//------------------------------// // Chapter 4: The Kids Aren't Alright // Story: The Bizarre Adventure of Three Fillies // by TemporaryName //------------------------------// Few dare to ask the question, but if Applejack were asked what the best time too work was, she would say few things could beat a bright sunny day. Sure, a cloudy overcast would've cooled her down and kept the sun out of her eyes, but those were the only benefits that sprung to mind. The bright light reflecting off of her family's ruby red and emerald green bounty, dangling on the branches, tantalizing her with flavors unbound. The rays of the sun energizing her, warming her bones and readying her for the day to come. The occasional light breeze drifting over the trees, rustling branches in a quiet choir and cooling her when overheated. Yes on days like today, Applejack was grateful she could enjoy this blessing while working. 'Now, if only a certain somepony could see that.' Applejack shook her head; really, she was glad Applebloom even came out at all; after yesterday's fiasco, she expected to see neither hair or hide of her. The rapid recovery was a itself miracle, and though 'grumpy and distracted' summed up her sister's attitude, Applejack understood why. Applebloom could sulk all day today if she wanted, just so long as she did her work and didn't ruin Applejack's. Despite having told herself this several times today, Applejack kept investigating her sister. No matter how often she told herself her sister acted normal, she noticed her talking to herself a few times, eyes aimed at the ground as though there was something far more interesting in the grass than work. Normal behavior for foals, but even the angle of her stare screamed 'somethin's on my mind, somethin' huge and massive and dangerous.' Applejack shook her head. 'Maybe Granny Smith was onto somethin' with that maternal instincts spiel. Ah'm worryin' more than Rarity about gray hairs.' As she bucked a few more trees, she realized her instincts hadn't led her astray yet, so ignoring them wasn't a wise idea. As Applejack drew closer to Applebloom, she realized her sister wasn't just staring at the ground; her eyes moving to and fro, back and forth, fast without the desperate speed you get when you've lost something important that you know you left somewhere around here. This was the opposite of boredom; something had her sister enraptured. Exactly what Applejack couldn't see even at three paces behind her sister, yet the fact she got this close without alerting her proved how much it held Applebloom's focus. Realizing she wouldn't get an answer spying on her little sis, coupled by the realization she was spying on her little sis, Applejack was about to make her presence known before Applebloom spun around on her own volition, breathing a startled gasp. 'How did she know to turn? Ah didn' even breathe yet.' She shook the thought out of her head. “You sure you ain't too tired to work, Applebloom? Yer actin' a bit spacey today.” “Ah ain't tired now that you've scared the daylights out of me!” an indignant Applebloom replied, taking a moment to catch her breathe. “An' Ah jus' woke up, so of course Ah'd look a bit spacey.” On this point Applejack had to concede if only because experience wouldn't shut up about her own past with sleep deprevation. Still, that experience was what drove her to warn Applebloom. “If you say so, just be sure to let me know when-” CRACK Applejack turned towards the noise and groaned in frustration at its source. “Ah knew this would happen soon, but Ah hoped to get just another day's use out of it.” On the right side of the cart Applejack used to haul bushels upon bushels of apples lay a shattered wheel. Spokes strewn across the grass, the very rim bent and splintered beyond repair. It served the Apple family well for many moons, but clearly its journey was at an end. The scene would've almost been tragic, but with the mass of chores still ringing in the back of her mind, Applejack was more frustrated than sad. “Good thing Big Mac's out gettin' another. Sis, Ah'm headin' to store some apples for cider season. Jus' keep doin' what you're doin' and let me know when Big Mac's here, 'kay?” Applebloom nodded and as her sister walked away she returned to her true project. “It's official, Ah don' think she can see y'all,” she said to Men at Work. If they heard anything Applebloom couldn't tell; without instruction they tended to just muck about. Some seemed as invested in understanding the strange pony they obeyed as much as she was invested in them, while others gazed at such wonderful natural marvels as sticks, rocks, and exceptionally tall pieces of grass. All were standing, and Applebloom noted they've been doing so since she saw them this morning. Didn't they need something to sit down in? Maybe some kind of tiny chairs? And was she really taking time out of her day to think about whether tiny ghosts need to sit? “Maybe Ah should've stayed in bed.” While Applebloom didn't feel physically tired, the mild boredom gnawing at her mind made her want to just lie down and stare at the ceiling. Having now sat on the ground, she focused on a random drone and wished more than anything for something to happen. Seconds later as the Sun poked through the trees, she wished instead for something to keep it out of her eyes. Immediately, Men at Work started moving about. 