The great mansion of Scalpel lay far more silent than it had been in many days. It’s halls and underground passages no longer sounded with the beating of metal and the stamp of iron hooves, but now were quiet and dark. One small portion of the house still contained life however, a guest bedroom which was occupied by two souls.
A huge mahogany bed lay in the center of it, covered in a rich tapestry of covers, depicting ancient scenes and fables of pony kinds folklore. To the side of it lay a small table with a guttered lantern on it, but the room was not dark but filled with light from a huge window from which light cast itself in, bringing with it the morning day. It was slightly open letting in a warm breeze of air, ushering in the scents of summer into a house of dust and machinery. The rest of the room was furnished to the requirements of a great noble, with an intricately carved writing desk just to the side of the window, and a huge wardrobe to the left of the door which stood ajar and empty of clothing.
But what was most noticeable was the silhouette standing before the window, framed by the light,the silent patient sentinel of Silver Scalpel. A comfortable armchair lay just before the window, and held the Black Sun Prophecies opened at one unintelligible page. The only sound was the quiet breathing of Scalpel, and the rooms other occupant.
One moment Lens was under the night sky, standing before the Noxferus. The mission was accomplished, and the others could go home. And she would stay and see what wonders…
...then she awoke in a comfortable bed, in a room more suited to the nobles of Whitegold. She stared at the room for several moments, trying to get her bearings. The sun was now out, seemingly morning. Wasn't it night before? Wasn't I in the middle of ancient ruins before?
She faintly remembered a sharp pain, and then… dreams. Or where they dreams? They were too real, felt alive and painful, the last sight being so nightmarish tears began to flow from her eyes. No, not a dream, but a memory of the past. She turned to face Scalpel in his standing by the window. Despite her bewilderment, Lens looked at him in sadness. For she knew who that poor child was, feeling his pain, his fears, and his desires. She so wanted to do something, anything to comfort him.
But she stayed silent and waited.
“You’re awake I see,” came a sudden announcement from Scalpel. he hadn’t turned to look, but he had noticed the sharp change in breathing which signaled wakefulness, “I’m glad. I was worried the drug would keep you asleep for considerably longer.”
He turned around and walked over to her, his face a pale mask showing not a glimmer of emotion. he had retreated behind his professionalism, but anyone could tell that he was holding on to a fragile eggshell of protection. His eyes betrayed him too convincingly for him to pretend to be fine, behind them was guilt... and fear.
He placed a hoof on her head, feeling for a temperature, and took a look at her eyes, “Your pupils are still somewhat dilated, but you’re not running a temperature and you seem to have clarity of vision. Some food and drink in you and you’ll be right as rain.” With this he pulled a pull-cord, and somewhere far below an order was sent to the remaining staff.
“How are you feeling Lens?” he asked, and this time there was some emotion in his voice, fear, but more of her response than of any physical hurt she might bring to him, “how much do you remember of last night?”
Lens tried without success to stop crying, for the memory still remained. For a moment she was silent as to not sob, closing her eyes and listened to the sounds of the morning. Only yesterday she woke up to something similar. But then she was alone at a marginally well kept inn. She went back to that and began to regain enough of her composure to speak.
“I..I remember our initial meeting, and the trade of the two books. Then I was speaking to you, when I felt a sharp pain in my back. Then came blackness, save for strange visions, and that’s all I can recall,” she said. “Speaking of pain, my back feels sore as well as my head, like I was still recovering from a hangover again.”
Scalpel couldn’t bare to see the beautiful mare shed tears, it almost broke him, but not quite. Smiling thinly but not without compassion, He pulled out a handkerchief and began to wipe away her tears in a methodical manner as she continued to speak. “This fits with what occurred until the point where you were taken out. I shall… attempt to fill in the blanks.”
using a levitational pull he dragged the chair over to the bedside, and moving the book to the small table, sat down on it heavily with a sigh. With a somewhat ill look, he took a deep breath and began to speak.
“Your group had been compromised by Inquisitors when you met me that night, somehow they’d managed to place an operative in your group and followed you to the location we had set up. That sharp feeling in your back? That was the agent injecting a specific type of drug into your system, a type of truth serum which made you completely open to interrogation. After that an entire group of them teleported in as support to the main operative, if I hadn’t laid out plans to counter such a thing, I doubt many of us would either be alive, or if we were we would have been in custody of the Inquisition.”
“The Inquisition? But why would they expend so much effort? They wouldn’t know about you, and the Scholarship, well we’re on their blacklist to be sure, but they have far bigger game to hunt.” Lens shook her head, as to clear her mind, but she still felt groggy. She didn’t even attempt to lift up from the bed.
Scalpel leaned back in his chair, frowning slightly as he did so. “From what I gathered from the coded letters and documents their main agent had, They were looking to capture you and use you as blackmail material against your grandfather, Professor Prancer. From that point onwards it follows on that they would use his connection to the Scholarship to bring a certain ‘Silver Sweeper’ into a trap and capture her.” he looked pointedly at Lens, “That would be your Alicorn I take it? in any case its all rather typical of Twilight and her minions, she was probably hoping to harvest her so she could speed forward her ascension.”
Lens eyes widened when the Noxferus revealed what he knew: Of her relationship to Prancer and of Silver Sweeper. How did he know? She nodded, knowing that there would be no point in keeping that data. “Yes, Professor Prancer is my grandfather, and the Scholarship is working for Sliver Sweeper, Chambermaid of the alicorns. However neither I nor anypony else of Prancer’s faction, save for the Director himself, has ever meet with Sweeper.”
The vision of an angry green alicorn came back to Lens, and she gasped a bit. “I didn’t tell you sooner because I didn’t want to cause you any alarm. The Director is merely using his connections with Sweeper as a resource to aid his goals.” She began to blush at the thought, feeling like a foal confessing to stealing from a cookie jar. “It fits that the Inquisition would try to abduct me, once they knew of the Scholars alliance. But I wonder how they found out.”
Scalpel shrugged, his brow furrowed slightly in deep thought, “I am not certain, although its likely they have agents in your organisation, keeping an eye on dissidents is rather standard procedure with the Inquisition. As far as I could tell your group did not become overtaken by their operatives until relatively recently, but I have no idea how many of them still lie undiscovered in the ranks of the Scholarship.”
Lens wondered for a moment. “If there is, it would be like a daughter betraying their mother. Most of the order’s membership consists of students and faculty of Canterlot University. When Twilight came to power, she did so much harm to them that they would never align themselves with her. And many members of the order are family to the original founders to some extent.” She paused. “My mother was the result of a union with the Director and a researcher back before the Sack.
“As for security… I don’t know about the rest of the Scholarship, but I can tell you my grandfather makes sure anyone working for him is loyal. He takes great efforts to make sure we stay that way. Not to mention the effort done to make sure spies don’t infiltrate our order - Manehatten intrigue and all that.”
Scalpel Hmm’d in interest, already playing a couple of scenarios through his head as to how the Scholarship might have been infiltrated. “It could be that they have replaced some of the previous members with their own, the operative that was with you had managed to take the visage of one of your companions, a bit like changeling magic I assume. It could be that they got in through that way, either that, or someone within your organisation has been keeping tabs on you since the beginning. Although that does not seem likely given your family based structure…”
“If the Inquisition did find a way to change their form, it would be a breakthrough. But as far as I know, the only spell most of their agents know is Glamour. And that last only for hours at most… Which pony did the agent look like?”
“I had my agents investigate the locality, on the matter of your replaced scholar, Southwatcher was the one the Inquisitor was impersonating, I also received clarification beforehand from a friend of your’s called Scarlet. I didn’t know if more of your group had been operatives, so I brought the remaining one here. The other, Lightwing? was killed in the battle, they crushed his skull in, there was nothing I could do for him.”
Tears began to form in Lens eyes again, but she managed to avoid crying. “Poor Light... his mother…” She went silent for a moment, and she remembered the snarky pegasus. He had accompanied Lens through so many missions, sharing in their defeats and successes. Now he was dead. Anger filled her mind. “The infiltrator… what did he look like? And is he dead?” Her voice was edged with wrath.
Scalpel gave her a sympathetic glance as he continued to detail last nights events, placing a hoof on one of her shoulders as an expression of care. “I can’t quite recall what she looked like, but last time I looked she was dead, slit throat and a sliced off horn. None of the Inquisitor task force survived by ambush, they were in various states of dismemberment afterwards. Scarlet I believe dealt with her, I think her name was Longsight or something along those lines, she along with the others is currently being… processed.”
Usually Lens would have been neutral towards the use of such corpses. After all, the research from the dead could do more for the living. But this time she felt good when she heard the Inquisitor's fate.
Then she collapsed back in bed upon remembering where she heard the name Longsight. She stopped breathing for several moments. The name came with a face, and she remembered the unicorn that was with Lilly yesterday.
“Longsight… She was the spy. I remember now, the Baldies, the missionaries of Sweeper. Longsight wasn’t trying to infiltrate the Scholarship, but the alicorn’s cult. Lilly had personal contact with Sweeper and got her blessing, I remember now. The Inquisition was probably hoping Lilly would lead them to the Lady.” She shook. “We didn’t care much for the Sweeper Cult save as a source of information, tools… and it blinded me.”
Scalpel nodded in response, “It does seem that this god of your’s is very… offhoof, with her followers, it would make such an organisation easy to infiltrate, I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner. It may be advisable to keep an eye on them in future, and once you’ve recovered I’ll hand you the documents and my decoded translations in order to assist your group. I have no love for the Inquisition… nor their dear Archmage.”
