Anon and Amber Eyes 9: Organizing Notes

>>28239736
>>28240222

>Be Anon, sitting and working at the desk in your office at your home in Ponyville.
>This is only the first time you've been home since The Incident and your release from the hospital, and you've got a shitload ot notes on the various cultures of bird ponies to go through
>Cultures, plural.  Once you start looking beneath the surface, no single group is a monolith, and theirs is even more diverse than you could have possibly imagined.
>Fortunately, thanks to Lyra Heartstrings' meticulous service, your house is not only clean, it is positively immaculate
>You're not completely certain, but your underwear and sock-drawers seem even more...organized than the rest of the house.
>You try not to read too much into that.  Your housekeeper takes a variety of medications to treat her various disorders, most of which stem from the fact that the mage's brain seems to be even more radically overclocked than Twilight Sparkle's.
>She's out there now, dusting the living room.
>The very large back patio has been enclosed; right now, Amber Eyes is out there with her sister and one of the local kids, playing with one of your vidya consoles or watching one of your DVDs, you're not completely sure which.
>You'll probably be joining them in a little while
>You listen to one of your DATs, tapping in and transcribing the notes into your growing database as fast as you can.
>AE: "When you say 'different species,' I don't think I completely understand what you mean.  You mean different kinds of bird ponies, right?
>AM: "Yes.  Where I come from, the simplest definition of a species is any group of organisms that can only interbreed and create viable offspring with other creatures similar to themselves.  It gets a hell of a lot more complicated than that, but that's a decent working definition to start with."
>AE:  going by that definition, then, there's pretty much only the one, then.
>AM: 'Pretty much?'

>>28256942

>AE: "Yeah, like you said, it gets more complicated than that. Pretty much anypony can make babies with any other, though the baby will probably take after one of its parents more strongly than the other."
>You make a mental note to consult a theurgeneticist and soon. You need to know more about how genetics works here.  Sadly that was something you didn't really know very well even in your world, and you find that you're woefully ignorant on genetics even between the three most common pony races.
>Or, you could just talk to Sparkle, says another voice in your head. Since she's like a twenty minute walk down the road here.
>And once again, you shoot it down. You haven't spoken with her directly since she showed up in the hospital right after you woke up.  The few times you tried to, she was either busy with whatever it is that princesses are busy with, or out on some 'friendship" mission or another.
>You'd spoken with Spike or Glimmer more than you had her, actually. For a former wannabe Mussolini, Glimmer was actually surprisingly pleasant, friendly and helpful. And Spike was just generally a bro.
>You get the impression that she's actively avoiding you.
>Fine.  Maybe you can get what you need from Glimmer or her boyfriend in Canterlot, if you need it.
>Anyway...you turn the recorder back on.
>AM:  So, you're a pigeon-pony, right?  Dumb question, I know.
>AE: (laughter) yeah, kinda, but yeah, I'll go along with it. What that means is that my particular bloodline's aspect takes after pigeons.  Mostly it's just coat- and feather-color.  But a few other traits go into the mix, too
>AE: We tend to be good thieves, good fliers, and we're pretty good at not being noticed when we want to be. We tend to be able to blend in, which can come in handy in places we're not really wanted. Pigeon-ponies are often tapped to go into a place first, to see whether we're likely to be welcomed, or...whether the Flock should move on.

>>28257030
>AM: So you're the flock scouts, basically,
>AE: Basically.  There's like four clans of us in our local flock.
>AE: Most places here in Equestria are friendly enough.  In some places, like Zebrica, we're usually barely needed.  But in some of the other parts of the world, like in Minnow Empire or Gryphonica..
>You stop the recording.  You've had a little experience now with how they're regarded in certain places.
>There were actual professional hunters who specialized in killing bird ponies for their wings, organs and body parts, because rich tards thought they could cure anything from erectile dysfunction to mange.
>You'd met some in Canterlot a few months ago.  You now had a limp, bones that ached in rainy weather and some truly fascinating scars as a result.
>You also know that there's a market for unicorn horn in some of the same parts of the world, which is why the Equestrian Foreign Security Department recommended that ponies give most of southern Gryphonica and Minnow a wide berth, among other places.
>You switch it back on and resume
>AM: So, what other bloodlines are there?
>AE: K, in no particular order...you've met some quail.  My grandmother was a quail pony, though you wouldn't know it by looking at me. They tend to be good with weaving and sewing.  But as you've seen, those are just tendencies.  Grams couldn't sew to save her life.   I can't either.
>AE: There's albatross ponies, who tend to be our marine scouts, because they can fly REALLY long distances, and they aren't bothered by cold or wet.  Seriously. I've seen them sleeping out on the bare ice when it's 40 below and there's a blowing wind.  I mean, we're pretty tough, but damn...
>AE: Albatross're good swimmers, good fisherponies, and...this is gonna sound kinda weird...
>AM: Go on...
>AE: They're good dancers. Really. They're known for dancing.
>AM: Dancing.
>AE: There's clans of them living out there that go from place to place earning their livelihood as dance troupes.

