Vague, troubling dreams had plagued Dim’s sleep and he couldn’t quite remember them. What he did remember were lights; a brilliant blue light had shouted at him, had scolded him until a pink light intervened and the blue light was shouted down. Afterwards, when all was said and done, the blue light had become comforting, at least from what little that he could remember. The pink light was with him now while he stood upon the deck of the gunship, staring at the city in the distance.

Smoke rose from a number of places and flames could be seen reaching up into the sky.

Even from here, one could see the airships clustered around the skyscraper towers in the heart of the city. From what little Dim could make out, there was no fighting, no exchange of fire, which meant that there was a stalemate or they were waiting something out. One of those towers had to be Duc Truffe’s, a pony whose lifespan grew radically shorter with each passing minute.

Dim got paid for killing and there were ponies here that deserved to die.

Blackbird moved beside him on the deck to his left and Bombay to his right. The Abyssinian’s mood was unknown; she’d been quiet, reserved, and Dim suspected that with the lull, she may be grieving. Though he said nothing, he was too. He barely even understood the friendship that he had with the Bard, he hardly had time to appreciate it, and now, he was mourning it. Life’s lessons came fast, hard, and harsh.

“Gasconeigh is burning.” Blackbird’s voice was muted, troubled, and husky with emotional turmoil. “Some of the buildings have been blown up and some of the walls are damaged, I can see it from here.”

Try as he might, Dim could not see the level of detail that Blackbird could, and he was envious of her eyes.

“Duc Argentée had better be okay,” said one of the nearby soldiers.

“Oui,” said another, “we have orders to raze the city if he falls and I want no part in that.”

Dim was still weary and fearing that he had a long night in store, he allowed an audible sigh to slip free unhindered. The setting sun was a bloody, graphic orange against a red-rust sky, which was either Princess Celestia’s bad joke or an ill omen. Entering the city would be tense, sailing closer, and closer, and closer to the hovering enemy gunships. Whatever fragile ceasefire, whatever porcelain truce that existed, Dim hoped it would not break in-route.

“Ignite the white lanterns!” shouted the Bosun and there was a scramble on deck to do his bidding.

“Blackbird,” Dim began, drawing out her name while leering at her with a fine aristocratic sneer, “prepare to clench your sphincter.”

The ruination wreaked upon the city left a chill in Dim’s blood, but he took solace in the fact that he had spared the city from a far worse fate. If the Spider Queen had been released, the city would be gutted and its inhabitants no doubt eaten. How close had they come to doom? How many more lives would have been necessary to break the seals? Some of her influence was already leaking out, as evidenced by her command over the spiders and their odd mutations.

Argentée’s tower was damaged, but not terribly so. Damage to the city center was minimal and Dim guessed that a ceasefire had been called not long after the initial exchange. Now, the gunships were moored around two towers; Argentée’s tower and what Dim assumed had to be Truffe’s tower. So far, the peace seemed to be holding in the city’s center, though gunfire pealed through other parts of the city and fires raged uncontested.

Something would have to be done to restore order to the city, though Dim wasn’t sure what. He understood the source, the causes, the hows and the whys, but this all felt so senseless. The commoners, the peasants were wrecking the very city they lived in, and ultimately, their actions would only hurt them the most. They were, for all intents and purposes, shitting in their own nest. The sheer pointlessness of it all left a lingering despair that lurked in the back of Dim’s thoughts.

A room. It had a far too long table and no windows. Some kind of board room tucked deep within the bowels of the skyscraper that Chanson Argentée called home. For the lords of Fancy, or the Ducs as they were called in the local parlance, running the country was just an act of business. It was a strange way to do things, Dim felt, and given the current state of things, business had gone bad. As a system of governance, it had failed, and Dim did not feel that his judgment of it was too harsh.

“Général Martinet,” a stocky earth pony barked, and every soldier in the room went rigid.

The door opened and a pegasus entered, followed by Chanson and his wife, Pearl Fisher, both of whom looked as if they had seen better days. As for the pegasus, it was the meanest looking pegasus pony that Dim had ever seen, and from the look on his face he had a full-time habit of chewing on lemons. A fourth pony entered, a unicorn mare that looked every bit as frazzled as the pegasus looked mean.

Almost to the table, the pegasus paused, and then Général Martinet turned his glower in Dim’s direction. Remembering his manners, Dim returned this glower and the two ponies spent some quality time scowling at one another. After a time, Martinet nodded and then stood there while Chanson and Pearl Fisher were hustled into seats.

“Martinet,” said Blackbird with irrepressible cheer. “That’s a pun! It can mean a harsh disciplinarian, a type of whip, or a type of bird more commonly called a swift. This guy has a clever name!”

With a slow turn of his head, the hardass pegasus glared at Blackbird, who didn’t seem bothered at all. If anything, she became even more cheerful, worryingly so, and Dim felt his face muscles trying to betray him, wanting to rearrange his scowl into something else that would no doubt make his face ache.

