It was time to get my plan underway. It was going to be complicated, and risky, and take a lot of steps and a lot of time. Some of the bits and pieces I needed were going to take some work to get. But the first step in any plan-- as my dorky business class teacher in high school used to tell us-- was to make sure your staff were up to speed with it.

Problem one: Artful Dodger was acting as my Number One. My Number One was getting pushed around by the other ponies in my employ. This looked bad on me, and it meant my pony gang, at the least, was disrespecting me.  Plus it was making him wonder when he was going to get all that power I kept promising him.

So, step one: Level up my minion.

This led to problem two: Chrysalis. The other changelings were getting torqued that their former slave driver was lounging around in my lair, living the soft life. Time to get her on board with the big plan-- or as much of it as I was going to reveal to her-- and to start tapping that presumably centuries-deep well of magical knowledge.

I marched down the hallway to Chrysalis' chamber, Artful Dodger in tow. I stepped between the two disgruntled looking guards and banged on the door with one mailed fist. "Open up, Chrysalis," I said. "Its time to earn your keep."

The door swung open with startling speed. There stood Chrysalis, a disturbingly eager look on her face. "Yes, my lord," she purred. "At last, you have decided to come to me--"

I noticed the guards giving me cockeyed looks. "Keep your distance," I growled at her.

Chrysalis frowned, then gave me a coquettish look. I think it was coquettish anyway; I think one of us was out of practice. "Why must you be this way?" she said. "I am yours, completely. Heart... and body. Haven't you ever felt like... being experimental?" She gave me a sly smile and batted her eyelashes.

"If I ever feel like experimenting, I'll go join a science fair," I drawled. "I hear baking soda volcanoes are all the rage." Dodger stifled a snort. "We have issues to discuss." I stepped through her door, pushing her back. "We are not to be disturbed," I told the guards. This earned me some more funny looks. I ignored them and shut the door.

I had little reason to fear her; I had her on strict rations of the stored love-reserves the Changelings had accumulated... enough to keep her healthy, but sparse enough so that she was forced to carefully husband every drop of power she had. It was a tricky arrangement, but one in my favor. Her imprinting on me made it hard for her to draw from any other source without my permission; the changelings brought me the love-nectar, I drank it, then she absorbed it from me. I had no use for the love-energy of course, so it nearly all went straight to her-- which ironically made the imprinting stronger. (Fastest way to a Changeling's heart is through her stomach, I guess. Heh.) It also made me immune to her more explicit mind-twiddling tricks, it seemed... and she wasn't going to try anything more messy (like a knife to the back, or poison in my beer) so long as I was her literal meal ticket.

Still, I'd chosen to hold this meeting in Chrysalis' little suite to maximize the psychological advantage. The main room was fairly small and I was dressed like a cross between a linebacker and a space marine, so it wasn't hard to radiate an intimidating aura. She was already an unwelcome guest, which had to bother her and was therefore to my advantage, and having someone invading what little personal space she had would hopefully keep her off balance and intimidated. Still, the faint creepy fantasy creature decor was tipping things at least a little to her advantage. The room was dimly lit, and Chrysalis had obviously been adding her feminine touch to the place-- if by feminine you meant "hive queen."  A few green cobwebby looking things here, some glowing pods there, just added to the creepy ambiance.

She strode across the room and picked up a pitcher and a glass. She made an offering gesture. "Something to drink, my Lord? Only the finest icemelt..."

I waved her offer down. She shrugged and drained the glass. "One learns to appreciate plentiful water in the wastelands," she said, with a chastising look. "But fine, be that way." She set the glass down. "How can I be of service, Oh Dread Master?"

I started to speak-- then my brain updated. "You're bipedal," I noted. The fact that she was almost eye-to-eye with me should have clued me in, really. She wasn't completely human; she was more halfway between, somewhere in the 'funny cartoon animal person' zone.  She was just a foot shorter than me, not counting the horn, and had simple four-fingered claws instead of forehooves, as well as an almost-starving fashion model figure.  A loose, sleeveless black dress hung on her slender frame.  Otherwise she was the same. Well. Other than  a couple of obvious secondary female characteristics...

