The Napoleons Chapter One

The Napoleons: The Confessions And Revelations Of the Greatest Mafia Family

'Welcome, dear reader. First of all, I'd like to thank you for taking the time to read my memoirs. And at such an agreeable price. Almost like you haven't paid a bit for it...

The stories of which you are about to read are true. The ponies mentioned in here are as real as you and I. You won't find any ponies' names being changed to "protect the innocent" or any names being left out, except in the case of which I had forgotten them. Which was bound to happen. Give me a break, some of these events happened a long time ago.

However, before we begin, I must tell you that, in spite of this book's title, what you are about to read isn't a confession or an admittance of guilt, and that we have already received amnesty for any crimes, be they robberies, destruction of property, terrorism, and especially murders that are portrayed here. That said, any attempt to charge myself, my brothers, our wives, and our children will result in serious repercussions. I'm not even joking here; We will find out where you live, and break your legs. I already picked out a golf club with your name on it.

Now that we've got that out of the way, we can begin. But where does one truly begin in a life full of crime and deceit? I could simply begin from my birth, but no pony would want to hear that. I am going to stick more to how I came to become the don of Eurodeo's greatest mafia family.

So prepare yourselves, as we begin our journey of a thousand crimes with:

Chapter One: The Fall of Anarchy

'Our story begins on the family estate back in Bitaly, over forty years ago...'

It was an ordinary day in Bitaly. Within the Napoleon family's expansive mansion, Clyde Napoleon and his eldest son, Anarchy, were discussing 'business' in the study. Clyde Napoleon was a Clydesdale Unicorn, with brown eyes, a gray coat, gray mane with a black streak, gray beard, and a mobster hat Cutie Mark. As per his bloodline as a Clydesdale, he was huge, standing a head taller than most ponies, making him all the more intimidating.

Anarchy was a handsome young stallion. He looked a lot like what his future sibling, Caboose, would come to look like, save for a magnificent goatee beard, and a Cutie Mark of an red "A" in a circle, the points of the "A" extending outside the circle.

As for their "discussion"...

"We've got us a problem with the Fetlocke gang." Clyde declared. "They've been trying to muscle in on our bootlegging operations, and take all the profits for themselves. We can't let 'em gonna get away with that, right? So, what should we do to make 'em pay?"

'Ah, my father, Clyde Napoleon. A hard, no-nonsense stallion. Anypony who messed with him did so at their risk. And don't let his size fool you, he's both brawn and brains. He can easily crush a pony's skull with just one hoof.'

"I'm thinking we make an example of them." Anarchy declared. "Ruin a few of their operations, break a few legs, maybe cap one or two ponies in the head... it'll stand as a warning to anypony else who thinks they can mess with us."

"Just what I was thinking." Clyde smiled, ruffling his first-born son's mane. "You're a real chip off the ol' block, Archie!"

"Aw, thanks, pop." Anarchy said modestly.

'Good old Anarchy. He was dad's favorite for a reason. He was the smartest, most skilled out of all of us, had the looks, could make a mare want to mate with him just with a look he had. And no, I am not over-exaggerating, Anarchy was that talented. Everypony in the mafia respected him, and he was on the fast track to becoming the new don. Back then, me and our brothers could only hope to be as good as he was... speaking of which...'

Murray was out in the courtyard, practicing his marksponyship. He fired his crossbow at three targets, hitting the bullseye each time.

"Oh, yeah!" He whooped. "Just call me 'Never-miss Murray!"

"Very good, sir." A nearby servant complimented. "Should I set up more targets?"

"You know it." Murray reloaded his crossbow. "I'm on a roll today!"

'Murray always liked to talk a big game, but he at least had the skills to back it up. And he could always be counted on to lend a hoof when it was needed.'

In the kitchen, Salt and Lars (taking a break from boxing practice and checking the family revenue respectively) were trying out Sonny's fresh-baked cannolis.

"Mmm, not bad, Sonny." Salt admitted.

"I know, right?" Sonny chuckled.

"You know, you oughta open up a restaurant someday." Lars declared. "There'd be no shortage of customers with these babies. You could make a fortune."