“Bombay has been teaching me the langue locale, if you know what I mean.”

“My mother was a saintly mare, a member of the Celestial clergy. She had a fine wit that almost got her thrown out of the order. Had a keen mind, you see. Wouldn’t be silent. Didn’t know when to hold her tongue. She’d have these outbursts…” For a moment, Martinet’s harsh face softened just a bit and his eyes grew sad. “She was also a patriot that loved her country. Which is why I am doing what I’m doing.”

“She sounds like a fine mare,” Blackbird replied. “Can’t help but notice that you speak of her in the past tense.”

“My mother was part of the Benevolent Order of Celestines… the clergy placed her within the order to get her away from them. Dedicated her life to helping the poor. Died of Pauper’s Cough.” A faint hint of Fancy accent bled through the pegasus’ words and for a second, he bowed his head.

Dim realised that Blackbird had just gained the trust of Général Martinet. How, how did she do this? What sort of marvellous creature was Blackbird? She just had this way of doing things. What might Blackbird have changed with but a few kind words? She had taken what was obviously a stressful time for Martinet and made it better, reminding him of why he fought.

“Martinet, you promised that you would explain to me what is going on when Dim returned. Now, I’d like that explanation, if you please, and then I’d like to depart for Equestria.”

Again, Dim saw pain in Martinet’s eyes, but only for a second. The pegasus glanced around the room at his subordinates, meeting their eyes, and some manner of silent exchange seemed to be taking place. Some nodded, but most blinked or changed their facial expression in some way. Chanson was departing for Equestria? He was leaving? Princess Celestia had offered him asylum, and given the state of things in Fancy, this didn’t come as much of a surprise.

“My apologies, Duc Argentée, but you will not be leaving—”

“Am I under arrest? Am I to face some mockery of a trial?” Chanson drew himself up to his full height and brought his regal bearing into play. “I demanded the cease-fire for the sake of the citizenry! How dare you be petty about this! I demand you let me go!”

Martinet sighed, a heavy sound, an exhausted sound. He did not turn to look at Chason, who had bared his teeth. Rather, he looked at Dim, and Dim found all of this fascinating and a bit perplexing. In Martinet, Dim saw a pegasus that carried the weight of the world upon his back and there was regret in his eyes, a sadness when he started to speak.

“Duc Argentée, the very fact that Princess Celestia has offered you asylum speaks volumes of your character. That Princess Eerie has sent her own blood to aid you and assist you only confirms everything I believe and makes what I am about to do far more tolerable. Fancy has fallen… the entire nation has collapsed and is no more. Everypony was out for themselves, but you… you alone have put the interests of the nation ahead of your own. Your demand for the cease-fire and challenging my authority impressed me and helped me to reach my decision.”

“And what is that, exactly?” Chanson demanded.

Martinet sighed again and his wings clapped against his sides. He appeared to be a pony on the verge of breaking and Dim wondered what must weigh so heavily upon his mind. Perhaps he was mourning the loss of his country and Dim wondered what that might feel like. Probably terrible. The hardass pegasus closed his eyes for a moment, swallowed, and when he opened his eyes once more, steely resolve could be seen within them.

“I am appointing you as Empereur, may history have mercy upon my soul.” For a moment, there was utter and complete silence. Not a sound was heard. Martinet lifted his head and his hardened demeanour had returned, leaving behind nothing soft. “The remnants of the Fancy Foreign Legion are hereby seizing control of the city of Gasconeigh and—”

“Am I to be your puppet? Is that it?” Chanson, though stunned, was quick to recover himself.

“You will be whatever Fancy requires you to be until such a time that things have improved.” Martinet drew in a deep breath and then focused his attention upon Dim. “Do we have your support? Will Istanbull recognise the legitimacy of Chanson Argentée’s rule?”

Dim did not answer right away and he was careful to consider the full implications of this. Chanson did not seem willing, but that was ultimately irrelevant. He would be made to do what was right and his sense of duty would compel him to go along with all of this. From somewhere off to his left, he could hear Jolie whispering, but he couldn’t make out what was being said.

Then, he felt a tap from Blackbird and she whispered to him, “Remember our beloved Bard.”

The words were like a kick and Dim felt his withers slump. Pâté au Poulet had come to save his home… he had died here, given his life for a fight that they did not yet fully comprehend. And for the Bard to have died only to have his country unravel and come undone, that… that was tragic. It pained Dim to even think about.

“If it helps your decision, we already have the backing of both Princess Celestia and Princess Luna. In fact, Princess Luna has pledged an entire cohort of seasoned troops to help keep order in the city as we establish our capital. Princess Celestia was reluctant, but she understood the necessity. But if we are to reestablish our nation, we have a desperate need for allies.”

Chanson appeared quite troubled and his wife? Doubly so.

