This was like having the constipation sweats from too much opium, but somehow worse. Dim’s asshole couldn’t possibly clench any tighter and it felt like dull knives were being shoved through his bowels by some lazy butcher that cared nothing for his job. All of this tension made him jittery and his dyssynchronous blinking became far more pronounced, more exaggerated.

From the looks of things, Blackbird wasn’t faring much better, cringing with each click she made upon the floor with hoof or claw. Did he trust Blackbird? Could he trust Blackbird? Or was he like Eerie, a slave to his own fear? His biases? Had his mother forever poisoned him and his future relationships, using Darling as a living, breathing, soul-possessing toxin against him? To purge himself, he had killed her. Darling’s fate was not a kind one. First, he had broken her heart, and then, for good measure, he had laid her soul and body to waste. In those final moments, the shadows had come for her. It was, for all intents and purposes, a poison that he was all too willing to keep drinking, so had been forced to spill the cup that had contained it. It wasn’t by his hoof that Darling had been transmuted into a vessel fit for poison delivery, but his mother’s.

As Dim’s complex thoughts overcame him, he found himself staring at Blackbird, and his face was leaking again.

The brief journey ended in a small, intimate dining room of unequaled opulence. There was already food on the table and the perfumy fragrance of tea was heavy in the air. No chairs stood crowded around the low table, but cushions, a great many wonderful cushions. Something hairy was backing away from the table and it smiled at Dim as it retreated.

“What’s that?” he asked of Eerie as she sat down upon a cushion.

“One of my bushwoolies,” she replied. “When we took over the city, they were everywhere. Treated even worse than slaves. They are a naturally servile race and couldn’t seem to help themselves… so I passed laws for their protection and now they serve as my eyes and ears around the city. A simple act of kindness has made them fiercely loyal to me.”

Wary of the strange, hairy creature, Dim too, sat down.

“I must ask that you never harm them,” Eerie continued as Blackbird sat down. “The penalty for doing so is harsh… a public flogging. I will not tolerate their abuse from anyone. The laws here are very strict. It is my job to enforce them.”

“Hi.” Blackbird sounded subdued when she greeted the bushwoolie bearing a loaded plate creeping up beside her, and everything about this encounter was ridiculous, with Blackbird being far too big and the bushwoolie being far too small. When the tiny, servile creature held out a plate of kippers, Blackbird took it with a bow of her head. “Thank you.”

The bushwoolie, bashful, almost seemed to melt upon the spot, and it swooned from the kind words. Turning, Dim saw Eerie watching Blackbird out of the corner of her eye, watching and waiting. Trust was a difficult thing, he reckoned, and if Eerie was fond of these little hairballs, the help as were, it would be a good test of character to see how he and Blackbird treated the help. Yes, Dim felt that he had a good grasp of what was going on.

Seeing no point in tact, Dim gave voice to what was on his mind in a direct question: “What is your position here, Eerie?”

“I am Princess Eerie, of Istanbull.”

Eyes narrowing, Dim poured himself a cup of tea, which smelled like some sort of black tea blend with blackcurrants. A localised blend? Perhaps. It was fragrant, exotic, and the scent of it made his mouth water. Well, that was rather rude, she hadn’t answered his simple question at all, and Dim’s upper lip curled away from his teeth in a fine, aristocratic sneer.

“I do whatever is necessary of me,” Eerie said with a hint of laughter in her voice. “I am first and foremost, the Spymaster. I am the Wazir to Prince Modesto. My magic holds this city together and I manage an extensive network of geases to keep our interests guarded. Because of my position, I coordinate the efforts of the various heads of the city, such as the Merchant’s Guild, the Farmer’s Trust, the Science Ministry; suffice it to say that there are many groups in the city and I keep them all playing nice.”

“The farmers have a trust?” Dim dribbled a bit of honey into his tea and then stirred it with a fine silver spoon, which clinked against the fine porcelain.

“Headed by an earth pony. A former slave. She’s brimming with ideas on how we can do better and she was elected to her position by the farmers. Slowly but surely, she is revitalising the land with careful crop planting and with each growing season, we are seeing larger yields. Someday, we might not need to buy food from the outside to sustain ourselves.”

Democracy was not something that Dim expected to find here, and he lifted his teacup up to his lips while Blackbird savaged her plate of smoky, salty kippers. The first slurp was almost orgasmic, and it took considerable effort to not melt into the cushion he sat on. On the table before him was enough wealth to make a Grittish prince or princess giddy and Dim hoped that Blackbird wouldn’t filch any of the ‘shinies.’

Having an earth pony head the Farmer’s Trust made sense to Dim, far more sense than having some unicorn that had no idea how farming worked. He had seen far too much of this in his travels, and it had always left him feeling a little disgusted. A bureaucratically minded unicorn would strive for results and would live or die by their abacus, while never truly understanding their job. Yields would be demanded without a real understanding of the land. Yes, Dim found himself approving of this system of governance, even though he was appalled by the very idea of democratic rule. Why not just appoint a skilled farmer to the position and be done with it? What if the disgusting primitives voted somepony else in and in doing so, botched everything?

“Goodwoolie, be a dear and go and fetch more kippers for our guest… she is famished.” At Eerie’s command, a purple-grey bushwoolie went sprinting off—grunting with effort at every step—to do her bidding. Ears pricked high, Eerie turned her imperious gaze upon Dim while she began to prepare her own tea with a slow, graceful display of fine manners.

“When I found Modesto and Mars, they were beggars. Their hands had been cut off—this is a grotesque bit of minotaur culture, you see, taking a limb from a defeated foe or those guilty of a crime. Modesto and Mars’ parents had been killed by Masoud, a usurper who now poses as a king.” Eerie paused while stirring and Dim could see that her eyes were misting over.