>>28257244

>AE:  And from what I've been told--which really isn't much--they can do something else with that skill.  They've got a magic based entirely on it.
>Wheels within wheels, you think to yourself.
>You've already seen what her sister White Thorn can do with feathers, rocks and bits of "shinies"--metal and other things.
>It took the filly about five minutes to figure out how your soldering iron worked, and maybe another ten to cut the cord off of it and replace it with the same basic thing that was now powering Amber Eyes' mp3 player.
>And maybe another hour to engrave the thing with runes so that had settings that apparently now went from 1 to "Plasma Cutter."
>You'd gotten her to do the same to your other soldering iron, because you never knew when you might need your very own lightsaber to light a barbecue grill or something.
>But apparently that didn't hit the bottom of the weirdness barrel.  You continue transcribing the recording
>AM: So what other bird ponies are there?  That is, what other bird ponies clans exist, other than the ones in the Red Sun Aerie flock?
>AE:  'kay, that...that covers a lot of ground.  I can only tell you what I've seen, what I know, and about the ones we've met or that we've had any dealings with.  There's other flocks.
>AE: Some of them migrate, like ours. Our flock consists mostly of clans that do best in the same weather. light and and climate conditions. One of the lorekeepers would probably be able to tell you more.
>AE: but not all of them do. Some of them stay pretty much where they are
>AE: going by our aspect, ours is made up of clans of pigeon, quail, eagle,seagull, albatross, crow, owl and ...I think, bearded vulture, you call them.  We're pretty mixed.
>AE: But other clans might have others. Pigeon-clanners are literally everywhere, but the Green River Flock is mostly macaws and parrots, with some hummers. Don't get in a drinking contest with a hummingbird pone, by the way.  I've never seen one lose.

>>28257619

>AM:  They can hold it, eh?
>AE: Oh yeah, they can.  Maybe they just metabolize it so fast it runs right through them.  I dunno.  But there's whole clans of hummer pony brewmasters. Hot Ice Wine?  That's made and exported by the  Green River flock.
>AE: SBut, ah...some clans don't really mix much with outsiders.
>This part of the DAT recording you find yourself paying special attention to.
>AE: Waaaaaaay down south, way past where we generally go, there's Moa Pony clans.  We hardly ever see them, but some of our traders get down there to them.  They're...huge.  Like, the size of small elephants. They don't fly, either, they barely even have wings.  Big, hairy ponies.  I don't know much about them but they're supposed to be nice enough.
>AE: a little closer to home, there's also some others we don't see much.  There's phororacos ponies that live in the jungles a few hundred miles north of Red Sun Aerie. They're...not exactly sociable.
>AE:  They're also pretty much the personification of 'anger.' You can make them mad just by wandering too close to their territory, which is pretty easy since they don't bother to mark it.
>AE: And their idea of a meaningful conversation is beating the other pony to death with a rock or a hammer and then barbecuing whatever's left.
>AE: Every once in a while, they'll send a representative to a flockmeet, but that's about it.  They don't welcome outsiders or get involved with them.
>AE: And in the same area, there's also another kind of bird pony.  Archies they call them. They're really, really strange.
>AE: they don't have ANY language, supposedly.  They're small, like foals, really brightly colored, and they have fangs almost like snakes. And they hunt in packs.  I saw some once, and they were the creepiest ponies I've ever seen.