"You really think so?" Sonny smiled.

"You'd be a better chef than a Mafioso, that's for sure." Salt smirked.

"Very funny." Sonny glared.

'Back then, Salt loved to razz Sonny about his cooking. I couldn't help but notice he was always first in line to taste his creations, though...'

Meanwhile, Vinny and Slot (preteens at this point) were having a tiff.

"I keep telling you not to touch my stuff!" Slot yelled.

"So I used your toothbrush; Big deal!" Vinny yelled.

"Yes it's a big deal!" Slot growled. "I don't want your slimy spit on my brush, you pig!"

"That's it!" Vinny yelled, punching Slot.

"You're gonna get it now!" Slot charged at him.

'Vinny and Slot were the youngest at the time. They were in what we liked to call "the terrible tweens." They were always fighting over some pointless thing or another. Didn't help that almost anything would easily set off Slot, and it certainly didn't help that Vinny was so good at ticking everypony off.'

While the two tussled, Bonnie Napoleon arrived on the scene. She was a brown-coated mare with a blonde mane, done up in a bun, blue eyes, and a getaway car Cutie Mark. Her stomach was currently bulging, due to being pregnant with her and Clyde's ninth child. However, despite such weight, she was still quite pretty.

"Alright you two, knock it off!" She yelled.

"But mom-!" Vinny and Slot said together.

"No buts!" Bonnie cut them off. "We're a family, and you two have to act like it. Clear?"

"Yes, mom..." Vinny and Slot sighed.

"Good." Bonnie smiled sweetly. "Now shake hooves and make up."

"I'm sorry." Vinny muttered.

"Me too." Slot said grudgingly.

'That was mom for you. The great peacemaker, Bonnie Napoleon. She was a gentle and kind-hearted mare at heart, but she could be quite fierce when she wanted to, which came in handy when certain brothers needed reining in. Even dad was a little afraid of her (though he'd never admit it). And as you had read, she was pregnant with our youngest brother, Caboose. How a mare like her could keep conceiving foals after Salt or Lars and still look good is beyond me.'

"That's better." Bonnie smiled. "Now wash up and get ready for dinner." After the two boys departed, eager to carry out her orders, she rubbed her stomach. "Let's hope you're not as much trouble as your brothers..."

As for the young Grimoire (currently in his late teens), he was sitting on the living room couch, reading.

'What's this, you say? I, Grimoire Napoleon, reading? Yes, back then, I was quite the bookworm. I even had a career in writing in mind, you know...'

Bonnie came in, breaking Grimoire out of his reverie.

"Grim, honey, it's time for dinner." She smiled.

"So soon?" Grimoire remarked. "Sorry, I just really got into this book."

"Good for you." Bonnie chuckled. "Now, go get washed up. We're having your favourite; Okra ravioli!"

"Great." Grimoire grinned, shutting his book. "You're ravioli's the best, mom."

"Just for that, you're getting an extra big helping." Bonnie smiled.

"Thanks, mom." Grimoire beamed.

Just as Grimoire exited the room, he heard a knock at the front door, being the closest to it at the time, he decided to answer it. Behind the door was Twitch, one of the Napoleon family's top snitches and scouts. His blonde mane had a healthy hue and was well groomed.

'Twitch... At that time, I of course had no idea what kind of a monster that pony was or would come to be. But even back then, I thought he was a little on the shady side. But I figured if Anarchy trusted him, so could I. But that is how the snakes prey on the weak... by hitting them when they least expect it...'

"Hey there, kiddo." Twitch smiled. "Where are your p-pop and b-bro at? I got some juicy info for 'em."

"They're in the study." Grimoire said curtly.

"Thanks." Twitch smiled. "I owe you one."

"Don't mention it." Grimoire shrugged.

"Th-that Anarchy, he's something else." Twitch smiled. "D-don't you think?"

"He sure is." Grimoire agreed. "He'll be taking over as don before long."

"No s-surprise there." Twitch flashed a crooked smile. "S-safe to say the f-future of your whole family r-r-rests on his head..."

"You could say that." Grimoire frowned, acknowledging Twitch's odd smile.