“You may count Istanbull among your allies.” Was he making the right decision? Did it matter? Dim considered the whims of Modesto, Mars, and Eerie. Ultimately, this was good for Istanbull, but only if the recovery of Fancy somehow succeeded. If things went wrong, if Chanson became a bloody tyrant, Istanbull—and Equestria for that matter—would look awful for aiding and abiding tyranny.

However, tyranny was just what was needed right now.

“You can’t be serious,” Chanson said, his voice cracking from strain.

Pearl Fisher was crying and the light mascara she wore ran down her cheeks, leaving behind blue-black streaks. Chanson seemed more stunned now than anything. Still standing, still rigid and stiff, Martinet was a pegasus carved out of stone. Dim wondered what he was thinking, especially after Blackbird had caused him to remember his mother.

“You let us rummage through your personal effects,” the frazzled unicorn mare that had entered with Martinet said to Chanson. “You had nothing to hide from us. You let us read your correspondence. Everything we’ve seen and every detail we’ve gathered suggest that you’re the right pony for the job.”

“And Truffe murdered the two emissaries that we sent to parley with him,” another soldier said. “You can’t run away from this. There’s no tucking your tail between your legs and leaving for greener pastures. If you leave, you’re giving the city to him.”

“There is still the matter of Truffe.” Martinet’s eyes narrowed and his lips drew tight over his teeth. “He’s surrounded by gunships and there’s got to be a thousand or more troops within his tower. If we go to evacuate the city center, he’ll open fire. If we make a move to attack him, he’ll open fire. He’s holding the city center hostage. There was a nasty exchange earlier and our position is not favourable.”

“We could send Dim to kill this asshole,” Motte suggested.

“Yes, but I can’t be ordered, I can only be bought.”

“You would ask for coin during a time like this?” the frazzled mare asked.

Dim nodded. “Yes. Yes, I would.”

“What you want, Jeebie King?”

Everypony in the room now stared at Pearl Fisher in shock and the bold mare’s demeanour suggested that she seemed to have recovered some of herself. Even Chanson appeared surprised by his wife’s words and he regarded her with one raised eyebrow. Martinet’s face also showed signs of shocked reaction.

“A slave is commanded,” Pearl Fisher said to all, “the free are compensated.” She nodded at Dim as more of her mascara ran down her cheeks. “So what you want, Jeebie King? What be your price for claiming one of the wicked as your own? What it take for you to drag him into shadow?”

“What are you offering?” Dim focused on Pearl Fisher and Pearl Fisher alone, ignoring all else.

“I fix you a meal. A big one.”

“There’d better be wine with the meal—”

“Is you a greedy guzzler?”

After a moment of consideration and enjoying the mare’s pleasant patois, he nodded. “I am fond of wine, yes, and if given a chance I will drink to excess. As the Jeebie King, I do believe I would enjoy breaking bread and drinking wine with the Empereur of Fancy.”

“Then we have a deal, Jeebie King.”

“I have one more condition,” Dim said and this got a groan from Martinet.

“I am listening.” Pearl Fisher’s ears pricked.

“This city needs purging, Pearl Fisher, and you know of what I speak. I want armed escorts for the zebras so they can do their work. Everything we do this night will mean nothing if the shadowlings aren’t dealt with. They are the source of this chaos… this unrest. They bring out the worst in creatures and they’re feeding on all of this. There will be no peace in the city until the parasites are dealt with.”

“What’s this about shadowlings?” Martinet demanded.

“The real threat to your city and to your nation,” Dim replied. “Everything we’re seeing now are merely symptoms of a much larger and far more dangerous problem. If you are going to reestablish your nation, you’ll need to purge the infestation, city by city.”

“I can do what you ask, if the Legionnaires will cooperate with me.”

“Oh, they will cooperate with you, otherwise, I’m not bothering. There’s no point otherwise. Any headway I make will be undone by the real threat to the city.”

“Can we work together, Martinet?”

“Can you explain to me what this threat to the city is?” he asked.

“I can.” She nodded. “But you have to be open minded. Know this, the Jeebie King recognises them as a threat, and so should you.”

Martinet sighed while nodding his acceptance. “Fine, we have an agreement. Let us work together with the zebras, it might calm some of this unrest.”

“Or make it worse,” a soldier said.

With a quick turn of his head, Martinet scowled at the soldier who had spoken out of turn, then returned his gaze to Pearl Fisher. The hardass pegasus was now more thoughtful than stern, and his eyes showed a keen intelligence while he studied the future Impératrice. For her part, Pearl Fisher seemed to be recovering herself and her strength of character was on display for all to see, for all to witness.

Before anything else could be said, Dim vanished in the most dramatic way possible.

Author's Notes:

This chapter was started on July sixth, and was finished today, on July 15th. It had extensive rewrites, where parts of it felt as though it was lagging, or going to slow. Whole scenes got cut, such as the arrival and Jolie saying hello, because, damnit, it just bogged down to the point of blah.