She shrugged expressively and held up one clawed hand, examining it. "It seemed the thing to try around here," she said. "Helps getting things off the higher shelves anyway. The wider hips seem to help with balance a bit..." she looked down and jiggled a bit. "Did I get the cha-chas right this time? They're called cha-chas, right?" (A-cup, in case you were wondering, gentlemen.)

"Where did you..." Then I recalled an evening spent laboriously explaining or trying to explain to someone what, precisely, a human male sought in a female and why, precisely, none of the local dog and pony show even came close.

Artful Dodger shrugged. "Sorry, boss," he said. "She sorta picked my brain." Ah. He regarded her "Cha-chas" idly. "They're kinda interesting for some reason.... Still seems sorta inconvenient having them there all the time, even when she's not nursing."

Not as inconvenient as being constantly mistaken for a male, I thought idly. Though that was scarcely a problem here for her. It was obvious what she was really trying to do. At least this time her proportions were more or less correct. The last time she'd tried edging up on a human form she'd ended up looking like one of those hideous "bratz" or "Equestria Girls" dolls. One with jugs so large she looked like two balloons on a stick. I resisted the urge to rub my temples through my helmet. "Enough," I said. "There are things we have to discuss." I took a seat nearby and explained the issue with Artful Dodger to her.

She sat down across the room from me, putting an increasingly nervous looking Artful Dodger between us, and regarded him with narrowed eyes. "Hmm, yes," she said, stroking her chin. "I can see where this would be a problem. A toady who gets slapped around by your other underlings reflects badly on you." She looked up at me. "Why did you select this one, of all ponies?"

"The Diamond Dogs are loyal, but dim," I said. "The ex-cons are somewhat smarter, but not nearly as tough or hardbitten as they think they are. The Changelings are both smart and tough, within their limits, but their loyalties are tied to me magically, which makes them suspect." I gestured at Artful Dodger. "This one is fairly smart, has lived a life on the streets which makes him far more worldly than most,  while he is currently rather weak, he take a licking and keep on ticking... and while his ambitions mean he is only really loyal to himself, they are straightforward and obvious-- which means I can use them."

Chrysalis said "hmm" and nodded. "Far from perfect, but usable," she summarized.

"Essentially," I agreed.

Artful Dodger was looking more and more nervous. He was apparently starting to realize he was the subject of the attention of two of the most dangerous beings in Equestria, and he wasn't sure he liked it. "So," he said nervously. "What's the plan to buff me up?"

"Silence, grub, the adults are talking," Chrysalis muttered. "That is the question, though. I'm not sure how much my advice will be of use here. Ponies are so different..."

"Obviously," I noted dryly.

"Not just from Changelings," Chrysalis said, shaking her head, "But from each other. there are so many kinds of pony: races, shapes, colors, sizes, types, talents... what with their cutie marks, and everything else, pony culture revolves around being 'individuals.'" She made quote marks in the air. She was picking up human hand gestures quickly. "It's absolute chaos! With Changelings it's one-size-fits-all. You have to EARN individuality, not just get it handed to you the moment you hatch. The Changeling way is so much better; If I wanted a special agent for some particular task, I could almost pick some Changeling at random, infuse them with magical power or give them a badge of authority, and be done with it."

It would make sense, I realized. Ironic. They had to be able to mimic anyone, had to be able to step into anyone's shoes: pegasus, earth pony, unicorn, or even alicorn princess. And in order to mimic anyone they all had to be virtually the same underneath. Though I had my suspicions about Chrysalis' perspective of her race as interchangeable cogs. Black Fang had told me that their species was cyclical, with a more 'loner' lifestyle in one part of the cycle and a swarming hive in another. It seemed a little shortsighted to discount Changeling individualism entirely. And she had, after all, bombed at her one attempt at conquest. That sort of suggested some myopia in the leadership. "Taking all that into account," I persisted. "Where would you begin?"

Chrysalis got to her feet and walked around Dodger, stroking her chin and regarding him narrowly. He stood stock still, his nervousness plain on his face. "Well, let's begin by knowing what he already does," she said. "What are his talents? What is his Special Talent, for that matter?"

I waved a hand imperiously at Dodger. "Dodger? A little demonstration of your talents," I said.

