Prompt: Difficult Castle



A building doesn’t have to be cursed to kill. Time and pony-error can be as deadly as any spirit. When the first crystal chandelier detached from the ceiling and fell on Twilight Sparkle’s head, she naturally assumed it was the latter. By the fifth one, she was beginning to reconsider. It was around that time that the castle started drooling.

She took a corner at a dead sprint only to slip on what could only be described as building-spit. It was warm and made her mane stick to the side of her face and smelled like concrete dust and decaying flora. Ignore it, she thought, you’ve been caked in worse. Remember your birthday? Think about your birthday. Something growled behind her. She blindly fired a laser over her shoulder. The crystal walls flexed into a perfect mirror and reflected the laser back at her. She only barely ducked out of the way in time. The building-spit fizzed and hardened. Birthday, she thought desperately. Birthday birthday birthday.

She fought her way down into the deepest corridors of the castle, dodging her own lasers and crystalline debris timed with unnatural precision to concuss her and snap her spine, down to a bunker made not of crystal but concrete and rebar. The blast door slammed shut behind her with a deafening rattle, but in the ear-ringing silence that followed she swore she could hear a deep reverberant laughter.

Her bunker contained a perfect mirror of her desk in her main working area twenty floors above. She put her hoof on a scanner pad on the underside of the desk. A secret compartment popped open. She tossed out a copy of her diary, contingency plans on how to raise the sun and moon, a gun, and two emotional-support candy bars.

She took out a leather-bound book, one too large to fit into such a small compartment naturally. The pages shimmered. This book was being actively rewritten every moment of every day, and as such pages sparkled to life at random, the words rearranging themselves, letters flying to and fro.

“Pause,” she said out loud. The words froze. Each line contained a name, a location, and a short description, all in alphabetical order. Alpine Dream-Cascadia City-Three Pine Trees Backlit By Sunset. Alpine Heart-Seaddle-One Pine Tree With Wood Knots In Shape of Smiling Face. Allspice-Vanhoofer-Pine Cone Surrounded By Sparkling Magic Dust.

She flipped back to the index, then forwards again to section Ao-Arp, then forwards some more, to a page titled in large letters, ARCHITECT/ARCHITECTURAL.

She paused. Her brow furrowed. She chuckled to herself. Then she flipped backwards again to the section titled, ADVENTURER.



Quickset Mason took a step back to eyeball the fireplace. The level he had set atop the mantle wasn’t telling the full story here–the stones he had used to construct the top layer had some natural variation to their height. He closed an eye and carefully scanned from one side of the fireplace to the other. “Talk to me,” he said quietly. What was this building trying to say?

Finally, in a flash, the building seemed to cry, Perfect! A broad smile broke out on Quickset’s face.

As he brushed the exposed mortar to give it that finalized textured look, he let his mind wander. The fireplace had been an exceptionally-demanding piece of work, but nothing satisfied him more than the finality of a job well done. Mission accomplished, he thought to himself.

Or, rather, he started to think. Really, it was more of a, Mission acc–urk. A gout of bright green flame appeared directly next to his head, singing his eyebrows and sending him reeling. He staggered into the still-setting fireplace shoulder-first. The wall bowed inward at the point of conflict. Bricks tumbled to the ground. Wet globs of masonry fell into the parts of Quickset’s mane that weren’t on fire. He ran outside, head ablaze, and threw himself into the grass and rolled.

When the fire was out, he went back inside to inspect the damage. The fireplace was ruined. Tears sprung to his eyes. The client was going to be disappointed. Disappointed. Nothing was worse than a client scorned.

It was then that he noticed something else. Sitting atop the ruined pile of bricks and masonry slurry was a dragonfire scroll bearing the seal of princess Twilight Sparkle.



“I am trying to tell you, princess, I am not certified to work on crystal.” He pointed to the princess’s left front hoof, where the flesh had become like translucent gelatin all the way down to the bone. “And shouldn’t you call an ambulance for that?”

“You don’t need a certification for what we’re doing. And don’t worry, everything will become clear in a second.” She looked at her hoof. “Heh. Clear.”

Of course she was right–she probably wrote the building code. Still. The princess guided Quickset through the police cordon around the castle, past teams of elite royal guards and mercenary warriors. From beyond the tape, a flock of press pegasi hovered with their cameras, snapping photographs and squawking questions. Quickset paused to gawk. He’d never been the subject of a press frenzy before.

Twilight nudged him along with her magic. “They’ll still be there when we’re done. We need to work fast.”

Quickset took a deep breath and tried to relax. Sure, his client was going to kill him over the fireplace. He could look forward to that later. For now, he needed to focus. The princess had called on him specifically.

“What exactly do you need me to build? Protective walls? Some kind of enclosure? A dome, maybe?”

“We’re not building anything.” In every direction around the castle for fifty yards, there was a conspicuous absence of equipment. From here to the front gates was no-pony’s-land. “We’re demolishing.”

