King and I - 14

Boredom has sunk its grubby little claws into your mind. At first you expected one of the rebels who captured you to come down to the cell and gloat for a little while, but it slowly developed into resignation as the hours dragged on. Talking to you must not be a priority right now. You tried to call to the other cells in the vague hope that they would also be occupied, but you have no such luck. Either there is some kind of spell preventing communication, or you’re the only pony down here.

It’s given you time to think back on everything that happened; the execution, the riot, how you could have avoided getting bludgeoned and thrown in a dark cell. You really fucked it up. Another part of you is worried about Warm and whether or not they captured her to. You can’t see any reason for them to do so. She isn’t exactly a high value target like you are.

But the thing that sticks out in your mind most is Sombra’s reaction to the entire thing. He had to know it was coming, his emotionless reaction and prompt but calm walk to the door tell you that much. He let you get captured, he could have easily bowled over all of the ponies in the area but he didn’t, and completely ignored your own distress. Either he doesn’t value you as much as you first thought and he’s already getting your replacement, or he intended for you to get caught in the first place.

You poke the collar a few times. It’s possible and not beyond Sombra’s conniving realm of possibility. The collar could double as some kind of tracking beacon, simply so he can locate the position of this rebel base and stamp it out. Unfortunately you simply don’t know. He never demonstrated knowledge of your nightly trips to speak with Spyglass unless he intentionally kept quiet about them to put you in a position of trust with the rebels.

It’s a lot to take in. So many possibilities swirl through your head, visions of calamity and pain, a conflict with you placed in the middle as Sombra’s star player.

The sound of a door shutting snaps you out of the daze. Clopping hooves descend the steps. You can’t see them due to the darkness at first, but you grow a small smile of relief as Silver Shield walks up to the cell with a rather dire look on his face.
“About time,” you quip. Silver doesn’t react at first, studying your scuffed face intently. He paces in front of the cell a few times before stopping suddenly.

“I’m very sorry,” he begins turning to pace again, “about what happened earlier, I should have known that the spell was a tad too powerful.” Silver was the one who did it? You frown at him and point to your poorly bandaged chest. “I know, I know.”

“I actually don’t have much to say really, sorry about the blast, sorry about not letting you in on it earlier, sorry for the poor treatment,” he declares apologetically, “I’m going to have some words with the boss, I’ll see about getting you out of that cell, at least for a little while.”

“You don’t have to do all that for me,” you dismiss modestly.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m doing it anyway,” he grins heading back over to the stairs. “Oh, before I go keep a close eye on that Fury guy, he’s like a bad smell.” The door slams shut as you mull over his words.

“Wha-,”

He’s gone. The sound of the door slamming shut echoes through the prison.

---

Time soon begins to blur together again. Silver’s little talk must be taking a long time, that or he’s failed to convince the pony in charge. A fresh problem pops into your mind, how long are they going to keep you down here? You shiver as a cold gust blows through the room, you wouldn’t mind so much if they let you keep the robe. It figures too, your first day as a member of the super-secret mage’s guild and you lose the damn thing before you get to break it in.

You’ve taken to scratching at the walls to pass the time, the mild sensory deprivation having grated on your nerves. This must have been what Spyglass felt like. A pang of sympathy for the poor stallion tears at your heart, he was in there much longer than you have been. You wonder how he coped for so long.

A glimmer of hopes arrives as the door opens again, light flooding in from the room above. A single crystal mare walks down the stairs and briskly marches to your cell. She has a dull yellow coat and a turquoise mane, with shimmering orange eyes. She’s probably the first pony you’ve seen wearing a pair of saddlebags. “My name is Commander Lily, you can refer to me a Sir,” she demands in a scratchy tomboyish voice. “I’m in charge of the rebel contingent that has taken you prisoner here.”

Well, you know Silver came through at least.

“I want to ask you a few question missy, and then we can consider moving you somewhere else. I’m not a fan of this place myself.” She pulls out a ring of keys from one of the bags, flicking through them, carefully studying the little pieces of engraved writing on each one. It takes her a minute to find the correct key, which she uses to unlock the rusty door and pull it open.

“Take a seat at the table. I’m giving you a bit of leeway because you haven’t tried to break out yet.” Now that she mentions it, you don’t seem to have any kind of magical inhibitor on your horn. They must not have one on hoof to use. Even then the idea of breaking out with your magic never once crossed your mind.

