Everyday Life With Guardsmares
Chapter 38
Previous Chapter Next ChapterIsabelle Coquette
Isabelle Coquette, bodyguard to Galloway Bitsmount, Esquire, didn’t like the look of things. True, it was still early in the afternoon, and it was a bright and warm, early spring day. But to meet somepony in a shadowed alley behind a boarded-up mill, in the lower tiers of Canterlot down near the docks? And for nefarious ends, at that?
Well, it didn't exactly fill her with cheer. She hadn't even been present when her charge had met that 'Granny Nag' contact. All she had to go on was the description provided by her employer and his foremost teamster, Phillip Songwell -- which, to be fair, was certainly distinctive. The whole thing still creeped her out, though.
"Coquette, stop looking about as if we're up to no good."
Apparently, her nervousness was showing. "Sorry, Mister Bitsmount."
Her employer, glancing sideways at her, nodded his head toward his more elderly employee. "The same goes for you, Songwell. These ponies are professionals, from what I've heard. They won't be any trouble."
‘Then why am I here?’
Actually, even if they did cause trouble, why was she there? She was a bartender who had to occasionally serve as a bouncer for drunks and bums, not some kind of prize-fighter or military trained bodyguard. Her combat strategy exclusively revolved around heavy horseshoes and coldcocks.
And if the way she moved didn’t make it obvious to anyone serious, well, Bitsmount's idea of a 'guard outfit' would make it pretty clear; the damn Prench maid outfit kept riding up her flanks. She had to admit, it did a good job of showing off her plot -- but it crossed the limit of practicality, and skirted dangerously close to the edge of decency. Really, she had to admit, she was just for show.
Much like Bitsmount himself, to be honest. He seemed very confident that he'd come up with a way to weasel out of his obligations to the state, but it could all crumble so easily, and the whole thing was just a veneer over his unsavory activities.
Oh well.
It had all started so charmingly, when she’d had to give a colt a walloping because they'd gotten too hoofsy. She was serving drinks at one of Bitsmount's big galas, and it turned out Galloway disliked the colt in question because he'd scooped up some mare before he could. He was pretty happy to see his drunken rival get their nose bucked in. And Bitsmount was all charm when he’d set his eyes on her.
He’d offered her a job as a bodyguard, with better pay than as a server. There were some pretty obvious strings attached, but she was a big girl even then; she knew what he really wanted. At least when he got bored of bedding her, he didn't fire her. And he didn’t mind if she saw anypony on the side, as long as she kept it discreet.
Like that stud George from a few nights ago. Unf, that was a right and proper rutting he'd given her. Had her worn out but still desperately thirsty for more, which in itself was pretty hot. And although he had the look of a lecher, he'd been a gentlecolt about it, both before and after. The next time Bitsmount traveled to Canterlot, she would make sure to check if Mister Mustang was in town with his entourage.
Assuming her employer escaped his forthcoming punishment, of course.
Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, Isabelle spotted somepony who must surely be 'Granny Nag' at the far end of the alley, and heading their way. She was exactly as she was described to her -- an elderly mare with milky-white eyes, grey hair, and old-fashioned noblepony's clothing in extremely poor repair. If she looked any worse, she’d have said she must live in the street. But there was a kind of tidy to her that told the mare that she had a bed somewhere. Perhaps nothing more than a room in a boarding house, or a regular spot in a doss house. And, as she approached, she could see that, her coat and clothes were ragged, yes, but they were still clean. Not likely she would be able to manage that with just a hammock in a dormitory -- so, she had a boarding or lodging house, at the very least.
Her employer had spotted her as well. "There she is. Everypony act natural. Remember, I'm 'Eustace' and Songwell is 'Horace', and we're here to play cribbage."
The three of them all turned to face this contact into the black magic underground of Canterlot; Bitsmount with confidence and a haughty air, Songwell with a heavy but determined heart, and herself, with some trepidation about what, exactly, her boss was getting everypony into.