“I don’t know what moved my heart… it was pity, I suppose, but after hearing their story from another, I took these two orphaned calves under my care. I secured for them crude prosthetics and I began to educate them. I taught them how to read, how to write, I expanded their minds with philosophy, art, culture, I did everything I could to broaden their horizons. Over time, they became everything that I hoped that they would be. I guess I needed a hobby, a distraction from my pain. I don’t know why I did what I did to be honest, Dim, but it felt good to do it. It dulled the ache in my soul to be selfless.”

Though he listened to every word spoken, Dim said nothing. A quick glance at Blackbird revealed that her muzzle was greasy from her meal and she had made a mess of things. With her being a disgusting primitive, he could not fault her. If anything, Dim admired her enthusiasm and the gusto she had for eating.

“In time, others joined our little ragtag crew of merry mercenaries. There came that magical moment of realisation that we could do more together than we could ever hope to accomplish apart. And that, that lead us here, to this place.” Eerie gestured at the room around her. “There is a princess in Equestria that loudly proclaims that friendship is magic… and she might be right, Dim. Such sappy, sentimental drivel might actually be true.”

Very much against his will, Dim found himself smiling, but only just a little, and it made his face ache.

“The Black Hand rises as a major power, Dim. They seek to rival Menagerie for all of its glory. Masoud emulates Menagerie in everything he does. In time, he hopes to overthrow Menagerie and grow the size of his kingdom. Right now, he builds an army, just as Menagerie builds an army—”

“And you seem to have something of an army as well,” Dim interjected.

Eerie smiled, a warm, affectionate sight. “We all race towards our goals… if Menagerie takes the Black Hand, if they take the Black Gate, they will come for Istanbull next, and with the entire Midreach conquered, they will spill out into the north, lands that are ill prepared for such an invasion. Istanbull stands as a choke point, because of the weirdness of the Sea of Granite. Our days are numbered, Dim… one of the two rival powers will come for us.”

“So then we obliterate this Black Hand—”

“No!” Eerie’s voice held surprising volume and Dim’s ears pinned flat from the sudden sound. “Mars and Modesto both agree that the city of Black Gate must be taken with great care. Mars, the firstborn, is the rightful prince and he wants a kingdom… not an empty city and a vast sea of graves.”

“I see.” Dim gulped a good portion of his tea, sighed, and he began to eye the food on the table to see if anything interested him. A bushwoolie was giving Blackbird another plate of kippers and he shivered in disgust at the thought of eating flesh.

“We have allies,” Eerie continued while Dim searched for something to eat. “There are those who would stand against Menagerie and are willing to help us take the Black Gate. Dim, the fate of this entire side of the world hinges upon whatever happens next. Menagerie stands to become the next Equestria, but without mercy, morals, or ethics. Masoud and the Black Hand, should they get lucky, might one day conquer Menagerie, and then flush with power, he will turn his eye upon the rest of the world around him.”

“These are not good scenarios.”

“No, Dim, they are not.” Eerie, her eyes narrowing, leaned forwards. “Masoud has Aurora… it is a powerful, dangerous drug that does terrible things to unicorns, Dim. Menagerie wants this drug. Conflict is inevitable. If Masoud wins, he will use Aurora to subjugate all unicorns to do his bidding… and potentially alicorns as well.”

Dim’s magic fizzled and he almost dropped his teacup, the contents of which sloshed out and spilled down his barrel, soaking him. Snarling in frustration, he set his cup down upon the table and with a few simple cantrips, he began to sort himself out while his mind reeled from what Eerie had just said.

“I will not be made a slave again.” Dim wiped himself with his fetlock to see if he was now dry and then he made an annoyed wave with his hoof. “Does this disgusting primitive know who he is dealing with? Does he not understand that one does not meddle with the Darks? I will help you kill him, Eerie, on principle, and not out of any moral or ethical obligation. Just who does this disgusting primitive think he is? Where is he, so that I might melt his face off?”

“One time, when Dim was all worked up, he threatened to boil a minotaur named Grenadine in his own semen. But Dim didn’t boil him in his own semen, no, he set this guy on fire! And then Grenadine’s gun went off and it blew off his leg and at some point while all of this was going on, Dim said I had a perfect ass, and that made me feel really good about myself, and anyway, Grenadine fell over into the ocean, and the ocean caught on fire, and Dim might have burned down the entire island of Tortoise-Tuga because that’s kinda what Dim does. I hope Black Gate isn’t flammable.”

Dim felt a moment of intense, almost orgasmic satisfaction from the look on Eerie’s face. Shock, revulsion, surprise, horror—and then, Eerie was laughing. Wide-eyed, whooping, her mouth open with a grin that stretched from ear to ear—a grin that made her cheeks bulge upwards and push into her eyes—Eerie was overcome and Dim too, felt himself start to chuckle.

It felt good to laugh, of course it did, but being shot in the throat had left Dim with scars on the inside, the worst sorts of scars—much like mental damage—the ones that could not be seen. Now, overcome with the same dreadful, manic laughter that had possessed Eerie, Dim’s peals of maniacal mirth made a terrible sound—an ack-ack hacking sound. Bushwoolies scattered as fast as their fuzzy little feet could carry them, fleeing from the madness that was two Darks having a laugh together, as a family. It was the worst of sounds, it was the very thing that insanity sounded like.

Even Blackbird seemed to sense that something was wrong, and she shied away with her plate of kippers as the dreadful laughter continued. The creaking, tight-throated, ack-ack or maybe ach-ach hacking that sounded as though the very spirit of laughter was being throttled to death for shits and giggles.

Laughter brought ponies together, so it was said.

Author's Notes:

Laughter is the best medicine, but what if one overdoses on it?

As a drug, it should be regulated!