"Well, gotta go." Twitch nodded. "B-bye."

Grimoire watched after Twitch as he departed, a little put off by his demeanour.

That evening, the Napoleons were all sat in the dining room, enjoying their meal.

"So, how are the big operations going?" Murray asked Anarchy.

"Pretty good." Anarchy shrugged.

"Good?" Clyde chuckled. "He's just being modest. This kid's a prodigy! It's good to know the family business'll be in good hooves after I retire."

"Easy there, pop." Anarchy chuckled. "All these compliments are gonna go to my head."

"I'm just so proud of you, son." Clyde smiled. "You've embraced the family business so much." His look soured as he turned to Grimoire. "I just wish everypony in this house felt the same way..."

"Really, dad?" Grimoire sighed. "This again?"

"Yes, this again." Clyde retorted. "When are you going to stop wasting your life, sticking your muzzle in a book, and actually do something?"

'Dear old dad had never been all too supportive of my literary endeavors. That discussion was but one of many we had been through over the years.'

"I am planning on doing something, actually." Grimoire declared. "I'm going to become a writer."

"A writer?" Clyde grimaced. "Some wussy pony who sits around typing up stories all day? That's no career for a Napoleon!"

"Says who?" Grimoire asked petulantly.

"Says me, the head of this family!" Clyde yelled. "All Napoleons go into the family business! Or is being a mobster beneath you, Mr Lah-di-dah writer?"

The rest of the brothers, even Anarchy, remained quiet. Their father could be quite intimidating when he got angry. Their mother, however, was a different story.

"Clyde, go easy on him." Bonnie urged.

"No, he's gotta hear this!" Clyde shot back. "No son of mine is going to turn his back on the family way. You'll become a writer over my dead body!"

"You can't tell me what to do!" Grimoire yelled. "I'm not a foal! I'm practically a grown stallion!"

"That's as maybe, but as long as you're living under my roof, you'll do as I say!" Clyde roared. "And I say you're going to be part of the family business, like it or lump it!"

"Then I guess it'll have to be 'lump it'!" Grimoire got out of his chair and ran out of the room.

"Well done, Clyde." Bonnie glared at her husband.

"It had to be done." Clyde defended himself. "The boy's got to get his head out of the clouds. Writer, please..."

"No kiddin'." Slot piped up. "Grim's such a wimp. Why can't he be more like Archie?"

At that moment, Anarchy got out of his chair and headed for the door.

"What are you doing?" Clyde asked.

"I'm going to talk with Grimoire." Anarchy declared. "You were a little hard on him back there, dad."

"He brought it on himself." Clyde snorted. "You should let him sulk."

"You know, dad... you're not always right." Anarchy sighed, before leaving the room.

Grimoire had returned to his room. He has sat on his bed, mumbling to himself, as a heavy rainstorm raged outside.

"Lousy dad... doesn't understand..."

There was a knock at the door.

"Go away!" Grimoire yelled.

Anarchy entered the room.

"You okay, Grim?" He asked.

"No, I'm not." Grimoire sighed. "I'm tired of dad always treating me like I'm the black sheep of the family, just because I want to do something other shaking down troublemakers and making wiseguys sleep with the fishes. Can't he see that writing is my true calling?"

"Dad's a stubborn one, that's for sure." Anarchy shrugged.

"You actually have something bad to say about him?" Grimoire snorted. "I thought you were his favorite..."

"Let's not make this about me." Anarchy frowned.

"If dad can't accept who I want to be, maybe I should just leave." Grimoire muttered.

"Whoa now, let's not get hasty." Anarchy declared.

"Why not?" Grimoire asked. "I'm old enough to be on my own. It'd be better than staying here, and taking all dad's attitude."

"Look Grim, if you wanna be a writer, that's fine." Anarchy admitted. "It's your life, your choice. And I get that dad's being a pill about it. But don't let that drive you away from all of us. We're family, remember? Family look out for one another and stick together."

"Doesn't seem like it right now." Grimoire growled.

"Trust me." Anarchy said solemnly. "You walk out that door, you'll regret it."

