Romance and the Fate of Equestria

Chapter Seventy

Vorpal Blade galloped down the hallways of a prison, the six crown jewels hovering behind him.

"Hey, guyzos," he said casually to the occupants of a cell at the very end of the corridor.

"Oh, there you are," said Crazyface, getting up off the cell's cot. "Have trouble breaking in?"

"Please, brother, it's me," he laughed, tapping the cell door to unlock it. "The fact that it took me a whole hour is an anomaly in itself, a result of a matter that required my presence on the other side of the world for a couple of minutes."

Crazyface and Skippmud strolled out of the cell, glancing around. "Did you get the money?" Skippmud asked.

"Of course I got the money," Vorpal Blade said. "I feel terrible about getting you guys caught. I wasn't gonna do that to you guys and not get the money."

"Excellent, excellent," Crazyface muttered. "We're fighting our way out then, I assume?"

"No, no need," Vorpal Blade said brightly. "I already got in. We can just walk out."

Crazyface shrugged. "I can live with that."

They walked out of the prison at a leisurely pace. The griffons in the other cells leered at them in silence.

"Whoa, what happened to all the guards?" Skippmud asked.

"Oh… nothing," said Vorpal Blade. "Here's all the stuff they confiscated from you, by the way." He unfurled the three wings on his body, revealing he was wearing three pairs of saddlebags. He lifted two of them and loaded them off on the others, who released surprised gasps at the weight.

"What the hell?" Skippmud cried. "I didn't realize my gear was so heavy. My Golden Thread better damn well be in there. Let's unpack it and put it on quick, without it I feel about as strong as…"

She stopped, realizing Crazyface had stopped in his tracks and was gaping at something. She followed his gaze and dropped her own jaw as well.

"…A newborn foal," Skippmud finished her completely unrelated sentence in disbelief.

Though the two of them had stopped, Vorpal Blade continued out into the central chamber of the prison, ignoring the thing on the ceiling that was so stunning to his companions.

"Oooooh, that's interesting," Crazyface breathed.

"Skipp, take a photo of that, would you?" Vorpal Blade said casually.

"Uh, okay," Skippmud said nervously, pulling a camera out of her saddlebags.

"Thanks, bud. Make it a good one. I've got a letter to write."

Vorpal Blade produced a quill and parchment and began writing, speaking aloud as he did so.

"Dear Princess Celestia," he said. "Today I learned that when you get your friends into a jam, you have to take responsibility and bail them out of it. It's only the courteous thing to do. Even if it means killing fourteen griffons and hanging them from the rafters as a warning to others. Enclosed is photographic evidence that I did exactly that. Your faithful servant, Vorpal Blade." He paused for a moment, then added, "Nyuk nyuk nyuk."

The flash went off as Skippmud snapped the photo of the fourteen griffon prison guards, each one hanging from a noose on the rafters. The hanging clearly hadn't been what killed them; each of them was covered in different wounds, from cuts to stabs to burns, some even seemed entirely unharmed, killed by some subtle but deadly magic.

The photo popped out of the camera and Vorpal Blade pulled it away with his magic, attaching it to his letter and rolling them up together. Once the scroll was sealed, he sent it floating up into the air and concentrated on it hard until it disappeared in a flash of midnight blue.

"Did you actually send that to Celestia?" Crazyface asked with an evil grin.

"Oh, I did," Vorpal Blade said.

"This is so deliciously gruesome," Crazyface giggled. "I never thought I'd see any carnage like this from you, VB. Have I been growing on you, boss?"

"Possibly," Vorpal Blade said with a smirk. "But I agree, this isn't the sort of thing I normally do. Let me explain… as you know, at the beginning of this campaign, I was granted magic powered by hate. But there was a problem I never really told you about. The problem was… I don't hate anypony. I just… don't. I don't hate Celestia, or the guys who had us imprisoned all those years back, or the what's-her-name washed-up pop star who's been hunting us, or even the powerful cosmic being who's sorta-kinda enslaving me into all this. Hate just isn't in my nature."

"You're too nice, I've been saying it for years," Skippmud said, still unable to take her eyes off the hanging corpses.

"But fortunately, the power of hate has a back door," Vorpal Blade went on. "My power can instead feed on the ponies who hate me. The more of them there are and the more powerful their hate, the more my strength builds up. So, rather than try to infect my heart with hate, I'm turning to some real despicable villainy to build up hate in others. The grandiose betrayal of Twilight was just the first step. By sending that to Celestia and making a mockery of her treasured friendship reports, that's a pretty big provocation for a being with very strong feelings. Plus, she'll probably pass it on to Twilight and others… yeah, that'll build up some really ugly emotions toward me."

"Well, I like it," Skippmud said enthusiastically. "Can't wait to see your next one!"

"Thanks," Vorpal Blade laughed. "Well, we're done here. We've got the money in our stash, crown jewels on me, all our gear together. Gather around, guys."

"Hold on, I want a couple copies of this picture just for us," Skippmud said, snapping the image twice more. "All right, let's go."

The three of them gathered closely together, and Vorpal Blade's horn glowed. The three of them teleported into a small white room full of cracks and dust.

"Where are we now?" Crazyface asked.

"The Bazaar," said Vorpal Blade.

"Ooooh, are we going shopping?" Skippmud asked eagerly.

"Not on your life," Vorpal Blade said in amusement. "The place just left Equestria, Celestia's probably had the place wallpapered with wanted posters of us. No, this is just a good place to hide out, and to rest while still moving toward our next goal. See, that letter to Celestia served another purpose: I've been planting rumors all month that the three of us were in griffon country, and Celestia now has proof that, as of one minute ago, we were. And now, we're on the exact opposite end of Equestria. She has little reason to suspect me of being able to teleport that far. She and all her little attack dogs are gonna be thrown way off the scent."

"Hmm, back up," Skippmud said. "Something about moving toward a goal? So we do have a goal now?"

"That's right," Vorpal Blade said, peeking outside the room's filthy window and pulling the crown jewels in closer to his body. "I received word this morning. There's a storm coming, in case you hadn't heard, and when the earth and the wind are just right, all Tartaros is gonna break loose… metaphorically speaking."

He wrapped his arms around them. "We're just gonna lay low here, guys. Next stop, the Whispering Desert and points beyond."

"All right," Skippmud said, sitting down on the dusty floor. "Listen, the hanging thing? Real classy. Loved it."

"Yes, we'll make an evil overlord of you yet," Crazyface said wryly.

Vorpal Blade chuckled. "Thanks, guys…" He turned away from them. "Yeah, thanks a lot," he retorted under his breath.

"Ooh, what was that?" Crazyface said. "Averse to killing, are we?"

"Little bit," Vorpal Blade admitted.

"Ah, don't worry about it," Skippmud said jovially. "Only a few more months of this, and then we're never committing a single crime again—and everypony's gonna know it! Give us the plug line, Veeb."

"What? No…"

"Come on, give it to us," Crazyface urged. "The little mantra you use to inspire us. Let's hear it."

"Oh, you know it already," Vorpal Blade grumbled.

"Yeah, but you deliver it so well," Skippmud said. "Come on, you came up with it and it was great. What's our new motto?"

He sighed, then grinned. "'Until the day we steal Equestria itself.'"

"Damn straight," Crazyface said, raising an imaginary wine glass. "A life of crime 'til then, followed by livin' large."

"What keeps us goin'," Skippmud agreed, reclining on the floor.

Vorpal Blade looked out the window again. "The notion does have its way of getting me up and moving," he admitted. "Until then, I suppose…"