“There you are,” greets the Doctor as Princess Arielza, Captain Grimwald and I meet up with the Doctor, Princess Celestia, and her retinue. Between them all, it is the Doctor that trots up to me personally with a purposeful stride that catches me off guard when I first behold it. It makes me feel like I might have done something wrong. My blood freezes when he stops right ahead of me, extends a hoof, then demands politely, “Sonic Screwdriver, please.”

Oh wow! I was going to offer that device back to him anyway, but it turns out he requests it first.

Sighing with relief since this is all it is, I tell him, “Sure,” then gladly hoof back his precious device.

Except, when I do so, did I somehow offer him two devices? I don’t know. Maybe my mind is playing tricks on me.

Off to my side, I notice my wife approaching Princess Celestia then give a graceful and diplomatic bow of her head. In return, the taller, equally white, alicorn mare spreads her wings regally and bows her own head.

“Your presence warms my heart, like the radiant dawn, to see you here and well again, Your Highness,” my wife cordially but also warmly bids our visiting royal guest. “If only you could have returned to us while we were under better circumstances.”

“Think nothing of it, Your Majesty,” replies Princess Celestia who is the first, between the two, to lift her head high again and behold her friend with a twinkle of delight in her eyes, but also with the focused look of duty. “I am proud to return to raise the dawn upon the dark of the night that has wrongfully beset this noble country. As well, I couldn’t let a dear friend of mine suffer alone if it were in my power, at all, to come and help alleviate the situation.”

As I listen to the two of them engage each other, I quickly realize that the both of them are putting on royal airs to each other, but they equally don’t want to. Instead, they would far prefer to be in privacy with each other so that they could catch up with each other on more authentic terms.

“Anything interesting to report?” the Doctor checks with me which causes me to look back at him. “Like finding the Brass Sphere, for example?” He glances at my wife then looks back at me as he adds, “And I see you’ve caught up with your wife again.”

“I had to because I met with Red Star first,” I explain to him.

“Red Star?” the Doctor echoes questioningly. “You mean that young pegasus foal we met last night?”

I nod as I say, “The same. Apparently, after he left us last night, he didn’t venture off too far. He remained close enough to eavesdrop on some of our conversation.”

I close my eyes, face hoof, and cast a long sigh before I open my eyes again, return my hoof back to the ground, and say, “I should have known. I was the one who gave him thief training, and any good thief knows to be wary of anything around the corner. He didn’t trust you because he didn’t know you, and he cared for me so he felt compelled to stick around to make sure I was okay. In doing so, he overheard some startling information. It was enough to intensify his concern. As a result, he took it upon himself to sneak into the Palace.

“I swear, when I get this Palace back in my control, I’m gonna find out how he did that and plug up these leaks.”

I then grin as I add, “Yet, as his mentor, I can’t help but feel a shade of pride for the young lad too, and his heart was in the right place.”

The Doctor nods in understanding as he says, “As a result of meeting him, you resolved to deescalate the dangerous situation for him by coming to your wife and hope she’ll take him off your hooves. Since she is here and Red Star is not, I guess that means she had other plans of her own.”

“Astute as ever, my good Sir,” I concur. “Yes. My wife demanded . . . neigh, politely requested that I catch her up on the situation. Of course, since she is my wife, her request is my command.”

“Naturally,” the Doctor agrees casually.

“Anyway, once she understood the situation, she had a better idea . . . as usual. Anyway, she resolved to leave Red Star with one of her own most trusted retainers and a personal friend of hers.”

“Something tells me that your wife makes friends rather easily,” the Doctor figures as he gives a shrewd glance at my wife while my wife continues to converse with Princess Celestia. For some reason they are giggling with each other right now. I thought our present situation was too tense for that, but it makes me smile anyway to realize they found some way to bring levity back into their hearts.

They really are good friends!

“Agreed,” I say with a fond look back at my wife before I shake my head, look back at the Doctor with renewed seriousness, then continue my report by saying, “We checked the Cathedral since we both thought the Brass Sphere might be located there. It was, recently, revered as a divine artifact, after all. Along the way we encountered Captain Grimwald. When we did, he threw down his sword and confessed that he was secretly on our side since he used to be a former abused slave. He noticed how I helped to free Red Star which earned me his secret sympathy, while for the similar reason secretly despised his new benefactor because Dispatcher secretly ordered Grimwald to look the other way in regards to the slave trade crimes.” I lean close and whisper, “I secretly touched him, too, and got enough of a flashback about his past to confirm his words, and intentions, are true.”