“Thank you, for rescuing me and your help. And yes, Sweeper is rather… for the lack of a better term random. I’m not sure if she’s lucky or by her plans that she landed by one of our bases. In any case, some Scholar named Scroll meet her first and that’s how we got her support. After that came a long and even stranger adventures that could fill an entire volume.” She grimaced. “I think you should check out my back, make sure that syringe wasn’t infected or something.”
Gently lifting her up with his front hooves he pulled aside part of her wrinkled clothes in search of the injection point. “If you could turn over on to your hooves and sit still I’ll have a look at it, although I doubt its infected, that would probably defeat the purpose of the injection if you went into a fever.” With that done he had a good look at the point in the light of the morning, humming as he did so, “It looks like its just some bruising Lens,” he said, blushing slightly at being so close to the mare, but still managing to stay on track “She did stab it into you particularly viciously, like an adrenaline shot really, so I believe this is just your bodies shock to a sudden intrusion, hang on a tick.”
Giving it one last glance for any signs of infection, and finding none, he lit his horn up and cast a minor medical spell, “There, that should ease the pain there, eventually it’ll go down on its own, but I figure it will be stiff for a good number of days afterwards,” pausing momentarily he brought out a small clear bottle and dampened a cotton lump with it, daubing the darkened skin around the injection. he gave her a small smile, humming an old tune whilst he worked “Its just antiseptic, just in case you were right. But I don’t think you’re in any danger. I checked her tools myself, they seemed as clean as mine.”
Lens face was turning violet, blushing as Scalpel did his work. Usually she wouldn’t have been embarrassed by a medical procedure. But she could not help but think of those hooves and telekinesis of the master doctor. A thousand butterflies floated through her stomach, and a small smile had formed on Len’s lips. “That’s good to hear,” she said. “I must compliment on your abilities Doctor.”
Then another thought came to her, the visions during her sleep. “Noxferus, the syringe, you said it had a truth serum in it.” Her smile disappeared. “If I was in your horseshoes, I would have made sure we weren’t working for the Inquisition. Did you do anything to me when I was under it’s influence?”
Scalpel went very quiet at that, his face changing from relative good cheer to an almost deathly parlor. When he finally responded it was a in a low and slightly sensitive voice, “I will not pretend that my actions were done with the best intentions, nor will I excuse myself for doing them. I know it was a gross violation of your privacy, but… I had to be certain.” he tried to redirect his eyes, to look away from the mare whose mind he had invaded, a slightly wet touch lingering at the edges of them. “I admit that I did look, not far, but far enough to exonerate you from all association with the Inquisition, as well as to learn part of what I have told you. I… I was tempted to look deeper, I wanted to know if... I almost took the step. But I forced myself back, I had no right to delve that deeply. I wanted to know if you shared my feelings, but that was one step too far, and in my anger at myself I allowed part of my memory to boil over the edges into your’s.”
His eye were shining, frightened and terrified at her response, confusion and worry flickering incessantly across his features, “What you saw was part of memories, from a long, long time ago… I didn’t want to show you, and such a reveal has made me feel fragile…” he laughed slightly but there was no mirth in it, “But that was me… and you got a clear view before I managed to pull myself away.”
He pulled his hooves away, slightly disgusted with himself at getting so close to the mare he’d mentally defiled, passion and self hatred erupting from his eyes like sparks, his gaze becoming a whirlpool of emotions. In a low uncertain response he continued, shaking slightly “I understand if you… do take offense at that, truthfully I might too given your innocence, but I hope… I hope… you will find it within you to forgive my trespass. I should not have looked, but these times, they have made me so wary and distrustful.”
Lens was silent for a few moments, eyes widened and jaw opened at the memories of Scalpel. Every fear, every feeling he remembered she experienced as well. The most terrifying thing was the possibility that it was not the full memory. Lens could not imagine how it could be even more nightmarish than she could recall.
She looked directly into Scalpel’s eyes. “You do have the right of self-defense, and you knew little about me to have your trust. You did what was needed to survive. And after what happened to you as a child, I can’t blame you if you want just to survive.
She was quiet for a few more moments. “ As for your interrogation, I have no recollection what you did. Except your memories, I didn’t feel anything. I could have told you everything I knew if you just but asked… a troubling thought if the Inquisition has developed such a powerful serum.” She shook her head to get back on the topic. “I do feel irked that you did enter my mind, like reading a diary. But no harm was done, and I am glad you told me. You have my forgiveness.” Lens leaned forward and gave Scalpel a hug. It was an alien feeling to her, for she had not hugged anypony in years.
Scalpel stiffened momentarily when she hugged him, but with a shuddering exhalation relaxed into it. He was having trouble holding himself together as it was, but despite her forgiveness being a great relief he could not entirely remove the guilt he felt. Slowly he wrapped his hooves around her and returned the huge tenderly. “Thank you,” he breathed, “I… did not look far. A month or two, and mostly relating to how you found me. I couldn’t hold it from you, however. It would have driven me mad.”
Gently pulling out from the hug he fixed her with a smile, a truly compassionate smile, a rare sight on his face. Beneath it the spark of that passion grew a little more intense, a little more bright. Maybe there is hope after all... he thought, and held on to that small spark as dearly as his life depended upon it.
“I promise I shall never look again, unless you wish it, although I doubt that will ever occur. You have my full trust from here on out.”
“Thank you Master Noxferus,” Lens said. Tears flowed again. “Goodness, I haven’t cried since I was a foal.” She chuckled slightly and wiped the tears. “But what what do we do next? And what of Steel Hammer? Was he injured or … is he mortally wounded?” She had wondered why Scalpel had not mentioned the small metalsmith more.
Scalpel suddenly recalled that the mare hadn’t been alone when she had entered, he’d almost completely forgotten about the other one, Steel Hammer was it? well… how would he put this diplomatically … “Steel Hammer is alive and fine… in a manner of speaking. I’ll take you to see him soon enough, although he may look a bit… ah, different. There were some complications... with… his internal organs!” before she asked further he raised a hoof, hiding his nerves cautiously behind his clinical mask, “He is perfectly fine, generally speaking, but his new appearance may come as somewhat a surprise.”
Looking left and right he decided it was a good time to redirect the conversation, “As for what happens next… well, I am afraid I can’t stay here, my position has been compromised by the Inquisitors and thanks to me causing their task force to disappear there will be an investigation. I will need to change locations, luckily I have something in mind as of this moment. Normally I would cut ties with your organisation after this. But prompting further investigation on your part I will keep up communication with the scholars from a hidden location. I believe most actions will take place between my intermediaries. Regarding actual meetings and deals with me personally… well, I would like you to be the permanent envoy between me and your Scholarship. I trust you, so I’d prefer to deal with someone familiar and… close, rather than a random group. Just… keep a good eye on your team next time.”
He frowned slightly, a slightly guilty look overtaking his face, “Also due to the failure of the deal and our near death at the hands of Inquisitors I believe that your Grandfather needs have my security concerns taken care of before I decided to hand over my portion of the arrangement. with the ‘Prophecies’ held as collateral for the meanwhile, I am not a person he should take lightly, and this gross failure is concerning to say the least. I will give it over soon enough I believe, so long as I see some progress in that front, I do not want a repeat of this time.”
Finally he turned to look at her and gave her another smile, “Finally, I would like to talk to you more… and maybe find out more about you the right way. I… feel a connection to you, you’re intelligent, beautiful and alluring and in general, wonderful. I want to find out who the real Lens is, and maybe grow closer to her…”
Lens face became a dark purple, her heart beating faster and faster. To hear those words she felt the love overwhelming. That they could become colleagues, and more, was all that she wanted most. “Yes, I feel…” But she knew this was not the time for love. Not when the Noxferus was in danger. She needed to be the Professional Lens, the cold and logical, if they were to survive. “...I feel that we must deal with Security as well. I was too lax, thinking it was a just a simple trade. And for my lack of preparedness, my peers paid the price. And put you and your companions at risk. The Inquisition now knows the Scholars connection with the alicorns, and we must take action.
“As soon as we deal with this mess here, I’ll have my grandfather do what needs to be done. The Marvels may be safer in your hooves in any case - no doubt the roads are not safe for me to travel now as they were before.” She went silent, and let the emotions enter her mind again. “And yes, I too think you’re brilliant, the most brilliant mind I’ve meet. And handsome to boot. When this is over, we could-” There was a large growl emanating from her stomach. She looked down, feeling more embarrassed now than when she showed up drunk.
Scalpel gave a barking laugh at the sudden rumble of his guest stomach, “It seems that your stomach is demanding priority Lens, and I believe I hear footsteps on the stairs.” He gave her a grin, “Handsome chap am I? well I haven’t heard that one before, nice to know though! As for travel I will have some of my creations keep an eye out for you in case of trouble, but hopefully you will get back home just fine.” His eyes twinkled with good cheer, being in exceptionally high spirits at the news, “I am… also glad we share interest, I promise I will keep up communication with you, I have a gift which might assist in that in fact! But that is for later, I look forward to setting up proper diplomatic dealings with the Scholarship. You will see me sooner than you think, if all goes well.” He leaned forward, and although blushing slightly at the impropriety, nuzzled her affectionately.
