The Dark Lady smiled at the pony within the darkened room. “My champion, I have a certain mission for you.” He remained kneeling before her, obedient to the rules.
“As always, my lady,” he said, “I am obedient and willing. What is this task you set before me?” He did not really need to know what the task was, only who the target was. He knew what she wanted him for, for he had only one well-known enough talent. It was almost his day job, and inwardly he laughed at the idea.
“The Princess of the Sun. I took a wager that nopony would be able to get close enough to the Princess to bring her down. You will be my champion in this task, my representative. Succeed in this task, and I will reward you with half the wager. I already know you well enough to know you will not fail.”
The pony nodded. “Yes, my lady. I will carry it out.”
“Remember,” she said, as he turned to leave. “The standard requirements are in force.” He nodded, and left the darkened room. He knew this place like the back of his hoof.
As the sun rose in Canterlot, Tempo yawned and rolled out of bed. The earth pony walked over to the window, and he looked out at the world, and at the city. Today was the big day, the day he had been spending so long preparing for.
However, that did not mean he could ignore his morning routine. To be quite honest, he smelled, and that would not do. Nothing attracted attention like a bad smell, and though he would be outdoors for more of the day, that did not mean he would be able to go without smelling like roses. Appropriate, given that the only thing he had to remove that stench was the last of his rose oil. He definitely had to finish his time here today, or it would become impossible. He splashed some oil on his face, and on his legs and tail. It was the only thing that would not make the paint run, and that would hardly do this far into his business.
Next, he had to prepare his thermos of coffee. Everypony who knew Tempo knew his fondness for the brown liquid, and though it had a foul taste, he still had to drink it. Though someponies said that you got used to it, he still liked it no more than the first time he had tasted in, almost five months ago now. Five months now, being Tempo and setting up for this one day.
He turned, almost without thought, to the package in the corner. Long, and thin. It was his weapon of choice – not Tempo’s, but his own – a broken-down arbalest. Each day, he had taken it out of its cover, oiled it, cleaned it, and practiced putting it together, loading, unloading, and breaking it down. Before this mission, he had been proud with five minutes in all, but now he could do it in a single minute. It would not be that whole process today. Today, he would be lucky to escape leaving it behind.
Tempo was not just the chess-player that most ponies thought he was. Alternatively, perhaps, it would be more precise to say that he was just that chess-player that most ponies thought he was. He did not exist at home. He did not exist when he was asleep. He did not have relatives, dreams, aspirations, hopes, fears or anything that marked a normal pony. This was for the very simple reason that he did not exist.
Tempo was just an alias, just another identity he had taken on to get closer. It was all coming to fruition today. Now he had developed a friendship with one of the Royal Guardsponies, and they had accidentally let slip the parade route planned for the Princess today. Not that anypony would seriously suspect that somepony was trying to assassinate the Princess. That was what gave him the advantage.
His real name was Mark, though whether that referred to his special talent, to his other gift of hiding his cutie mark, or to his reliability to bring down his targets was anypony’s guess. He did not settle the argument, finding some vulgar amusement in the dispute. One thing that was indisputable, however, was his skill. They said that he could trim a mane with his bolts at a mile. When he heard of ponies saying that, he chuckled.
“I am merely a shooter,” he had said. What made him successful, he thought, was his adherence to the rules. He did not think of himself as special, as above the rules. The rules were for everypony in his profession, and when you broke them, when you thought yourself above them, they brought you down. If you were lucky, you would survive to learn from your mistake. If you were not, you would die. The rules were simple, and Mark was happy enough to stick within their bounds.
Know your target was the first. If you did not know your target, how could you predict their actions? How would you know how to down them? Even so, many bold ponies would forget the rule; think that they could dictate their target’s actions. Then they died. Added to this were the mark’s protectors. You had to know who they were, what they would do, what their capabilities were.
The second was to know your ground. His mentor had told him that the security should not rely on secrecy of that which cannot change. Yet so many thought that they could keep secret traps and devices that would protect them. It would be embarrassing to fall to one of those. It was not something that he usually encountered, his specific method of killing being less close in than that of others. Even so, knowing the ground meant for him to know distances, to know wind-speed, weather, all that might impair his shot. That meant inspecting the killing ground repeatedly, until he knew it perfectly.
