Everyday Life With Guardsmares
Chapter 126
Previous Chapter Next ChapterSuggested background music: New Order - 'Confusion' [1983]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c_L_-CKg6pw
This is not what she’d had in mind when her boss said they’d be going to one of the innumerable Grand Galloping Gala pre-parties tonight. She’d expected nobleponies hobnobbing over glasses of expensive booze. Maybe some live music and dancing. And the occasional mare or colt splurging on a second extravagant costume in what was already a busy week, or perhaps simply showing off what they wore last year.
But this party was on a completely different level.
Yes, there was alcohol, and yes, there was live music and dancing. There were even a few extravagant getups. But a full-on masquerade ball?
In a converted dockside warehouse?
And with the party doubling, apparently, as an avant-garde art exhibit, complete with new-wave band?
She took a moment to adjust the full-muzzle mask she’d been issued at the door as she wound her way through the crowd after her VIP. Temporary walls made of brightly-colored cloth draped between posts formed a virtual labyrinth within the huge edifice, and an eclectic arrangement of pulsating magical lights made it all too easy to get completely lost.
Some of those 'walls' had what she thought was supposed to be art hanging from wires in front of them. Canvases with abstract splashes of clashing tones, lines that vaguely resembled ponies before twisting into unrecognizable shapes, and even splotches that looked like something up and died all over the piece. A series of five apparently identical portraits of the same mare in an emotionless pose were lit from behind, giving them an eerie appearance.
She rounded a corner and was nearly struck dumb by the sight of a stunningly handsome white pegasus colt standing on a slightly raised platform, perfectly preened, gossamer wings outstretched as though they were mid-flap, and rearing back as if mid-flight. Spotlights from all around bathed the figure in pure white, turning him into an icon of brilliance for all to admire. The reflected light actually noticeably brightened the room; every single one of his feathers was on full display.
Pausing for a second, she scrutinized the installation.
‘That has to be some kind of statue, right?’
‘No way could somepony hold that mid-action pose for so long.’
Just as she started to get going again, the figure stepped back and shifted his weight, blinking as he relaxed one set of muscles and flexed another.
‘That's amazing.’
Scurrying a bit, she hurried past the well-formed and apparently extremely disciplined pegasus model. He was the first pony she’d seen here not wearing one of the mandatory-dress, white, full-face masks. The masks weren't completely identical, with slightly different ornamental designs around the eyes, mouth, and edges, but they sure made everypony look the same -- particularly from the rear. At least the serving-ponies with saddle-trays of drinks and appetizers had big, ostrich-feather plumes attached to their masks, making them stand out in the crowd.
She left the living-statue pegasus colt and passed through an open red curtain into another busy room. This one had another live show, with a bigger 'stage'.
Ahead, her VIP stopped to grab a drink from a passing server -- ‘is that a zebra?’ She had an enormous mane, standing straight up almost the length of the black and white ostrich-feathers adorning her mask.
‘That has to be a weave.’
In the confusion of the kaleidoscopic lights, it took her a minute to notice that the mare was wearing provocative, horizontal zebra-stripe stockings almost up to her stifles, too.
Her boss took a moment to sip his drink and ask for directions, so she took in the room's main show. Two enormously muscular earth pony colts with bronze bands around their ankles, wrists, and necks were performing incredible feats of acrobatic prowess. Holding forehooves, one of the colts balanced on his forelegs, hind legs in the air, while the other slowly lifted him up higher. Once up, they played at balancing on just one hoof, extending hind or forelegs in opposite directions to maintain balance. Then the lower colt squatted down, and the upper colt transferred to balancing on his partner's hind knees instead. It looked like an agonizing transfer, and she could see the sweat beading on their unmasked brows, but they did it with little more than a few, barely-audible grunts of exertion. Everypony in the room seemed transfixed as, slowly, excruciatingly, one hoof at a time, the muscular figures rearranged themselves such that now the upper colt was balancing with his forehooves on top of the lower colt's hind hooves, with the lower colt balancing both of their weight on his own forehooves.