He seemed to pluck up a little confidence at that. He proceeded to run through the gambit: magically picking a lock, pulling a deck of cards out and playing three-hoof-monte, disguising some pebbles as bit coins, casting a look-somewhere-else spell, picking loose items out of our pockets magically... the highlight of his performance was when he walked behind Chrysalis. She let out a startled "yeep" and he walked around her other side, grinning like the cat that ate the canary. He lifted up his hat and a pair of lacy underthings fell out. Chrysalis hissed like an enraged viper and snatched the panties up, face flaming, and retreated to her washroom to re-don them. "And what has that trick ever gotten you?" I asked him.

"Slapped," he admitted ruefully, wincing in memory. "Nearly lost a tooth, once." Getting slapped with hooves had to be a lot rougher, I guess.

I had a brief brainfart. "Wait," I muttered. "Why would ponies have lacy undergarments? They walk around naked--"

Artful Dodger looked at me like I was a moron. "What fun is a Hearthwarming Day gift without the fancy wrapping to peel off?" he said. I pondered that for a moment. "So why haven't you..." Dodger said, nodding in the direction of the bathroom and waggling his eyebrows.

I scowled at him through my helmet. "We went over this already," I said. "One: I'm from another world. She probably has more in common, genetically, with the mushrooms Big Mama is growing in her kitchen. Two: scary Changeling venereal diseases. Three: my species is the only sapient one on my planet, so over there sleeping with anything not of my species is bestiality, AKA disgusting. Four: she could get mad and sprout teeth someplace unholy." He cringed at that one. "Five: In spite of everything, thanks to magic there's a chance of pregnancy, and I don't want to deal with a hive of horrible little bug-human-pony abominations calling me 'daddy.' Six: first bro-rule, never have sex with crazy. Seven: she's a gross alien bug-horse. That's a boner-killing dealbreaker all by itself. Seven--"

"Okay okay okay!" Dodger said, grimacing and pulling his hat down over his ears. "No need to get into the details, yech."

Chrysalis returned. She glared at Dodger with glowing eyes. "Do that again and I'll rip your reproductive system out through your nose," she said calmly. "Are we clear?"

Artful Dodger gulped. "Crystal," he said meekly.

"So, any conclusions?" I said, getting the topic back on track.

Chrysalis finished smoothing out her ruffled temper and retook her seat. "His special talent is obvious," she said. "Deception, misdirection, to dodge and trick, avoid and evade."  Her lips quirked in a near smile. "Almost like a Changeling in a way. My first thought is to push any... enhancement...you give him in those directions."

"That makes sense," I said. "It's easier to work with the direction his cutie mark is going, rather than against it. Go with his strengths."

Artful Dodger raised a hoof. "Hold on," he said. "Begging your Mighty Powerfulnesses' pardon, but  I thought we were going to be working on my weaknesses. I already know how to run away and hide. I need to have a way to stand my ground and kick some butt!"

He had a point, I had to admit. He was already slippery as an eel and twice as evasive, but dodging and running only got you so far till they had you cornered. I brooded for a moment. So what was the solution? Special training? There would be that of course but that didn't help with the immediate problem. Casting a slew of protective spells on him might work, but, with a few special exceptions, those tended to have drawbacks or wear off fairly quickly. A weapon of some sort? Some sort of magic-enhancing artifact, like a dime-store version of my own Amulet?  I brooded darkly. I didn't want him getting too powerful, too independent... but at the same time I didn't want him helpless at an inconvenient time.

Chrysalis was musing aloud along a similar vein. "Were you a Changeling, you could simply innovate," she said. "grow poison fangs or armor plating or enhance your muscles till you were strong as an ox. It would cost you dearly in love energy, but you could do it...

"I dunno about learning Changeling magic anyway. Ponies figured out how to yank the plug on Changelings pretty quick," Dodger pointed out. "Their royal Cake-arses have anti-Changeling defenses out the wing-wong now. I don't wanna be no one-trick pony, especially when everypony knows the trick."

Chrysalis shrugged. "meh. I doubt I could teach Changeling magic to a pony anyway... though I do know some ways to use our magic to make more permanent, if cosmetic, changes..." she gave him a sly look. "Say, give you some poison fangs? or scaled armor? Or more subtle alterations..." She was looking thoughtful; he was looking apprehensive.

