The strange dragonfly-like ship towed behind it a vessel that had seen better days. Dim stood waiting, along with many others, as the pair of ships descended down to the docks. Armed guards formed a protective wall in front of he and Eerie, and Dim had been drafted into the ‘welcoming committee’ to deal with the new captures. The instructions were simple: be himself and do nothing else until instructed.

At the moment, the winds were being treacherous and a small host of flying creatures circled overhead, each of them ready to assist if the situation demanded it. The last rays of the sun poured in from the west and soon it would sink down below the mountain peaks in the distance. From the south, clouds were blowing in, grey ones, ominous in nature, and pregnant with rain. After watching them for a few seconds, Dim wondered if flooding was an issue here in the mountain pass. The city was blocked off by walls on both sides, with sheer mountain cliffs, and Dim wondered where the water drained. Surely it was a problem that had long since been addressed.

“Look,” Mars said while he pointed with one shiny brass finger, “the Solar Stinger has a damaged sail wing. That’s no easy fix, Eerie. Repair spells won’t work on anything that complicated.”

“Why is it so complicated?” Dim asked, intrigued by Mars’ words to Eerie.

“Solar fabric.” Mars lowered his arm and his finger curled into his fist with a tiny puff of steam. “We barely understand how it works, but it draws both magic and energy from sunlight. It took us forever to recreate it and our very best boffins are still trying to figure out how and why it works.”

“And where did you steal such a miraculous fabric from?” When Dim turned his head to look up at Mars, he did so just in time to see Eerie smirking.

“We didn’t steal it, we recovered it from a centaur vault. It was absolutely ancient, but it functioned. There were even pictographs explaining the purpose of the strange, translucent fabric. We also found the modified silkworm eggs in a still functioning stasis field.” Mars let out a snort, but did not look down to meet the gaze of Dim, who had an incredulous sneer on his face.

“Dim, the Solar Stinger has no combustion engines,” Eerie began in a low voice. “It flies above the sky, where there is almost no air, and it stays quite safe up there. It is powered entirely by daylight and it is the first of its kind. We copied a schematic etched into a metal plate for its general design and had to figure out how things worked as we went along. Soon, it is my hope to have a whole fleet of ships of that design, but the cost in resources is considerable.”

“Like a submarine, but up above the clouds instead of down in the ocean?” Now, more than ever, Dim was curious. A ship that could stay aloft and refuel with sunlight? That changed everything and Dim’s attention collapsed under the weight of his own thoughts. What happened when it was dark out? Storms weren’t too much of a concern, as one could fly far above where storms existed, where the sun shone brightest. High altitude flying would explain why most of the weapons on the ship pointed downwards.

It was a brilliant design, by Dim’s own estimation.

“Yes, Dim, like a submarine.” Eerie cleared her throat. “Did you know that the Darks owned a shipyard that manufactured ironclads and submarines? That is how we paid for our fantastic life of privilege, Dim. We have a brilliant knack for war… and Equestria was all too willing to exploit that. To exploit us.”

With that, Eerie went silent and her face appeared troubled when Dim cast a sidelong glance at her. Dim had a vague awareness that the Darks had owned many factories for many things; airships, tanks, boats, but he had never given much thought to these fantastical machines, because his own studies were far more important. Technological prowess paled in comparison to what could be done with magic… or alchemy.

Dim felt a cold metal finger tap the side of his head and for a moment, he entertained the amusing notion of tearing it off. While Dim grew annoyed because he didn’t like being touched, he heard Mars say, “I wonder sometimes… what’s in that head of yours. If you’re anything like Eerie, you have a head for war and probably it’s machinery too. It’s uncanny, she’s never had formal schooling as an engineer, but the stuff she imagines… the engines of war that she conceives… it leaves me curious about what you might do, Dim Dark.”

Again, Dim thought of how mere weaponry was nothing compared to what could be done with magic.

With a flap of her wings, Blackbird took to the air and then sped away to assist, because the crosswinds were picking up. Eerie sighed, shook her head, and let out a sad little snort, all while Dim tried to understand what was going on. It wasn’t until Mars poked him—again—and Dim thought about tearing off Mars’ finger—again—that an explanation was offered.

“Blackbird is supposed to be protecting you, Dim,” Mars said and it almost sounded as though he was about to chuckle. “She’s not to be taking off on flights of fancy.”

Try as he might, Dim could not hold back his scornful, snide laughter, a dry, nasal, aristocratic sound that was as mocking as it was contemptful. It hurt to laugh this much and a wheezing, whistling sound could be heard in his lungs. His outburst quieted a bit as Dim pulled out a cigarette, slipped it into the end of his holder, and then lit it with a mere thought. The overpowering scent of cloves filled the air, along with the sweet, cloying scent of cannabis. After a few puffs, the wheezing whistle in Dim’s slender barrel went away, but the occasional chuckle continued.