'Granny Nag', the decrepit old mare, walked up to where her group was standing. For a blind pony, she sure came down that alley quickly. Could it be an act?
Her employer opened his mouth first. "Good afternoon, Granny."
With a scowl on her face, she turned to look in the direction of his voice. The scowl melted into a yellow-toothed grin. "Oh, good afternoon, Eustace! And you too, Horace..."
She squinted her cataract-filled eyes in Isabelle’s direction.
"... But who's this you've got with you?"
"Don't pay her any mind, Granny. She's just here to provide some protection. Can't be too safe in the streets these days, can you?"
Granny continued to squint at her for a few seconds after he finished, her wrinkled lips pursed together. Then she licked them and turned away. "No, no, no -- you're right Eustace, it's certainly dangerous out here at night like this."
‘At night?’ She must be so blind she can't tell sunlight from moonlight. Without another word, 'Granny' passed them all by, turned the corner, and headed down the side-alley, towards the back of the mill.
Isabelle hazarded a glance at her employer and his teamster minion. Songwell looked more nervous than ever, but Bitsmount just looked annoyed.
"Well, what are you waiting for, Coquette? Take the lead in following her."
With a deep breath, she trotted away after their contact. It only took a few seconds to catch up with the shuffling geriatric, halfway down the alley. Here, closer to the water-channel that powered the mill, she could still hear the creaking as its wheel turned pointlessly in the flow. Just as she caught up with the old nag, with the two colts close behind, she stopped in front of a pair of cellar doors and, with a surprising strength for somepony so old, pulled one of them open and hustled her way down in it.
Stopping at the precipice, Isabelle could tell it was very dark down there. There was a wet, musty smell coming up from the cellar, too. Not to mention the somewhat disconcerting groan of old equipment as well.
"Come on, we haven't got all afternoon!" Her employer was being his usual, impatient self. It was her job to see to his safety, though -- even in her limited capacity. And this still smelled wrong.
But then again, where else were criminals against the state of Equestria going to hide? In a gilt palace? No, it was the cellar for the lot of them, and she resolved to push down the stairs into the darkness below.
Suggested background music: Christopher Young - 'Hellbound Heart', from 'Hellraiser' [1987]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IBE9qmucK7Y
But before she took the first step, there was a small flash of light, and a dash of sparks. Granny Nag stood at the bottom of the cellar staircase, holding a freshly-lit candle in her mouth, while tossing a still-burning match to the floor.
"Here you are, dear. Come and take this from me, would you?"
Now that there was some light, Isabelle headed down. When she reached the bottom, ‘Granny Nag’ leaned over and whispered in her ear.
“Eustace, Horace, and I have been down this path so many times we know the way by touch alone, but a delicious little treat like you will want a little light to guide your way."
Taking the candle from her mouth, Isabelle watched as Songwell came down after her.
“Mind you close the door, Eustace! We don't want a draft!"
With a disgusted grunt, Galloway turned around and backed down the stairs, pulling the door shut with him. He wasn’t even at the bottom of the stairs before Granny was off again. It was all Isabelle could do but to carry on after her, lest she lose her in the utter darkness of the mill's basement. Songwell and Bitsmount both hurried up after her, sticking close to her candle’s light in the narrow, wood-walled passageway. Up above, the low grumbling of moving machinery continued, and she could hear a high-pitched whine as well.
‘Granny’ did indeed seem to know the way quite well. But if the blindness was all an act, how could she see? The candle barely cast enough light for Isabelle to see Granny’s rear hooves, let alone for her to see what was in front of her. No, she must really be that crippled.
Isabelle pressed on, surprised by ‘Granny’s’ speed. She perfectly took blind corners that left even her butting her shoulder into the wall or nearly tripping over a piece of debris on the ground. ‘Damn;’ 'Granny' must have gone down this passage hundreds of times to have it memorized so well. Turning another corner, she saw red dots in the distance, and they quickly scattered away from her candle-light in a distant cacophony of squeaking noises.
Rats!