One trick pony. That gave me an idea. "Well, then," I said. "Who says we have to go with just one trick?"

*******

It was later that week. I was working on the bigger aspects of the plan, going over my notes and research, when I felt the draw on my power. I got up from what I was doing and hustled over to my work station and pulled up the security system.

Yes, I had a work station and a security system. Mindful of the need to keep an eye on things, I had set up permanent Vulcan Eyes everywhere in the tunnels. They doubled as lanterns, keeping the tunnels and chambers lit with a bright yellow-green glow--- very springtime--- and gave me instant surveillance over the lair whenever I wished. I had built a rune-covered throne out of rock and iron in my chambers and anchored the spell to both it, and my more public throne in the treasure room. It was about as comfortable as it sounds. I was seriously considering replacing both thrones with recliners. (Did ponies have recliners? There probably was some pony named Lazy Boy somewhere...)

Anyway, I felt the tug on my power and plopped myself down in my workstation, summoning up the screens. It took me a while to find where Artful Dodger was. He was in one of the unfinished tunnels, with two or three other burly looking ex-con ponies. It looked like they had hustled him down a back corner where they thought the Eyes didn't see. Operative word, THOUGHT. I had made a point of disguising about half the Eyes of Vulcan as ordinary lamps, glow crystals or luminescent fungi. Suckers. They were doing the usual 'big man on campus' routine, looming over him and giving him an occasional shove with an oversize hoof. I enlarged the view, turned on the sound and sat back to watch.

"--Don't take kindly to little runts giving me orders," the biggest one, a dark gray stallion who was apparently the leader, was saying.

"Hey, I'm just passing on Vulcan's orders," Dodger protested. He was trying to keep his cool but I could feel him pulling on the magical tether like a pyrophobe ringing a fire alarm. "He wants stuff done, he sends me to say it."

"What, he's too good to talk to us now?" the gray stallion snorted. "His Majesty, the king of Diamond Dogs and Dirt?" He gave Dodger another shove. "He wants something done he can tell us himself, instead of sending his little girlfriend to do it." The other toughs snickered, low and menacing. "I don't like your attitude, pansy boy, I don't care who you're cuddling up with. Get out of our faces before we kick your little fairy butt."

I checked the tether. Dodger's heart rate was going through the roof and his skin temperature was dropping. Perfect, he was right at the peak of fight or flight. I sent a command through the tether, one only he could hear.

"Do it."

Dodger's hat tipped back. Black lightning boiled out of the tip of his horn and caught Big Bad Gray right in the chest. It enveloped him and lifted him off the ground, flinging him down the tunnel and into the wall at the end hard enough to leave a pony shaped indentation. He slid to the ground in a groaning, boneless heap.

The others gawked at him. Or rather they gawked at the horn-ring he was wearing; a thick gold ring set with heavy black gemstones. It was a simple booster ring, similar to ones used by the Canterlot elite to help pampered foals who were struggling with their basic magic lift-and-move, but much more powerful... and rather than drawing on Dodger's own magic, it drew on the power of the Amulet, mingling it with Dodger's own and giving him an impressive TK boost. It had drawbacks he couldn't use it too often or for too long. But it was certainly impressive. He could probably slap the rest of the little gang around just with that.

The other bullies apparently thought that using a magic booster in five to one odds was cheating. "Why you little weasel--" one snarled. They lunged for him, dogpiling the spot he was standing.

And he wasn't there.

Rather than give him one amplification, or tackling the issue in one way, I had decided we would "buff him up" with a mix of tricks, powers and boosters. This was the contribution to the 'amplify his natural gifts' angle; I called it the Displacer Illusion. He had some rudimentary illusion skills; Chrysalis and I had worked together, teaching him to amplify and focus it into one simple illusion-- the illusion that he was two or three paces away from his actual location. It took a day or two but he was already at a point where he could cast it by instinct, whenever he got startled or sensed he was in danger. I had hopes he could learn to cast multiple illusions of himself eventually, but right now that simple trick was startlingly effective. Nopony could land a hoof on him, and because he could shift his illusory self around it was impossible to guess his location either.