The Doctor grows a bright smile as he cheers, “Excellent! That should make things a lot smoother, then. Things are actually going better than I hoped for a change.”

“With his help, we found the Brass Sphere with no problem,” I further report.

Around this time I catch a glimpse of my wife glancing in this direction. It is enough to inform me she is listening in on this conversation while conversing with Celestia simultaneously.

“Then you do have it,” the Doctor realizes. “Oh, and by the way, it isn’t a real Brass Sphere. It only looks like one.”

“You don’t say,” I reply with a curious lift of an eyebrow since this is the second time the Doctor has told me that today. I then shake my head to clear it and say, “Well, anyway . . . Yes, I did have it, but then I ran into a future version of you along my way here after I secured the Sphere from the Cathedral.”

“Really?!” the Doctor exclaims with surprise. “You don’t say.”

“I do say,” I confirm. “That version of you already had the sonic screwdriver, yet I also still had it in my pocket. That’s how I was able to figure out it was a future version of you. Apparently, after we’re done confronting Dispatcher here, you will travel back in time in the TARDIS, intercept me and my wife in a hallway of this Palace, and demand the Brass Sphere in order to make sure I don’t deliver it anywhere near Dispatcher. I’m guessing you were/would be worried that if I deliver that Sphere near Dispatcher, he could somehow use it remotely against us?”

“Interesting,” the Doctor says with a deep look of cunning in his eyes as he looks over his shoulder at two massive doors that lead into the throne room of the Palace. He continues to eye it for a thoughtful moment of silence then looks back at me with a nod of appreciation and says, “Thank you for your report. I’ll keep everything you said in mind.”

“With all of that said,” I bring up, “are we waiting for anything further?”

“No,” the Doctor replies. “We have everything we need now. In fact, we need to act soon before the sun fully sets on the horizon.

“Listen up!” the Doctor calls aloud as he trots next to the two large doors then spins about to face everypony here. “Dispatcher Hoofclaven is no longer an ordinary pony. He has been cursed by being possessed by an alien entity. While it does augment him in many ways, it also imposes one crucial weakness which we’ll exploit soon. Among some of the advantages he has is the ability to hypnotize and manipulate the minds of others who meet his glance which was why I waited for this before feeling prepared to engage him.”

The Doctor triumphantly lifts his sonic screwdriver before he goes on to loudly announce, “What this is isn’t as important as what it does. With it, I will emit a subsonic pulse which will subtly alter your conscious focus and thereby permit us to be immune to his hypnotic gaze. Thanks to that, we can thereby engage him with confidence that he will not have the chance to mentally impair us. Best of all, I can do this in a wide radius around me and I can even affect the deaf, should such be present among us, because the subsonic pulse will vibrate each pony’s skull here and basically turn it into an internal speaker.”

Seeing the looks of confusion upon everypony’s face here specifically because of the word “speaker”, the Doctor face-hooves, sighs, then lowers his hoof as he looks back at us and says, “Look, it doesn’t matter how it works. Just know that it does. Because of that, we are now ready to engage him. The true rightful ruler to the throne is here among us and has given us permission to neutralize the interloper, which we shall do in multiple ways. After today, he shall not be a threat to our world again.”

The Doctor then looks at and nods to Princess Celestia as he invites, “Princess Celestia, do you wish to add a few words before we engage this villain?”

“Indeed,” Princess Celestia accepts with a graceful nod before speaking again with a boldly projecting voice, “My little ponies, here me and listen well. In the dark days of yore, before we were invited to this country, a grave injustice has been wrongfully imposed upon this land. A lie was spread that the former Sultan was killed, yet he stands among us again. Princess Arielza stands among us as well, and she, too, gladly invites us to right this terrible wrong. Justice is on our side on this day, and TODAY . . . we shall boldly meet the rise of a new dawn. Hope and glory shall return to these befuddled lands, and we shall renew our pact of friendship so that harmony, glory, and prosperity reigns upon ALL of our lands! Unite and rejoice, for we shall not permit darkness to beshadow us ever more! Come. We march on to VICTORY!”

Princess Celestia’s forces raise a spirited battle cry as she boldly spreads her wings. In doing so, her body seems to emit a brilliant light.