“Laugh all you will, but we do certain things for a reason. Rule of law and order allow for civilisation to flourish. While my brother does not yet see your value, you are beneficial to our cause. There is a tremendous bounty on your head and you are wanted. Protecting you is reasonable and logical. You should not be so quick to laugh. If the enemy can reach you, they will take you, or take from you whatever it is they need or want. Just look at Pâté au Poulet.”

When it was put that way… Dim’s chuckles died out and he lifted his head to cast his silent stare upon Mars. Dim said nothing, but puffed away. The Bard’s fate was a regrettable one, but Dim wasn’t sure what Blackbird could do if the enemy made a hard push to claim him. Buy him time, perhaps? Suffer mental domination, then turn around and cripple him? For the first time, Dim considered casting mental wards upon his companion just to prevent this sort of mental fuckery. It was funny when Dim did it, but the idea of such a thing being used against him… unpleasant.

Turning away, Dim thought about the grim implications of having to kill Blackbird while the Solar Stinger was tugged into its berth.

Blackbird was truly a powerful creature, either on land or in the air, and Dim marvelled at her strength. While there was a powerful attraction that existed between them, something else could be felt, something that Dim could not name. Mars had struck a nerve—something damnably annoying—and the slow, creeping realisation slithered up on Dim that he valued the life of another creature for reasons beyond mere exploitation.

The very idea of Blackbird being hurt filled him with unspeakable rage, but the mere notion that he might be the one to hurt her crushed him. It was almost too much to bear thinking about. He thought once more about the massacre he had committed—a killing spree that made Shepherd’s Shore pale by comparison—and a new, dreadful anxiety overcame Dim while he puffed away on his joint. If Blackbird died, he would suffer a profound unhappiness and his life would go back to being a wellspring overflowing with ennui.

But it wasn’t enough to protect Blackbird, no. Blackbird had friends, creatures whose lives she valued—and while Dim suffered a calamitous jealousy that gnawed upon his reason (as well as his sanity, perhaps) he valued Blackbird’s happiness with a measure equal to his covetousness. If something happened to Bombay, the Bard, Munro, Motte, or Bailey, Blackbird would be heartbroken—and that would be intolerable. Blackbird was the sort that got weepy eyed if a bushwoolie stubbed its toe, and he had witnessed this with his own eyes. The only solution seemed to be to remove all threats.

Ash piles were the least threatening thing in existence, save perhaps the fact they could cause such a stinging to the eyes.

Now, Dim could see the damage done to the ship, and while it looked pretty bad, he had seen worse. The other ship—the one the Solar Stinger had been towing—was peppered with holes in its hull and the rear section of the ship where the engine lived had seen extensive damage, so much so that it was now almost nonexistent. The lift nacelle had been patched, but the slack in the fabric said much about the condition of the ship. He wondered how it was even getting the electricity to stay aloft with the engine in its dismembered state.

Jolie Rouge and her crew were greeted with a hero’s welcome, but Dim paid them very little attention. No, his eyes and most of his attention remained focused on the line of prisoners bound in chains. Quite an assortment was clapped in irons: ponies, minotaurs, a diamond dog, a half-dozen griffons, and one caribou that seemed quite out of place. Some looked scared, some appeared apologetic, but a few remained defiant. All of them shared one thing in common; each of them showed evidence of a truly epic beatdown. Gratin—and Dim had no doubt that Gratin had to be responsible for some of this sadistic barbarity—did fantastic work.

When Dim moved closer, Munro followed, not behind him, but beside him, and the back of Dim’s consciousness found himself appreciating the attentiveness of his faithful, fanatical toady. As the line of prisoners was dragged along the docks, one in particular stood out with confident defiance.

“I am a Grittish citizen! Remove these irons at once! I am Captain Hoarfrost of the great Grittish Navy and I demand a trial on my home soil as is my right! You have no right to detain me! I want restitution for my ship and lost crew, damn you!”

While Dim watched, the soldiers parted, allowing a pegasus to come forward. For a moment, the older stallion seemed to be studying the outspoken, defiant unicorn captain, and Dim saw deep furrows appear in the pegasus pony’s brow. The unicorn was quiet now, and seemed to take notice of the pegasus, leaving Dim to wonder if the two of them knew each other somehow. Something was going on, but what?

“I am Commodore Guillemot of the Tradeship Seadog and the duly appointed representative of the Crown of Liverypool, sent to this region to establish trade and safe, secure passage. Is this your ship? Were you transporting slaves?”

Captain Hoarfrost’s response was a sneering scowl, but nothing was said.

“Answer me at once, Captain. Were you trafficking in flesh?”

The wind ruffled Commodore Guillemot’s feathers and the pegasus cut a noble figure in the light breeze. Dim recognised all of the signs of good breeding and knew without hesitation that this pegasus was a noble of some sort. He waited, along with a great many of the assembled guard, for the unicorn to respond.

“I was fulfilling a contract for payment,” the unicorn replied with angry defiance. “I had to find some way to recompense my crew after the Crown ceased to pay us what we’re due.”