With five-- no six, here came Charcoal again-- ponies thrashing around in a confined space, though, his luck soon ran out. A pegasus with ratty wings managed to outmaneuver him and jumped him from behind. By pure instinct Dodger lashed out with his back hooves, catching the pegasus in the collarbone. There was a flash, sparks flying everywhere and (I imagined) a strong smell of ozone, as the Pegasus in question began to do a mad flamenco dance as his mane and tail stood on end.

"Yeebadingdangringadingadingdingdangyabbabibbabbibbiddy--" he hollered, before collapsing in a heap, wisps of smoke rising off him.

Artful Dodger was now the proud owner of a clever little set of horseshoes. It had taken the Diamond Dog blacksmiths a couple of tries to get them right. They were an old Pegasus design, long fallen into disuse: lightning shoes. They stuck to the hooves without nails, of course (all pony shoes do; they don't like driving nails into their body parts any more than you do), and insulated the wearer against unexpected lightning (important when you walked on thunderclouds for a living) and skysteel made them light as a feather, but had a fatal flaw: they didn't just block electricity, they absorbed it. This meant they had a tendency of building up and releasing massive jolts of electricity. I had made a bug into a feature, making them thicker, increasing the capacity as high as I could manage and adding the ability to release the surges with a kick or buck. Just by walking around all day he could build up a massive static charge in each shoe. That gave him four hooves, four shots. The results of just two shoes was a lot more potent than I'd expected. Some of the pegasus' feather tips had caught fire.

The thugs still standing had a unicorn among them. He started firing up his horn. Dodger didn't wait to see what he was about to do. A bolt of black energy leapt out and struck the attacking unicorn right in the horn. There was an explosion of sparks and the unicorn thug went down with a yell. It was much simpler than it looked; that black bolt had been an old dirty-pool trick for fighting unicorns, just a quick sharp blow to the horn to disrupt any casting. Normally a unicorn horn is as tough and nerveless as whalebone. But if you do it in the middle of a casting it's disorienting as hell-- and hurts almost like a blow to the nuts, or so I'm told, if the spell is big enough. But with that black kinetic lightning it looked a hell of a lot more ominous.

I chuckled to myself as I watched the action. "And how goes it?" a voice said behind me. I spared a glance for Chrysalis; she was draped over the back of my throne, perforated arms trailing across the back as she watched the screen over my shoulder.

"Better than I expected," I told her. "Charcoal and his idiots tried to browbeat him just a minute ago, and now he's thrashing them up and down the hall." Quite literally at this point; he'd switched back to the TK ring and was heaving the entire half-dozen back and forth across the tunnel, smacking them into the walls so hard that dust was settling down. Chrysalis chuckled. "What are you laughing at?"

"You," she said slyly. "The proud father."

I grunted and returned my attention to the lopsided brawl. "He's not going to be able to keep that up much longer and-- yep, there it goes. The feedback headache got to him." Onscreen, Dodger's magic field sputtered out and his makeshift pony hackey-sack fell to the floor. He staggered back, panting and wincing from the pain. "Let's see if Charcoal and his goons have learned their... no, they haven't." The pony thugs had tottered back to their feet and were pulling knives. It looked ridiculous; nothing is so non-intimidating as a bambi-eyed pony trying to hold a knife in his mouth, but I knew from experience that they had surprisingly strong and flexible neck and shoulder muscles, and could wield weapons like that with unsettling effectiveness. These were critters who could drive nails with a hammer in their mouth, after all.

I had worked out that I could send messages to Dodger over the magical tether that fed the ring by sending vibrations down it... like one of those microphones that vibrated the occipital bone in the ear. "Enough," I said over the tether. "Take them out, now."

Artful Dodger whipped off his hat, holding it by the brim in his teeth, and waved it at the oncoming ponies, tilted so they could look down inside it. Black inky smoke poured out, and all hell broke loose.

This was my personal favorite among the bag of tricks we'd given him. Among the books I'd heisted from Twilight Sparkle's library was a comprehensive study of the tyrant King Sombra, and the magic he'd used to control the Crystal Empire with an iron hoof. It was an exhaustive research volume, written by none other than Twilight Sparkle herself, and had thousands of lovely clever and downright nasty ideas with potential that Sombra himself probably lacked the perspective to fully appreciate. Among the pages Chrysalis and I found a clever spell that, to quote the author., "apparently creates an intangible, light-absorbing mist that has particular psychoreactive properties demonstrable by its subjective responses to immediate observers." Translation: it reacted to your thoughts. And not in a nice way.