This is it. The day has finally arrived. Time to take back my throne and free all my ponies.

The Doctor aims his sonic screwdriver and buzzes it at the giant doors that bar us. Because of that, we hear a “click” sound. He then looks over his shoulder and nods at Celestia. When that happens, Celestia boldly ignites her horn with a brilliant golden glow. Such a glow is copied on the giant doors which then push them open.

“Isn’t it curious,” my wife says quietly as she returns to my side.

“I know,” I say back in the same tone. “I didn’t think this day would come. Finally I confront Dispatcher and take back my throne.”

“Sure, but I meant something else,” my wife says. “Isn’t it interesting that the Doctor told us that the Brass Sphere isn’t made of brass, and he said it to us twice?”

“Uh . . . yeah. That caught me off guard a little,” I admit as I look back at her.

“Why would he do that, though? The future version of him, that is,” my wife elaborates. “If the version of him we encountered in the hallway really was him, wouldn’t he recall that his past self would explain that to us? If so, why bother repeating himself?” My wife looks at me squarely and asks me directly, “You’ve known him longer than I have and you received flashbacks of little moments of his life when you touched him. Based on that, is it enough to tell you that the Doctor can be forgetful and end up inadvertently repeating himself?”

Part of me wishes my wife didn’t challenge me with that question because reviewing the Doctor’s memories kind of gives me a massive headache. After all, even tiny glimpses of his memories is enough to overwhelm my own. It’s as if my brain wasn’t designed to hold that much information.

Still, since she asks, I take a moment to sift through the information I had received. In doing so, I notice that it has degraded quite a bit as if, again, my brain truly can’t retain that much information so it is, therefore, fading like a dream.

With this particular question, though, one thing does stand out to me so I look at her again and tell her, “Yes. Some information has faded and even overlapped over time. This is particularly true between his regeneration cycles. His body, and mind, undergo massive transformations each time he recovers from near death so there’s an adjustment period as he recovers some of his previous memories. When that happens over and over again, it’s not too surprising that this old stallion has gone a little senile.

“Nevertheless, I still trust him with my life. I know his hearts are in the right place and he has a lot of experience setting things right where things once went wrong. We may not be able to fathom all the reasons he does the strange things he does, but if the end result is victory for us, should we really complain?”

“Just be careful,” my wife advises in concern. “I get the feeling there is more going on here than meets the eye.”

Her warning makes me thoughtful, but right now I don’t see how that should significantly alter my present course. One thing at a time, I guess.

Still, I vaguely recall my wife’s instincts are nothing to scoff at. If she advises that we should remain on our guard, then I shall be. I trust her too.

“Duly noted,” I tell her seriously. “Now let’s go. Time to take back our country.”

Right now, I guess I didn’t know what I expected, but the throne room of the capital Palace of Saddle Arabia is extremely spacious and is endowed with great opulence such as the white marble columns or white marble floors shiny enough to be potentially reflective.

Whatever else might have been in here, though, it is hidden by how dark it is. Up above, I do notice window shutters that could have permitted light to spill in. If that did happen, the colors and reflective material in here could have greatly intensified the light in here. I suspect the acoustics of this room is a similar story. It, too, can be intensified, but that’s only if there is any sound to intensify. Right now the most noise any of us are hearing is our own hoof clomps as we enter the room.

For a brief moment I am surprised by the architecture and decor of this room because it feels so unlike me, but then I have to stop, think, and realize that, first of all, this is Saddle Arabia. This is one of the richest countries in the world because our primary attribute, as a nation, is trade. We know where all the valuable goods are. We have the means to transport them wherever it is most profitable to go. We know the true value of that which we trade, and we have the negotiating skills to set the best price for those items. Combining all of these facts, of course the throne room of our capital Palace would be designed to strike a strong impression.

Secondly, while I might personally prefer something more humble, I probably wasn’t the one who designed this place. Instead I inherited it from my family, but to our credit, we usually do our best to earn it too. True prosperity for any nation takes effort to maintain. For this nation to succeed to the degree that it has in the past, most of its previous leaders had to care and put effort into their work, and I’m no exception.