At that moment the door opened and Scalpel turned to look at the new arrival, Honey with her golden bronze hair and cream coat levitated a appetizing looking breakfast through the air, her tongue sticking out of her mouth in concentration. Scalpel gave her a beaming smile, “looks like foods here. that’s my niece by the way, but I can introduce you properly after you’ve had some food, you must be famished.”
EldritchOne
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Tai Falkenburg said
Sure, I have a couple of hours free now. I'm on the gdoc right now.Edit: Sorry, I have to get ready for work now. Should be back about 9PM.
Alright, sorry, I didn't think you'd be on this early, so I was expecting a late answer.
Tai Falkenburg said
Probably best if you started. Just PM a link.
Hey there Tai, when do you want to do the second part of this? I have a lot of free time, so whenever you can find some for this, I'd be happy to get going with it. To be honest I don't have much going on right now, and i need something to occupy my time.
The following contains a scene which I feel I should prewarn you about before reading, depicting household violence which may be a trigger to some, viewer discretion is advised
One never knows how a dream begins - they always find themselves smack in the middle of somewhere. Here for anypony visiting Len’s subconscious, they found themselves in a endless vast library - shelves of tomes spanning into the distance until they blurred out of sight. On the left side, one can see a wall of solid stone and metal. It rose into eternity.
But a few meters away, one could see a door opened, chains and locks laying useless on the floor.
Scalpel looked about this library of the mind with interest, even in drugged slumber it seemed that Lens’ intellect towered, he thought bemusedly. He felt rather strange, not wholly corporeal, but almost as if he was made of silk floating above the floor on a breeze. It was clear to him however, that the door which was open before him was the means towards his information on her organisation, his first choice would naturally be to observe her most recent memories, perhaps flickering through a month or two unless he found something interesting.
He had never truly done this sort of magic very often however, so he was nervous, and he didn’t want to impose undue stress upon the already drugged and he guessed, kind of ‘kidnapped mare’, but at the same time he was curious to learn more about her and these ‘Scholars’.
With nothing holding him back Scalpel entered through the unchained door.
The endless wall was gone, but the door seemed to remain. Beyond the threshold was an office, looking rather spartan, save for a couch, a desk, and a bookcase. Though the walls were unpainted, the material was high quality marble, polished to a mirror surface. It was the stuff only the rich could afford.
Two, three shadowy figures began to emerge. Or where they always there, and now only shown up? One sat at the desk, the others facing the pony. One can make out the face of an aged unicorn, wearing some sort of bifocals with one lens green and the other pink. His hair was a natural grey, time had taken out the color. But the look only enhanced the authority this unicorn had.
The others in the office all wore the similar cloaks - blue with stars and other scholarly markings. The older unicorn spoke: “I don’t trust these alicorns.”
Scalpel paused, this memory seemed important, perhaps he had better listen in what was going on, especially when it involved the venerable Professor Prancer. He hovered to the side, staying out of the line of the recorded memory as it played out before him, observing and memorising it.
The other ponies in the room began to look more solid. “You’re always a bit too paranoid,” said Steel Hammer. “And at your age it’s not good for you.” Standing next to him was the pegasus Lightwing, and a blue shadow. It vaguely resembled the form of Dr. Lens. Both were quiet, though Lightwing had rolled his eyes at Steel’s comment.
Observing that interaction, one felt “warmed” by the conversation. To any watchers, they would have felt a sense of friendship or family that came from watching Steel and Prancer. The memories were not merely visual - they also transmitted the emotions of Lens.
“In any case, Master Hammer, the alicorns could prove to only hasten Equestria’s demise,” Prancer said.
“But this Sliver Sweeper doesn’t seem to be a problem,” Lightwing said.
“Well, I certainly agree with you there, Professor Prancer” Scalpel mused out loud, from what he had seen so far, it appeared as if they had similar ideas on the danger of Alicorn kind. He went silent again as the memory continued, listening into the conversations turn to Silver Sweeper, she out of all of them had been the most elusive to follow up on, so knowing more about her could prove useful.
“No, from my report as well as the other Directors, she doesn’t appear to be a major problem. Key word being ”appear”. Sweeper looks like the silliest alicorn having no mane, focusing on cleaning up messes, and having Scroll ride her back only adds to the hilarity. But underlying that…” Prancer frowned. “... Considering she is more powerful than any of our order, that is something to be worried about. Especially in the hooves of a alicorn who loves to be random! Unpredictability is the last thing we need.”
Hammer nodded. “Well, at least she isn’t some Discord, creating chaos for the sake of chaos. Or that’s what I get from Scroll’s reports.”
A voice came from the blue shadow - clearer than the previous voices or sound. “Yes, Sweeper has a logical goal, despite her illogical means,” said Lens.
“But it seems that Scroll and Sweeper still get into plenty of trouble,” muttered Prancer. He leaned back into his chair and sighed. “In any case, I want you to continue avoiding any contact with Sweeper or the alicorns.”
“What, worried Sweeper is going to give us bad haircuts?,” Steel said in jest. Though Prancer didn’t show it, the feelings of Lens communicated that the older Earth pony and the unicorn were acquaintances of some sort.
“A precaution… I don’t know what the alicorns will do if they find out about MRI’s practices-”
Instantly, briefly there was an image of a lab with animals being vivisected.
“- or who is working there. If they do become a threat, we’ll need some sort of countermeasure...” Another flash, one of diagrams and text - The Marvels of Science.
“And here it comes…” Scalpel smiled, a rare thing, but he was getting somewhere and becoming rather invested in this conversation, even though he knew it was just a memory. He barely blinked at the images of vivisected animals, he’d done worse when he was in university, and committed even more foul activities when he left it. The information on Sweeper was top notch, and if these people were right in their understanding of her, he might not have anything to fear in terms of her retribution. Vaguely his mind twitched in the back to an image of Thea, surrounded by burning carnage, kneeling in a picturesque pose just outside of it.
He most certainly did not need another of Her.
There was a gasp from Len’s Outline, but it sounded very very distant, like an echo through a canyon. Her eyes were now visible and solid, and staring straight at Scalpel. But then shortly the eyes dulled and faced back to Prancer.
Something changed, the memory began to distort and shift. Metal walls, clean and sterile. Ponies in lab coats, going over machinery. Prancer stood over table covered in equations and notes. Len’s Outline waited nearby. It was a much more recent memory, perhaps a few weeks ago.
“Sweetie, could you get me another coffee?” Prancer asked. Joy and laughter came to mind, like a child seeing a parent.
“You know Director, it’s not very professional to call your peers by their nickname,” Lens said, a bit of humor behind those words.
“You’re my granddaughter first, and... or was it great-grandaughter? This job is making me lose my sanity,” he muttered.
“So is it true like the rumors said? That the Moon and Star’s vaults were sacked?”
“Yes my dear, we received a report from one of my operatives. An alicorn had raided entire collections of not just books, but art and artifacts. Of who I do not know. Scroll’s looking into it.” He looked down at the work. “And how was the investigation going in regards to our Mysterious Doctor?”
“Nothing recently, it seems we lost the trail again.”
Prancer slammed his hoof on the table. “And only a matter of time until the Scholarship may be targeted by the book-stealing alicorn. The tome could be the key, the key to an ultimate defense.” Those words were referencing the Marvels of Science. “Tell me Sol… how would you protect against a foe who can enter from any direction, where walls are meaningless?”
Hit with the sudden blast of familial love, Scalpel had to bite back his own bitterness on his own relationships with his family. A scene came to his mind, his brutish looking father, built like a brick wall, militaristic looking, with cropped hair and a heavy mustache, but also red faced and inebriated from too much wine, roaring at him on a racist tirade about unicorn supremacy.
The young Scalpel used to hide in the corner of the room when this happened, hoping he would not attract his fathers ire, attempting to play statue as the stallion frothed and raged. Even now he could still feel the cold terror and dread that young colt had felt upon the appearance of his father, as well as the deep, deep hatred that had spread like black poison through him for the stallion.
He shook his head, banishing the scene, this explained why they were searching him out. He knew the Marvels discussed dimensional shifting of certain physical things, perhaps they were trying to seal away their vaults from the prying hooves of the Arcon? He had better watch and find out, still he could not help but feel some level of envy for the mare who had such a good relationship with her grandparent.
“Now… I wonder when the Inquisitors managed to meld themselves into this organisation…”
Another change, the world blurred, and they found themselves on the deck of an airship. Lightwing was there. “So why are we going to the ass-end of Equestria?” The Scholars sat at a booth, probably the ship’s bar. Not a military craft, a passenger one.
The Lens outline did not reply right away. Again her eyes were solid and seemed to follow Scalpel a bit. But soon they went back to the pegasus. “Remember Trottingham?”
“Yeah, where we picked up and lost track of Mr. Mysterious pony. And just like the last lead we followed, we found a lot of bodies and very small parts. It’s like the guy is doing this deliberately to mess with us.’ He sighed. “You know, he’d probably clean up his tracks better if he didn’t leave so much of his handiwork. Dead ponies do tell tales, or so that creepy forensics pony tells me.” An image of a wild haired and pale pony, with an off-kilter smile and an aura of nightmares.
“That Sweeper Cultist that’s now resting may be able to lead us to the Marvels-”
And then back to the lab with Prancer. “-of Science, dear. I said it would take a decade to create a portal to another universe even with the book. But we could bend space and time to create a bubble as it were to protect our vaults...”
