I had already maxed out the budget for silliness and plot derailment.