You sit down on one of the old wooden chairs. It’s still uncomfortable but a nice change from the hard stone floor that has destroyed the feeling on your lower cheeks. You shuffle a little to get comfortable as the mare pulls a ring binder from the other bag and gently places it on the table in front of her. She shrugs of the saddle bags and places them next to her seat.

She flips it open to a page displaying a range of different photos and pieces of scrap paper. The paper is covered in different pieces of writing, from simple, short letters to one particular letter with what seems to be some kind of mathematical table. She isn’t shy about showing of her spoils, so you take in as much as you can.

As she progresses through it with a word, things slowly become more familiar. Several of the photos show the training yard and garden, the open air above them in plain sight. A room similar to yours is also featured heavily, and for a moment you consider the possibility that they’ve been spying on you the entire time.

It surprises you how well versed this rag tag group of rebels really are. Shown in the folder there is evidence of inside agents working to gather intelligence and send it back, plots for various attacks and attempts to undermine the regime and even the occasional book page torn from their place potentially from the library where Warm worked in her spare time.

Lily doesn’t object to your prying eyes and on some pages slows down rather deliberately so you can take it all in before she moves on. The focus of the images shift abruptly around the mid-way point, the pieces of small writing become less frequent and images of the palace are omitted entirely. She turns one last page, to one dedicated in its whole to pictures of you, from various angles and distances. A large catalog has been assembled and collected inside of this single folder.

“As you can see,” she says after a long silence, “you’ve been making waves among our little intelligence community. The sudden arrival of a mystery mare, held inside his personal suites usually reserved for VIPs or high ranking officers, and a quick and dirty induction to his secret cabal of mages. It’s fairly easy to see why you’ve garnered interest from us.” She takes a deep breath and leans back onto her seat.

“The others see another… obstacle, in the way of liberation, but I see opportunity.” You tense up slightly at the way she hisses the word. “So far, Sombra has sat idly by and watched as things fall to pieces around him. The people grow restless from the food shortages and the forced quarantine, his once tightly kept guards have fallen into pits of corruption and incompetence, and despite all of that he wastes his time making accommodations for you.”

“So he does,” you say with a pursed frown. She nods and smirks.

“Sombra is putting all his eggs in one basket so to speak, you. He believes you have the power to decide the fate of this conflict and is doing everything in his power to convince you to vouch for him. I heard a few rumors from our agents about his personal magic lessons, him honing your skills to become a warrior for his cause.”

Is that all you are? A weapon? Sombra went through a lot of effort to bring you here, all just so you can fight for him in his civil war? It doesn’t add up.

“What concern is that to me, I could easily refuse,” you point out.

“But can you?” She asks with an intense gaze, “don’t act stupid with me, or yourself, that collar has more sway than you like to admit.” She silences herself, looking away for something to distract herself with. “I don’t want that to happen to you. I can tell you don’t want any part in this mess.”

“Funny for you to say while trying to get me to fight, for you instead,” you scoff. She has a lot of nerve.

“I never said anything about fighting Rose, my interest is in what you know and what you can learn. I’m not going to bullshit you, our cause is being battered from all sides; even with our recent gains. That failed attack on the palace destroyed our forces and ended in the deaths of several of our best fighters and officers. Sombra is hunting down our bases with increasing ferocity, forcing us to move and adapt which wastes time. He’s tightening the noose figuratively and literally.”

The impression you were getting earlier is that the rebels were quite influential, but it seems the success from earlier was a fluke according to their commander. They probably have no shortage of support among the populace at least.

“I don’t see what I can do to help,” you sigh, “it sounds like an issue you have to deal with personally. All the knowledge in the world won’t help you if you can’t make moves against him.”

“True,” she nods, “but our problems stem from more than just lack of fighters. We have nothing to go on anymore. Even with the failings of Sombra’s regime we’re just firing toothpicks at an elephant. We need a game changer,” she rants intensely. She takes a shaky breath and relaxes once more.

You mull over the choice in your head. Working with them comes with its own risks after all. If Sombra finds out, you don’t fancy your chances of survival. If you do get caught you don’t have anywhere to run. Do you really have much to lose?

“Why are you telling me all this?” You ask suspiciously. “What’s stopping me from running over to Sombra and telling him everything?”
“Nothing, if we let you go, you could tell him everything I just said. It won’t do much, but it will earn his trust somewhat; as much as that counts for a snake like him. Or you can help us take him down and give this empire back to the people.”