To my surprise, Artful Dodger had no problem at all casting the spell and generating continuous wisps of the black smoke, performing the feat almost immediately. Unfortunately that was all he could manage: wisps, which dissipated almost as fast as he made them. He'd groused that he couldn't do anything with a magic cloud that "wasn't any bigger than a Breezy fart." It was Chrysalis who hit upon the idea of storing those wisps up.... a quick look through the piles of junk we'd looted for an appropriate chapeau, and some careful magical reworking of the inside with a particular pattern of crystal and silver thread, Artful Dodger had a snappy brand new top hat that could hold gallons of the inky mist in reserve. He'd filled it right up and never went anywhere without it firmly upon his head.

I had dubbed it the Hat Full of Nightmare.

The mist that came boiling out of Dodger's hat was as black as sin, thick as ink and didn't billow through the air so much as it flowed. It coiled through the air like a living thing, forming blobs and coils that undulated through the air like sinister jellyfish.... And whatever pony looked at it, the smoke took on the form of their most horrible nightmares.

The pegasus apparently had a deep seated fear of Windigoes; pale spectral ponies burst from the smoke and began flying around him, whinnying and screaming. He shrieked and curled up in a ball, shivering. Others had fears that were more subtle and personal; the unicorn stallion suddenly found himself facing a distorted, leering figure that stalked towards him, snapping an enormous pair of shears open and shut. "No, not my horn, not my horn!" he whimpered, rearing up and covering his head with his forehooves. Yikes, I didn't want to know the details of that particular foalhood trauma.

Charcoal was apparently a tough pony to scare. The cloud of inky mist before him took some time to form into anything. When it did, though, it was a humdinger. It was a hydra-- three heads, jet black with fiery eyes and mouths full of fire behind their fangs, large enough that it looked to fill the tunnel. He whinnied and backed up into the wall.

Note: you'd think ponies would be most afraid of dragons. Nope. Dragons are intelligent and can be reasoned with, at least sometime. Hydras on the other hand are stupid, vicious, and somewhere and somehow-- personally I think they were like large mouth bass, going after anything with bright colors--- they had acquired a taste for pony. Every pony's horror was the idea of one of these enormous eating machines wading into their town, their multiple heads snapping up ponies like popcorn. I'd not read any reports of any hydra slaughterfests; I suspect that hydras were a lot like sharks in my world, with a far worse reputation than the reality. But Charcoal must've had a close shave at some point because one look at that spectral hydra and he was screaming like a filly on helium.

The illusions blended together, crossing over, mingling, lesser fears and bogeymen springing in and out of the smoke on the fringes. A half dozen of Equestria's most wanted, reduced to shrieking fillies by a hat full of smoke. But Dodger had reached the time limit on his store of bottled nightmare fuel; the fog was already starting to dissipate around the edges. That was my cue.

As we had scripted, I reached out with the Amulet and took control of the hat, whipping it out of Dodger's mouth and making it hover in midair. I dispersed the nightmare smoke as well, sending the bogeymen it had formed swirling into nothingness. The tunnel suddenly grew still as every pony looked up at the hovering headpiece.

I had added a round stone, about the size of the palm of my hand, to the hatband. It split down the middle, peeling back like an eyelid, revealing a yellow-green, slit-pupiled eye. I cranked up the reverb and spoke through the Eye. "Artful Dodger," I said, my amplified voice booming out of the hat. "For what cause did you release the Nightmare Mists?"

Dodger took his cue beautifully. He dropped to his knees, bowing to the hat, and said "Forgive me, Dark Lord. I know you told me to use it only in dire circumstances, but I had to defend myself against these ponies." He indicated the half dozen pony thugs scattered about the floor. "Charcoal and his friends here decided that they didn't like my face. Your Dark Lordship, sir." He gave a theatrically long pause. "Then they decided to rough me up to make the point."

"So I see." I turned the Eye on a decidedly shaken Charcoal. "So what do you have to say for yourself... Charcoal?" I threw as much disdain into that name as I could. "For what cause did you assault my underling?"

