Chapter 6: Fire

"Unicorns: Lazy, snobbish freeloaders that have survived by deceiving their honest, hard-working brethren with sharp tongues and sly wits.

Pegasi: Brutish overlords that take what they want in exchange for the services we require. We've only ever been able to put up with them because we needed their skill with the weather."

-"Manifesto of the Earth Ponies", published 3251 UIT

Under the perpetually charcoal-grey skies of Eridian, life went on, and little changed. There may have been the odd few that noticed Celeste and Claire's disappearance, but such a minor detail was greatly insignificant compared to such concerns as finding food, a warm place to stay, and scratching out one more day of existence from the drippings that filtered their way down to the lower rings of the city.

For it was not all grimness within the cloistered streets of the once-great city. High up the hill, beyond gates and sentinels most ponies dared not cross, there was a small sequestered community; those among the population that had sworn fealty to the High King, and enjoyed what superiority came with that decision. They had good homes, steady supplies of the essentials for life, and even a way to pass the time, namely, scrambling about in the sham court, and trying to outmanoeuvre their compatriots in the competition for Discord's favour.

In a way, the contest amongst these inhabitants of the inner circle was just as desperate as it was for the regular rabble out on the streets. Any amount of pride-swallowing, toadying, or besmirching of the good names of one's rivals was fair game. But the ultimate feather in any pony's cap was always the same thing: concrete information about the underground resistance. The elite sent out their spies and households throughout the population, seeking everywhere for that elusive lead that would guarantee them the favour of the High King.

But the three remaining Masters were indeed elusive, and besides, they had a most unexpected ally in the court, a pony that laid down his own reputation to keep the secret safe. Who was this unsung hero, this inside colt for the resistance?

He went by many names, for his own protection, but in private he was known as Seraph, one-time Master of Fire. And he didn't protect the resistance out of hope for a brighter future. No, after what his fellow Masters had done to him, they could rot in Tartarus for all he cared. Seraph simply knew that he was the one with inside info on the location of Aquos' base, and which paths to walk through the forest to find Terraria's citadel, and which spots in the sky Altas frequented. When the time was right, he would happily give out that information, all to secure his own victory. But in the meantime, he had to make sure no one else beat him to the punch.

This evening, Seraph was outside with the rest of the upper class, socializing and communicating before the court came into official session. As was his custom, Seraph wore a crimson cape tied round his front shoulders with a golden brooch, set with a choice ruby. The fiery stone went well with his dark orange coat, and captured the prismatic shimmer of his vermillion eyes. An exquisitely coiffed mane completed the arrangement, red hair struck through with orange highlights. Tonight, a finely crafted monocle and black top hat also complemented his features. Indeed, he was the picture of a true gentle-colt.

As he walked in amongst the knots of conversation in the courtyard, Seraph tried to remain aloof, head held high, above all of their petty concerns. The act was just that, though, an act. In truth, all of them were only servants of their lord, only a single step up from the huddled majority in the rest of the city. They still lived under the same lightless sky, still searched for meaning wherever they could find it, and still lived in fear.

Seraph hated all of these obsequious fops, so abjectly terrified of the High King that they would bend over backwards to grant his every whim and desire. They scuttled about in service of their master, perhaps holding to some ridiculous hope that they would somehow be happy, if only their world was just a little bit brighter than their neighbour's was.

But he had grander plans than that, true ambitions that reached beyond the immediate day-to-day happenings of the kingdom. He had spent years gathering his power, building it in secret here in the city, waiting patiently for the perfect opportunity. When the time was right, he would rise for Equestria, banishing the tyrant to the deepest reaches of the void. This country would be his to shape into its glorious future, his to manipulate and rule with the authority he deserved. It was only a matter of time and patience.

The burning torches in the courtyard cast flickering shadows across the grass, which was long and dewy underfoot. Reluctantly, Seraph approached a small group of his "colleagues", clutching at snifters of brandy and incessantly discussing the latest court gossip.

"So I told her, if you think I'm going out in something like that, you'd best have that horn of yours examined. I think I might be scratching your brain!" exclaimed the stallion that was talking just then, earning a chorus of titters from the assembled group. His moustache was tightly stretched out over a generous mouth, holding teeth which appeared white enough to light a room.

"But it is indeed a most smashing outfit!" gushed one of the mares beside him, her gaudy jewellery clinking as she spoke. "Perhaps not one to match Lady LaFlamme's from the other night though. Have you seen it?"

The other mare in the group, a teal Earth pony with a ridiculous stack of silver curls atop her head, nodded vigorously. "With the Fillydelphian ice diamonds on the brooch? My, what a sight that was!"