‘Ugh, what an awful place.’ Thank Celestia, it didn’t smell too bad down there, though, with an odor only as foul as the damp musk of any basement beside one of the canals. That air didn’t seem to agree with Mister Songwell, however, and he exploded into a fit of coughing.
Bitsmount threw a hoof around his employee, and called out ahead. "Slow down a moment, there, Granny!"
But Granny Nag just kept walking onwards, and with Bitsmount flustered by her single-minded determination, Isabelle dropped back to help. Taking the old teamster partially over her shoulder, she led him forward even as he continued his fit.
Eventually, after pulling a handkerchief out of his vest pocket, he choked out an apology. "Sorry. And thank you, miss."
She let him go and took the front again. Why'd Bitsmount have to drag an old colt into this, anyways?
Oh, of course. He was going to have Songwell take the fall for the mines’ mismanagement. She sure hoped he was going to at least pay the old teamster enough to retire on.
And what is with this basement expedition! They must have trodden the entire square footage of the mill's floor by now. Although... she hadn't noticed it at the time, but the machinery noises had gotten very faint. In fact, they were little more than quiet echoes coming up from behind them.
Isabelle couldn’t possibly be under the mill any more. And the walls had gotten rougher and more angular. Looking to her side, she saw that they were hewn rock instead of wooden foundation walls. A secret passage between buildings? That must have taken a lot of work.
At last, the hoofsteps in front of her came to a stop. Granny Nag was standing at the end of another long corridor, waiting in front of some kind of hatch. Leading the way, Isabelle joined her at the front, her two charges close behind.
"Would you help me with this door, sweetie? It's a bit too much for these old bones of mine." Extending a hoof, she searched with it for a large, circular crank handle built into the metal door. When her hoof touched the circular rim, Granny patted it, as if to show it to Isabelle.
“Just turn it clockwise, dearest."
Stepping forwards, she grabbed the cross-bars of the wheel and gave it a tug. It didn’t budge one inch.
‘Damn thing must be stuck solid.’
Rearing up, she gave it another try, throwing her shoulders into the task. At last, there was a sharp creak of metal, and then a thud as the lock opened. As Isabelle let go of the wheel, Granny Nag stepped up and pulled open the door, revealing a small chamber inside.
There was a blue magical light-bulb built into the ceiling, too -- the first non-candle source of light she’d seen in what must have been a quarter of an hour by now. And on the far wall of the small chamber, there was another hatch with a crank-handle.
Granny stepped in ahead of her. "Be a treat and close the door behind us, would you?"
Isabelle waved her head back at the trailing stallions, and they came up to enter the chamber before her, squeezing past in the narrow, rocky tunnel. At last, Isabelle entered the chamber inside, and she had to strain to pull the heavy door shut.
The thing must weigh a ton! How did Granny manage to open it if she said she couldn't work the handle?
As soon as she shut the considerable door, the lock seemed to re-engage itself, and by the time she’d turned around, their guidespony had already opened the other door, pulling the heavy hatch inwards. There was light beyond it, so much more than even in the little metal antechamber, that Isabelle was blinded by the brightness. Without waiting for her -- so much for sending in his bodyguard first! -- Bitsmount stepped into the light.
"Now, this is more like it!
Isabelle stepped towards the light as well, still straining her eyes. As she entered the room beyond, the bright blur faded into focus. She found herself in a large, domed room, ringed with columns, and amply lit by ensconced, golden lamps all around the perimeter. Elegant white marble tiles lined the floor and ceiling, and the walls were covered in dark brown wainscoting, with red patterned wallpaper, as if this was a palace ballroom and smoking room all rolled into one. Dangling down from the peak of the dome, an enormous chandelier was suspended above the room, its eight arms stretching out into a great ring, with a circular ball of light at the end of each one.
‘No point in the candle any more, that’s for sure.’
Conveniently, there was a small table right by the door, and Isabelle put the candle down and blew it out. Behind her, Granny Nag shut the door, while ahead of her, Bitsmount and Songwell were staring up at the ceiling in awe.