Then another change, outside the sun was shining on the outskirts of Woodwatch. It was three days ago. In front of the Scholars were several ponies, all bald accept one. The unicorn had short purple hair, bright yellow fur. Longsight played her role well.
“Ah, it is good to see the representatives of High Priest Scroll! Welcome, welcome!” Lily greeted them with great joy.
“Yes, thank you for sending Mr. Flowerpot to contact the Scholarship,” the Lens outline said. “We should get down to business-”
Back to Prancer’s office: “Then what’s the point of following Sweeper’s cultists around if we’re trying to keep our distance?”, Lightwing asked.
“Being allied with an alicorn does have some advantages,” replied Prancer. “Namely we could use their followers to help us. Such missionaries can keep their eyes and ears open and they travel wide and far. And they report that to us. After all, any news we can gather is important for the Calculations-” The word seemed to have a great importance, as if he spoke of them like prophesy. “- and the acolytes can help find other potential scholars who are in hiding.”
The Scholarship does more than just preserve the past - we look out for our peers . It was Len’s voice.
Despite his undercurrent of ever growing tension due to his treacherous thoughts, Scalpel was beginning to relax a little in relief, all of these memories simply proved that Lens may have just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He knew that if it hadn’t been for Scarlet or more decisive higher thought he might have ended her there in a fit of paranoid rage, he was glad he did not.
Almost immediately after remembering it, and with the proof being near undeniable, Scalpel lit up in an almost glowing level of shame and self hatred for even considering it.
I’ve been going too far…
He picked up on the conversation on Trottingham as he brooded, his ears perking up at the impertinence shown towards him. Well its not as if I had time to cover up my studies before the bloody city exploded into rioting you dratted featherbrain[i] again, a momentary flicker, staring back at his old hospital as it exploded, blasting flaming debris and roasted ponies everywhere as he fled with Honey and Grunge.
He twitched again at the picture of the wild looking forensics pony, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever met him, but that one smelt like cultist material, either that or the mortuaries had been hiring necrophiliacs after severely dropping their standards.
He watched the rest half interestedly, but came to in shock at the sudden overhead monologue from Lens.
[i]Is she... talking to me?
If the voice was directed at Scalpel, it did not reply again. Instead it went to a strange scene, a cell, a pony in a straitjacket, and a rather cool eyed Scholar - a pegasus, but it was not Lightwing. He stood by with medical tools that were modified to inflict pain rather than to heal. Yet despite this, the memory was not totally filled with disgust, though Lens feelings made clear she did not care for torment. It was the pegasus rather, another fraternal feeling.
On closer inspection, the victim was wearing motley, and the wide eyes indicated that the victim was a Laughing Cultist.
“Well uncle, did you find out anything?” Lens asked, with no emotion in her voice.
The pegasus turned to her and nodded. Dr. Maple was from her grandmother’s side of the family, and a peer of Prancer. Once a nice dentist, something had changed him, something that Lens thought was very dark and unthinkable. “Nothing new, or at least to the whereabouts of the Doctor,” Maple said. “The Stromwing troopers already did a number to my patient - I dare not go any further.”
Lens approached the “patient”, “We could set you free to join the Party now, just tells us we need to know about the Doctor.” It was a lie, as Lens knew the Stormwing troops were going to execute the cultist after the interrogation.
The Cultist babbled, and among the rant was heard “the legless girl-”
Back to Woodwatch, under a tent that was the shelter for Sweeper’s mission. Lens was looking at a picture of Honey, though she knew not her name or relation. We got this from a private investigator sent to follow up on a lead. He was photographing the residence, not knowing that the Doctor and his companion was just outside and blending into the crowd. It was only after the film was developed that he noticed that. Lens’ voice. Was she narrating or was her memories intertwining with her thoughts? The Investigator disappeared after sending us the photos.
“And this is the pony you saw?” Lens asked Lily, pointing to Honey. Lily nodded, “Witnessed her twice coming back from the general store. I recognized the face and followed, so I can direct you to her house.”
“And what would a crippled pony be of interest to the Lady Sweeper ?” The question came from Longsight. Her voice was more of a questioning tone, sounding as innocent and curious as possible. If there had been any malice, it was well hidden.
“The Lady cares about all ponies,” Len said. It was the truth, for Sweeper did care to heal the scars of the wounded. She could not replace missing limbs or horns, but she could at least care for those broken hearts. “And it is important we contact the foal, in regards to another pony we seek.”
“For what purpose?” In retrospect, it was now clear that Lightwing was gathering intel.
“To further the goals of the Lady Sweeper, for she has many projects and a need for many specialists to provide aid.” Lens said it to avoid any more questions.
Scalpel watched impassively as they had set to the cultist, indeed he was partially reminded of his younger brother, face like a fish and with a mouth which gaped and gabbered to match. Whoever had thought him Inquisitor material had been sorely mistaken, but then Father had paid well enough for his position. When the memories suddenly turned to Honey he could not resist the defensive emotions that surged up in response, and he grew especially irate as that filthy Inquisitor named her a “cripple”.
That foal is more intelligent than you, dead filly, now you’re just a slab of meat on a table he responded angrily. Another image, this time of Honey, this time exerting extraordinary power as he tested her carefully with numerous means and ability tests, she had been scoring almost twice her age at eight, five years ago, and he was sure one day she’d become even more powerful.
He held in his annoyance however, and returned to the viewing, that last line Lens had spoken seemed rather interesting but he was wondering whether he wanted to pry further. He already had his proof, would it be better not to invade all of her secrets? Still… he had been sorely tempted by it.
Another thing had been nagging him too, her enthusiasm, her joy, the feelings that she’d been stirring within him when he had dealt with her, was it all just a show, a ploy for to buy his cooperation for her grandfather? Or did he dare hope that his feelings might be reciprocated?
No… no… I can’t do that… can I?
He began to chew his lip in concern, how could he think of that when he was invading her memories, when he had essentially nearly killed her? No, this would be a dead withered flower which died before blooming… but still, a small, tiny part of him hoped...
The Scene was gone, and before Scalpel was another door much like the one he entered to access her memories. Past the threshold, there was darkness save for the strong glow of a spotlight. A operating table, and on it was Dr. Lens wearing a patient’s gown, sleeping, with her dark blue mane neatly combed. A tray of tools lay near the bed. Any medical doctor would recognize them for brain surgery.
Scalpel was trembling, physically trembling as he entered the darkness and advanced towards the spotlight. After what seemed like an eternity of marching futilely through the dark he suddenly found himself at the table, standing over Lens, shaking in a cold sweat.
She looked so peaceful before him, and her beauty seemed twice as resplendent as he had seen her before. He paused to look at the tools, his face a waxy mask and lifted one into the air, examining it closely, like one might a vile insect squirming on a prong of a fork. The urge called to him, the urge for knowledge, for certainty, for power, the urge began guiding his hoof, the sharp piece of metal edging closer and closer towards her.
No.
It came quietly at first, almost silently. Scalpel paused, wide eyed, pale and unblinking.
No…
This time it was louder, more noticeable, he pulled back the tool slowly, examining it again.
NO!
This time it was deafening, a raging torrent at what he had almost done, a flood of incessant grief and self loathing clouding out all of his senses.
“NO!” and this time he said it, all the suppressed rage, fear and utter fury boiling up from below where it had remained for decades festering, With a roar of magic he crushed the tool in his grasp and threw the entire surgery set into the darkness where he hoped it was burn and fade with all his other failings.
Around him the room swirled, his rage overtaking the boundaries of his consciousness and leaking into Lens’ mind like thick black tar. With a scream of utter hatred he threw himself away from the table and plunged into his own hatred, fleeing into shadow and bitterness once more.
Darkness consumed him, and for a moment he thought he might have peace, the peace of the dead and the wasted, necrotic and comforting.
But it wasn’t to be so.
Like ink being squirted into the sea, it parted before him and he saw a scene he had never wanted to see again. It had clouded his dreams for over two decades and now it was here, now it was replaying before him like a twisted mockery of a play.
Before him lay the family chapel, a place he hadn’t visited since this point. A small number of benches surrounded a statue at the far end of the place.
A statue of Celestia.
And before it a small foal knelt in prayer.
If not for that tiny figures voice the entire situation would have been silent, but below the false calm of the imagery a dark brooding terror erupted, sharp and horrible, like breathing in razor blades. The voice was almost inaudible, but anypony could have picked up on the mantra the little creature was desperately whispering.
“PleasemakehimgoawayPleasemakehimgoawayPleasemakehimgoawayPleasemakehimgoawayPleasemaakehimgoawayPleasemakehimgoaway…” It was spoken breathelessly, the emotions of true desperate faith beneath them, and beneath that, hope, hope that the sisters would hear his plea.
“SCALPEL!” a voice boomed, the very sound of it increasing the dread tenfold in the situation, a voice which spelled out clearly anger and violence, “Get out of the chapel and come and face me you foal!”
The foals prayers became harder and faster, the hope giving way to despair.
A hoof suddenly smashed on the door, “I’m giving you three seconds to get out her and face your punishment for failing me, now obey me and get out here!”
“ONE.”
The prayers became louder, more insistent, they had to come, they had to…
“TWO.”
The foal was all but whimpering unintelligibly now, coherency bleeding into sobs.
“THREE!”
The door exploded open.
The foal turned to face the figure looming in the doorway, a titanic figure made even bigger by the perspective of a foal. As he stomped towards him, the foal began to take one step back, then another.