"He said he didn't care to be taking orders from no Dark Lord's catamite," Artful Dodger interjected slyly. "And if you had anything to say, you could come down like a stallion and say it to their face. Your Lordship. Sir."

Charcoal looked like his breakfast quit agreeing with him. He gulped and stammered. "We-- we don't care to be ordered around by some uppity little street rat-- we're grown stallions, we--"

"FOOL!" I thundered, making their manes blow back. The Eye blazed red. "I have known all along of your foalish behavior, your petty complaints and your pettier abuses. Artful Dodger is MY APPRENTICE. He is no longer merely pony. Already under my tutelage he is privy to secrets that could burst your mind asunder, and tear the flesh from your miserable bones. Be thankful that I ordered him to restrain himself when dealing with you!" The petty thugs had looks on their faces that told me they'd probably left stains on the tunnel floor.

"Hear my words and heed them. Artful Dodger is my minion. His voice is MY voice. His power is MY power. When he speaks, you shall obey him regardless. I ALONE shall decide when and if he has overstepped his bounds. If you assail him, I will know. If you refuse to heed him, I will know. And if I hear of further insubordination, I will grant you your foolish wish-- I will leave my throne, come down to wherever you are hiding, and deal with you PERSONALLY.

"Go about your business. You know your orders. Return to me, my apprentice, and fetch my lieutenants; we have much to discuss about..." I paused meaningfully. "...The Plan."

"Yes, Dark Lord." Artful Dodger bowed deeply. The eye winked shut and the hat fell neatly on top of his head. He put it at a jaunty angle and trotted out of the tunnel. Just before leaving he looked back at the shell-shocked ponies. I wondered if they noticed the slit pupils now, or the cats-eye gleam they gave off. I considered their faces. Yup, they did. "... You might want to get back to work," he said. There was a frantic scuffle of bruised limbs as the stallions scrambled to their feet and set about to be someplace else.

Back in my Man Cave I let loose an un-dark-lordish cackle. That had been absolutely hysterical. The best part was that Dodger hadn't even used half the new tricks at his disposal. He had drugg-tipped darts under his hatband, dipped in Changeling venom (provided by Chrysalis herself) that could paralyze a pony for up to an hour. He had a fire opal earring that enabled him to spit flame. He had Poison Joak in a squirt bottle in his vest pocket-- and a carefully acquired immunity to it. He had learned a teleportation spell that would jink him ten feet in any direction, and had a one-shot hearth stone that would instantly teleport him to its twin, wherever it was (currently in my Sanctum.) He could see in the dark, thanks to transformative magic from Chrysalis worked on his eyes, that also gave them their new unique cats-eye glow. He had an impenetrable undershirt that would turn arrows and knives. He had a derringer hidden in his hat. He had so many magic holdouts, backups and trinkets that bands of roving Roleplayers (alignment Homicidal Kleptomaniac) should have been marching down the tunnels hunting him down.

"Congratulations, my Lord," Chrysalis chuckled. "That went better than expected. And that was a brilliant touch, dropping hints of a plan in your conversation."

"Yes, with any luck-- oh who are we kidding, these guys gossip like fishwives. It'll be all over the lair by tomorrow: first that my Apprentice is a scary half-demon mofo who keeps living nightmares under his hat. That should stop any attempts to push him around.

"Second, they'll all be convinced that I have some vast and secret mysterious Plan that we're working on.... which will silence the ones claiming we're wandering around aimless."

Chrysalis folded her arms on the back of my throne and rested her chin on her wrists. "And do you have a plan?" she asked.

I got up. "What do you think we were working on?" I said, waving at the table covered with charts and diagrams. "It is ambitious, and it will take a lot of time, and a lot of risk. And I can't disclose all of it at once-- there are some details I have to keep to myself, to keep our enemies guessing. But if I pull it off... if we pull it off... we will have the treasures of entire worlds at our beck and call." I couldn't help reaching out and grasping at the air with my mailed fist.

Chrysalis sighed and pretended to swoon. "Oh, and to think I would have settled for far less. Just you, my Lord, and me, and our little foal Artful Dodger in a cottage in the woods--"

"Get bent," I told her.

"I'm betrothed to a monkey from another world. I thought I already was," she quipped.

"Rrrrrrrr....."