>>28257956
>AM: Up close?
>AE:  Noooo, at a distance.  I saw a bunch of them at a watering hole in Zebrica a few migrations ago.  Two of them got in some sort of fight, and the rest of the pack turned on them and tore them both apart. The flock flight leaders decided to go on a hundred miles farther before we stopped to make camp.
>AE: There's a few others.  Some of the flock lorekeepers have legends about Teratorn ponies, and I've seen art in some really old books.  But none of us have seen one alive.  Except maybe the very oldest Lorekeepers
>AE: According to legend, once, there were a lot of them, and long ago their clans mingled with the rest of us.  Even Tirek's armies couldn't take us, as long as the Teratorns stood with the clans.  We were able to keep our own lands free, at least, even if we couldn't drive them from the rest of the world.
>AE: (she whistles as snatch of a song in her own language). There, had to remember it. 'At the End of the Age, the dark general Tirek and his dread master wrought a great curse at Minos Tor, and upon the Teratorns laid it, sealing their fate in stone.'
>AE: Shortly after the last battle, the Teratorns separated themselves from the rest of us and...left.  Nopony knows where. But they're supposed to come from wherever it is they keep themselves every once in a while when something important happens. Something major.
>AE: They're also supposed to be the great keepers of knowledge. They're supposed to have been the ones who passed along the knowledge of how to create Memory Tapestries to the rest of us, and other things...

>>28257956
>AM: Up close?
>AE:  Noooo, at a distance.  I saw a bunch of them at a watering hole in Zebrica a few migrations ago.  Two of them got in some sort of fight, and the rest of the pack turned on them and tore them both apart. The flock flight leaders decided to go on a hundred miles farther before we stopped to make camp.
>AE: There's a few others.  Some of the flock lorekeepers have legends about Teratorn ponies, and I've seen art in some really old books.  But none of us have seen one alive.  Except maybe the very oldest Lorekeepers
>AE: According to legend, once, there were a lot of them, and long ago their clans mingled with the rest of us.  Even Tirek's armies couldn't take us, as long as the Teratorns stood with the clans.  We were able to keep our own lands free, at least, even if we couldn't drive them from the rest of the world.
>AE: (she whistles as snatch of a song in her own language). There, had to remember it. 'At the End of the Age, the dark general Tirek and his dread master wrought a great curse at Minos Tor, and upon the Teratorns laid it, sealing their fate in stone.'
>AE: Shortly after the last battle, the Teratorns separated themselves from the rest of us and...left.  Nopony knows where. But they're supposed to come from wherever it is they keep themselves every once in a while when something important happens. Something major.
>AE: They're also supposed to be the great keepers of knowledge. They're supposed to have been the ones who passed along the knowledge of how to create Memory Tapestries to the rest of us, and other things.
>You pause the tape.  You remember something you'd heard from one of the Canterlot staff a few weeks ago, who had said something about a gigantic pony appearing on the castle roof at midnight.
>They'd described the strange pony as being like a dark blue pegasus mare, but at least twice as tall as Princess Celestia, with brilliant gold eyes that actually glowed.


>Supposedly, she'd teleported in, left a scroll of some sort with the Princess, and then teleported away after a few cryptic words with a guard. While it wasn't exactly a secret, the Princesses and the Royal Government weren't commenting on it or otherwise acknowledging it in any way.
>The usual tabloid gossip-rags had printed the story, of course. Including the douchecanoes at the Aeon Times and the Fillydelphia Enquirer, both of whom you had acquired more than a passing familiarity with over the last few months of your life.
>Unfortunately.
>You wondered if that visitor might have been a Teratorn, since her description lined up both with Amber Eyes', and the frontispiece in the ancient book she had found for you.
>You also wonder, if it WAS, if the timing had anything to do with The Incident.
>You're sitting there thinking when the door opens. "Think fast, Anon!"
>You spin around in your office chair and catch the beanbag before it can hit you. The fact that you reached out and caught it without either of your hands isn't lost on you, OR your assailant
>"You've got some good reflexes there, Anon," says Lyra, chuckling.
>Another interesting change in your life: since the Incident, you've apparently become magical, which you weren't before. Which is nice.
>But, since magical adolescence involves a lot of exploding light bulbs, small fires and poltergeists, you've been getting some magical tutoring from both Lyra and Rarity to get it under control.
>That actually hasn't been difficult. Mostly it consists of centering yourself and visualizing your ability as a separate limb.