The third was to know your escape. If you did not have an escape, you were counting on your success, and that meant you had no room to move when something changed your plans, which would always happen.
The key to these rules was knowledge. This was the supreme weapon in Mark’s arsenal, and he valued it far more than the arbalest he used to do the actual killing. That could fail, but this never would. That could be lost, but this never would.
It was this knowledge that had formed the plan for this operation, when it had first begun. The mission was a normal one, save only for the target. A Princess was special, and so he had to clear some practical problems.
The first was availability. How could he find her out in the open? That had almost canned the operation from the start, and if Mark had been any less patient, it would have. However, he had waited, had kept himself ready and alert to any change. He had been blessed in his cover as a professional chess player, for one of the Royal Guardsponies had fancied herself good at the game. There he had worked patiently, never pressing for information, simply helping her, teaching her the game, but playing ten moves ahead of her. By the time the parade had come around, she trusted him, and had mentioned it casually in conversation. It was just a few moves to get what he wanted, under the cover of ‘wanting to get a good view’.
Now he knew her route for the day. It would be later in the day, when the sun was at its zenith that he would strike. Her control over the sun forced her to keep moving it with her magic, particularly at noon. This was the second problem. How could he cause enough of a display that he could escape? Few ponies knew that a unicorn was especially vulnerable to an unscrupulous being when using their magic. The horn was charged with that magic, and if he struck it, it would break loose with a terrible fury against all in the area. If he could hit her horn then, she would die by it, and he could escape in the meantime.
With his plan now locked in, he picked up the bag containing his arbalest, and slung it over his back. Then, with his thermos hanging around his neck, Tempo opened the door, and stepped out of his room. He went across the short corridor to the stairs down from the floor of the apartments he was living on, and exiting the block of apartments, he began his usual morning walk. He had taken this same walk for the past five months. He knew it perfectly now, the cobblestones welcoming him like an old friend. He knew the usual street urchins, and was able to evade them with little delay. As the time for his shot came closer, he found his heart beating faster, and his memories turning back to when he had learned of his information.
“Pawn to C6,” he said, smiling over the board at her. Although he had seemed to waste a move, it was part of how he had always played her. He already knew how he was going to win this game, and it required her to show her weakness.
She did not disappoint, moving up her king’s pawn to E4. She did not take any time to decide, merely repeating the same move she had always done. In return, he gave her the mercy of yet another repeated move. He moved his queen to A5 to threaten her king. It was his favourite part of playing black, taking the initiative and forcing white onto the defensive.
Now she paused for a time, looking over the board. Gingerly, she moved her pawn from C2 to C3. It was the best of the pawn moves she could make, and Tempo thought to himself of how he would have moved. A bishop would be superior, perhaps, because it threatened the queen in return. Already, though, he had started to lull her off-guard. She knew this move already, and though he had made a foolish set of moves, allowing her to develop her pawns more, she had not picked up.
Tempo moved his king’s knight out, to begin his own side’s development. She, in turn, moved her king’s bishop out to C4, and he knew that now would be the key point. He could repel her attack, or let her take a few pieces. One would suffice to set her ahead, for now. So, rather than threatening the bishop, he instead let it remain, and instead moved his knight to take her king’s pawn.
The guard, a pegasus pony named Dizzy, hummed as she looked over the board. It was a cheery sort of hum. She was only a new recruit to the guard, and still as yet innocent and naïve about ponies. While that was enticing enough for Mark, it also made her the perfect key to unlock the opportunity to make his mark. She stopped her humming, and moved her pawn out to threaten the knight. In return, he pulled his knight back to threaten the newly moved pawn, but also under threat of her bishop. He was hoping to lose it. If she won this game, it would be likely that she would be more than happy enough to discuss the parade she had talked of yesterday in detail, and then he could begin to plan his own approach.
