“I was going to say that I wanted to help you fix whatever it is that’s keeping you from replenishing your arcane magic!”
Lex felt the world fall away from beneath his hooves at Mystaria’s declaration, leaving him to plunge into an icy sea of panic.
The enormity of what had just happened threatened to overwhelm him completely. While not his worst fear by any means, knowledge of his single greatest weakness getting out was still a scenario that he’d dreaded deeply since before he’d first come to Everglow, and had subsequently gone to great lengths to avoid. To that end, he’d never so much as alluded to that particular limitation to anyone, not even Sonata; while Lex had heard all sorts of trite expressions about how ponies who loved each other didn’t keep secrets from each other, he’d never once considered telling her about the flaw in his mightiest magic.
After all, keeping that secret was a matter of survival, and not simply his own.
The enemies that Lex had needed to fight ever since he’d sought to assume power in Equestria had proven to be staggering in their numbers, powers, and ruthlessness. On multiple occasions, they’d been defeated only by the slimmest of margins, and often as severe costs. If any of those foes had known to form a strategy around his inability to easily restock his thaumaturgical magic – and Lex himself could easily think of myriad ways in which to do so, from guerilla tactics deliberately designed to make him deplete his reserves to staging attacks on the few days when he could restore his spells – then the worst could easily have come to pass.
Lirtkra. Xiriel. Even that dragon he’d killed outside of Tall Tale. If any of them had adjusted their tactics according to his magical deficiency, they could have beaten him. And if they had, allowing them to carry out their depredations unopposed, Equestria would have suffered.
Which in turn meant that there was no margin for error when it came to others finding out. Regardless of how trustworthy someone else was, Lex had seen too many techniques that could be utilized to extract sensitive information from most ponies. Things that were remembered in dreams could potentially be seen by Luna. Prevarius had been able to read minds. Dark Streak had magic that allowed her to disguise herself as anyone. While Lex knew that governance required that information be shared as a matter of simple practicality, there simply wasn’t anyone besides himself who was capable of keeping his most important secret.
The only time when things hadn’t been quite so dire had been the brief period when he’d been given Severance. The scythe had ameliorated the worst of his limitations, but the weapon had proven itself to be more of a liability than an asset, leaving him with no choice but to discard it. And with no options for replacing the artifact, Lex had no alternative but to continue doing what he’d done ever since he’d designed his imperfect magical paradigm: conserve his spells as much as possible, expend them when necessary, and prevent anyone from finding out about the restriction that he was working under.
And now his secret had been revealed, and Lex found himself paralyzed as he struggled to take in the full scope of what that meant.
Dimly, he registered what might have been voices nearby, but he shut them out without even consciously deciding to ignore them. Too much of his brainpower was needed elsewhere, as he desperately tried to figure out how this had happened, what the ramifications – both immediate and long-term – were, and what could be done to mitigate them. Every factor, every variable, every possibility had to be holistically and immediately analyzed so that he could-
Be even more certain than you already are that there’s nothing you can do? laughed his tulpa. You already outlined how, once others learn about your weakness, it’s only a matter of time before it’s used against you. What makes you think you can overturn that conclusion now?
Because no other outcome was acceptable. Not when the consequences for failure were so severe. A solution needed to be found, and so would be found.
And what exactly is that solution? How will you protect your secret now that it’s already been overheard by so many?
Not that many. Barely more than a half-dozen. A few targeted curses to cause short-term memory loss would-
You were just berating that mare about the immorality of using magic on others without their permission, jeered the mental construct. Now you plan on doing the exact same thing?
The two situations could not be directly compared. Having institutionalized authority over the fates of others created a compelling interest that necessitated the ability to enforce measures that kept that authority intact. To that end, their participation in the dissemination of restricted information-
Their “participation”? Although voiceless, the words carried a heavy weight of scorn this time. What participation? That priestess might have figured out your weakness – completely on her own, with no unethical behavior behind her deduction, you’ll note – but the others simply happened to be there when she announced it. And she only announced it because you pushed her. She made it very clear that she didn’t want to say what she’d learned out loud; she did so only because you threatened to curse her.
The fear that was coursing through Lex, already threatening to smother his ability to think critically about what was happening, surged at that. Bad enough that his vulnerability had been found out, but the knowledge that he was responsible for disseminating it was a horrific realization that that bordered on unbearable.
The voices from the ponies around him had become screams now, but Lex continued to pay them no mind. This had to be resolved.
It won’t be.
There was a solution.
There isn’t.
He simply needed to find it.
You can’t.