With the state that the throne room is currently in, however, is most indicative of the acting leader for this nation’s recent times. It symbolically reveals the taint that has beshadowed this place. A room that tries to be as bright and as acoustic as it can be. A room that tries to be as openly inviting as possible, and yet now it looks like somepony tried to conceal that with a dark blanket. There is a shadowy mask covering this place as if the message symbolically is now, “On second thought, no. Go away. I used to be inviting but now I am not anymore. If you dare to trot my grounds anyway, know that you do so in mortal peril. The shadows, here, hide many monsters. For your own sake, you better whisper while you are in here, if you dare speak at all, as if your life depends on it.”

At this point, the most light that spills in the room is coming from the hallway we just trot through. That, too, is symbolic of the coming changes. Finally the light has burst through the front door of the shadowed throne room as if to specifically challenge the recent darkness clinging in here.

With us trots the very Dawn Bringer of our entire world. No matter how thick the shadows are in here, Princess Celestia’s hide curiously seems to emit a light of her own. Because of that, her troops continue to march beside her with confidence and resolve. All of which would have been far more challenging in this unholy and unwelcome place, but this pillar of light they have beside them bolsters their spirit.

We also know we came with a righteous purpose which is greatly needed here. That, too, feeds our inner strength.

At first I couldn’t even see the Grand Vizier himself. The throne stands out well enough with all the gold and inlaid jewels it has, but our eyes truly needs more time to adjust before we can make out the shadowy silhouette of Dispatcher. When I’m finally able to accomplish that, which is assisted by the fact we draw closer to him with each step, I behold that which I expected the most at first. I see him sitting on the throne with his forehooves draped over the arms of the throne. He is apparently brooding. I also get the feeling he has no trouble spotting the rest of us, for his eyes are very adjusted to the darkness. Quite likely to a supernatural degree. However, as more light gradually spills into the room, our visual acuity gradually reverses. We’re starting to get an easier time seeing while Dispatcher has to wince.

There are a few ponies that I notice Dispatcher’s visual attention linger on. Princess Celestia is one of them but that is to be expected. Likewise Captain Grimwald’s presence holds the Vizier’s attention for quite some time as well. He especially takes notice of the fact that none of the other guards are stopping the Captain from this intrusion. If anything, they have joined their Captain’s side against this nation’s oppressor.

I find it strange that his attention did not linger on me for too long. The fact that I am with these ponies does not escape his notice and that alone tells him volumes. He does narrow his eyes at me slightly and briefly which conveys an inner depth of hostile emotion towards me, but given how quickly he looks away from me, that tells me that he doesn’t want to acknowledge my presence here. That almost strikes me as pure stubborn denial.

However, when his eyes fall upon Princess Arielza, I am greatly caught off guard by the intensity of his reaction, especially considering some of the other ponies who are in here. One would think he would consider the other Princess to be the most imposing and threatening to him personally, but no. He eyes Princess Arielza with intense shock for a moment strong enough to stand out even while he hides in his darkness. The secondary reaction we notice actually seems to shift into shame. It’s as if she is witnessing something, right now, that he was trying desperately to hide from her. I doubt it’s the throne room itself or the general state of the nation. Those things should have been clear to her long ago and he would know that. Nevertheless, there is something here he was trying to hide and, for some reason, he cares about that more than any other in here right now.

This alone greatly shifted the dynamics of this encounter. For a brief moment, it seems as if Princess Arielza’s presence here has shifted his attitude so much that he might surrender peacefully on the spot. He turns his face to look away from her as if to say, “Please don’t look at me. Not you. Anypony but you.”

Off the corner of my eye I get visual feedback which my hearing also verifies, and that is the fact that everypony in here, without exception, pauses for a moment because they are also caught off guard by Dispatcher’s reaction to Princess Arielza. It then dawns on me that they have the same reaction as I do for the same reason. They also expected several other ponies to evoke a more intense reaction rather than the one pony in our compony who has been in this Palace the longest.

What is it about our present situation that has dramatically changed in his eyes? My wife has been around the longest and she is a very sharp pony. Subtle details stand out to her far more than it would to any average pony. She just catches things and he should know that, so there must be something specific to this encounter that has never been here before. Something he would want to hide.

That is very odd. The symbite within him is greatly threatened by Princess Celestia the most. The sunlight is its bane. He should be afraid of her because she doesn’t just threaten his recent ill-gotten gains, but his very life too. That creature is genetically immortal, too, so long as it keeps on feeding upon the living. It has infinite time to lose against her so that just ups the stakes of this encounter.