Quickset frowned. “Oh. Uh. Okay. Which part of the building are we demoing?”

“All of it.”

“Uh. All of it.”

“Yup! The whole thing. Clean slate.”

Quickset blinked once. Then a second time. “You’re serious.”

“Raise your right hoof.”

“I don’t see what–woah!”

Twilight magic’d his hoof into the air. “Repeat after me: I, state your name.” She waited expectantly. “Come on now. I, state your name.”

“I, state your name.” She flashed him an annoyed look. “Sorry, I, Quickset Mason.”

“Do solemnly swear to uphold and protect the nation of Equestria and its creatures.”

“Do solemnly swear to uphold and protect the nation of Equestria and its creatures.”

“Good. I hereby grant you top-secret government clearance. My castle is haunted.”

Quickset’s head spun. “Top-secret?”

“Yup! Please try to keep up. The castle is haunted, and I need you to demolish it.”

“Haunted by what?”

“A demon from Tartarus, of course. Crystal is a natural amplifier of all types of magic, demonic or otherwise. Seems like a spirit slipped through my wards. That’s not a problem for you, though.” She floated over a saddlebag stuffed with dynamite and a map. “I want you to go into the building and plant charges along all the major foundational elements of the castle. I’ve marked them here on this map for your convenience. Extend a fuse back out to this cordon, light it, the palace blows up, the demon doesn’t have anywhere to go but down down down, we sweep away the rubble, and the tree of harmony regrows a new castle in three to five business days.” She beamed. “Easy peasy.”

“Uh. Princess, if it’s so easy peasy, why don’t you have one of those mercenaries back there do it?”

“The mercenaries wouldn’t know a load-bearing pillar from a parapet. Sending ponies into a living crystal poltergeist is one thing, but I absolutely can’t risk sending them into an unsafe work environment. OSHA would depose me.”

“Then why don’t you do it yourself?”

“Well, heh…” A hint of embarrassment entered her voice. She held up her translucent leg. “The building kind of acquired a taste for me.”

A long moment of silence passed. “It what.”

“So just don’t step in the spit, and it won’t be able to eat you.”

“It ate you?”

“It’s not permanent. If the demon is banished, then whatever it eats comes back.”

Quickset’s eyes moved from the princess to the bag of dynamite, then back. “I’m sorry, your highness, but I just don’t think I’m qualified for this.”

“Oh, that’s fine! In fact, when this is all over, you’ll be such a hero you’ll be able to get whatever kind of work you want. We’ll give you unlimited qualification. I’ll give you an honorary PhD in architecture. Wouldn’t that be nice?” Before Quickset could reply, Twilight’s horn lit up, and the saddlebag of dynamite fastened itself around his midsection. “A PhD! A doctorate! You’d be a doctor! Doctor Quickset! I believe in you!”

Then she teleported him inside.



After the initial panic and nausea of unplanned teleportation wore off, Quickset set to work orienting himself. The castle was dark and what little light was left reflected off the crystal walls at dizzying angles. But a hall was still just a hall, even if it contained rows of strange crystalline stalactites that looked like teeth.

“Don’t step in the spit,” he reminded himself. “Okay doctor Quickset.” He decided to call himself that for the remainder of the mission to hype himself up. “It’s just another job. All clients are crazy. Remember the back porch mare from last year? That was crazier than this. It’s just another job.”

“And you’re just another snack,” said the castle.

Quickset let out a sound that would have gotten him laughed off any respectable jobsite and took off down a random corridor. By the time he ran out of breath, he was thoroughly lost.

“Who’s there?” he called out. He pulled out the map and tried to orient himself. “Just so you know, I have a bunch of dynamite on me. So if you eat me, you’ll blow up.”

“And if I don’t, will you still blow me up anyway?” the castle replied. A series of crystal lanterns lit up. “This way. Down. Towards my stomach.”

Quickset consulted the map, and wouldn’t you know it, he did actually need to go down to plant his charges. The frequency of mysterious puddles increased the further he went down. He tried to ignore them while also not thinking about them. Pony-spit was acidic and aided in digestion by breaking down food. Was building-demon-spit the same? He resolved never to find out.

The map led him to a set of cantilevered supporting elements. The foundation of the castle was attached horizontally to the trunk of the tree of harmony. Explosives set here would cleanly sever the castle superstructure from the tree without touching the tree’s core or roots. He set the saddlebag down and went to work.

“I can taste your fear,” the castle said to Quickset. “I feel it in the way you walk. Your eyes–how they flicker. Like candles on thin wicks.”

“Shut up,” Quickset said, and stuffed more dynamite into place.

“I wonder what you taste like…” A low rumble from below caused Quickset’s heart to leap into his throat. “Your princess barely escaped me with her life. What hope do you have?”

“She stepped in your spit or whatever. I didn’t. Easy.”

“If only it were so simple.” The rumble grew louder. Quickset hastened to stuff more dynamite into place. “Do you know why she had to flee in such haste?”