The ideal answer would have been to simply correct the underlying flaw in his spellcasting altogether. That would not only obviate the premise of Mystaria’s statement, but it would solve numerous other problems for him as well. But that was little better than wishful thinking; he’d gone over that particular problem many times since he’d first developed thought-based magic, with no solution to the issue his inability to compress the necessary energy on his own presenting itself.
A verbal statement of denial, that’s what was necessary now. A blanket refutation of the conclusion that Mystaria had reached. As much as he abhorred falsehoods – communicating with others was difficult enough even when they were presumed to be honest – that would convince everyone listening to disregard what she had just said. Except…what if his denial wasn’t convincing? The imperceptible subtext that underscored most communication was likely to be a salient factor when it came to convincing others to put stock in something that wasn’t true, which placed him at a severe disadvantage. Worse, in failing to be convincing, he could inadvertently confirm what she’d said, making things even worse. Again.
Perhaps disregarding her statement altogether would serve to undercut its credibility? But there was no way to judge that, and any attempt to gauge the others’ reactions ran the same risk as an unconvincing rejection of what Mystaria had said. Not knowing if he’d successfully convinced them that there was nothing wrong with his spellcasting wasn’t sufficient, nor would it speak to whatever had led to Mystaria unearthing his secret in the first place.
Which was another point that needed to be addressed. How exactly had Mystaria managed to identify his thaumaturgical spellcasting’s central defect after only a few days in his presence? Was it some insight given to her as a worshiper of this world’s goddess of magic? Or was it because she herself was so familiar with different forms of thought-based spellcasting? Twilight Sparkle had grown suspicious over the course of their duel back in Vanhoover; perhaps – as distressing as it was to contemplate – his weakness was obvious to anyone who knew that particular form of magic?
That possibility was enough to send Lex down an entirely new avenue of self-doubt. Was it no coincidence that Dark Streak had attacked mere days before the equinox? Had the unknown entity who’d been repeatedly scrying on him during the trip to Las Pegasus learned why he’d never been able to foil their magical monitoring? If he made it back to Equestria, would it be only a matter of time before Twilight figured out the weakness in his magic?
You should never have asked the Night Mare for a compensatory artifact when you bargained with her, taunted his tulpa. You should have told her that you wanted her to correct the flaw in your magic. But you just couldn’t bear to admit that the imperfection was beyond your capabilities to correct, could you?
Lex had no response to give, too busy trying to come up with an answer…any answer.
But there were none to be had.
Although he was devoting every fiber of his being toward figuring out what to do in response to the crisis he’d suddenly had thrust upon him, Lex still didn’t know what to do about it. There were no hypotheses that were workable, no theories that were viable, no proposed courses of action that were feasible. With each passing moment, his fear and desperation grew worse, and he held them at bay only by assuring himself that he just needed a little more time…that a solution would surely make itself known to him…that there had to be something he could do…
Pain intruded across his consciousness then, and it was all Lex could do to keep from screaming, not from agony but because simply registering the stimulus impinged on his concentration, making an impossible task even harder.
Slowly turning in place as begrudgingly gave the unexpected sensation the smallest portion of his attention, Lex found himself looking at Woodheart and that adlet they’d captured…and suddenly he realized that there was a solution. Or at least, a partial one.
Right now, there were seven individuals who knew about his weakness. Eight if Woodheart’s familiar was counted.
Their knowledge of the defect in his magic gave Lex no grounds for prosecuting the ponies, nor their pet. But the adlet was another story.
That humanoid had attacked them with intent to kill. Given that it wasn’t a pony itself, its actions therefore warranted a death sentence. While he’d suspended that so that the hideous thing could be put to practical use in the meantime, doing so in no way meant that the adlet had escaped its execution. After all, it had only cooperated as a result of coercive measures being applied in the form of a curse rather than because a deal had been made, and so its service now warranted no clemency.
And since it was a foregone conclusion that, once it led them to the rest of its kind, the adlet would immediately tell its kin what it had just heard, the drawbacks of leaving it alive now outweighed the benefits.
Which meant that there was about to be one less individual who knew his secret.
His decision made, Lex reached up to grab his mask, letting it fly with an almost contemptible swing of his hoof. He’d barely thrown it into the air before he lost interest in it, turning the whole of his thoughts back toward the array of problems besieging his mind. There had to be some way out of this, some method of fixing the unacceptable situation in which he now found himself.
But he’d barely started to sink back down into his thoughts when another interruption made itself known. It wasn’t a tactile sensation, instead being another raised voice. But this time, it wasn’t one that he was able to ignore, demanding his attention in spite of his efforts to put it out of his mind…and when he processed the words a moment later, it became clear why.
“BASTARD!!! YOU KILLED HER!!!”