>It gets more complicated than that, but once you get that under control, your brain apparently decides that it no longer needs to think about it anymore, and you can move onto bigger and better things.
>Though you're probably never going to be throwing spells around and teleporting
>frankly, you'd settle for just getting your natural skin color back.

>>28258640

>Paradoxically, it's actually easier to move heavy objects than it is small, light ones.  So, naturally, a lot of your practice has involved moving things like beans or pencils or balls of paper or feathers.
>"Your control is also really improving," says Lyra.  "It's kinda hard to say exactly where you are in comparison to, say, a 16 year old unicorn but I've seen adult unicorns without your degree of control.  So, uh...yeah."
>"Also, I can juggle," you say. You throw the beanbags in the air, and, predictably, you don't juggle them.  Instead they fall and hit your head. "I, uh...meant to do that," you say.
>She chuckles again. "Yeah, don't give up your day job there.  Okay, everything is tidied again, and Bon Bon threw a casserole together for you guys and some sort of crunchy broccoli salad thingie.  And some fresh bread.  I put it in the fridge.
>"Ooooh..." you say, "Bread, and fresh at that.  Amber's gonna have kittens."  She laughs.
>"Yeah, she left extra so you'd be more likely to get a hunk," she says. "Oh, and your mail's on the table.  I think you finally got a message about the airship-thing?"
>Oh good, you'd been waiting for something on that.  Awesome.  Canterlot and Equestria were still warm, but the Maretlantic was all but closed off to traffic along the normal migration routes thanks to what was turning out to be an insanely early and severe storm season
>Even if the flock HADN'T delayed for Amber Eyes, there would have been a good chance they'd have never been able to get through without help anyway.
>If the Red Sun flock was going to get home, they were going to need a bit of a helping hand. >And that idea still makes you grin.  You're going on an honest-to-God magical adventure on a magical airship to far away lands with magical buddies.  It's like something out of an 80s kids' cartoon or something.
>You'd tried to explain to both Lyra AND Rarity why you found that hilariously awesome, but they couldn't quite see it.

>>28261796
>You guess it would be akin to a pony getting excited about a transatlantic flight on an airliner.  Yeah, it's...unusual, but not THAT unusual
>Unless you're really excited about their meal service or something. It takes all kinds, I guess.
>"Anyway," she says, "Imma headin' out.  See you tomorrow afternoon for a lesson, if you're up to it."
>"Thanks," you tell her.  "For everything.  I don't think I say that enough."
>She blushes under the green.  She opens her mouth to say something, but it's interrupted by a crashing sound from the living room.  Glass.
>"...what in tartarus?' she says, and she's moving before you are. You're down the hall and to the living room when you hear two more shattering windows.
>Amber, White Thorn and Button are coming in off the patio--they heard it, too.   Amber looks up at the ceiling and shudders a bit.  White Thorn looks like she doesn't care about the enclosure one way or another. "Uh, Anon, we heard this--oh crap," says Button.
>There's bricks on the living room floor, and all the windows are shattered.  Each of them has a piece of paper tied to it.
>All of you are staring at them with your mouths open, Lyra rips one of the papers off of a brick.
>HuEMaN gO HOaM you see.  Lyra's at the window. You pick up the paper and read it, with Amber fluttering at your shoulder.
>"Holy shit," breathes Button.
>"Yeah, that pretty much covers it," says Amber.  "This doesn't happen to you much, does it?"
>"No," you say.  "Not here in Ponyville it hasn't."  Maybe it's the proximity to the Everfree, maybe it's something else, but the ponies here are, if anything, far more tolerant, laid back and cosmopolitan than the ones infesting Canterlot.
>But you didn't usually get this even there.  The Canterlot crust of society tended to be more...circumspect in their bigotry.
>You turn around to--wait, where'd Lyra go?
>You hear this loud, keening, eldritch screech and it's coming from outside.