“The various Crowns of the Grittish Isles are experiencing difficulty at this time,” the pegasus said in a calm voice devoid of any feeling or emotion. “There is a brief period of anarchy, but that is no excuse to peddle and traffic in flesh.” With a quick snap of his head, the pegasus turned to look Dim right in the eye, and then commanded, “Kill him as you see fit, the rest will get whatever proper trial Istanbull sees fit to give them.”

Dim wasn’t too keen on being told what to do, but now was not the time to argue. An example had to be made, and Dim was all about making fine examples. Shrugging, he called forth to mind a spell that he had only practiced a few times, a complicated spell, a spell too tricky to practice in deadly combat, but now was the ideal circumstances to attempt it.

A muted pink glow was cast from his horn as Dim began to weave the necessary magics together. The unicorn captain squirmed, he tugged against his chains, and sparks flew from his horn, but no magic came forth. Lost in the rapture of his own thaumaturgy, Dim felt an almost orgasmic flow, but he could not lose himself in the moment, because this magic was almost beyond what he was capable of.

Channeling as much magic as his body would allow, exploring the furthest reaches of what his body could endure, taking careful aim, Dim opened his mouth and chanted the words that would give focus to his spell: “Exitiale compressionem… extremum spiritum!” When the magic ripped itself free, Dim let out a barking chain of strangled, raspy, phlegmy coughs and his knees wobbled, but somehow, through sheer force of will, he remained upright.

The bound unicorn fell over with a shriek, and then began to writhe around on the dock while his fellow prisoners retreated from him as far as their bonds would allow. Again he shrieked, and this was followed by another as his body appeared to bubble. His skin became rashy, welts appeared around his joints, his eyes went bloodshot, and his tongue appeared to be swelling in his mouth.

When he tried to shriek again, it came out as an agonised, soupy gurgle.

“A pitiful, ghastly condition, but not undeserved,” Commodore Guillemot muttered while he took a step back. “What have you done to him?”

Dim, buoyed by pride, recovered himself and lifted his head while donning his cruelest, most tyrannical smirk. “I transmuted a vast quantity of the oxygen in his blood and turned it into nitrogen bubbles—”

“You gave him the bends?” Commodore Guillemot asked while one incredulous eyebrow lifted into an aristocratic expression of disbelief.

Captain Hoarfrost thrashed on the dock, his movements feeble, and his eyes bulged in their sockets. A bright scarlet flood poured from his nostrils, and trickled from the corners of his eyes as well. Dim watched every horrid moment, fascinated by what he had done, exploring an unknown frontier of magic. While the captain’s legs made feeble kicks, his ears seemed to be swelling, as was the base of his horn.

There were moments where it appeared as though something was crawling or slithering beneath Captain Hoarfrost’s skin. One prisoner shrieked in terror, then another, and with all of them chained to the dying unicorn, panic gripped them, crushing them, breaking their resolve with terrific, tyrannical force. It wasn’t long before all of them were screaming, wailing, and thrashing against their bonds.

This torture was almost too good to be true and Dim chortled with sadistic glee.

With a sudden wet splat, the unicorn’s horn burst like a cyst under pressure, which sent a geyser of blood spewing out of the brand new hole in his forehead. Unknown greyish-pink chunks came tumbling out, causing many of the onlookers to turn away, including Commodore Guillemot. One of the guards, a jasper jackal, vomited over the edge of the dock, and cries of disgust could be heard from far down below.

“Munro, this has gone on far enough.” Eerie’s voice cut through the chaos like a fine blade and the gathered guard all snapped to attention. “End this unnecessary misery at once.”

The young minotaur hesitated only for a moment, and then drew the nickel-plated revolver from the holster strapped to his side. He advanced, his hands trembling, and his ears twitched in anticipation of the dreadful deed he was about to commit. Mindful, he sidestepped the blood, took aim while squinting one eye, and squeezed the trigger while making an audible exhale.

Echoes of the single shot reverberated off of the cliff face and sounded like a volley of gunfire. Birds flew from their hidden roosts and white streaks rained down from the fleeing flocks. The unicorn’s head popped, leaving behind a bloody neck-stump that squirted from far too much pressure in the body. All of the prisoners hollered and whimpered, each of them knowing that a similar fate awaited them.

A few fell to the dock and begged for mercy.

Overcome by his own horrendous act, Munro staggered away, gagged, and then vomited while somehow holding his pistol out away from him. Eerie snatched it from his hand—lest he suffer an accidental discharge—and then whirled around to face the prisoners with a blank, unreadable expression on her face.

“Such is the fate of slaver captains,” Eerie said and not an iota of emotion could be heard in her voice. “Those who have no mercy or compassion for others will be shown no mercy or compassion. The rest of you will be tried. Confessing your guilt would be wise. Defiance and insolence will only make things worse. I will give you to Dim for him to do as he pleases.” Tossing her head back, she nodded to the gathered guard. “Take them away…”

Author's Notes:

This chapter almost didn't happen. It felt awful to write a character backsliding, and it felt even worse to have a family member exploiting another family member so callously. Dim has made so much progress... even in this very chapter... only to take a huge step back.

Feels bad, mang.