'Right. They can respond to my thoughts. It's nice of them to grab somethin' for me, but Ah should probably stop them from causin' a ruckus.' To her confusion, they didn't march to the house or barn, instead some fanned out through the orchard while others gathered before her and waited patiently. Those who left cut down blades of grass, each one thick and strong, and piled them in front of her. Those who stayed behind took the grass and weaved them together, individual strands turned to thick, sturdy sheets, and those sturdy sheets merged together to form a single mass. The entire ordeal was fascinating to Applebloom, yet what interested her most was the speed at which they worked. No more than ten seconds had passed before a the pile of lawn trimmings became a hat, its brim wide and firm, perfect for blocking the Sun's rays. They were holding it out patiently, and it took Applebloom a moment to realize they made it as a gift to her. “Oh, uh. Thanks, Y'all.” She accepted the hat and tentatively placed it upon her head. To her surprise it didn't feel hot and stuffy like her own attempts at making head wear. Indeed, when the wind blew slightly she could feel it through the hat. They answered her silent plea for protection from the Sun, but how did they know to weave a hat? They couldn't have gotten the info from Applebloom; she and the other crusaders had tried their hooves at both hat making and basket weaving. Though they received valuable insight from their failures, they were failures all the same, nowhere near the quality of Men at Work. They must have acquired the knowledge somewhere else, but if that was the case what else did they know? What else could they build? Glancing at the wagon, Applebloom found her perfect test. “Alright, Men at Work,” she spoke firmly, “See that broken wheel over there? Can y'all fix it?” As soon as the question left Applebloom's mouth they raced towards the wheel. Some flew off in different directions, heading towards the woods and barn - 'Likely getting supplies,' Applebloom thought - but most stuck together.. When they arrived they wasted no time; they moved the pieces into better positions, gathered supplies in the immediate area, and... 'Is that a saw?' Applebloom thought, and indeed one of the Men at Work held a tiny saw where once its hands were empty. 'Now where did he get a saw? And where did that one get a hammer? And...' Applebloom realized she'd give herself a headache the more she thought about it, and it wasn't even the strangest thing about them, so she just stopped thinking about it. While she pondered the mystery of the tools, Men at Work gathered grass, sticks, and mud in piles beside the wheel. Some used saws, axes, and tools Applebloom didn't know the names of and worked on the sticks, shaving off the bark and sawing them into smaller, more useful forms. Others took the scrap from this refinement, mixed them with mud, and filled the breaks in the wheel with it. The rest Applebloom lost track of, such was their speed of industry. When at last they stopped, on the ground laid the fixed wheel. It didn't look brand new; the grass wrappings around the breaks and the trace amounts of mud were visible signs of make shift repair. Yet as Men at Work fastened it in place on the side of the wagon, the wheel remained stable. Nothing fell off. Nothing splintered, cracked, or even bent. 'That couldn' have been more than thirty seconds,' Applebloom thought, “Y'all sure work fast. Wonder what else needs fixin' round here?” THUNK Her musings were cut short when something hit the ground. Turning towards the noise's source she found another wheel, bought straight from the store. Big Mac stood right beside it, mouth agape and eyes wide with confused astonishment. Or was it astonishing confusion? 'Nah, definitely the former,' Applebloom thought. “Heh. Ah'm guessin' you saw that, didn' you?” “Eyeup.” “What exactly did you see?” “The wheel plum fixed itself.” “Ah see.” So he didn't see them either? Were they invisible to everypony but her? A shame, she really wanted to show the other Crusaders. Oh! Their clubhouse could use a few renovations; that would be show enough. “Now what in tarnation is goin' on here?” Having gotten lost in riveting conversation, neither Applebloom nor Big Mac noticed their sibling's approach. To Applejack, this stank of shenanigans; She was only gone for couple of minutes, but Applebloom had gotten into more trouble in less time before. At least there was no tree sap this time. Upon closer inspection, she realized there was some on the wheel, right under the grass bands would around it. “Huh. Applebloom, did you fix the wheel?” “N-nyes?” she replied with hesitation. “Nnyes means there's a story here. What exactly happened, 'Bloom?” No. No. No. She was supposed to have more time, dang it! She could barely wrap her head around what happened and struggled to explain it to herself, and she was the only one who could see the little fellers. How could she explain the concept of 'invisible tiny guys' without being dismissed out of hoof or sent to the loony bin? Maybe if she had a couple more days to find the words or had another broken wheel... That's it! Her eyes darted to the wheel, and before her mouth opened the Men at Work were at it again. “Yer not in trouble, if that's what's riling y-” The impossibility that occurred before Applejack cut off her sentence. Something was breaking the fixed wheel. No, not breaking, it was too orderly and systematic, this was disassembly, Applebloom disassembled the wheel she fixed and did it without laying a hoof on it. If facing down the greatest threats to Equestria brought any benefit to the farmer, it would be the ability to quickly get herself together upon witnessing something unusual.