>>28261895

>You race to the window--it doesn't occur to any of you at the time that maybe that wasn't such a good idea, but...c'mon, PONYVILLE.
>And you see...a mint-green unicorn screaming and sprinting across the front yard holding a brick in her magic and giving chase to several  cloaked figures, obviously a pony
>"NO, WAIT--LYRA!" you yell, and she doesn't check up.
>You can see her clearly, because there's some sort of--statue at the edge of the yard.  Which is now on fire.
>Though you're not completely sure if that was what was supposed to happen,or if it's because--oh wait, Pale Green Death Horse is blowing that up now. Wow.
>You know you should be doing something before she gets hurt, but...you're actually IMPRESSED by the amount of mayhem she's dishing out there.  Do you need to protect her, or the trespassers?
>"Stay inside, kids--"you say, but Amber is out the door.  "I'm not a foal, Anon!" she yells over her shoulder.
>And in a matter of seconds, you see her repeatedly dive-bombing the intruders alongside Lyra, apparently providing air support, and most of them are now galloping up the road away from your house as fast as they can.
>You look at Button and White Thorn.  The Earth Pony colt is eyeing the broken windows, glassy carpet and the bricks with some degree of fear and confusion. White Thorn, on the other hand...
>No.  No way is a kid that young supposed to look at THIS shit with that kind of recognition and detachment.  No fucking way.
>"Kids, we're staying put until Amber and Auntie Apocalypse out there come back, and then we're going to get the constable together.  Okay?"
>"We're already back."  You turn around at the new voice.  Bon Bon.
>She's dragging an unconscious pony behind her with a curious lack of expression.  You get the distinct impression she's used to this, for some reason.
>Maybe on a professional level.    Lyra's in hyper-mode, bouncing around like a superball.

>"I was coming up here to meet her," says Bon Bon. "I was just up the road when I noticed the explosion. Well, 'noticed' isn't exactly the right word...."
>She unceremoniously drops the unconscious pony on the floor beside her. "Then I saw a bunch of guys in hooded robes running the other way with Amber using rocks as gravity bombs. Given your history, it wasn't hard to figure out what was happening..."
>Amber chooses that moment to fly in through the door and light. "Anon, there's town constables coming now. I was on my way to tell someone, but they'd already sort of heard the blast and were coming to check it out..."
>Lyra is giggling like a lunatic. "Bon Bon, you should have SEEN them scattering! The demolitions spells you got your bureau friends to teach me worked like a friggin' charm--"
>Bon Bon shushes her with a kiss, and then looks at the rest of you. "Uh, you didn't hear that," she says.
>You, Button and Amber are blushing furiously. "Heard what? I've been here all night with you guys playing Mario Kart," says Amber.
>"I saw nothing...nothing," you intone. White Thorn is giggling and says something to Amber that you don't understand. "
>"I don't really know what's going on, so I'm just gonna assume you guys are talking about some sort of weird adult-thing instead of high ordinance magic," says Button.
>Bon Bon chuckles. "Good deal," she says. "Anyway, the other guys scattered, but this guy sort of had a little accident. Clumsy colt tripped over his own hooves and fell on his head, dontcha know." She clucks her tongue. "I thought he might need some shelter till he wakes up."
>"And, not incidentally, he'll be here when the constables show up. And then he can explain the bricks, the burning effigy AND the graffiti on the wall of the house," says Lyra.
>Graffiti?
>You walk outside with the rest of the group--except for Bon Bon, who's watching your "guest."

>>28267814

>In the illumination provided by the burning mess at the edge of your yard, it's pretty easy to spot what Lyra had mentioned.
>In red lettering across the front of the house in letters four feet high, you read:
>FREAR OF NATUKE
>"I..." you say, and then you shake your head.  You should be angry, and maybe you will be, tomorrow, because this assheads vandalized your house for no readily apparent reason
>But...holy fuck, this...
>"This is the most epic fail in the history of epic failure," says Button, giving voice to all of your thoughts at once.
>"Okay, this is just an indictment of our education system," says Lyra.  She can't hide her laughter, either.
>You duck back into the house and grab a film camera, and then come out to snap some pictures.  "Evidence or...you know, souvenirs," you say.  "This kind of stupidity needs to be commemorated.  I mean..."
>"Have you considered maybe starting some sort of charity or something to provide editorial services to up-and-coming vandals or something?" says Amber, laughing.
>"So what was the statue over there?" you ask.Lyra.  She shrugs
>"It was a model of you and a bird-pony hanging from a gallows," she says.  "I probably shouldn't have blown it up, but ehhh..."

>>28267984

>"It might have been more valuable as evidence" says Amber.  "But under the circumstances, I don't think it's a problem."
>She opens the everpresent pouch around her neck and pulls out a small silver chain, and on it is a symbol you've come to loathe.
>The little stylized triskelion of unicorn horns that symbolizes the ULOP party.  Oh goodie. They're here, too.
>Button's lip curls when he sees it.  "Hey, aren't those the guys who--"
>"Yeah, Button.  Yeah."