‘Incredible.’
The room erupted into a brief shower of applause, but the strong-colt acrobats wordlessly continued the show. Her VIP plonked his empty martini glass down on a cocktail table and resumed course, so she followed after him.
‘Damn, I kind of wanted to see what else those two amazing colts were capable of doing.’
Maybe she’d have some more time to take in the show later. It was still early, and she didn’t doubt that a party like this was going to go late into the night.
Somewhere in between another set of fabric walls, she got a glimpse of the party's actual main stage and the live performers playing their alternative-pop set. They were masked, too, though theirs were painted in bright, almost luminescent colors. Fuchsia, pink, orange, and a greener-than-green that looked like something out of a Discordian nightmare. Still, they, and the music they were playing, fit everything going on in this hyper-modern madhouse. Even the faint smell of fish from the actual, still-in-use warehouse next door somehow fit the atmosphere. She was sure the artist in charge of everything would say it 'accentuated the ultra-realism of the event,' or some crap like that.
Whatever the philosophy behind it, whoever organized this shindig must have spent a fortune for all these magical spotlights. Basic, permanent flameless candles were relatively affordable, but high-powered lamps that changed color and 'danced' with the music didn't come cheap, even if they were just created on-the-fly by hired unicorns. From the other side of the next partition she could see she was in for even more of a light show.
Squeezing through another gap, she found herself in what was clearly one of the main 'party' rooms. There was an exhibit in the form of a pair of slender earth ponies -- one colt and one mare -- dancing in large white bird cages suspended from the ceiling. As they sensually gyrated and writhed overhead, she could see they were wearing pseudo-tackplay gear, with black masks, saddles, and chaps.
But the real attraction was the dozens, if not hundreds, of magical glow-balls hovering over the room, pulsating and shifting colors along with the beat. Some of them were even focused into spotlights, and they twirled and spun, draping the dancers -- both the professionals in the cages above, and the masked revellers below -- in riotous colors.
Her VIP pushed on, so she didn't have time to linger to enjoy this stunning dance-floor, but she did catch a glimpse of a raised booth in the corner, with at least four unicorns running the light-show in this room. She really hoped she’d get to enjoy the party once her boss was done with his business.
‘When will I ever get another chance like this?’
‘This sort of thing isn’t even his style.’
She exited the dance hall into a long, curtain-walled corridor. If this wasn't all a single big open warehouse, the music would have actually been quieter back here. As it was, instead the angle and distance from the main stage speakers just served to muddle the vocals. All she could really hear now was the throbbing of the drums and bass reverberating inside the large building.
An imposing masked server-pony waited at the end of the corridor, blocking passage further, but he stepped aside as her VIP approached.
‘So, this is some kind of private sub-party?’
Following behind her employer, she entered a large area with several very plush and comfortable looking sectional sofas, along with a separate bar and a few cocktail tables. There were only forty or so ponies in here, including the staff, so it must be some kind of exclusive ultra-VIP lounge. She didn't see any other passageways, so this must be it.
Isabelle Coquette, bodyguard to Galloway Bitsmount, Esquire, had worked -- and attended -- some extravagant parties in her time, but this one blew them all away. Then again, this was Canterlot in Royal Gala season, not Bitsmount Manor, half a day's ride from the capital. Much as Isabelle was eager to indulge herself a bit in this incredible luxury, unfortunately, her VIP was here on a very specific mission.
He barked a statement -- that sounded more like an order -- at the towering earth pony bouncer, who, even with the mask covering his face, looked like he'd taken and dished out his fair share of lumps. Hardly surprising that an affair of this caliber would have top-notch security.
"I'm here to see the Familia."
The colt discreetly directed Isabelle’s VIP to a particular table, then resumed his interposing stance at the end of the hallway.
With all the 'walls' being made of little more than heavy curtains, she wouldn't be surprised if there were a few guards watching the empty areas between rooms, too. After all, it was so busy in the rest of the event that nopony would notice somepony slipping under a curtain to sneak their way into a prohibited area like this.
