The incredulous look on Motte’s face was infuriating and Dim was forced to remind himself that Motte was his friend. Even worse, Dim was not accustomed to being refused anything, and this, along with his current state of doubt and uncertainty, worked a dreadful number on him. His mood far beyond soured, he entertained the notion of using magical compulsion.

“You woke me up in the middle—”

“Us,” Bailey, being the helpful sort, said. “You woke us up in the middle of the night. Dim, Motte’s not a doctor.”

Almost grinding his teeth together, Dim held his tongue for fear of saying the wrong thing. Mindful of the roaring blood in his ears and the thumping of his heart, he made himself calm down. Why was he so angry in the first place? Surely there had to be a reason, because this couldn’t be just about a maimed goblin.

“Of all the things you could show mercy for,” Motte said, shaking his head, “why a goblin?”

“Perhaps Dim is starting off small and working up to bigger things,” Bailey suggested to her counterpart.

“Then we should get him a hamster, or a gerbil or something. Those would smell better, at least.” Motte cast a sidelong glance at the comatose goblin laid out on the table. “Dim, this is like saving a tapeworm or a flesh-burrowing parasitic gut-borer. Why?”

“Do it, Motte.”

“Bailey?”

“I’ll even bathe it first.”

“Bailey, have you lost your mind?”

“No,” she was quick to reply. “We’re hurting Dim’s feelings and he’s having a rough night. It’s been a stressful time for all of us. There’s been enough killing and death. So let’s humour the whims of Dim and save a goblin.”

“But, it’s a goblin.”

Dim heard a rush of wind escaping Bailey when she sighed and then he heard her respond, “Yeah, but it’s Dim’s goblin, and we’re doing this for him. I’m sure he’ll return the favour later. Right, Dim?”

“Oh, fuck everything. Fine. Let me get my bag. Dim, get out, I don’t want you hovering over me while I work. Bailey, wash the patient… thoroughly, I might add, and then shave her arm in preparation for a cast. I need a drink. I can’t believe I’m about to patch up a goblin.”

Nodding once, Dim turned to leave.

Even though there was resolution, nothing felt resolved. All of the events that had transpired weighed heavily on Dim’s mind. From their arrival, to the cultist compound, to the assault on the bandit fort, the trip had been an eventful one. There was even some success to be had, but also loss. The Bard was gone. Yes, the Bard was gone, but he had been spared the sight of his homeland falling into ruination

The overall objective had not been met. He had failed in regards to the pseudo-alicorns and now Grogar would have terrifying new minions. The secrets of the Ascendency would be read from their flesh, like words glimpsed from some forbidden book, and Grogar would no doubt start turning equine minions into alicorns. Dim could only imagine the worst of things, the most awful of outcomes. Having fought a living one, the idea of an undead one was utterly terrifying. The world was at risk. Well, most of the world. Dim doubted that Equestria would see the worst of this, because the Royal Pony Sisters were just that powerful. Equestria was no doubt an island of stability and security in a roiling ocean of chaos.

Something pink intruded upon his thoughts, his ruminations, but not a word was said. The world took on a faint pink hue and Dim was comforted by the presence, even if it remained silent. What must the alicorns of Equestria think of the events taking place here in Fancy? Dim could only imagine how troubling they must be. The Midreach too, would feel the ripples from everything that transpired here, and the balance of power would soon shift. Slavers from Menagerie and the Black Hand would no doubt strike while Fancy was weak. The peasants who dwelled in the farmlands would be easy prey.

His failure would only make things worse.

The weight of rule, of responsibility, it settled upon Dim’s withers and caused them to sag.

Pain rippled through Dim’s mind and there was a frightful pressure just behind his eyes that threatened to make them pop right out of his skull. His tongue took on a weird metallic flavour and the cloying stench of ozone tickled his nose, threatening to make him sneeze. Just as the pain reached a sort of crescendo, it subsided a bit and a projection of Princess Cadance appeared, emitted from his horn.

“I don’t have long,” she said, her face full of worry lines. “This is taxing on both of us. Try not to worry, you’ve done well. Far better than anypony expected, really. Things aren’t great, but they’re not as bleak as you believe them to be. I thought maybe you could use some encouragement.”

Unsure of what to say or how to respond, Dim chose a complimentary opener. “It seems as though we’ve both grown in power, Cadance.”

“I’m learning how to truly spread my wings as an alicorn,” she replied, her worry lines deepening when her projection smiled. “Like you, I’m trying to find my place in this world. I’m trying to step out from Celestia’s shadow, but that’s hard to do. Here at home, at least.”

Saying nothing, Dim listened.

“Dim, I’m sorry that you had to face your mother. I can feel your pain. It ripples through my mind and makes it hard to maintain our connection.” Cadance’s projection flickered, went fuzzy for a moment, and then came back into focus. “As bad as she is, I fear that worse awaits for you.”

“Well, that’s reassuring—”

“Would you rather I lie to you?”

Dim huffed once, his ears rose, fell, rose again, and as his anger fizzled out, he shook his head. “No, your candor is appreciated. I am not myself right now.”