She swallowed the bait well enough, and took his knight. Now he merely had to maintain the parity of the pieces they had now, and her victory would be – almost – assured. Tempo moved his pawn up, to force back the bishop, and it moved to threaten his other knight, which was still undeveloped. This he could permit. The less pieces on the board, the better for his plan. To force it, he moved another pawn to threaten the bishop’s current placing.
That was enough for her, and she dived straight in. He took the bishop with his own rook, and relaxed a little. The game could not really go anywhere that he did not direct it to do so now. The pieces continued to move on the board, and he changed his face appropriately as he gradually lost more and more. He did not let the losses spiral, of course, only making sure that she paid adequately that she believed it. Eventually there were only a few pieces left, three pawns, two rook, and a knight to her, and four pawns, a bishop, and a rook to him. Tempo watched Dizzy over the board, waiting for her to move. She hummed again, but no longer the merely happy hum that she had been. It was a more absent-minded, focused-on-something-else sort of humming. Slowly, she moved her knight to just behind his bishop.
Tempo looked at the board, and closed his eyes for a second. He could picture the board in his mind, and he knew what he had to do. He opened his eyes again, and in what he hoped would be the last act of this gambit of his, he moved his rook to threaten hers. Her rook was protected by a pawn, but he was counting on her taking his last big piece. He opened his thermos, and took another sip of the woody-tasting coffee within. It was with some effort that he did not spit it out, but he screwed the cap on and turned back to the board. For the first time in a long time, he could feel his anxiety at the next move.
She did not move for almost a minute, looking over the board. She was worried, he knew that. Was this another trap? In a sense it was, but not for what she thought it was. Slowly, she picked up her rook and took his, before he took hers with his king in return. She moved her knight quickly, threatening the pawn that she had stopped with her king. It was protected by the bishop, but now she was unthreatened by his rook, and she could swap for it.
With nothing that could benefit her more without revealing that he was throwing the game, he moved his side pawn up. It was a wasted move, but nothing else would do. He actually felt a little uneasy about throwing the game now, but pushed that feeling away. She took the pawn, and he then took her knight with his bishop. She took the bishop, and at last, the game was hers. He moved the pawn on the other side, to be taken by the surviving rook. He could only move the other side's pawn, and she took his second last pawn. He moved his last once more. It was blocked now by one of her pawns, unmoved from its position on H2.
Dizzy was happy now, and beamed as she moved her rook to protect her pawn as it began to move up the field. She promoted it to a Queen, and after a few quick moves, she had checkmated him. She waited for him to make a move as she did so, before realising a second later that she had won.
"Yes!" she said with a little cheer. "I did it!"
He nodded, with a little smile on his face. "Yes, you did." That he was behind most of it, he did not see fit to mention. It was her victory at last, and he did not want to take away from that. Especially because he needed to get the information from her. "You said you had some important news for me?" he prompted, resuming the conversation that the chess game had paused.
She looked at him, a little confused, before she remembered. "Oh, yes, I do. Guess who has been selected for the Princess' parade?" she asked, looking almost more excited than she had done at winning the chess game.
"You?" answered Tempo, with a little nod to her. This was an unexpected development, but a welcome one. It would be all but impossible for her not to know the parade route now, and she would be all too willing to tell him.
"Yes! Can you believe it? I've only been a Guard for a year, and they've given me this. I'm so lucky," she said, almost leaning across the board to tell him. Some of the less experienced of his kind would leap straight to asking the information they needed. He knew better, though, and it was best to talk around what he wanted to learn. Circling the island was a more successful answer than storming the beach.
He nodded gently. "It is quite an achievement. I might have to watch you, then," he said, smiling at her joy. It was quite a site to see, especially in his usual profession. He did not have to fake his enjoyment of it.
"You'd come to see me?" she asked, her voice quieting a little. "I mean, of course you'd come to see me. You will?" She looked at him with earnest eyes, and he felt the first pricking of a long-quieted conscience again. He had become too close. It was only good that his real work would be done soon.
"Yes, of course. My favourite pupil, guarding the Princess? I would not miss it for the world." There was more truth in that statement than she might know.