She followed her VIP to the corner of the room, where a large U-shaped sectional sofa had been laid out with a low coffee table in the center. Six masked ponies were there: five unicorns and an earth pony, drinking and talking amongst themselves. They were slow to react when Isabelle and her VIP took up position at the open end of the setup, but eventually they all turned. Most of them wore looks of disdain, a sort of 'who are these interlopers?' attitude of disgust, which was a bit surprising. Bitsmount was not at the top of the Equestrian peerage ranks, being merely the present holder of Letters Patent for the silver mine bearing his family's name, but he was far from the bottom. One more step up and he'd properly be addressed as Lord Bitsmount.
But then again, did these ponies even know who their new visitor was? With the mask obscuring his face and the suit covering his mark, he was rather anonymous. In fact, nopony that Isabelle had seen had their marks on display, besides the professional performers, but she supposed that would defeat the point of a masquerade ball. If she or her VIP didn't already have clothes on covering their flanks, what would they have done? Issued capes to go with their masks?
Somehow, that seemed like an appropriate dress for meeting this powerful and secret 'Familia in Magicae' group. She still wasn’t quite over having her memory of the first encounter with the 'Familia' almost completely wiped from her mind.
That had been a disturbing use of magic. And an illegal one, though it was hardly surprising, considering that her employer had paid them for the privilege of violating various laws himself.
From nowhere, a feather-topped serving-pony scurried up behind the central figure on the sofa, bent over, and whispered something into his ear. The central unicorn colt nodded, then smiled and beckoned a forehoof towards the open seats.
"Ah, Mister Bitsmount. What a pleasure it is to see you again. Won't you and your bodyguard join us for some refreshments?"
Shooting Isabelle a glance that said 'watch for trouble,' her VIP took his seat first, and she followed after him.
‘Watch for trouble?’
She may be handy in a rumble and no slouch with her bronze sabots, but Isabelle Coquette was still just a glorified barmaid. The bouncer at the entrance alone could probably tackle her in the blink of an eye, and she’d be hard-pressed to escape from him, let alone knock him out. And exactly what was she supposed to do against unicorns that could wipe minds?
‘Well, may as well keep both eyes open.’
At least there were plenty of exits in a temporary 'room' like this. If she had to run, all she’d have to do is go straight for a wall and avoid one of the posts holding up the curtains. Those were obvious enough from the long 'feet' which kept them stable. Glancing up at the ceiling full of lights, Isabelle tried to discreetly figure out the general direction of an outside wall, just in case. She couldn't shake the feeling that something bad had happened during their last 'business meeting' with this shady group, either.
A serving pony -- another zebra mare, she noted, though without the enormous mane extensions of the one in the strong-colt performance room -- approached the table with a serving platter on her back, and hoofed over a fresh pair of cocktails. Having been trained to do just the same thing herself, Isabelle couldn't help but notice the way the zebra placed herself up close to the table then turned so her hindquarters were almost facing Bitsmount. She even made sure to bend over as low as possible when placing each drink on the table. Under his mask, Isabelle could see Galloway's eyes follow the shapely curves of the striped equine as she headed back to the bar for more drinks.
‘Even in his current state of piqued frustration, he still can't help but peek at the plot.’
The gaggle of ponies at the table silently watched the two of them, politely, but somewhat menacingly, waiting for them to wet their lips. Isabelle’s VIP seized his drink and quickly knocked back a healthy gulp before slapping it down on the black wooden table. She reached for hers more carefully, and took a delicate, feminine sip. Maybe it would be best to play up the fiction that she was just a decoration, and not actually a fighter at all.
‘Would they buy that?’
‘Or did I already blow that disguise at the last meeting?’
‘What even happened then?’
The unicorn in the center smiled, and the rest of the group seemed to relax. "Now, Mister Bitsmount, I understand you have a rather pressing complaint about our recent services."
"I damn well do! Do you know what's happened?"
The representative of the 'Familia' was about to shrug, but her VIP just barreled on right into it. "Princess Celestia has appointed Phillip Songwell as the Royal Engineer's bloody personal assistant, with the aim of 'reforming' him!"