"See what I told you, Songwell? These are professionals -- and professionals with a sense of taste, at that!"
"I'm pleased that our accommodations are to your liking, Mister Bitsmount."
Stepping out from behind one of the columns, a hooded colt walked to the center of the room, where a small table had been set up, completely covered by a red woven rug.
Bitsmount stepped forward as well, and Isabelle joined her employer on his left, with Songwell on his right. "Ah, our esteemed host. Good day to you, sir. I take it we find ourselves at last in the company of the 'Familia'?"
The robed pony took up a position on the other side of the rug-covered table, standing in front of it like a priest, with the three of them as supplicants.
‘Hmm.’
Isabelle couldn't make out any table-legs, and the designs on the tiles seem to converge in the center. Maybe it was actually a dais, or an altar?
"You do indeed, Mister Bitsmount. You may call me 'Isfet'. You have already met 'Granny Nag'." He gestured a hoof at his associate, who came up behind them.
Keeping his face obscured by the hood, 'Isfet' had a smooth, quiet, and steady voice. It was almost menacingly gentle, and despite the luxurious elegance of this room, Isabelle felt even less relaxed than she did in the pitch-black tunnels that brought her there.
"... Now please, tell me, what can the Familia in Magicae do for you today?" Bitsmount seemed pleased by the introduction, but she really didn’t like the way that sounded.
Granny Nag took up a position beside their host, and despite her apparent frailty, Isabelle was even more suspicious of her, considering her demonstrated strength and questionable blindness.
Before her employer could open his mouth to explain his needs, Isfet held up a hoof. "I joke, of course. The Family investigates any prospective client long before we make contact. Your requirements are known to us; you need to get away with lying at court."
Songwell gasped, surprised anypony could have figured it out.
‘Well, what else was a pony under investigation for safety standards violations going to be doing contacting practitioners of the dark arts, you silly old colt?’
Bitsmount tipped his hat. "That's it exactly, sir. Myself and my foremost teamspony, Phillip Songwell, need assistance in resisting the dream-reading powers of Princess Luna."
Granny Nag scoffed at that remark, but Isfet replies in his flat, moodless tone. "Her Majesty's powers over the morphean realm are considerable, Mister Bitsmount, but there's little truth to be found in dreams. In order to lie at court, it's not this power in particular which should worry you."
He pulled out a pair of vials from beneath his robes, and laid them on the carpeted dais before him. "What you must worry about instead is their Majesty's Presence. It is not a thing which is obvious in an open setting, but..."
Lifting one of the vials, he held it up in front of the three. "... after you give your testimony in front of the crowd, you will doubtless be asked to speak with one or both of the Princesses in private. And it's there that they will work their magic on you."
All eyes were on the little thimble of liquid. "Their Majesties' Presence has the power to compel truth, awe or dominate the weak-willed, terrify the wicked, and cow the meek. To resist it, you will need this."
He reverently placed the vial back down again.
"All that remains is for the bargain to be struck."
Bitsmount narrowed his eyes. "How much, then?"
Isfet paused slightly before responding.
"Half a million."
Songwell gasped again, and even Bitsmount inhaled sharply, scowling. For two tiny little vials, that was an enormous price tag. Even a young pony like Isabelle could retire and live out the rest of their years in comfortable luxury for half a million.
Her employer took a deep breath. "That's quite a tidy sum, sir."
"It is, Mister Bitsmount. But from what we understand, you spend that much on parties at your country villa in a year or two."
From underneath the shadows of the hood, Isabelle could make out the slightest hint of white teeth. Was he grinning?
"We suggest tightening your belt. After this incident, doubtless society will expect some humility on your part, even if your underling takes the blame."
Galloway Bitsmount nodded his head with a chuckle. "Yes, well..."
Isabelle could tell it was the forced laughter of somepony who knew when they'd been caught.
"... The fact remains that I don't have half a million bits on me at the moment. And I doubt you'll take a cheque."
The hooded figure bowed. "No, Mister Bitsmount. But we will convey the terms of the payment later, and the sum will be collected over time. It is, after all, in our interest as well as yours that this payment goes unnoticed."