The thing didn’t have an appearance, it was just black malice and revulsion, boiling off it in tides and crowding out the room with its presence.
By this point the foal had risen up just before the statue, dread carved into his face like a gargoyle.
“You disobeyed me.” the figure hissed, hatred spilling off like rancid blood “twice…”
“Please, no father, please!”
“Silence!” the thing roared, flailing out a taloned hoof as it tried to grasp him, but the foal had just barely ducked out of reach.
That move however, proved to be fatal.
With the sudden jolting nudge of his body, the statue wobbled and toppled to the side, falling in slow motion before hitting the floor with with a deafening crack.
With a crunch of stone, the head of the statue broke off and clattered to the floor.
There was silence for a moment, a dead awful silence.
“You…” the voice was accusatory, the voice was ridden with shock, but soon it turned to utter cold rage, “You!...”
“I-I-I-I” replied the foal before a vicious backhoof sent him stumbling, onto the ground.
“You are filth” seethed the other, rising high before him “You’re not my son, you’ll never be my son, but this…”
Another backhoof, the vision was darkening considerably, soon there would be only sound.
“Please, father, I-” this time there was no reply in words, only in a dull meaty sound as a hoof met flesh.
And another.
And another.
Soon all the sound that remained was the dull splatter of flesh and the crunch of bone, and the gurgling of a screaming foal as he tried to escape.
The last thing in sight was the head of the statue, Celestia looking on peacefully, as blood flew and splattered her face crimson…. the blood of a child.
Scalpel wrenched himself out of her mind, and collapsed onto the ground of his Inner Sanctum, shivering and wide eyed.
“Him…”
One never knows how a dream begins - they always find themselves smack in the middle of somewhere. Here for anypony visiting Len’s subconscious, they found themselves in a endless vast library - shelves of tomes spanning into the distance until they blurred out of sight. On the left side, one can see a wall of solid stone and metal. It rose into eternity.
But a few meters away, one could see a door opened, chains and locks laying useless on the floor.
Scalpel looked about this library of the mind with interest, even in drugged slumber it seemed that Lens’ intellect towered, he thought bemusedly. He felt rather strange, not wholly corporeal, but almost as if he was made of silk floating above the floor on a breeze. It was clear to him however, that the door which was open before him was the means towards his information on her organisation, his first choice would naturally be to observe her most recent memories, perhaps flickering through a month or two unless he found something interesting.
He had never truly done this sort of magic very often however, so he was nervous, and he didn’t want to impose undue stress upon the already drugged and he guessed, kind of ‘kidnapped mare’, but at the same time he was curious to learn more about her and these ‘Scholars’.
With nothing holding him back Scalpel entered through the unchained door.
The endless wall was gone, but the door seemed to remain. Beyond the threshold was an office, looking rather spartan, save for a couch, a desk, and a bookcase. Though the walls were unpainted, the material was high quality marble, polished to a mirror surface. It was the stuff only the rich could afford.
Two, three shadowy figures began to emerge. Or where they always there, and now only shown up? One sat at the desk, the others facing the pony. One can make out the face of an aged unicorn, wearing some sort of bifocals with one lens green and the other pink. His hair was a natural grey, time had taken out the color. But the look only enhanced the authority this unicorn had.
The others in the office all wore the similar cloaks - blue with stars and other scholarly markings. The older unicorn spoke: “I don’t trust these alicorns.”
Scalpel paused, this memory seemed important, perhaps he had better listen in what was going on, especially when it involved the venerable Professor Prancer. He hovered to the side, staying out of the line of the recorded memory as it played out before him, observing and memorising it.
The other ponies in the room began to look more solid. “You’re always a bit too paranoid,” said Steel Hammer. “And at your age it’s not good for you.” Standing next to him was the pegasus Lightwing, and a blue shadow. It vaguely resembled the form of Dr. Lens. Both were quiet, though Lightwing had rolled his eyes at Steel’s comment.
Observing that interaction, one felt “warmed” by the conversation. To any watchers, they would have felt a sense of friendship or family that came from watching Steel and Prancer. The memories were not merely visual - they also transmitted the emotions of Lens.
“In any case, Master Hammer, the alicorns could prove to only hasten Equestria’s demise,” Prancer said.
“But this Sliver Sweeper doesn’t seem to be a problem,” Lightwing said.
“Well, I certainly agree with you there, Professor Prancer” Scalpel mused out loud, from what he had seen so far, it appeared as if they had similar ideas on the danger of Alicorn kind. He went silent again as the memory continued, listening into the conversations turn to Silver Sweeper, she out of all of them had been the most elusive to follow up on, so knowing more about her could prove useful.
“No, from my report as well as the other Directors, she doesn’t appear to be a major problem. Key word being ”appear”. Sweeper looks like the silliest alicorn having no mane, focusing on cleaning up messes, and having Scroll ride her back only adds to the hilarity. But underlying that…” Prancer frowned. “... Considering she is more powerful than any of our order, that is something to be worried about. Especially in the hooves of a alicorn who loves to be random! Unpredictability is the last thing we need.”
Hammer nodded. “Well, at least she isn’t some Discord, creating chaos for the sake of chaos. Or that’s what I get from Scroll’s reports.”
A voice came from the blue shadow - clearer than the previous voices or sound. “Yes, Sweeper has a logical goal, despite her illogical means,” said Lens.
“But it seems that Scroll and Sweeper still get into plenty of trouble,” muttered Prancer. He leaned back into his chair and sighed. “In any case, I want you to continue avoiding any contact with Sweeper or the alicorns.”
“What, worried Sweeper is going to give us bad haircuts?,” Steel said in jest. Though Prancer didn’t show it, the feelings of Lens communicated that the older Earth pony and the unicorn were acquaintances of some sort.
“A precaution… I don’t know what the alicorns will do if they find out about MRI’s practices-”
Instantly, briefly there was an image of a lab with animals being vivisected.
“- or who is working there. If they do become a threat, we’ll need some sort of countermeasure...” Another flash, one of diagrams and text - The Marvels of Science.
“And here it comes…” Scalpel smiled, a rare thing, but he was getting somewhere and becoming rather invested in this conversation, even though he knew it was just a memory. He barely blinked at the images of vivisected animals, he’d done worse when he was in university, and committed even more foul activities when he left it. The information on Sweeper was top notch, and if these people were right in their understanding of her, he might not have anything to fear in terms of her retribution. Vaguely his mind twitched in the back to an image of Thea, surrounded by burning carnage, kneeling in a picturesque pose just outside of it.
He most certainly did not need another of Her.
There was a gasp from Len’s Outline, but it sounded very very distant, like an echo through a canyon. Her eyes were now visible and solid, and staring straight at Scalpel. But then shortly the eyes dulled and faced back to Prancer.
Something changed, the memory began to distort and shift. Metal walls, clean and sterile. Ponies in lab coats, going over machinery. Prancer stood over table covered in equations and notes. Len’s Outline waited nearby. It was a much more recent memory, perhaps a few weeks ago.
“Sweetie, could you get me another coffee?” Prancer asked. Joy and laughter came to mind, like a child seeing a parent.
“You know Director, it’s not very professional to call your peers by their nickname,” Lens said, a bit of humor behind those words.
“You’re my granddaughter first, and... or was it great-grandaughter? This job is making me lose my sanity,” he muttered.
“So is it true like the rumors said? That the Moon and Star’s vaults were sacked?”
“Yes my dear, we received a report from one of my operatives. An alicorn had raided entire collections of not just books, but art and artifacts. Of who I do not know. Scroll’s looking into it.” He looked down at the work. “And how was the investigation going in regards to our Mysterious Doctor?”
“Nothing recently, it seems we lost the trail again.”
Prancer slammed his hoof on the table. “And only a matter of time until the Scholarship may be targeted by the book-stealing alicorn. The tome could be the key, the key to an ultimate defense.” Those words were referencing the Marvels of Science. “Tell me Sol… how would you protect against a foe who can enter from any direction, where walls are meaningless?”
Hit with the sudden blast of familial love, Scalpel had to bite back his own bitterness on his own relationships with his family. A scene came to his mind, his brutish looking father, built like a brick wall, militaristic looking, with cropped hair and a heavy mustache, but also red faced and inebriated from too much wine, roaring at him on a racist tirade about unicorn supremacy.
The young Scalpel used to hide in the corner of the room when this happened, hoping he would not attract his fathers ire, attempting to play statue as the stallion frothed and raged. Even now he could still feel the cold terror and dread that young colt had felt upon the appearance of his father, as well as the deep, deep hatred that had spread like black poison through him for the stallion.
He shook his head, banishing the scene, this explained why they were searching him out. He knew the Marvels discussed dimensional shifting of certain physical things, perhaps they were trying to seal away their vaults from the prying hooves of the Arcon? He had better watch and find out, still he could not help but feel some level of envy for the mare who had such a good relationship with her grandparent.
“Now… I wonder when the Inquisitors managed to meld themselves into this organisation…”
Another change, the world blurred, and they found themselves on the deck of an airship. Lightwing was there. “So why are we going to the ass-end of Equestria?” The Scholars sat at a booth, probably the ship’s bar. Not a military craft, a passenger one.
The Lens outline did not reply right away. Again her eyes were solid and seemed to follow Scalpel a bit. But soon they went back to the pegasus. “Remember Trottingham?”