That was supposed to be damning, and having heard Galloway rant about it in private, she knew what it meant to him, but the masked ponies just stared blankly back.
"Is that all, Mister Bitsmount?"
Isabelle’s VIP blew his top.
"Is that all? Is that all?! Don't pretend you can't read between the lines! Your blasted potion failed, and Princess Celestia saw right through us at open court!"
The others started to murmur, but they stopped when the one in the center replied. "Mister Bitsmount, you and Mister Songwell told the court that the failures at your mine were done at Songwell's initiative. Although I understand your joint musical 'apology tour' has been quite a success, it seems only natural to me that Her Majesty should wish to ensure the problem with his behaviour is completely rectified." Lifting a hoof, he grinned underneath the mask as he scratched his chin. "She does seem to have a certain fascination with reforming criminals. A mania for it, even."
Galloway inelegantly pounded a forehoof on the table, to almost no physical effect on either the audience or the drinks.
‘Must be one heavy table.’
"A mania for reforming?! A mania for reforming?! More like a mania for interrogating -- or grilling, rather! Anypony who saw that alien monkey-colt at court would know he didn't believe a word we said, the way he was staring us down. And now she's given Songwell to the one creature who didn't buy our line."
The unicorn shook his head. "Mister Bitsmount, he is the Royal Engineer, and mining safety is his prerogative. As your accuser, his skepticism in court is hardly surprising, and you must admit assigning Songwell to him is the obvious placement choice for correcting a forepony who apparently does not understand safe work procedures."
Isabelle’s VIP leaned in across the table. "Certainly! But do you think that idiot will be able to keep his trap shut? If the Royal Engineer applies pressure, as I'm sure the beast will do, then that fool will tell the truth!"
Showing signs of exasperation, the unicorn spread his upturned forehooves. "Mister Bitsmount, we can appreciate the possibility of such an event, but the service rendered was merely to enable you to dissemble at court."
Isabelle’s VIP bolted to his hooves, pointing an accusing forehoof at the unicorn. "No! No! That was your damned idea! I first told your agent I wanted to change the truth. It was your group's idea to do this by lying to the Princesses in open court." He came crashing back down onto the plush seat, jostling the rest of the bench. "Who even are you?! I want to talk to somepony in charge here! You bunch of leeches think you can just take that much of somepony's money and render half-baked service; I'll see you ruined for this!"
The group took a moment to settle down again, and then the apparent leader turned and nodded to several of them, waving them away with a forehoof.
As the current song came to an end, Isabelle heard applause and cheers erupt throughout the warehouse. Clearly, the live band just finished their set. A few moments of shuffling later, and it was just her, her VIP, and two others left: the masked 'leader' unicorn, and the masked earth pony mare beside him.
The leader beckoned them to slide over closer.
"I am Isfet."
That name rang a bell, and Isabelle narrowed her eyes.
The unicorn stared at her. "Perhaps you may remember that name, in spite of the memory erasure which was necessary to protect both our enterprise and your secret."
Her VIP's thinking was the same as hers. "I remember that name. And your voice is familiar, too. You're the one we dealt with. You gave us the potions. Was it your idea?"
Now that the music had stopped and they were in close quarters, Isabelle could better hear her host's calm, purring voice. Something reached up from the shredded remnants of her memories of the previous meeting, and it sent a shiver down her spine.
"It was. I am electing to deal with your complaint directly since it is my policy to avoid leaving unsatisfied customers. May I ask how you heard of Mister Songwell's assignment?"
Galloway scrunched up his muzzle and scoffed. "The fool told me himself last night. Even showed me the royal writ itself, though he wouldn't let me break the seal to see the orders in detail."
Isfet nodded calmly. "He demonstrates a remarkable amount of loyalty for a hireling. Are you so certain of his eventual betrayal?"