Seraph tried to pay attention to the inane chatter, but he could not fathom the worth of the conversation. How deluded these fools were, to discuss matters of such inconsequence as their country rotted around them! He vowed that when he was in charge, these traitors to Equestria would be the first to be shown the door. A revolution always needed scapegoats, after all.

Finally, in unspoken agreement, the court members funnelled into the crumbling grey hall that served as Discord's audience chamber. Much like the rest of the castle, the room was dreary and unadorned. A large rectangular stone floor stood cracked and barren, broken only by a colonnade that encircled the room. Beneath the columns stood the courtiers, waiting for the King to make his appearance. It was no secret that Discord carried on this assembly only for his own amusement, and that meant just about anything could and would happen. The King was just as likely to walk in the door as he was to rise like a wisp through a crack in the stone walls.

But today the room was silent as a grave. As a few minutes ticked by, the courtiers began to shift uneasily and murmur amongst themselves. A group on the far side from Seraph erupted momentarily in a fit of giggles, apparently the result the result of an exceptional bon mot from a colt in back.

Seraph ran his keen eyes slowly over the chamber. Clearly this was all just a little bit of fun on Discord's part. Likely he was already here, watching and listening from some dark perch, laughing to himself all the while. Or perhaps he was hiding in plain sight, waiting for some observant fellow in the crowd to see through his ruse. It took the red stallion several seconds, but soon enough he saw the trickery. Clever, he thought. Even after four hundred years, he still finds ways to surprise.

With a cackle, Discord materialized in the room, transforming out of the high-backed wooden chair that was normally his seat for these occasions. The feat was met with respectful applause from the ponies of the court. "You have your King, Equestria!" he proclaimed in a booming voice. "As any good monarch must, however, tonight I am at the will of the suffering public," he continued with a gleeful smile. "Tonight I almost feel merciful. We'll see what entertainment the rest of the evening brings." With a mischievous snicker, he snapped the talons of his left claw, creating a new seat at the head of the room, as well as opening the door to admit the evening's first supplicant.

The pony that entered was light-green, dressed in faded overalls that spoke of hard work. A day's worth of stubble was growing over his drawn face, and the deep purple irises of his eyes showed little hope. Still he carried a reasonable degree of determination for a task that he probably knew was only a futile gesture.

Coming to a stop in the center of the chamber, the stallion addressed Discord in a respectful tone. "Most High King of Equestria, and Eternal Lord of all the Ponies, please hear my request!"

Discord nodded very slightly, checking the claws of his lion's paw. The supplicant continued, "I come from a long line of carpenters, gracious King. We have plied our trade on the outskirts of your fair city for many ages. But with the sun shrouded, the forests we relied on for raw materials have all passed away. Please, restore light to our lands, such that we may have hope for tomorrow!"

Seraph had to admit a certain degree of respect for this peasant. Though he knew his plea was desperate and unlikely to succeed, he still came in here with honour, and had not stooped to kiss the King's feet or begged for mercy. At least he still had his self-respect intact. Most of these "supplicants" were in fact ordinary civilians that the courtiers rounded up and coerced into coming just to give Discord some entertainment. Seraph wondered if that was the case here, or if this fellow had actually had the stones to try it on his own.

The King seemed to mull the request for a moment, and then had a brainwave. Leaning forward in his seat, Discord levelled his decree. "You say you are a carpenter, hmm? Then make me a stool. I've been on my feet all day and they could use the rest. Surely you can sympathize?"

The stallion was taken aback by the answer. "Indeed milord, but I have no tools or wood to work with."

In response, Discord simply winked. The hall was silent for the briefest moment, before being punctuated by a distinct rumbling. All at once, two great trees pierced the floor around where the supplicant stood, stretching out their voluminous boughs to both ends of the cavernous hall. The unfortunate carpenter was caught up in the surge, and ended up desperately clinging to a branch near the room's ceiling, casting his wild gaze about. Chuckling, Discord tossed a small handsaw and some other tools down to the base of the newly grown foliage. "No worries now, right?"

What followed was an unfortunate display. Seraph felt real shame pierce his heart as the carpenter attempted to find his way down the hulking tree, then sat wondering how best to fell a metre-thick trunk with only a 30 centimetre blade. Throughout the ordeal, he was subjected to the mirth of the King, which was answered by all the courtiers in the chamber, careful to match their master's timing and sure not to miss an opportunity to pass a sly remark.

Seraph could only watch the ridiculous display with sadness deep in his stomach. How had Equestria fallen so far? How could these ponies live with themselves, crawling over each other's backs for a taste of imagined power? How could they be reduced to such barbarism, in the pursuit of the favour of a cruel leader? Seraph silently vowed, as he often did, to fix this broken nation, once and for all. Meanwhile, he laughed along with them. Discord would surely be watching to make sure none of his admirers was hiding any secrets, and he most certainly did not wish to be discovered.