“Yeah, where we picked up and lost track of Mr. Mysterious pony. And just like the last lead we followed, we found a lot of bodies and very small parts. It’s like the guy is doing this deliberately to mess with us.’ He sighed. “You know, he’d probably clean up his tracks better if he didn’t leave so much of his handiwork. Dead ponies do tell tales, or so that creepy forensics pony tells me.” An image of a wild haired and pale pony, with an off-kilter smile and an aura of nightmares.
“That Sweeper Cultist that’s now resting may be able to lead us to the Marvels-”
And then back to the lab with Prancer. “-of Science, dear. I said it would take a decade to create a portal to another universe even with the book. But we could bend space and time to create a bubble as it were to protect our vaults...”
Then another change, outside the sun was shining on the outskirts of Woodwatch. It was three days ago. In front of the Scholars were several ponies, all bald accept one. The unicorn had short purple hair, bright yellow fur. Longsight played her role well.
“Ah, it is good to see the representatives of High Priest Scroll! Welcome, welcome!” Lily greeted them with great joy.
“Yes, thank you for sending Mr. Flowerpot to contact the Scholarship,” the Lens outline said. “We should get down to business-”
Back to Prancer’s office: “Then what’s the point of following Sweeper’s cultists around if we’re trying to keep our distance?”, Lightwing asked.
“Being allied with an alicorn does have some advantages,” replied Prancer. “Namely we could use their followers to help us. Such missionaries can keep their eyes and ears open and they travel wide and far. And they report that to us. After all, any news we can gather is important for the Calculations-” The word seemed to have a great importance, as if he spoke of them like prophesy. “- and the acolytes can help find other potential scholars who are in hiding.”
The Scholarship does more than just preserve the past - we look out for our peers . It was Len’s voice.
Despite his undercurrent of ever growing tension due to his treacherous thoughts, Scalpel was beginning to relax a little in relief, all of these memories simply proved that Lens may have just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He knew that if it hadn’t been for Scarlet or more decisive higher thought he might have ended her there in a fit of paranoid rage, he was glad he did not.
Almost immediately after remembering it, and with the proof being near undeniable, Scalpel lit up in an almost glowing level of shame and self hatred for even considering it.
I’ve been going too far…
He picked up on the conversation on Trottingham as he brooded, his ears perking up at the impertinence shown towards him. Well its not as if I had time to cover up my studies before the bloody city exploded into rioting you dratted featherbrain[i] again, a momentary flicker, staring back at his old hospital as it exploded, blasting flaming debris and roasted ponies everywhere as he fled with Honey and Grunge.
He twitched again at the picture of the wild looking forensics pony, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever met him, but that one smelt like cultist material, either that or the mortuaries had been hiring necrophiliacs after severely dropping their standards.
He watched the rest half interestedly, but came to in shock at the sudden overhead monologue from Lens.
[i]Is she... talking to me?
If the voice was directed at Scalpel, it did not reply again. Instead it went to a strange scene, a cell, a pony in a straitjacket, and a rather cool eyed Scholar - a pegasus, but it was not Lightwing. He stood by with medical tools that were modified to inflict pain rather than to heal. Yet despite this, the memory was not totally filled with disgust, though Lens feelings made clear she did not care for torment. It was the pegasus rather, another fraternal feeling.
On closer inspection, the victim was wearing motley, and the wide eyes indicated that the victim was a Laughing Cultist.
“Well uncle, did you find out anything?” Lens asked, with no emotion in her voice.
The pegasus turned to her and nodded. Dr. Maple was from her grandmother’s side of the family, and a peer of Prancer. Once a nice dentist, something had changed him, something that Lens thought was very dark and unthinkable. “Nothing new, or at least to the whereabouts of the Doctor,” Maple said. “The Stromwing troopers already did a number to my patient - I dare not go any further.”
Lens approached the “patient”, “We could set you free to join the Party now, just tells us we need to know about the Doctor.” It was a lie, as Lens knew the Stormwing troops were going to execute the cultist after the interrogation.
The Cultist babbled, and among the rant was heard “the legless girl-”
Back to Woodwatch, under a tent that was the shelter for Sweeper’s mission. Lens was looking at a picture of Honey, though she knew not her name or relation. We got this from a private investigator sent to follow up on a lead. He was photographing the residence, not knowing that the Doctor and his companion was just outside and blending into the crowd. It was only after the film was developed that he noticed that. Lens’ voice. Was she narrating or was her memories intertwining with her thoughts? The Investigator disappeared after sending us the photos.
“And this is the pony you saw?” Lens asked Lily, pointing to Honey. Lily nodded, “Witnessed her twice coming back from the general store. I recognized the face and followed, so I can direct you to her house.”
“And what would a crippled pony be of interest to the Lady Sweeper ?” The question came from Longsight. Her voice was more of a questioning tone, sounding as innocent and curious as possible. If there had been any malice, it was well hidden.
“The Lady cares about all ponies,” Len said. It was the truth, for Sweeper did care to heal the scars of the wounded. She could not replace missing limbs or horns, but she could at least care for those broken hearts. “And it is important we contact the foal, in regards to another pony we seek.”
“For what purpose?” In retrospect, it was now clear that Lightwing was gathering intel.
“To further the goals of the Lady Sweeper, for she has many projects and a need for many specialists to provide aid.” Lens said it to avoid any more questions.
Scalpel watched impassively as they had set to the cultist, indeed he was partially reminded of his younger brother, face like a fish and with a mouth which gaped and gabbered to match. Whoever had thought him Inquisitor material had been sorely mistaken, but then Father had paid well enough for his position. When the memories suddenly turned to Honey he could not resist the defensive emotions that surged up in response, and he grew especially irate as that filthy Inquisitor named her a “cripple”.
That foal is more intelligent than you, dead filly, now you’re just a slab of meat on a table he responded angrily. Another image, this time of Honey, this time exerting extraordinary power as he tested her carefully with numerous means and ability tests, she had been scoring almost twice her age at eight, five years ago, and he was sure one day she’d become even more powerful.
He held in his annoyance however, and returned to the viewing, that last line Lens had spoken seemed rather interesting but he was wondering whether he wanted to pry further. He already had his proof, would it be better not to invade all of her secrets? Still… he had been sorely tempted by it.
Another thing had been nagging him too, her enthusiasm, her joy, the feelings that she’d been stirring within him when he had dealt with her, was it all just a show, a ploy for to buy his cooperation for her grandfather? Or did he dare hope that his feelings might be reciprocated?
No… no… I can’t do that… can I?
He began to chew his lip in concern, how could he think of that when he was invading her memories, when he had essentially nearly killed her? No, this would be a dead withered flower which died before blooming… but still, a small, tiny part of him hoped...
The Scene was gone, and before Scalpel was another door much like the one he entered to access her memories. Past the threshold, there was darkness save for the strong glow of a spotlight. A operating table, and on it was Dr. Lens wearing a patient’s gown, sleeping, with her dark blue mane neatly combed. A tray of tools lay near the bed. Any medical doctor would recognize them for brain surgery.
Scalpel was trembling, physically trembling as he entered the darkness and advanced towards the spotlight. After what seemed like an eternity of marching futilely through the dark he suddenly found himself at the table, standing over Lens, shaking in a cold sweat.
She looked so peaceful before him, and her beauty seemed twice as resplendent as he had seen her before. He paused to look at the tools, his face a waxy mask and lifted one into the air, examining it closely, like one might a vile insect squirming on a prong of a fork. The urge called to him, the urge for knowledge, for certainty, for power, the urge began guiding his hoof, the sharp piece of metal edging closer and closer towards her.
No.
It came quietly at first, almost silently. Scalpel paused, wide eyed, pale and unblinking.
No…
This time it was louder, more noticeable, he pulled back the tool slowly, examining it again.
NO!
This time it was deafening, a raging torrent at what he had almost done, a flood of incessant grief and self loathing clouding out all of his senses.
“NO!” and this time he said it, all the suppressed rage, fear and utter fury boiling up from below where it had remained for decades festering, With a roar of magic he crushed the tool in his grasp and threw the entire surgery set into the darkness where he hoped it was burn and fade with all his other failings.
Around him the room swirled, his rage overtaking the boundaries of his consciousness and leaking into Lens’ mind like thick black tar. With a scream of utter hatred he threw himself away from the table and plunged into his own hatred, fleeing into shadow and bitterness once more.
Darkness consumed him, and for a moment he thought he might have peace, the peace of the dead and the wasted, necrotic and comforting.
But it wasn’t to be so.
Like ink being squirted into the sea, it parted before him and he saw a scene he had never wanted to see again. It had clouded his dreams for over two decades and now it was here, now it was replaying before him like a twisted mockery of a play.
Before him lay the family chapel, a place he hadn’t visited since this point. A small number of benches surrounded a statue at the far end of the place.
A statue of Celestia.
And before it a small foal knelt in prayer.
If not for that tiny figures voice the entire situation would have been silent, but below the false calm of the imagery a dark brooding terror erupted, sharp and horrible, like breathing in razor blades. The voice was almost inaudible, but anypony could have picked up on the mantra the little creature was desperately whispering.
“PleasemakehimgoawayPleasemakehimgoawayPleasemakehimgoawayPleasemakehimgoawayPleasemaakehimgoawayPleasemakehimgoaway…” It was spoken breathelessly, the emotions of true desperate faith beneath them, and beneath that, hope, hope that the sisters would hear his plea.