Bitsmount whinnied loudly. "Loyalty, puh! I more than filled his purse with the savings we made on timber. He may cling to his plebian roots, but it's just a facade -- his family has the largest house in the village, bar mine, and his children lead a life of luxury, if not privilege."
Taking a swig from his drink with one forehoof, Galloway waggled the other dismissively. "And now that's all coming to an end! Having taken the blame, he's a pariah in the town. The original plan was to end our apology tour there, have him donate a significant sum to charity -- generously matched by myself, of course -- and then he'd take a leave of absence before returning in another non-controversial role. Chief surveyor, perhaps. Or some kind of clerk." He inhaled sharply through his teeth as he put the empty glass back down. "That way I'd be able to keep him underhoof. But now the tour's cancelled, there's no opportunity to make a public donation, and he's been ordered to move to Canterlot! Don't you see? He'll be out of my control!"
For a miscreant misogynist whose only interests, as far as Isabelle knew, were drinking, partying, gambling, and portraying himself in public as the universe's gift to Equestria (and particularly Equestria's mares), her boss sure had some brains, when he thought to use them. Part of her wondered what he might've achieved if he wasn't such a wastrel -- like owning more than one mine.
The other part didn’t care what he added up to as long as he was still paying her well to stand around looking impressive and occasionally having a roll in the feather-downed silk hay with him.
Over from the stage, she heard the MC thank and praise the live band, and then he started to yammer something about the artwork and artists involved in tonight's show. Isabelle couldn't hear him very well; it was all a bit indistinct here on the back side.
After a long time considering things, Isfet serenely placed his forehooves together. "Is that it, Mister Bitsmount -- you want to keep Galloway in your control?"
With an irate sniffle, her VIP looked furtively around for the zebra server and another drink. "I suppose it is, yes. Have you got another blasted potion for that, then?"
The masked unicorn grinned and shook his head. "No, Mister Bitsmount. Not one which would function and escape detection for a sufficient duration -- for, after all, I assume Mister Songwell's assignment will last for some time?"
"Who knows? It could be months. If they take a liking to each other, it could even be permanent."
Suddenly melancholy at losing a valuable accomplice, her boss slumped down in his seat. He had been sipping on rye in his hotel suite's great room for hours before they received a message to come here tonight for the meeting. It seemed that those spirits, plus his last three fruity and quite potent drinks, were finally catching up with him.
"For an old fool who got his start with my father, Phillip's remarkably competent. He was quite judicious in his 'economizing,' such that the workers barely noticed the difference, and never objected. Anypony else might've gotten us caught after the first cave-in, or caused many more of them."
Isfet turned to his female companion and whispered to her.
‘Is she a VIP bodyguard like me? Or something else?’
‘It’s Impossible to tell with all these masks.’
Isfet's gloriously bright red hooded robe hid most of his body, and all of his mane, too -- all she could tell was that his horn and chin were white. Not exactly defining characteristics, and 'Isfet' surely wasn't his real name, either. If Isabelle went and told the ponice that the leader of a major magical criminal organization in Canterlot was a white unicorn colt, they'd just shrug their shoulders and send her on her way. Probably laughing in her face as they did it.
Returning to face her VIP, Isfet spread his forehooves shoes-down on the table. "Mister Bitsmount, when you came to us, you described you and your forepony Mister Songwell as an inseparable team. I believe in the context of that information we satisfied your needs with the potions provided."
Just as her boss started to get hot at the collar, Isfet flipped over his forehooves. "That said, because of your prior business with us and the urgency of your request, we are willing to provide a solution to this newest problem at a discount from our normal rates."
Galloway licked his lips, chuckling. "You're going to bill me. Heh. Heh. To fix your own mess! Of course you are, all you ponies care about is money."
That last statement seemed to wound their host. "Mister Bitsmount-"
Just as the drinks-zebra came around again, her VIP got to his hind hooves. "No, no more 'Mister Bitsmount'! Especially not while you're holding out your hoof, expecting another payment. Don't you understand that this isn't just my problem any more?! If that fool talks, then he threatens you as well as me!"