“I just told you why.”

A great terrible laugh echoed from everywhere at once. “She didn’t tell you, or she didn’t understand it herself.” The rumble redoubled. The floor began to quake. Quickset rose unsteadily to his hooves. “Crystal is my flesh. You don’t risk being eaten. You have already been devoured!”

From the end of the corridor came the rushing crash of a waterfall. At first, all Quickset could see was black. Then he saw a ripple of something catch the light. Only too late did he realize what he was hearing: a wave of castle-spit crashing towards him at breakneck speed.



The castle’s sub-basements were basically uniform all the way down. A corridor in sub-level fifty was laid out in the same way as a corridor in sub-level five. Quickset didn’t stop running until he was all the way back to sub-level one. He still had the dynamite–what hadn’t already been placed, that is. But nothing to fear. He was a clever architect. Provided he had enough explosives, he could jerry-rig something that would get the job done, even this far up. He dug through the pack with his skeleton-hoof to get an accurate count of how much dynamite he had left–

He paused. He stared for a long time at his hoof, now little more than a transparent mass of gelatin-flesh clinging to his exposed bones. All the way up to his shoulderblade. Collarbone. Spine. Hips. Rear legs. He ran to the nearest wall and took a look at his reflection. He stared into his own empty eye-sockets in his skull.

His scream practically brought the castle down all on its own.



When the initial wave of panic subsided, Quickset took stock of his situation. The dynamite that was left wouldn’t be able to bring down the castle–not at this level, anyway. What would have taken fifty sticks at sub-level fifty would take five hundred at sub-level five, and twice as much at sub-level one. He collapsed in a bone-rattling heap. It was over.

“Good, my little snack,” the castle cooed. “Sink into my acids. Fear not. Shame is for the living.” A puddle of building-spit secreted around him, shimmering like crystal-clear waters, impossibly deep, beckoning him closer.“Soon your princess will join you.”

Princess… Quickset thought. Anger flashed through his mind. She had put him in this situation, after all. Worst client ever.

That was when something clicked in his mind. She was still just a client. And after so many years of bending over backwards and doing backflips for clients, why stop now? He felt his brow move despite there being nothing left physically to furrow. Yes. Just another client. Maybe the worst client of all time. But a client all the same. And I love my clients.

That was when he noticed something else. The pools didn’t just look deep. They were deep. Beneath it was sub-level two! Flooded with building-spit, but there all the same.

Quickset dove in. The building let out a deep reverberant laugh. But the laughter soon turned to confusion as Quickset swam through the submerged sub-levels, down the flooded corridors and stairwells, lower and lower. The building fumed and raged and swished its spit back and forth to knock Quickset off course, but he was undeterred. A lifetime of manual labor had made him strong as an ox, and with no lungs to speak of, he didn’t need to stop for air. In no time at all he had descended down to sub-level fifty. In the dim light he saw his half-finished demo job, dynamite still stuffed into the foundation of the castle. As the building roared in protest, Quickset planted the remainder of the dynamite and swam up to freedom.



Outside, Twilight had begun an impromptu gab-sesh with a few of the pegasi journalists. “Yeah, we’ll need to update the building code to have better anti-demon countermeasures, but all in all I think this is a valuable learning experience. And any learning experience that isn’t written in blood is a good one, as far as I’m–sweet Celestia, what is that?!”

Quickset–still very much a living skeleton–emerged from the roaring mouth of the castle, the fuse gripped tightly between his teeth.

“Prnnssess!” he called out. “Mssuhn acc–”

Twilight Sparkle blasted him with a laser. Bones flew everywhere. The fuse sparked to life. The flame raced into the building. A moment of breathless silence followed. A lone pegasi journalist snapped a picture of Twilight’s shocked expression.

The castle exploded.



What Quickset Mason had said to Twilight before accepting his dangerous mission hadn’t been inaccurate: he was not certified to work on Crystal. But certifications, like doctorates, could be awarded arbitrarily.

As Twilight toured the foundations of the new friendship palace, she waved up to a figure high on the scaffolding. The figure waved back and climbed down. Body made of crystal grown straight from the tree of harmony itself, bones set inside to meld the soul to the stone. It was technically unholy, a little grizzly, and probably against every OSHA rule in the book. But given the circumstances, exceptions could be made.

“How goes construction?” Twilight asked.

Doctor Quickset put a hoof to the stone and listened intently. “They’re working on upper-level fourteen right now. I believe that will be your new library.”

“Outstanding. I’m so excited to see what you’ll be able to do with the place.”

As Twilight watched, Quickset used his newfound connection to the crystal to forge a doorway into the structure. Nothing to it–like pushing around wet masonry mortar. “Care for a tour?” he asked. “I like to keep my clients up to date on progress.”

“You’re very good to your clients.”

He smiled. Crystal teeth glittered in the light. “All part of the job.”