"I doubt it." Grimoire grumbled.

Anarchy sighed heavily, then checked his watch.

"Look, I have to get to a meeting with Twitch." He declared. "We'll talk some more when I get back. Just don't do anything rash until then, okay?"

"Fine." Grimoire frowned. "I wouldn't want to go out in this weather anyway."

"Unfortunately for me, I don't have a choice." Anarchy shrugged. "Twitch said he's got something big to show me. See you soon, bro."

Anarchy left the room, leaving Grimoire alone.

'Ah, how things change. To think, I once wanted nothing to do with the family business, seeking to pursue what I believed to be more fruitful endeavors. I was ready to leave it all behind, no matter what Anarchy said. But little did I know the tragedy to come, later that same night...'

Hours later, Grimoire was still in his room, lamenting, the rain pounding hard against his window.

"Soon as this storm lets up, I'm out of here." He said to himself. "Gather up some things, sneak out through the window, and kiss this place goodbye..."

However, he heard a loud knock coming from the front door. At first, Grimoire paid it no mind... but what soon came after would get his attention loud and clear.

"OH MY FAUST, ARCHIE!"

Grimoire bolted up at the cry of his brother's name, and quickly ran out of his room and downstairs to be greeted with a horrifying sight: a drenched Anarchy, collapsed on the floor, with a bad stab wound in the back. Blood was seeping from it, and matted his entire back. The rest of the family were already at his side, trying to do all they can to help.

"Somepony get the medic!" Clyde roared. "My son needs help!"

"What the buck happened to him?" Murray yelled.

"Just try and remain calm, everypony!" Bonnie urged, on the verge of hyperventilating. "Just stay calm..."

"Calm?!" Vinny repeated. "Archie's hurt!"

"He can't be..." Slot said with disbelief. "Not Archie... He's the best..."

"Who could have done this?" Lars questioned.

"Whoever it was, they're dead when I get hold of them!" Salt roared.

"Archie, speak to me!" Sonny begged.

"Dad, mom, what's going on?! What's wrong with Anarchy?!" Grimiore ran forth.

"I don't know! He came in like this!" Clyde stammered, before he then turned to Salt and Murray. "You two, help me get Anarchy set on the couch, now!"

The two brothers did not hesitate to respond, as they quickly and carefully lifted the eldest brother's limp body by the hind legs, with Clyde taking up the rest, and moved him over to the couch in the living room, the other brothers and Bonnie following close behind him. As soon as they got Anarchy set down (being careful as to not set him on his wound), one of the mafia's medics came in. He was a green Unicorn, with an orange mane, brown eyes, and a stethoscope Cutie Mark.

"Major damage to the back due to a bladed weapon of some kind." The medic declared. "Heavy blood loss-"

"Cut the formalities, will you?" Clyde growled. "Save my son."

"I'll do my best, sir." The medic declared, as he went to work.

Anarchy was not looking well, as his body was breaking into a cold sweat, though not noticeable through his drenched coat and jacket. He weakly lifted his head to face his father.

"P-pa..." Anarchy whimpered.

"Don't speak, son. You are going to be okay." Clyde ordered, though his voice seems to falter. "You are going to make it, and I'm going to make sure whoever who did this to you sleeps with the fishes!"

"No... I have to tell you something..." Anarchy struggled to speak, before coughing up a bit of blood.

"Oh, Faust..." Clyde gaped, as he then barked at the medic. "Doc, do something!"

"I am doing everything I can, sir!" The medic glared. "The wound is too large to suture, and bandages are just a stopgap at this point. Our only hope is to try and stop the blood flow."

"Archie... who did this to you?" Grimiore step forth.

"I was getting... to that..." Anarchy sighed, a bit of blood stuck to his lips. "I was waiting... out by that lamppost... for Twitch. It was so dark... and I didn't see it... coming..."

"See what coming?" Clyde asked. "Who stabbed you?!"

"...Twitch... it was Twitch." Anarchy murmured.

"Wait, the snitch?!" Vinny piped up. "He did this to you?!"

"Yes... I was so stupid..." Anarchy sighed. "I should have never trusted him... he just stabbed me and left me for dead..."