The longer I think about it, the more I realize it is me. I’ve been here before too, but that was before his treachery. By standing here, it reveals to him that my wife is in the know too, now. I guess there are certain aspects about that he desperately wanted to keep hidden.

For all that, I’m not surprised that Dispatcher overlooked the Doctor completely. The Doctor could have been considered the greatest threat among us if it weren’t for the brown stallion’s obscurity and intention. I get the feeling that the Doctor personally welcomes that reaction since it affords him a strategic advantage. The memories I’ve acquired from him also confirm the fact that he’s often capitalized on that before. About the only thing that had a chance to capture Dispatcher’s attention towards the Doctor right now is the unusual and unfamiliar device that the Doctor is wielding, but nope. Ever since the Vizier noticed my wife standing among us, nothing else seems to matter to him anymore.

“I believe you know why we have come,” Princess Celestia declares boldly while holding an imposing stance. “You have eyes and enough sense to see that. Your days of tainting the honor of this nation has come to an end, fiend. Surrender and we may yet show you mercy.”

For some odd reason, Celestia’s bold declaration knocks Dispatcher out of his stupor. When he returns his focus to the Sun Princess, his face suddenly looks bored as if he regards her as a miniscule threat.

That reaction of his actually puts me back on edge again. In what way did he prepare himself enough to feel confident against the one pony he should consider to be his greatest threat?

“I suppose the secret is out,” Dispatcher announces fairly quietly. The incredible acoustics of this room is probably the only reason any of us caught that unless the Doctor has been providing some audible boosting of his own. “That is interesting.” Dispatcher collects his hooves in front of his muzzle and leans forward a bit. “Present circumstances being as they are, it certainly would adjust my strategy going forward.”

“Strategy, you say?” the Doctor asks with interest in his own voice. Since he spoke next, that won him Dispatcher’s attention for the first time in this encounter. “I agree that that is interesting, but I think we haven’t revealed all of our cards here yet. Since we got your attention to this degree so far, there’s something else we’d ask you to notice as well. Before you reveal your own trump card, you might want to take a peak at one of ours.”

The Doctor about-faces and aims his sonic screwdriver upwards as he calls back, “Observe.” When the device he carries gets more noisy, one of the shutters on the windows above bursts open for some reason. Based on my own knowledge of the device, I am guessing that it is caused by the sonic vibration he projected up there.

The result of this is a surprising degree of sunlight shooting through the now open window. Not only is the light unusually bright, but it is unusually focused too. An actual column of light aims at Dispatcher specifically. I quickly notice that the light is way too targeted to be natural, so I focus my sight out the open window again which gradually reveals a large curved mirror being held up by some of Princess Celestia’s pegasus guards. I widen my eyes in surprise when I notice that. After that, I quickly calculate that there are probably several more mirrors strategically placed out there to reflect and intensify what is left of the sunlight outside.

Considering Princess Celestia’s presence here as well, I can’t dismiss the possibility that she might have slowed the sun’s descent this time or otherwise found a way to intensify the sun’s remaining light somehow.

Wow! I knew that the Doctor can slam his adventures well once he understands the situation he is in if he has enough time to plan and prepare, but it is still a marvel to witness firsthoof.

As a result of all of this, Dispatcher hisses and does his best to hide his pain, but it is too intense right now to hide it completely. He writhes in obvious discomfort but there is another aspect to this situation that hangs in the back of our minds while this happens. For all the advantages the symbite can grant, it may not amount to anything once it is hit by one of its most critical weaknesses. In the sunlight, and very focused one at that right now, it may be that all of his advantages are instantly cut off. Not only that, but he is now actually weaker than any ordinary mortal pony in here. Even a yearling might have a chance to kick his flank at this point.

All of this reveals a very clear message to him. His secret is out, his most dangerous foe is before him, his own guards have turned on him, and now the symbite’s own weakness has inadvertently caused it to betray him too. He’s surrounded in every possible way that matters and that is the point the Doctor was trying to make with him. With all of this combined, it may greatly adjust negotiation tactics going forward. The Doctor wants Dispatcher to know that this conversation shall continue with most of the leverage on the side of his opponents. With all of that in mind, maybe the Doctor has a greater chance to steer this negotiation in a peaceful direction.

“I take it,” the Doctor says as he slowly turns about to face Dispatcher again, “we really have your attention now?”

“Who, in Tartarus, are you?!” Dispatcher strains to say in a shocked, angry, but also pained voice.