“This is true, Dim. You’re not yourself. You’re becoming something better. Eerie too, is changing. Your arrival gave her the courage she needed to make peace with Princess Celestia. They’re talking now and even making plans. A formal alliance might come of this. Look for the good in things, Dim.”

“Eerie and Princess Celestia are talking?” Dim’s ears rose and this time, did not fall.

“She is to be forgiven for her crimes, because she has shown a sincere desire to do right. Istanbull stands as a testament for her desire to make amends. Eerie is deeply troubled by her part in what was done to you, as well as the rat infestation that plagues Canterlot. She is sharing what she knows with Princess Celestia so that the threat can be better understood, and so that we might be able to find some way to help you.”

“What am I?” Dim asked, his voice cracking. “Just what was done to me? What do you know about Thrennog?”

“I don’t know, I’m not sure, and Princess Celestia and Princess Luna once battled with him and banished him back to the Charnel Abyss where he rules. That battle happened over the Sea of Granite in the Midreach. The land still recovers, even now, centuries later.” Cadance’s projected image rippled. “The connection is coming undone, Dim. I cannot sustain this for much longer.”

“Go then, do not bring harm to yourself for my sake.”

“That was almost a goodbye, Dim. Best of luck.”

Then, her projection crackled out of existence and Dim was left all alone.

From the lofty view where Dim stood, staring out the window, it appeared as though the slums and tenements were burning down. With the chill of autumn already upon them and the threat of winter felt in every strong gust of wind, bad times were ahead. Pegasus ponies were pushing in storm clouds, but there was too much city and not enough rain to make a difference. By Dim’s own estimation, it was a futile effort. If only he were stronger and knew weather spells, perhaps then he could make a difference. But weather spells were not his forte. He could cast a few, but nothing on a grand scale, nothing that would save what remained of the city.

Eerie perhaps could, if she knew weather magic.

For much of his life, Dim equated power as a means of saving others, but it was only now, recently, after all that had happened and the loss of the Bard that he actually believed in it. The truth of it hobbled him as much as it humbled him and powerless to do anything about it, he watched as the vast swaths of flame that engulfed the city blazed rampant, unstoppable.

After having been in his mind, Cadance had to know about his act of necromancy, but she had said nothing. When would the stern rebuke come? The swift, crushing judgment? Somehow, it was even worse to not be punished. Especially after what Martinet had said. Dim needed to be held accountable or the hypocrisy would be too much to bear.

Behind him, a door opened, there was a soft shuffle, and then Dim heard Munro’s voice say, “I had a bad dream.”

Turning away from the window, Dim saw that Munro looked nothing like himself. He was young looking, frightened, all of his straightforward, forthright, sophisticated composure was missing. The calf appeared shaken and as seemed to be the case as of late, Dim felt a rush of pity. Had he gone soft? Was something broken? Was his mind going?

“We left the wagon behind,” Munro said, flexing his fingers in a nervous manner.

Dim replied, “It was no longer needed, Munro.”

Dragging his hooves, Munro shuffled over to a rather stark chair and sat down. “I was excited when I was told I’d get to see the world. My family is not well-off, and a chance to see the world was a cause for celebration. This was not the trip I was expecting, though.”

Leaving home. Dim thought of when he left home. The outside world was nothing like what he had expected, but it was better than mouldering away in some tower. Munro folded his arms over his chest and rubbed his biceps with his hands while his mouth contorted into a scowl.

“The soldiers treat me like a soldier,” Munro said to Dim, his eyes unfocused. “My life doesn’t make sense right now. Not at all. I just wanted to be a valet. But here I am in a country not my own and I have seen conflict. I’ve been shot at a few times and I’ve seen some stuff. Done some stuff. It’s changed me in ways that I don’t understand.” Unfolding his arms, he reached up and ran his thick fingers through his flaxen shock of hair. “When I go home, I won’t be a soldier because of the caste system.”

“Nonsense,” Dim snapped, his tone far harsher than he intended. “Don’t let this silly caste system hold you back.”

“But the caste system is what holds all of us together,” Munro replied, his voice low and submissive. “Not everybody can rule, or be a soldier, or do as they please. If we all did that, there’d be chaos. Nobody would take the undesired jobs and the world would fall apart. By accepting our place in the greater order of things, we prevent the fighting that tore us apart in the past.”

Dim bit back a sardonic retort and somehow even managed to refrain from sneering. Munro truly believed this, Dim could see it in the calf’s eyes. Of course, being a member of a low-born caste, Munro would be indoctrinated in such beliefs, because that is how one kept order. Worse, there was a faint ring of truth to Munro’s words—not all were born to rule, some were born to be peasants.

There is a vault down here with me, the Spider Queen had said to him. It can only be opened with royal blood. She was a dangerous weaver, that particular Spider Queen, creating a fine fibre interwoven with truth and lies.

Dim was in no mood to untangle Munro’s delusions, or his own for that matter.

“Munro, there is a matter which I need to discuss with you.”

“What’s that?”

“There is something I need your help with.”

“Oh?”

“You see, Munro, I’ve rescued a goblin…”

Author's Notes:

Hope comes with the rising sun...