Avoiding the explosion in progress, the server-mare deposited a fresh cocktail and whisked away the empty glass, then trotted away unceremoniously, her shapely plot sadly unappreciated this time.
In the background, Isabelle heard the MC announce the next musical performer, a DJ Somepony-Or-Other -- she didn't quite catch the name -- and the MC launched into a lengthy speech describing their career to this point. This really was more of an art show for the glitterati than a high-roller dance party.
Isfet tilted his head sideways slightly. "Threatens us? He doesn't know anything about us. What could he possibly threaten us with?"
Still standing on his hind legs, Galloway leaned in menacingly, one forehoof on the table and the other gesturing as he spoke. "He knows that there's an underground criminal organization capable of producing potions enabling somepony to lie to Princess Celestia."
Letting that sink in, her VIP finally sat down again. "You take great pains to make sure your customers can't reveal anything about your little operation accidentally, and your customers wouldn't dare divulge that they used your services, but what if you had one who willingly gave you up? Even without any details, the knowledge of your existence could unsettle things and lead to much more scrutiny. It would, at the very least, make your business dealings more difficult -- and believe me, they're difficult enough as they are. If I didn't know ponies who knew ponies, I would never have been able to contact you in time for my court appearance."
Isfet regained his composure. "That difficulty is by design, Mister Bitsmount. We offer exceptionally rare services to ponies of exceptional means."
"And for exceptional prices."
The unicorn couldn’t help but laugh at the second jab about money. "Heh. Despite your accusation, the Familia in Magicae is not all about money. We must cover our expenses and fund our enterprise, but the accumulation of wealth is not our priority."
With a dismissive snort, Galloway reached for his fresh drink and banged it back.
‘Slow down, boss -- or you'll be on the floor before this meeting is over.’
"What is your priority, then? Revitalizing the capital's waterfront by renting out abandoned warehouses to throw avant-garde art parties?"
Isfet smiled. "We helped with funding this little event, yes, though we didn't organize it. But what the Familia in Magicae pursues above all other concerns is absolute excellence in magic."
Galloway snorted boorishly, finally putting the pieces together. "You're a bunch of damned unicorn supremacists."
Isfet didn’t even flinch at the accusation. "Not by nature. All Equestrian creatures are magical, and we appreciate the physics-defying flight and weather control of the pegasi as much as we appreciate the unearthly strength and endurance of the earth ponies. Perhaps you noticed some of the exhibits in the halls on your way in? The curator of this event has obtained some superb specimens possessed of incredible skill, and we have helped to ensure they are well-compensated for their demonstrations here tonight."
Tipping his head down, he grinned. "But, of course, when it comes to the raw harnessing of magic, this is unquestionably the realm of the unicorns, a domain in which no other species can compete. And we provide funds to ensure this domain is explored completely."
Isabelle’s boss nodded sloppily. "Right. So what are you going to do about our problem if Phillip Songwell blabs all about his lie and your little club?"
The unicorn colt turned his head and glanced briefly at his hornless female companion. "Mister Bitsmount, I believe it would be entirely appropriate for you, Mister Songwell's compassionate former employer, to hire for him, entirely at your own expense, an assistant of his own, to help him adjust to life in Canterlot, to organize his family's transition here, and to support him in his valuable and noble work for Their Majesties' Royal Engineer."
He grinned and indicated his partner. "I have just the mare for him. An earth pony, who will therefore attract no attention; she has many useful abilities and skills, including discrete, coercive persuasion. And both because of your previous business and your well-reasoned argument about the security of our operation, I am willing to let you employ her at a substantial discount."
Over in the center of the warehouse, the MC finished his speech and Isabelle heard applause as the DJ apparently took the stage. While her boss considered Isfet's offer, the music started up again, pounding a hypnotic beat that made her long for the dance floor. She was sure it would be drilling into her VIP's brain tomorrow morning with the hangover he was likely to have, too.
Suggested interlude music: New Order - 'Confusion (Pump Panel Reconstruction Mix)' [1995], as featured in 'Blade' [1998]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d_Hw_UC314M