“Me?” the Doctor asks as he briefly gestures to himself. “I am the Doctor. I am the last of the Time Lords, and more importantly, I am the one who has sworn to protect these ponies from any threat that endangers their lives or the sanctity of their harmonic innocence, and you, Sir, have chosen to ally yourself with a force that does not belong in this world. Because of that, I am the inevitable counter-force that has risen to thwart this unnatural threat.

“So I repeat . . . I am the Doctor.” For a moment he rises off his fore hooves and balances on his hind hooves in order to give a grand sweeping gesture outward as he adds, “Behold my medicine.”

“Doctor, eh?” Dispatcher growls spitefully. “Trust me . . . I’ll remember that name.”

“Not that it’ll do you much good after this,” Princess Celestia promises boldly. “Your reign of terror ends here, fiend. Trouble the innocent little ponies of our lands no more!”

“And what say you,” Dispatcher challenges as he looks at me squarely. “Do you think I’m cornered completely?”

I did not expect his attention to shift to me all of a sudden so I briefly struggle to put moisture back in my throat and fight to thaw my mind. To his question, I eventually answer, “Seems to be from where I am standing, but you’ve employed devious tricks before. I want you to know that I’m aware of that and am not underestimating you no matter how cornered you may seem for the moment.” I peer sharply at everypony else here as I add, “I suggest the rest of you all keep that in mind too.”

“Oh I have. Trust me,” the Doctor assures confidently. “For instance, I know there is one more wild card he has yet to play, but it shall not avail him as much as he thinks.”

“We’ll see about that!” Dispatcher spat in spiteful anger. “The Grinning Ghost . . . do your thing.”

“And so the curtain rises on this stage play to make room for one final performer,” announces a tall blue pony wearing the mask of the Grinning Ghost. He reveals himself from behind the throne. Upon sight of him, I choke up, startled. That is the very same creature that I witnessed melting ponies into 2-D wall paint, only now he’s actually talking and seems a bit more ordinary than he appeared last time.

Still, there is a debonair swagger to his entrance that I cannot deny. Until recently he was content to hide, but now that the spotlight is figuratively (and certainly not literally) on him, he seems to enjoy the attention. I almost expect him to give a kind of stage bow.

“We meet again,” the Doctor greets coyly while a look of deep cunning sinks into his eyes. That’s reassuring for me to see because it signifies that this encounter is indeed expected to the Doctor after all, but I still have no way to know what direction this is going now.

In a curious way, it also comforts me slightly to see everypony else on edge. That, in turn, helps to assure me that I’m not alone in my feelings.

“I do indeed!” The Grinning Ghost agrees as he stabs his cane down upon the ground which causes an audible pang. “The final performance has begun . . . and we’ve played our own parts well, you and I.”

Surprise sinks into Dispatcher’s eyes as he gazes at his last ally in shock as he asks, “What? You actually know this pony?”

“I told you that before,” The Grinning Ghost reminds as he turns the edge of his creepy mask closer to the crumpled Vizier beside him. “He and I go way back, in fact.” He gives a dark chuckle before he goes on to say, “Mind you, those past encounters have not been on the best of terms. It’s been rather hostile more often than not, in fact. Through it all, though, there is the occasional exception and sometimes I enjoy those times the best. When the Doctor and I are on the same page, we can make an unstoppable duo. Case in point . . .”

The Grinning Ghost trails off as he then thrusts the tip of his cane into Dispatcher. When that happens, the rest of us hear an audible “click”. At the same time Dispatcher’s body jolts for some reason. At that point it has become evident to me, and maybe most of these ponies as well (especially the brightest and most observant ones here), that the Grinning Ghost has injected something into Dispatcher’s body.

“Yah . . . you?!” Dispatcher asks in utter shock. “You betray me too?! But you had so much to gain from me!”

“Treachery does seem to be an ongoing theme of this fading day, so it seems,” the Grinning Ghost agrees. “Or at least it climatically reveals. Since the momentum has carried us this far, however, I figure it's best to ride it out to its natural conclusion.”

After saying that, this mysterious and ominous pony reaches up to finally pull off his Grinning Ghost mask. After that, I am surprised how ordinary he can appear, but there is still a heavy and dark gravitas about him which keeps me on edge.

Glancing about at the others, I discover that I’m not the only one to feel that way either. Only the Doctor seems to be the one not surprised here.