"Don't blame yourself, honey." Bonnie whimpered. "Just hold on..."

"He must have crawled all the way back here by sheer willpower alone." Lars remarked.

"That's Anarchy for you..." Salt murmured.

"Yeah." Slot nodded. "He'll make it. He has to..."

"I knew it." Grimoire growled. "I knew there was something off about Twitch..."

"That buckin' traitor." Murray spat.

"He made a big mistake tonight." Sonny agreed. "He won't get away with this..."

The medic slowly stopped working on Anarchy.

"Whoa, whoa, what the buck are you doing?!" Clyde roared. "You still need to do something!"

"Sir... there is nothing more I can do." The medic sighed. "Anarchy's lost a lot of blood... too much, I'm afraid... he's not going to make it."

The room went silent.

"No..." Clyde shook his head. "No... no... no..."

"Sir, I'm sor-" The medic started, but Clyde cut him off.

"No, you're wrong!" Clyde roared, clutching the medic by his collar, though tears were beginning to strike his eyes. "That's my son!" His voice began to falter. "That's my boy..."

"Oh, Clyde..." Bonnie whimpered as she wrapped her hooves around her husband, her tears streaming her face.

"Noooo!" Clyde howled, no longer bothering to hold in his own anguish, his voice devolving into unintelligible whimpers.

"This can't be happening..." Murray gaped. "Not to Archie..."

"I swear, Twitch is gonna burn for this!" Sonny spat.

"Not if I get to him first." Vinny growled, an anger beyond his years welling up in him. "I'll pound him to an inch of his life... Nopony messes with my big brother!"

"I never thought this day would ever come." Lars shook his head. "It just seemed so unfeasible..."

"Archie, you can't go..." Slot broke down and wept. "You... you just can't!"

"Easy, little bro." Salt comforted him. "It's gonna be okay..."

"How?!" Slot wailed. "How will things ever be okay again?!"

"We'll make it okay." Salt said firmly. "Starting with making sure Twitch pays for this."

Grimoire seemed to be beyond words, his body shaking with barely-repressed sobs.

"Grim?" Anarchy gasped, his voice barely a whisper.

"I'm here, Arch." Grimoire moved in closer, "Please... don't go."

"I need you to d-do me a favor, bro..." Anarchy groaned.

"Anything." Grimoire nodded.

"Take care of our little baby brother, okay?" Anarchy requested. "He's gonna have to look to you... for guidance. Make sure he's brought up right...ya hear?"

"…Sure, I promise... but why are you telling me?" Grimoire whispered, his tears building up. "You're going to be here when he's born."

"Oh, Grim..." Anarchy sighed, as a tear drop from his eye. "Just... just remember what we talked about…about family…and everything…"

"I'll never forget." Grimoire choked back the tears. "Because you'll still be here to remind me... please, don't go..."

"...Trust me... I don't wanna go..." Anarchy choked down a sob, and then repeated his words. "I don't wanna go..."

He continued to repeat those four words, as his body grew limp...

"Anarchy?" Grimoire whispered, as Anarchy's eyes turned glazed, and his breathing soon came to a stop. "Anarchy?!" He then turned to the medic. "Come on, doc, do something! He's-"

"Grim..." Clyde cut him off, his voice able to regain comprehension. "He's gone, Grim..."

"No..." Grimoire whispered, as the tears finally broke free from his eyes. "No... NOOOOO!" He buried his snout into his dead brother's coat. "Nooo..."

With one last cry, he bellowed...

"ANARCHY!"

'And with that, Clyde lost his firstborn son, my brothers lost their idol, the family empire lost one of their leaders... and I... I lost my brother, plain and simple. Words cannot describe the pain I or any of my brothers had felt, like a hole had been ripped in our hearts, and nothing could ever patch it up. I wish I can say that this was the only tragedy to befallen us…but alas, there would be more death and heart-ache to come. Our lives would be forever changed by Anarchy's death... but little did I know that this cataclysmic event would lead me to my destiny... but that will have to wait until a later chapter... this is only just the beginning.'