"Well, if you can..." she said, as if lowering her expectations of him. Then, with a resurgence of her enthusiasm, she spoke again. "It's going through the city, but the best place will be where it starts. It'll start at New Street at 11 o'clock, and then progress down to Bridle Way and eventually end up at the Shoe. Then it'll turn back, through East Circuit and Spur Crescent. But you can't tell anypony till the day, okay?" She looked into his eyes, as serious as she could look, but the gesture reminded him too much of a foal trying to get another not to tell anypony who she was crushing on.
"Of course I won't," he assured her with a gentle smile. The killing ground was already clear to him as he pictured the route in his head. Sugar Street was almost halfway through the parade route. They would be less cautious then. He would make that work. "This will just be between you and me."
Now came the time for the business end of his morning path, and it seemed like the cobbles were almost farewelling him as he turned onto Sugar Street. There, in a hotel three short blocks from the cross street, there was the perfect overlook. It was called ‘The Poncy Pegasus’, after the ridiculous sign hanging outside the door. The blessing he had in this city was that so many ponies were comfortable where they were, and asking questions meant that somepony might be doing something wrong, and that meant that they would have to do something about it. They were just so trusting. Well, that was about to change, one-way or the other.
He walked in through the swinging door, and nodded to the doorpony. He was not carrying anything too heavy, just for this purpose. Only his thermos and his backpack, and that were his normal routine. Everypony who knew Tempo knew he would come into the hotel, ask for his room (One Hundred Thirty Eight), pay the three bits for the day and go in. Then he would come back down after an hour, and turn in his key and thank the hotelier for his hospitality. What he was doing up there, nopony knew, and because he left his room immaculate, nopony cared. Nopony came in to meet him. Nothing was delivered. Nothing, as far as anypony could tell, happened.
That inside his backpack was now an arbalest capable of punching the bolt it fired through an inch of steel at one hundred metres did not change this in the slightest. He walked up to the reception desk, and asked the nice mare at the desk for Room One Hundred Thirty Eight. It was almost comical now. Everypony there knew him. Some of them even liked him, probably. They were the best. They did not want to know he was doing anything illegitimate, so they did not pry too deeply. “Whatever Mister Tempo is up to,” they said to themselves, “it causes no harm or nuisance to anypony, so let us not invade his privacy.”
It had been years since Mark had thought anything much good of the general crowd of ponykind, and yet still he liked them. He liked that they trusted so much, for in a good and honest world that would be the best rule of all. He liked that they did not seek to pry into others’ affairs, because it meant they were unused to treachery and distrust. Yet even so- even so, he was preparing to destroy that. Their innocence, which he enjoyed so much, was about to die. It made him feel slightly sad that this was the case. In a good world, it would not need to happen.
He climbed the stairs as he thought of this. Hanging around his neck, banging gently on the metal thermos, were the keys to Room One Hundred Thirty Eight. It was the last time he would do this, and he savoured the comfortable routine. It occurred to him, as it had occurred to him all this past week, that he could stop this. He did not need to take the shot. He could, quietly, wait in this room, and then go downstairs, turn in the key, and disappear from all of these ponies’ lives. Nopony would even know. All they would know is that Mister Tempo had finished his business, that he had left the town, that something had changed and that he would not come back. From the smile of the reception mare, he could tell they would miss him. Even so, they would forget him. They would forget him, and they would never know of the threat he had posed to their comfortable happiness.
Even as he thought this, he dismissed the idea from his mind. He had come too far to back out now. He had put his reputation on the line, and he knew that while he was too valuable to punish summarily, there would be many willing to take his place. No, it had to end here. He opened the door to Room One Hundred Thirty Eight, and then closed it behind him and locked it. He went to the window, and opened it quietly. It was still twenty minutes before the parade was due. He tested the wind, and looked out to the park below them. It was where the Princess would be coming, and he had marked out certain patches to indicate range. It was a tricky business, doing that secretly, but even so, he had done it. It was worth it to be sure of the hit.
He put down his thermos and his backpack, and opening the latter up, he drew out the broken-down arbalest. The first part was the prodd – the ‘bow’ section of the crossbow. It shone a little, for it was made of good steel and he took good care of it. Next, he took the string, and he strung the prodd. He had waxed the string, to protect it from both conditions and wear. While the stringing process would have been a simple task for a unicorn, Mark had to learn it with difficulty. Who would design such a weapon for a pony, he thought wryly, when most of them would struggle to use it?