---

Several hours later, Seraph found himself back next to his own home. On the outside, it was a large house, with striking tall windows, and a steeply-peaked roof. In reality though, as with so much in Upper Eridian, it was just for appearances. Seraph made use of the residence only very rarely. His business was generally conducted in other, more secret places.

Coming around to the back of the home, he casually unlocked the sloped doors leading down into what appeared to be a root cellar. Casting a look around to make sure that he was not being watched, he disappeared into the gloomy, dank darkness, carefully relocking the door behind him.

Sure of his step in spite of the piercing blackness, Seraph reached along the wall and found a well-used lantern, which he quickly lit with a couple of matches from a pocket of his cape.

The lantern's glow revealed a view that was anything but a root cellar. A rough-hewn passageway spiralled down and out of sight, stretching hundreds of feet into the Earth. As he descended, stepping carefully in the smooth, gently-sloped passage, the air grew drier, and a warm breeze wafted up from beneath. Slowly, a yellow ambient glow from the depths of the mountain began to be visible. Seraph breathed a contented sigh. Finally, he was home again.

The passage ended in an immense stone chamber, lit by burning cauldrons and torches. It was his fortress against the unpredictability of the world, his refuge in the regularity of fire, and the mechanical work of his own hoofs. Lining the far wall was a row of massive boilers, fed constantly by hulking mounds of coal. From them emerged myriad ducts and pipes, carrying the life-blood of steam off to the various other devices in the cavern. Other areas in the space were occupied with all the necessary equipment to feed Seraph's voracious mind: massive furnaces and foundries, workshops, laboratories, assembly lines. The orange Earth pony looked out over his domain, blazing with the fire of enlightenment, and felt his heart fill with hope again. Here was where Equestria's true future lived.

Riding a clockwork-powered elevator up to his private apartments, which were erected along a wrought-iron truss high on the near wall of the cavern, Seraph thought of all the potential in this room. Since the days of his youth, he had always been enamoured of the power intrinsic in fire and machines. He remembered playing around with water-wheels, and marvelling at the might of lightning. Truly, he had thought, it was the destiny of any ascended species to harness this potential.

But Discord stood in the way of all that, which was why Seraph had chosen his current path. Twenty minutes later, he was in his own sparring hall, ready to work away the stress of life aboveground. Walking over to his personal armoury, he reverently withdrew a lengthy blade of layered steel, sharpened to a razor's edge, and balanced precisely to his fighting style and proportions. Approaching a worn-in training dummy on the practice floor, he assumed a proper stance. As he always did in these practice sessions, he simply summoned the memories of his own disgrace, how his one-time friends had proven their true colours in their final dealings with him. With a roar, he fell upon the dummy in flashes of bright steel.

The three of them had been perfect, Equestria's ultimate answer to Discord's stifling repression: Aquos, the tactician and magical prodigy; Altas, the idealist and flyer extraordinaire; and of course, himself, the genius engineer and master of the blade. All his youth, he had dreamt of earning that chance, to set things right once more, and claim his proper place at the head of the new Equestria.

Catching his breath, he stepped back. The dummy had been fully dismembered, and he would probably have quite enough work putting it back together for another session. Wiping sweat from his brow, Seraph sauntered out to the balcony overlooking his factory floor. Smoke billowed from the chimneys of the foundries, as iron was smelted into steel for construction and metallurgy work. The exhaust was all diverted carefully through pre-existing funnels in the rock ceiling, eventually emerging to mix harmlessly with Discord's eternal shroud.

Although he had purged his mind of the day's business, his heart still burned bright from the remembered betrayal. When confronted with the ultimate choice, of facing destiny or hiding from it, his friends had chosen cowardice, covering themselves with the flimsy veils of tradition and history to avoid facing the obvious truth. Equestria had lost its chance at freedom, and so it continued its slide into nothingness, forgetting its once-hallowed place in the world.

Altas and Aquos had tried to explain their reasoning, but Seraph could only look at either of them with contempt. How he had ever imagined that they might be the saviours of his country, he could not now say. But he had known what his destiny was, right from the start. They could not stand in his way, any more than they could hide their personal flaws from the test of destiny.

Seraph turned his gaze upward to the ceiling, imagining Eridian above him; the potential for greatness inherent in every pony. He had trusted in friends, certain that they would never betray their ultimate cause. Now, the task fell to him and him alone.

And when Equestria rose from the ashes of its mire, he would be there for it, a shining example of everything it could aspire for, everything that ponies could accomplish. A mechanized state, built on the principles of order and responsibility. A just society, rewarding intellect, effort, and honour. He would lead his country into the fair dawn of its glorious future.

Seraph smiled contentedly, for perhaps the first time in a long while. All in its due time, I will be King, and the future will be bright.