“You may all call me Card Shark,” Card Shark introduces, “and I am, indeed, the last Trump Card of this encounter to be revealed that matters. The Doctor was apt in describing me as the Wild Card as well, for such a thing can take many forms as needed. At my core, I’ve always had a certain inherent nature to me and I live for triumphant moments like this.”

Card Shark leans on his cane more and bows his head to be closer to the still writhing Dispatcher on the ground as the suave blue earth pony goes on to say, “I will admit your offer was a bit tempting, but not nearly as much as you might think, for you see, the Doctor and I share a similar heritage. Enough to ensure we are both less mortal than we outwardly appear. We are not completely invulnerable, of course, but it is enough to say with confidence that we have a . . . shall I say? . . . ‘leg up’ over most average ponies.” He chuckles darkly then goes on to say, “Besides which, I bow to no pony. There is no pony alive or dead that shall willingly induce me to take a knee, for only I am the Master of my own destiny. All those who dare to mistake that fact shall lie dead at my hooves.”

Card Shark then lifts his cane up once again then stabs it back down, only this time he does it directly into Dispatcher’s body. Dispatcher howls in pain while Card Shark cruelly twists his chosen weapon. When Dispatcher fights to compose himself, Card Shark bids, “Rest in Pain, Mr. Ed.”

“Enough of this . . . please,” the Doctor bids, clearly not enjoying beholding this.

“You’re the one who invited me,” Card Shark reminds as he turns back to the Doctor while literally kicking Dispatcher while he’s down at the same time he withdraws his cane from him. “Too late to complain about it now when you know full well how I operate.”

Card Shark starts trotting his way to join us while he continues his monologue.

“And isn’t that precisely why you invited me?” he asks his frenemy in a teasing voice. “To do what you cannot? To murder. To kill!” he says with acidic excitement. “That’s not the ‘style’ of the Doctor, now is it? But that doesn’t remove the occasional necessity from time to time. If it has to be done, better to dirty the hooves that are already bloody. So much the better, in fact, for I won’t lose any sleep over this.”

“Is any of this true?” Princess Celestia asks the Doctor with a disapproving frown.

“I would prefer we discuss the details of this later,” the Doctor replies. “Until then, tense emotions can lead to their own forms of misunderstanding, and I want the truth to be clear when the time is right.”

I gasp in shock when this whole situation suddenly clicks into place for me because there are certain elements about the Doctor’s past that I had borrowed which helps to explain our present situation. Many times in the Doctor’s past he had one nemesis which he often had a tête-à-tête with. In the vast majority of that time, the other individual had a “humanoid” form, too. That person was none other that a nefarious version of a fellow Time Lord. An individual who often referred to himself as “The Master.”

I facehoof and groan as I realize that that individual troublemaker is in the pony universe too. At least, in this case, the Doctor is aware of it and is keeping an eye on his ancient frenemy. Between all the various tussles they’ve had between them, it is comforting, to me, to know that the Doctor usually had the upper “hand” between them, as it were.

Curiously enough, they seem to be cooperating with each other on this mission even though it also appears they don’t see completely eye to eye on the details of it. Reflecting on the Doctor’s memories that I’m aware of in an effort to find an explanation for this, one aspect that stands out about them, despite all of their many fights, is a curious sense of affection that they also have for each other. Because of that, both sides often tried to coerce the other to join each other.

For some reason they found a tenuous agreement with each other for this particular mission, but I still get this nagging feeling that they are both secretly trying to outdo the other somehow at the same time.

“With all of that said,” announces Card Shark as he joins us then spins about to face the still writhing Dispatcher, “his failure is complete.”

Dispatcher clearly seems to agree with that sentiment too. His movements seem to suddenly relax and his mood collapses into despair. He clearly seems to have suddenly just given up. The Doctor clearly has covered all of his bases with the remainder of this adventure all too well, and Dispatcher finally realizes that.

Then, unexpectedly, my wife moves to comfort him. At first this mystifies me, but then I recall his reaction to her earlier. There is no doubt in my mind that my wife noticed that too, but unlike me, she might have a good idea why all of that was so.

Now that I think about it, an answer does come to mind. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me sooner. Maybe my own pain and rage blinded me, but every iota of a reaction he ever had to my wife strongly indicates another layer of motivation for him beyond the lust for pure power. Had that always been the case, he should have enslaved my wife long ago as a spawn of the symbite. More than likely the entity within him actually encouraged this. My wife is a key political figure of this nation, after all, and yet he stayed his hoof against that plan for some reason.