“SCALPEL!” a voice boomed, the very sound of it increasing the dread tenfold in the situation, a voice which spelled out clearly anger and violence, “Get out of the chapel and come and face me you foal!”
The foals prayers became harder and faster, the hope giving way to despair.
A hoof suddenly smashed on the door, “I’m giving you three seconds to get out her and face your punishment for failing me, now obey me and get out here!”
“ONE.”
The prayers became louder, more insistent, they had to come, they had to…
“TWO.”
The foal was all but whimpering unintelligibly now, coherency bleeding into sobs.
“THREE!”
The door exploded open.
The foal turned to face the figure looming in the doorway, a titanic figure made even bigger by the perspective of a foal. As he stomped towards him, the foal began to take one step back, then another.
The thing didn’t have an appearance, it was just black malice and revulsion, boiling off it in tides and crowding out the room with its presence.
By this point the foal had risen up just before the statue, dread carved into his face like a gargoyle.
“You disobeyed me.” the figure hissed, hatred spilling off like rancid blood “twice…”
“Please, no father, please!”
“Silence!” the thing roared, flailing out a taloned hoof as it tried to grasp him, but the foal had just barely ducked out of reach.
That move however, proved to be fatal.
With the sudden jolting nudge of his body, the statue wobbled and toppled to the side, falling in slow motion before hitting the floor with with a deafening crack.
With a crunch of stone, the head of the statue broke off and clattered to the floor.
There was silence for a moment, a dead awful silence.
“You…” the voice was accusatory, the voice was ridden with shock, but soon it turned to utter cold rage, “You!...”
“I-I-I-I” replied the foal before a vicious backhoof sent him stumbling, onto the ground.
“You are filth” seethed the other, rising high before him “You’re not my son, you’ll never be my son, but this…”
Another backhoof, the vision was darkening considerably, soon there would be only sound.
“Please, father, I-” this time there was no reply in words, only in a dull meaty sound as a hoof met flesh.
And another.
And another.
Soon all the sound that remained was the dull splatter of flesh and the crunch of bone, and the gurgling of a screaming foal as he tried to escape.
The last thing in sight was the head of the statue, Celestia looking on peacefully, as blood flew and splattered her face crimson…. the blood of a child.
Scalpel wrenched himself out of her mind, and collapsed onto the ground of his Inner Sanctum, shivering and wide eyed.
“Him…”
Tai Falkenburg said
I'm Online now, want to start?
Sure! shall I create the doc or you?
Tai Falkenburg said
Aw yeah, that sounds pretty cool. :)
Woo! looking forward to this :)
Tai Falkenburg said
No problem, been a very busy weekend. Excellent post though I wonder about Steel.
I'll leave his last hours to you, but if I say "Mi-Go" you might have an idea what a containment sphere is.
Whenever you have time for writing, contact me, I'll be available for a good long time.
Post of postington, which has been a long time coming and which contains some stuffs, next post I predict will be a collab.
Thanks for being so patient Tai.
Thanks for being so patient Tai.
The rest of the return journey was relatively uneventful, the night was clear after his work and he marvelled at the vast array of stars which lit up the night. Unconsciously he fussed with the bag which held the Black heart of the dead star lay, quiet and pulsing, waiting for him to light it up with the power which would make it sing once again.
Before then in a grassy hummock near the edge of the forest, the first two of the Jaeger’s pulled up a section of the turf and revealed a long dark underground tunnel, just big enough to march three abreast down this specific section of his network. Pausing temporarily, he let out a small spell, and the local magical field reacted, causing crystalline lamps imbedded into the walls to shine out in pale ice blue light.
After about ten minutes march the silence of the place was broken by the sounds of grinding metal, hammering, and gear movements, the sounds of immense industry beneath the earth, almost completely unnoticed from those above. The tunnel widened, and before them became more intricate, branching and ornate, within minutes they were passing more and more Drones processing materials, both dead flesh and inanimate metal on long rail lines before pushing them into the industrial sector to be worked upon.
Scalpel once again paused and looked behind him at the arrayed convoy of his soldiers critically, before his eyes fell upon Steel Hammer and fixed him with an unsmiling gaze. “Take him to a processing cell; I’ll deal with him later. Oh…” he eyed the pack which Steel Hammer still held with him, “Search him first, confiscate anything which might allow him to escape and return my property to the library, these imbeciles have already made a mess of this situation, any reward which is above sparing their lives would be obscenely generous.”
Dismissing a four member section of the Jaeger squad to go with the pony, he continued further into his small industrial fortress, passing by the flaming forges and industries of his children, observing as the crafted his future under a drumbeat of hammers. He couldn’t stay, and neither could his outpost, even if the Inquisition hadn’t been alerted to his presence they would undoubtedly investigate the disappearance of their agents soon enough.
It was time to move.
Signalling to Lambda and Tsan he paused on a section of a bridge going across a smaller industrial section of the massive underground construct. “Send an order through the ranks, begin the disassembly of the entire base, anything which can be taken, the library, the forges, the resources, take it. By tomorrow I expect the main features of this base to be disassembled and prepared for movement, along with the entire work and defence teams. After we have set up base in our new location we can bring the rest of the facilities machinery and materials with us.”
The two machine ponies nodded, but looked slightly perturbed, “Where shall we go Lord Father? Do you have a location in mind?”
Scalpel nodded, “I do, but I’ll have to give it further consideration in my study, I think it will be suitable to our situation however. Prepare a mass transport circle with the unicorn horn grindings in Sector B2’s Warehouse, We’ll need to leave here fast…” His eyes flickered side to side suspiciously “I also believe our old friend is watching us, further activities here may endanger both the project and my life. As tempting as Amaretto’s offer is, with this betrayal I am not willing to risk further dealings with unknown sources, cut him loose.”
The two ponies nodded in affirmation, before Tsan asked, “what about the other Scholar father?”
Scalpels brow furrowed slightly, “I gave my word on Dr Lens’ safety, not his. Have him processed into a containment sphere. That will serve as an adequate message for the Scholars on the price of failure.”
“As you will father.” Both ponies saluted and bowed, before turning for different sections of the facility to oversee their various duties.
“As for all of you” Scalpel addressed the Jaeger unit, “You performed excellently, I am proud of your efficiency in the field. Follow me to the Inner Sanctum and deposit the bodies in my personal Lab space, I’ll need them in the work that I’ll be doing tonight. After which return to your posts and assist with the disassembly of the facility, I expect you to be in the Sector B2 Warehouse tomorrow.”
***
Several looted corpses later, he appeared to be somewhat closer to the truth of the situation than he had been an hour ago. As far as he could tell, the main goals of this group of Inquisitors mainly settled on providing backup to one of their agents, and for the capture of Dr Lens solely with all others to be completely expendable.
The main essence of their orders seemed to be in code, but Scalpel’s brother had been in the Inquisition, and he himself had been privy to many of their secrets, so it proved unchallenging to decode. Most of it was the usual spy work, updates on location, observations, times and dates of meetings ect, but through it he had been able to conclude a few certain details.
The Inquisition had infiltrated the Scholar organisation in order to coerce Prof. Prancer into assisting them with the capture of a certain Silver Sweeper, one of the Alicorns which had descended along with Thea onto the earth. Most likely their goal had been similar to his, to use Alicorn material in order to power an Ascension by their leader Twilight Sparkle. He almost chuckled at that, bemused at the thought of her enraged expression at the mission’s utter catastrophic failure.
“I don’t think so Miss Sparkle…”
As he raked through the document, an immense buzzing and whirring was taking place behind him by the actions of certain advanced Drone Models. Suddenly immense clumping steel feet marched towards his position at a nearby desk and halted.
“Lord Father” metallic voice called, and Scalpel turned to give the Medical Drone a look of interest. The design was far in advance to the primitive models he had made for the assembly line, instead these creations had been specifically built for advanced medical duties, including the processing of new lieutenants. Much like their primitive cousins, half of the front of their faces had been carved in and replaced with numerous lens and machine eyes made of crystal and steel, leaving one banal looking eye which glowed with purple fire, however their bodies had been the most radically redesigned.
A huge metallic pack covered most of their middle and back, covered in claw handed arms, scalpels, and various tools of their duties. Other aspects included four flexible pseudo arms which could be used to inject fluids or move and carve up flesh with some claw like grasping tools. Other tools had less specific purposes, including saws, knives and cleavers for more brutal duties, but the majority tended towards more technical purposes. Their hooves, much like the armoured lieutenants, had grasping digits, and the back hooves, stabilisers in order to assist them in a two hooves gait.
Overall however, they looked like titanic mechanical mosquitoes, coated with viscera and only covered by heavy leather aprons for their operations. They were like something out of a nightmare.
He signalled for the creature to speak after a moments silence, whilst they were not as single minded as the average Worker Drone, they sometimes lacked imitative, and were below the intellectual grounds of his lieutenants. Where they did do well however, was in building his more complex designs, once taught, they never forgot.
“We have analysed the liquid you discovered on the person of the leading agent, as well as blood samples from the subject. All results indicate she has been injected with a highly potent form of the Inquisitors “Truth Serum”, which can render subjects pliable to the whims of the Inquisition, and force out truth where extensive torture might once have been necessary. This however can be countered by mindblocking the information, a self taught practice utilised both by yourself and undoubtedly the Scholars. This type however, seems to dissolve such defences and leave the mind completely vulnerable to Inquisitorial action.”