Still, though, that same difficulty gave him the advantage now. With the practice he had put in, he was able to use this weapon effectively – and nopony saw it coming. Even more so the usual wanting-to-believe-in-honesty ponies that he met each day. They were almost wilfully blind, and concealing his intentions from them was no longer difficult. Sometimes he almost felt shame for that, but he answered it that he was not harming them, that though he kept them in the dark it was for their own good. That was enough to keep his conscience clean. Besides, nothing he did would harm them in the end. Only what they knew would harm them, for if they knew they would have their conscience unquiet despite them being unable to stop him. It was better for everypony this way.
He had now put the weapon together after he connected the prodd to the stock, and he began to load it. He had a windlass to help pull the string back, and he did it in ten seconds flat. Then he fit the squat quarrel into its rest, and sighted down the stock. Satisfied that he had fitted everything correctly, he moved to the open window, and raising the arbalest, he pointed it down-range, on the path the Princess’ parade was due to come down. All he had to do now was wait.
Only two minutes had passed when he heard the trumpets play, and he thanked his choice for leaving early. If he had come only on time, then he would have missed his target. The Guards had made the first good choice to protect the Princess, but they had made it too late. He smiled. He had won the battle. All he had to do was pull the trigger.
The parade marched onwards through the killing ground. There were two Guardsponies in shining golden armour at the van, another two on each flank, and the fourth pair at the stern, including the very Guard who had told him of this opportunity. In the middle of the group was the Princess, on her chariot, another two pegasus Guardsponies pulling it. It was glistening in the sun, but only the cover was gold – under its skin, it was wooden. It seemed so obvious to Mark when he thought about it, though when he was a foal he had believed it was solid. He chuckled a bit at the foalhood memory, and sighted the arbalest. A red beam of light stabbed out from the arbalest, and he turned it aside. He had loosed the quarrel, and it stabbed through the air with a great sound from the loosing of the arbalest. It hit the chariot, missing the Princess by a hair’s width. He was running before the arbalest even hit the floor.
There was a terrible cracking sound, and before Dizzy could look for the source, something slammed into the chariot in front of the Princess. She turned to look, and her blood ran cold as she recognised a quivering quarrel impaled in the middle of the chariot. Someone had just attempted to kill the Princess. She looked to the squadron leader, who was already shouting. “Secure the area! Files two and four, find me that assassin, and bring them in alive. Three and five, protect the Princess and get her back to the palace,” he bellowed, and the well-trained ponies snapped into action with drill-ground precision.
Dizzy looked at the quarrel in the chariot, and tried to think of where it had to have come from. Looking up, she saw an open window, and felt a hint of victory. “Assassin’s in the hotel,” she called as she took to the air, and her partner Ace joined her. She dived through the open window, and hit the floor. Nopony was there, but the heavy-built crossbow that had loosed the quarrel was on the floor, along with a familiar-looking thermos. “He’s running,” she called, and hurried for the open door out of the room. Somepony was running down the stairs, and she cursed under her breath. Was that- She pushed the thought from her mind.
Though their would-be assassin needed to take the stairs, she and her partner had no such requirement. She dived through the air, and followed their mark. She reached the ground floor just as he ran out the front door, and she only went faster. She slammed through the door, ignoring the pain in her body for the pain in her heart. He was already trying to break her tail, diving into a nearby alley, but she knew where he was going. Her partner was still in the hotel, but she was not going to let this traitor get away.
The alleys were small and as she weaved her way through them, she had to slow down to avoid signposts and walls. Still, she was gaining on him, and she knew this area like the back of her hoof. He was trying to throw her off, but he had reckoned on the wrong Guardspony. She almost did not have to watch where he was going, the path seemed so obvious to her. There were only twenty metres between him and her, and she would close that distance soon.