He resisted that dark temptation! Why? In order to fight against the powerful and corrupting instincts of the symbite, which my experience with the Brass Sphere clearly attest to, there has to be an extremely powerful motive to successfully resist it. Try as I might, I can only think of one that makes sense. For the same reason, it could also explain why he wanted me out of the way.

Indeed, he was jealous of me, but it is for a more dynamic reason than a lust for power on its own. That was true too and there’s no doubt in my mind that the symbite tried to capitalize on those baser instincts, but when it comes to Princess Arielza, there was another drive in his heart.

It just had to be. It explains everything. He really did and truly love her.

As I watch my wife kindly bending down and brushing a hoof across his cheek to comfort him, all at once my mind spun ahead in time, for once, to see two possible futures that would have occurred if the heroes of this adventure had never intervened. I see those paths because I know, now, that there were actually two goals Dispatcher had in his mind and heart, and they were incompatible with each other. On one hoof was his lust for power in this nation, and perhaps even the whole world, and on the other was his love for my wife.

The reason these two goals were incompatible is because of the personal feelings of my wife. If he truly wanted her to love him too, then either he would have to change or she would. To induce the latter, he’d have to give in to his temptations and corrupt her as a spawn of the symbite. If that happened he could control her outright, and that includes thrusting her forcefully down the dark path.

But if love won out, then it is he who would have to change to stand any chance of winning the affection of a mare as compassionate as she. To do that, he’d undoubtedly have to give up his pursuit of dark power. Moreover he’d have to confess his crimes and do everything he could to make up for them. All the while he’d be desperately fighting against the screaming instincts of the symbite within him.

Ultimately that would have resulted in one of two things. Either he’d have to entirely reject the symbite and expel it from his system somehow, or if that proved impossible, then I think he would outright kill himself just to ensure it does not harm the one he loves. If it is indeed love within him that is bright and true, that’s the only possible ending I can see for this tragic story.

When that dawns on me, I suddenly realize that Dispatcher and I had one important thing in common after all. We both loved her, but she chose me, so in his mind he was forced to become the opponent.

When all of that clicks into place, I realize that I have sympathy for him too. I still do not like what he did to me, or my nation, but if true love was his guiding principle with her at least, then the two of us can agree on at least one thing. That one thing provided some glow of hope for a brighter future too, but more than likely it still would have ended in tragedy. Like it or not, he sealed his fate when he agreed to be the host of this wicked symbite.

“Nanpour,” Dispatcher calls out weakly. When he does, I notice my wife looks back at me too. Her eyes beg me to do what I can to comfort him in his last moments.

I cannot deny her. For my own reasons, I want to do this anyway now.

“I am here,” I tell him as I approach, then kneel over him.

“I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but if you’ll indulge me one last request,” Dispatcher asks me hopefully.

“I’m listening,” I reply.

“Make . . . her . . . happy,” he begs me weakly. “Keep . . . her . . . happy. You do that, and we’re good.”

I smile bittersweetly as I tell him, “I would gladly do that anyway, but I’ll redouble that effort for your sake as well. If I may ask one thing in return, though.”

Dispatcher merely lifts a curious eyebrow at me to signify I have his attention in regards to this request.

I shake my head as I declare, “I don’t like fighting and I don’t want enemies. In my eyes, this should never have been. I must have trusted you quite a bit to appoint you to my most trusted advisor in the first place. I say, the next time we meet again, let’s be true friends from then on.”

Dispatcher regards my wife lovingly for a moment before looking back at me and weakly saying, “Agreed.”

With that, he closes his eyes for the last time.

Author's Note

There are still a few loose ends to tie up in this story, but this chapter is the major climax and final chapter for Swift Hoof, aka Nanpour Alabaster. In the end he didn't do much. His allies secured their victory all too well to make any action for the main character necessary. He was observant, though, and had learned a lot in that encounter. As a result, it is easy to imagine the results of this encounter profoundly affecting him ever onward.

Also, I don't know about the rest of you, but for me, every time I read, or even during the moment I wrote the death scene of Dispatcher at the end of this chapter, I keep thinking of this song. In particular, the last few seconds of it starting at timestamp 2:07. I just can't shake it.