Scalpel nodded, rubbing his chin with an idle hoof, his usual frown settled across his face, “Interesting… use the sample to discover the exact components of the drug, then begin synthesis of it, we may have need of it in future. As for the moment…” He rose from his chair, and walked towards the prone Dr Lens, stopping before her prostrate position on one the dissection tables, not far from where dozens of other corpses were being processed on their own tables by Scalpels hoofpicked squad of Medical Drones.
He took a good look at her, he admired her fine features, delicate and alluring, her dark blue hair had become undone and now cascaded across her face in waves. He could see how so many might fall for her purely for beauties sake. But he saw through the thin line of beauty and saw the true perfection, her mind, her bright and wonderful mind which had so much to offer to this world, and the tightly protected innocence which it held in his eyes.
For a moment he almost considered casting aside his worries and fear and welcoming her back unharmed…
for a moment he considered that they might be more than this, that he might not need to do this…
For a moment he looked down at those lips and wished he could taste them on his own.
He could not deny he had become enamoured with this mare… but she had failed him…
And now he needed to know the full extent of the rot within her organisation.
His face, so often hard and unforgiving collapsed under its own rigid weight, turning sorrowful and confused. For a moment he was no longer the Doctor, the callous monster which history would name him as, but a lost, solitary and lonely creature, consumed by shadow and desperate for any small compassion out of a world of so much hatred and cruelty.
He raised a hoof and slowly stroked a rogue lock of hair of out her vision, and his horn lit up with a spell.
“Forgive me Lens…” a small droplet of water fell upon her cheek, and then another.
“Forgive me…”
“I must know.”
Before then in a grassy hummock near the edge of the forest, the first two of the Jaeger’s pulled up a section of the turf and revealed a long dark underground tunnel, just big enough to march three abreast down this specific section of his network. Pausing temporarily, he let out a small spell, and the local magical field reacted, causing crystalline lamps imbedded into the walls to shine out in pale ice blue light.
After about ten minutes march the silence of the place was broken by the sounds of grinding metal, hammering, and gear movements, the sounds of immense industry beneath the earth, almost completely unnoticed from those above. The tunnel widened, and before them became more intricate, branching and ornate, within minutes they were passing more and more Drones processing materials, both dead flesh and inanimate metal on long rail lines before pushing them into the industrial sector to be worked upon.
Scalpel once again paused and looked behind him at the arrayed convoy of his soldiers critically, before his eyes fell upon Steel Hammer and fixed him with an unsmiling gaze. “Take him to a processing cell; I’ll deal with him later. Oh…” he eyed the pack which Steel Hammer still held with him, “Search him first, confiscate anything which might allow him to escape and return my property to the library, these imbeciles have already made a mess of this situation, any reward which is above sparing their lives would be obscenely generous.”
Dismissing a four member section of the Jaeger squad to go with the pony, he continued further into his small industrial fortress, passing by the flaming forges and industries of his children, observing as the crafted his future under a drumbeat of hammers. He couldn’t stay, and neither could his outpost, even if the Inquisition hadn’t been alerted to his presence they would undoubtedly investigate the disappearance of their agents soon enough.
It was time to move.
Signalling to Lambda and Tsan he paused on a section of a bridge going across a smaller industrial section of the massive underground construct. “Send an order through the ranks, begin the disassembly of the entire base, anything which can be taken, the library, the forges, the resources, take it. By tomorrow I expect the main features of this base to be disassembled and prepared for movement, along with the entire work and defence teams. After we have set up base in our new location we can bring the rest of the facilities machinery and materials with us.”
The two machine ponies nodded, but looked slightly perturbed, “Where shall we go Lord Father? Do you have a location in mind?”
Scalpel nodded, “I do, but I’ll have to give it further consideration in my study, I think it will be suitable to our situation however. Prepare a mass transport circle with the unicorn horn grindings in Sector B2’s Warehouse, We’ll need to leave here fast…” His eyes flickered side to side suspiciously “I also believe our old friend is watching us, further activities here may endanger both the project and my life. As tempting as Amaretto’s offer is, with this betrayal I am not willing to risk further dealings with unknown sources, cut him loose.”
The two ponies nodded in affirmation, before Tsan asked, “what about the other Scholar father?”
Scalpels brow furrowed slightly, “I gave my word on Dr Lens’ safety, not his. Have him processed into a containment sphere. That will serve as an adequate message for the Scholars on the price of failure.”
“As you will father.” Both ponies saluted and bowed, before turning for different sections of the facility to oversee their various duties.
“As for all of you” Scalpel addressed the Jaeger unit, “You performed excellently, I am proud of your efficiency in the field. Follow me to the Inner Sanctum and deposit the bodies in my personal Lab space, I’ll need them in the work that I’ll be doing tonight. After which return to your posts and assist with the disassembly of the facility, I expect you to be in the Sector B2 Warehouse tomorrow.”
***
Several looted corpses later, he appeared to be somewhat closer to the truth of the situation than he had been an hour ago. As far as he could tell, the main goals of this group of Inquisitors mainly settled on providing backup to one of their agents, and for the capture of Dr Lens solely with all others to be completely expendable.
The main essence of their orders seemed to be in code, but Scalpel’s brother had been in the Inquisition, and he himself had been privy to many of their secrets, so it proved unchallenging to decode. Most of it was the usual spy work, updates on location, observations, times and dates of meetings ect, but through it he had been able to conclude a few certain details.
The Inquisition had infiltrated the Scholar organisation in order to coerce Prof. Prancer into assisting them with the capture of a certain Silver Sweeper, one of the Alicorns which had descended along with Thea onto the earth. Most likely their goal had been similar to his, to use Alicorn material in order to power an Ascension by their leader Twilight Sparkle. He almost chuckled at that, bemused at the thought of her enraged expression at the mission’s utter catastrophic failure.
“I don’t think so Miss Sparkle…”
As he raked through the document, an immense buzzing and whirring was taking place behind him by the actions of certain advanced Drone Models. Suddenly immense clumping steel feet marched towards his position at a nearby desk and halted.
“Lord Father” metallic voice called, and Scalpel turned to give the Medical Drone a look of interest. The design was far in advance to the primitive models he had made for the assembly line, instead these creations had been specifically built for advanced medical duties, including the processing of new lieutenants. Much like their primitive cousins, half of the front of their faces had been carved in and replaced with numerous lens and machine eyes made of crystal and steel, leaving one banal looking eye which glowed with purple fire, however their bodies had been the most radically redesigned.
A huge metallic pack covered most of their middle and back, covered in claw handed arms, scalpels, and various tools of their duties. Other aspects included four flexible pseudo arms which could be used to inject fluids or move and carve up flesh with some claw like grasping tools. Other tools had less specific purposes, including saws, knives and cleavers for more brutal duties, but the majority tended towards more technical purposes. Their hooves, much like the armoured lieutenants, had grasping digits, and the back hooves, stabilisers in order to assist them in a two hooves gait.
Overall however, they looked like titanic mechanical mosquitoes, coated with viscera and only covered by heavy leather aprons for their operations. They were like something out of a nightmare.
He signalled for the creature to speak after a moments silence, whilst they were not as single minded as the average Worker Drone, they sometimes lacked imitative, and were below the intellectual grounds of his lieutenants. Where they did do well however, was in building his more complex designs, once taught, they never forgot.
“We have analysed the liquid you discovered on the person of the leading agent, as well as blood samples from the subject. All results indicate she has been injected with a highly potent form of the Inquisitors “Truth Serum”, which can render subjects pliable to the whims of the Inquisition, and force out truth where extensive torture might once have been necessary. This however can be countered by mindblocking the information, a self taught practice utilised both by yourself and undoubtedly the Scholars. This type however, seems to dissolve such defences and leave the mind completely vulnerable to Inquisitorial action.”
Scalpel nodded, rubbing his chin with an idle hoof, his usual frown settled across his face, “Interesting… use the sample to discover the exact components of the drug, then begin synthesis of it, we may have need of it in future. As for the moment…” He rose from his chair, and walked towards the prone Dr Lens, stopping before her prostrate position on one the dissection tables, not far from where dozens of other corpses were being processed on their own tables by Scalpels hoofpicked squad of Medical Drones.
He took a good look at her, he admired her fine features, delicate and alluring, her dark blue hair had become undone and now cascaded across her face in waves. He could see how so many might fall for her purely for beauties sake. But he saw through the thin line of beauty and saw the true perfection, her mind, her bright and wonderful mind which had so much to offer to this world, and the tightly protected innocence which it held in his eyes.
For a moment he almost considered casting aside his worries and fear and welcoming her back unharmed…
for a moment he considered that they might be more than this, that he might not need to do this…
For a moment he looked down at those lips and wished he could taste them on his own.
He could not deny he had become enamoured with this mare… but she had failed him…
And now he needed to know the full extent of the rot within her organisation.
His face, so often hard and unforgiving collapsed under its own rigid weight, turning sorrowful and confused. For a moment he was no longer the Doctor, the callous monster which history would name him as, but a lost, solitary and lonely creature, consumed by shadow and desperate for any small compassion out of a world of so much hatred and cruelty.
He raised a hoof and slowly stroked a rogue lock of hair of out her vision, and his horn lit up with a spell.
“Forgive me Lens…” a small droplet of water fell upon her cheek, and then another.
“Forgive me…”
“I must know.”
Gonna post my next section today probably, been taking far too long on this.
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