She turned again, and allowed herself a small hint of surprise. Why would he, of all ponies, want to try this way? He had always been so far ahead of her that he had seemed to be reading her mind when they had played chess. She had only been able to get close to victory by thinking entire games ahead. He had to be up to something, but what was it, and how could she stop it?
There was no more time to think, for she had turned the final corner, and was now face to face with the would-be assassin. The earth pony stood, looking at her calmly. It really was him, and she felt her heart stop. Slowly she took a step into the empty dead-end. They were the only two ponies there, and the silence was almost as unnerving as the impact of the quarrel. She took a deep breath, and focused. No matter what had happened between the two of them, she was a Guardspony, and she had no choice but to do her duty.
“Why, Tempo?” she asked as she stepped into the alley. “What happened?” He looked at her, his face unchanging, as if nothing mattered. She knew her partner should be here by now, but still she was alone with him, and she tensed as he began to walk over to her.
“I was ordered to do so,” he said, with a voice unlike his, and she stepped back. She knew the voice, but it was not his. He smiled at her, and she recognised him through his disguise.
“Mark?” she said, her jaw dropping in disbelief. “But. I don’t understand. Why did you do it?” He was so renowned within the Guards. He had even taught her class how to use a crossbow. How could it be him?
No answer came as he slowly walked over and surrendered. Even as she shackled him, he did not speak a word. She had turned to leave the alley when Ace finally came in. "You got him?" he asked, sounding a little surprised. "How did you do it?"
She did not say anything to him. All she did was shake her head sadly, and begin leading the pony she had come to care about over the past months away, back to the Palace and his eventual fate.
"Checkmate," she said, her throat almost choked with sorrow.
Within the darkened room, the Dark Lady smiled at Mark again. “Well done, my champion, you have succeeded exactly as I hoped.” He bowed low to her, never meeting her face. It was not his place to do so – and it went against the rules.
“I was able to claim a target mark on her, my lady,” he said. “Most anypony could have done that.” Part of that was true – it was not difficult to take a crossbow and point it at somepony. Of course, he had not done that to just anypony, or only that, but it had never been his practice to report his entire mission plan to his superiors. It would feel more like boasting than anything else, to him.
“You are humble as ever – which in this case is acceptable. I had my watchers keeping an eye on you since you left, and they struggled to make you after you became Tempo. You have developed a talent at becoming other than you are.” She looked at him, but he kept his eyes downcast. “If I was your enemy, I would be worried. Nevertheless, your loyal service is well-worth rewarding and honouring.” She lifted his face up with her hoof.
“Thank you, my lady,” he said, forcing out the words through a mouth that seemed almost frozen in place. He forced back the desire to run, and instead only looked into her eyes. They seemed to go back forever, filled with stars and darkness. It was a terrific feeling, and he knew in that instant that she was seeing through him, through all the barriers and lies he kept around the thing he called himself. He felt naked before her, and struggled to hold the gaze.
“Do not be afraid, my dear little pony, for I love you, and you are mine,” she said, though the words sounded less like reassurance and more like laws. “I know you, yes, but do not fear that I want to destroy you. You will increase, will he not, my dear sister?” She looked away, and Mark collapsed, struggling to remember who he was and where he was. Her piercing gaze had enervated him.
“You have not learned as much as you say, Luna, if this is the way you reward loyal service,” spoke another mare, in a voice that Mark recognised, though for his life he could not remember who it was. He forced himself up, and looked across to see the Dark Lady speaking with the Princess. “Though you are right. If his willingness to serve is such that he would spend so long before expecting fruit, he is worth a king’s ransom in loyalty and endurance alone.”
She came towards him, and touched him lightly with a hoof, though it was all that Mark could do to bear the touch, for it felt like rushing flame. However, as the heat spread through his body, it was relaxing, healing, encouraging, emboldening. “Mark, you have served your Princesses well today, and for a long time before. Go now, and rest. I think you may find somepony outside waiting for you. She was quite concerned over you,” she told him, and where the Dark Lady had drained him, he now felt restored.
He gingerly started moving to the door of the darkened chambers, still groggy from the encounter with the Princess and the Dark Lady, but he did not worry about being lost. He knew this place like the back of his hoof.