>Be Aloe.
>This isn't the first time you've had to do this, and it probably won't be the last.  Fortunately for everypony, it doesn't happen very much.
>This is good, because you really don't like this kind of work.
>"You have the scroll?" you ask your sister in Rhinosperanto. Since virtually no one spoke the artificial language, all official business was conducted in it when in the field.
>"Always, dear sister," says Lotus.
>"No point in delaying, then.  Let it be done," you say. Lotus begins reading from the enchanted piece of parchment, and the corpse of the unicorn mare suddenly flares into incandescence.  In seconds, her body burns into ashes, along with her scoped pegashot crossbow.
>You consider a prayer for her soul, but decide there's honestly no point.  Her fate in the afterlife is whatever she had earned by her deeds in this world, and you didn't know her anyway. At least her death--a broken neck--had been relatively quick and painless.
>You and your sister know your business, after all.
>In seconds, her body is reduced to ash and less than ash, and all that remains is a rough unicorn-shaped patch of burned soil.  Working together, the two of you work them into the soil of the herb garden, until there's nothing left to tell anypony that such unsavory business had been conducted here.
>given the victim's line of work, it seems fitting that she should be recycled into relaxing herbs for decent spa clients.

>>28268386

>"I'll handle the reports for both the General Directorate and Canterlot this time," you say. "Since you did the drudgework here."
>The Directorate must be informed, and given the identity of the assassin, as soon as ponily possible.
>Lotus' face is lined with fatigue.  The scroll is just a focus, like the horn of a unicorn--the magic it casts is merely the same magic all ponies of all castes possess, but it is especially draining on an earth pony. "No, sister.  We'll do them together, as always, and then move onto happier things."
>Together, silently drawing strength from each other, you hurry from the garden and back inside of your home, leaving no trace of the evening's activities behind

>Be Blacklight.
>You barely escaped with your neck after the moronic affair in Canterlot a few months back.
>It's as if no one in Equestria has the sense to pour piss out of a boot with directions on the heel.
>You're honestly in awe of how so far, each and every contractor, almost wholly without exception, you've managed to pull in on this thing is either defective or defectively stupid.
>And even when they're NOT, they've had the most epic streak of bad luck imaginable.  You haven't heard from the contractor you sent into Ponyville to kill the human and the bird pony.
>It's as Dawn Shot simply vanished off the face of Equus.
>Your last message from her was that she'd paid some disgruntled locals to stage an event at Mous' home in order to set them up for the murder. And then she simply...disappeared.
>According to your contacts, she never returned to the room at the boarding house she'd rented under a cover identity.
>And, without knowing exactly WHY, you have the weirdest feeling that no one is going to be hearing from her ever again.
>You've just finished giving your report to the Board. None of them know each other, save to the One who gave them all their orders and united them to one purpose.

>You remain bowing, looking at the floor. You really don't like the show of servility, but you also know that you don't want to give your masters more of an excuse than you already have to terminate your employment.
>That tends to be remarkably swift and final, as your predecessor would attest to if she were in any position to do so.
>"This is a most unfortunate turn of events," says one of them. "The Ezezagun and his allies seem to be under an unusually high level of protection, more than we'd expected. The usual means of neutralization seem to be ineffective, even adjusting for our allies' natural incompetence."
>You bristle slightly, but you make sure none of that is reflected in your face or your posture. You've seen ponies killed for far, far less.
>"This failure is of no consequence," says the leader, the only one not cloaked. Not that anyone would believe any description of him anyway.
>"Our contacts in Canterlot report that they have located a pair of surplus airships suitable for moving a large number of ponies, and pilots for both. It will be easier to deal with the Ezezagun and his allies once removed from Equestrian soil.
>"For more than one reason," he says, and yuo tremble slightly, because you know that last was directed at you.
>"Thank you for your report, Blacklight. You are dismissed," he says to you at last. You prepare to scuttle away, glad you're getting away with your life. But he stops you.
>"Oh...the pony who hired the last contractor?"
>"Yes?"
>"...have them killed," he says.
>That had been your son. You mentally weigh the cost of compliance versus the cost of refusal.
>"At once, sire," you say, and scurry to comply.