That sounded like a prelude to blackmail.
Her employer sensed it, too. "I see. So I am to entrust the accounting entirely to you? You'll forgive me if I have some reservations."
Again, Isfet bowed. "Mister Bitsmount, your concern that we may try to take advantage is understandable. But surely, as you were the one who sought us out, you have done your research beforehoof? We are artisans, sir, not gutter-mages. Our clients come to us because they know we are reliable and discreet. Our prices are dear precisely because we do not abase ourselves with extorting our customers."
Sighing, her employer nodded. "Yes, you're right, sir. I apologize for the remark, and I agree to your terms."
The robed colt waved one hoof in front of the vials. "Then please, Mister Bitsmount. Take these, and imbibe the contents before you attend court. The effects will last for one full day only..."
Bitsmount reached forward.
"... But before you go, there is a small additional price for a first-time client such as yourself. A finder's fee, for our agent."
He indicated Granny Nag, and the thought of paying out even more soured Bitsmount's mood again. Bit of a dirty trick asking for more for the guide, and even Songwell grumbled about that one. Still, avoiding the dungeon is probably worth half a million, plus a little bit more.
"Of course. And how much is that?"
Granny Nag looked him in the eyes with her milky orbs. "Just enough for a few drinks, that's all, my dear."
The thought of spending any more time near the decrepit old mare disgusted her young noblepony employer, and he turned up his snout even as he tucked the vials away into his vest, pulling out his pocketbook in the process. "Let's settle that account right now, then. I'd like to wrap this up quickly."
The elderly mare circled around the dais towards him as he began to count out a few hundred bits' worth of bills. With a sneer, he held the cash out in front of her. "Here, is this enough to see us safely back to the surface?"
Tut-tutting, she shook her head. "Oh, no, dear, I said a few drinks."
Bitsmount scoffed, but before he could do anything else, she snarled and lunged at him, knocking him backwards to the floor as she latched her mouth onto his neck.
Shocked, it was all Isabelle could do but to gasp and jump aside as Granny Nag wrapped her hooves around him, growling and hissing like a wild beast. Beside Isabelle, Songwell wailed as he stood apart, fixed in place.
And 'Isfet' just sat calmly in front of the table as before, motionless as this assault occurred right in front of him.
On the ground, her employer's limbs spasmed, and he moaned softly and repeatedly in-between unsteady breaths, unable to struggle against her.
‘What is she doing to him?!’
That's when 'Granny' reared her head back. Songwell's wail turned into a scream, and he backed up even more.
So did Isabelle when she saw it.
Her snout was covered in blood, and as she watched, transfixed by the horrific sight, ‘Granny Nag’ transformed before her very eyes.
Her milky-white orbs turned crimson red
Her grey mane darkened to a shiny brown
Even her clothes seemed to knit themselves back into better shape.
She got to her hooves, as swiftly as the fresh young mare she now appeared to be. Songwell bolted for the hatch, but 'Granny' just stared at Isabelle.
And she looked hungry for more.
"Time to give your Granny a drink, dearie."
Isabelle withdrew before her steady advance, while behind her, she could hear Songwell furiously trying to open the hatch.
‘Come on, have some resolve, girl!’
Rearing up, she raised her forehooves and prayed that whatever kind of monster she was, a heavy bronze horseshoe would still hurt.
That's when the lights around the perimeter started to fade out.
‘Oh, no.’
"For the love of Celestia, help! Open this door!" Songwell hammered desperately on the iron door as the chandelier lights faded, too.
The last thing Isabelle saw before the darkness enveloped the room completely, was the two long, white canine fangs protruding out of 'Granny's' mouth.
"Don't worry, dearie. It won't hurt a bit."
She swung at the darkness, connecting with nothing but air.
Then she felt something at her neck, and blacked out.
Suggested interlude music: Nine Inch Nails - 'Quake Theme', from 'Quake' [1996]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mv5Jvr2Fp48
