//------------------------------// // A Little Introduction for the Confused Audience // Story: We are Totally Fine // by foxgloves //------------------------------// Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived two beings of incredible power. They're gone now, you see. Ascended, so the stories claimed. Their souls damned for all eternity until the last star in the universe is snuffed out by the inevitable heat death of the universe. But existential crisis aside, these two beings (prior to their imprisonment as stellar bodies) reigned the mythical realm of Equestria—a land of exotic creatures, walking cats, and talking unicorns. Their reign was just, and wherever they go, a hundred thousand ponies will cheer their name. "Hail Celeste," they cried. "Hail Lune." Yet ultimately, their creation was their downfall. A mysterious pony, known only as the Emperor, rose from the shadows to challenge the eternal alicorns's reign. The battle was fierce; the sky broke into two when the combined blades of Celeste and Lune clashed against the steel of the Emperor. Entire continents were shattered and the lands of Equestria were plunged into destruction. The planet's fine now. We're totally fine. Part of that story is probably embellished with exaggeration. Regardless, the old order was deposed, and the newly-proclaimed Imperium reign supreme. Ponykind forgot about their creators, and as facts faded into legends, and legends into myths, the new order has finally reached equilibrium. It seems like nothing can oppose them. However, fate has a funny tendency to mess with the grand machinations of an ambitious pony. Corruption ran amock in this new Imperium, and the various noble houses that pledged their support for the Emperor soon found themselves cornered by enemies who share the same face. The Emperor, ever dogmatic, believed that his rule was eternal. He shall conquer the stars, he exclaimed, and the stars shall quake in fear when they see my glorious visage. And with the rest of the world under his control, it seemed that his ambitious conquest would come to fruition. Unless, fate intervened, which is what it did—pesky buggers. The Emperor is dead. His body was found on the bottom of a flight of stairs, cold and devoid of life. Hundreds of ponies rushed to revive his withering corpse but to no avail—he was too far gone. Millions of ponies rushed to see the lifeless body of their somewhat-beloved Emperor, encased in a casket enchanted with certain magical properties that prevented the body from withering; but that did not matter. In the distant land of Haugarîm, there is a tradition—when a pony's spirit has left the mortal realm, they would leave behind their bodies; and it is the responsibility of those around him to propel his body into the heavens so that his spirit may return to its mortal body. Thus, in honour of that silly tradition, the Canterlotians decided that hurling his body from the tip of a trebuchet would be the best course of action. Nopony has seen the body since. However, in his absence, he left behind an Imperium on the brink of collapse. Countless politicians vie for control of the Imperial throne as the citizens of the Imperium languish in starvation and disease and war. Noble houses turn against each other; hundreds of sons and daughters are killed—all in the name of an abstract position of power. In response, the Sanctum Imperialis has issued an emergency meeting at the capital—to debate who should be crowned the next ruler of the Imperium. Unfortunately for the "Imperium", this story revolves around a highborn pony whose naivety can rival that of the brightest star. He is River Swirl, sixth of his name, and son of one of the most insignificant noble houses in all of the Imperium; and I doubt he would go very far. Here is the story of River Swirl, the most pathetic pony in all of Equestria.