You don’t even know if you want to yet, although she is providing you with an easy avenue to get out of this prison. Your first priority is finding out where you are and how to leave, second priority is trying to topple a dictator. Appeasing her now will be easy enough to do without major effort. She already knows that you don’t like Sombra very much; otherwise she wouldn’t have come to you with the offer.

“You don’t even have to do much. All we need is an inside mare to destabilize the guard and mage guild, real easy stuff like destroying intelligence and supplies.”

You bite your lip and nod. “Fine, I’ll help you,” you sigh. Lily smiles and pulls the folder back into her saddlebag.

“I’m glad we could reach an agreement.” She slips out from her seat. “I’m going to give you a tour of the place, maybe you can talk to a few of the guys.”

Escaping prison is surprisingly easy it seems. You follow her up the steps and through the makeshift door. “Where is my cloak by the way?” You ask as you enter a dirt tunnel, badly lit by a few hanging lamps. It’s quite a squeeze; your sides nearly touch the moist walls.

“It’ll be in the armory somewhere, the clothier wanted to see if it had any nasty surprises. It’s close by so that can be our first stop.”

The tunnel slowly expands as you walk down it; you estimate that by the time you reach the end two ponies could stand side by side in there. It exits into a much nice corridor carved out from the rock. A few ponies pass by, staring at you for a moment before skittering off as the commander glares at them. “These ponies don’t know how to mind their own damn business,” she mutters.

Déjà vu strikes as you’re once again led down a series of non-descript corridors, the bane of your existence. Just a few hours ago you were wishing that the excitement would end, but now with the looming prospect of another boring period of waltzing down corridors, you can’t help but groan quietly to yourself.

---

Mercifully you reach the armory after only five minutes. The rebels seem about as enthusiastic about pointless corridors as you do, which you wish could be the same for Sombra too. That palace is awful.

The armory isn’t very impressive. A few wooden crates line the room with an open central area. Weapon racks stands in front of the boxes, adorned with several kinds of spears and other blunt weapons. It’s clear this room was mined out at some point before being reused as a storage area.

An aging gray stallion sits at a small wooden desk. Lily has to clear her throat a few times to catch his attention. “Oh! I didn’t see you there Commander,” he chuckles. “What can I do you for? Looking for something new? Our friends just brought us some shiny new toys.” He motions to one of the close by crates, the weapons from inside still lying unattended on the ground.

“We’re here to pick up Rose’s personal effects.” The stallion nods and reaches under the table, bringing up a soggy cardboard box. You silently hope he isn’t keeping your expensive robe in there. You have to withhold a little yell as he pulls it from the various other pieces of scrap fabric. It’s noticeably soggy, with little droplets of water still falling away from the darkened bottom.

Just fantastic.

You take it from his hooves and give him a curt nod, trying not to show displeasure. “That’s a very interesting coat you got there little lady,” he strokes his chin, a few wild hairs dangling down, “high quality stuff, not exactly used for any practical purpose though.”

You decide to not wear the soaked rag for now. Lily rolls her eyes as you both trot away from the eccentric stallion.

---

Sombra sat stone-faced at the dining table, the seat next to him absent. Fury sat at the other end, looking at his reflection with one of the large spoons. A moment of silence passes as he gently places it back onto his table cloth. “She’s missing,” he states, nodding to the seat, “don’t tell me she’s bowed out already.”

Sombra drops his fork before wiping his muzzle with a white napkin. “She’s quite well, actually.” Fury looks on skeptically.

“Quite well, just like the last three?”

Sombra shrugs, picking through his salad with a disinterested glare. “Hm. Yes. Do you contest that we cut our losses and move on brother? We’ve spent quite a bit of effort on dear old Rose these past few weeks.”

Fury chews on his lip while looking to the ceiling. “Maybe,” he sighs, “I don’t fancy her chances with those rebels.”

“She’ll be fine, they have enough eyes and ears to know her character and I made sure of that.”

“And if she isn’t?”

Sombra scoffs, “Just bring another one. We have all the time in the world you know. I feel trouble brewing, be on your guard.”

“Of course milord,” Fury bows, before briskly leaving the room. As the doors slam shut behind him he scowls. “Just bring me another; does that idiot believe I have humans falling out of my ears?” He spits trotting back to his personal chambers. “Oh there will be trouble brother; more than you know.”