“Applebloom. Please, tell the truth. What's goin' on?” The filly turned away slightly, reluctant to give any answer. “If Ah tell the truth, will you believe me?” Her eyes widened for a moment. “It's nothing bad, if that's what you're thinkin'. It's just out there.” “Ah like to think Ah'd know if you tried to pull one over on me,” replied Applejack, “but first, just to save us some trouble, does this have anythin' to do with the arrow yesterday?” “Probably, but Ah don' know for sure.” Applebloom's pupils shrunk to pinpricks “Oh no. Oh no! Scoots and Sweetie!” She trotted in place with fearful vigor before she dashed towards the orchard's exit. “Ah have to see if they're alright!” Applejack followed suit. “Slow down girl! What the hay's goin' on? You still haven' told me!” “Ghosts! Tiny Ghosts! Arrow! Fix wheel! Talk latter!” The response only raised more questions for Applejack, and though it would've been responsible to chase Applebloom down for clarification, the moment the word 'arrow' was uttered she knew she had another duty. “Big Mac, please catch up with Applebloom and deal with whatever her problem is. Ah need to send a letter to Twi.” Seeing her brother's confused grimace, she added “You heard her say arrow? That's what made her all sick yesterday. Twi gave us a way to write to her last evening, and Ah'm not surprised Ah need it already. So, will you help her?” After a moment of silence Big Mac let out a single, concerned “Eeeyup” and trotted out of the orchard. Not fast enough for Applejack's liking, since Applebloom already had some distance on them, but there were only a few destinations the filly could go to. As she trotted to her house, Applejack looked up at the sky once more. “Sure is an awful day to spend writing letters inside.” “Hmm. How about Twisted Sister? No, no. Rarity might get jealous. Maybe Iron Maiden. Nah, sounds to formal. Oh! How about-” “Sweetie Belle? Pardon my intrusion, but what are you doing?” The question wasn't asked without reason; the two were currently trotting through the very heart of Ponyville, where commerce of all varieties occurred. This route was usually not to crowded, which made it an ideal shortcut to Sweet Apple Acres. However it was crowed enough to listening to Sweetie Belle a bit difficult, and what little she could make out sounded like nonsense. As a sister she was responsible for ensuring her sibling's health and safety, and though she had abundant evidence that Sweetie wasn't lying about the ghost this morning, the knowledge was of little comfort. Was it possessing her right now, and was that why she mumbled? “Just trying to figure out what to name the, well, you know.” Sweetie nudged her head off to the side, gesturing to what Rarity could only assume was the ghost.“I can't just keep calling it 'Ghost', it doesn't feel right.” “You're naming it,” Rarity spoke flatly. “You're actually naming it.” She ignored the implications for the sake of her mental health. “ Aren't we trying to get rid of it?” “I only said we'd tell Princess Twilight, and why would we get rid of her? She hasn't done anything wrong yet, so shouldn't we give her the benefit of the doubt?” “I know Twilight hasn't mishandled the arrow yet, and since it has been less than a day I doubt something had happened already, but as one of her friends I can tell you-” “Sorry to interrupt, but I wasn't talking about Twilight.” “Please tell me you aren't referring to the you-know-what. Oh who am I kidding!” Rarity's head sagged. “That's exactly what you were talking about earlier, right.” “It looks like a filly.” Sweetie's innocent reply was met with a frustrated groan. “Has it really come to this?” Rarity asked. “My dear sister, possessed by a phantasmal filly that she decided to not only put her full trust in, but also name?” “You're just looking for things to complain about, aren't you?” For a while, Rarity said nothing. Only when she stopped and turned around did she speak in a hushed, muted voice. “Yes Sweetie, I am. Forgive me, but I find nothing sane, desirable, or optimistic about this situation. It sounds like the start of yet another grand adventure, of which I've had my fill.” She gestured to her luxurious purple mane. “Any more treks into the world to stop ancient evils or spirits of chaos and I'll have gray hairs before thirty. Now, let's hurry to Applejack. The sooner we notify Twilight, the sooner she can fix – sorry, solve – this issue, the less opportunity for disaster.” As much as she wanted to object, to believe her sister was letting her prior experience color her opinion, Sweetie couldn't deny the experience only made said opinion more valid. “Alright,” she said, closing her eyes. “though I'm still going to name her.” “If that's what you want, fi -oof!” Stepping back for a second, Rarity saw it was a pony she blindly walked into. Indeed, the entire street was filled from one side to the next with ponies; customers purchased from the stalls of vendors, buying all manner of ingredients and treats. Only years of proper decorum and ladylike behavior kept her from screaming her head off. “Drats! Of all the days for the market to be busy, why did it have to be today?” “I'm guessing it's not your day, is it?” “Sweetie. Please. Not now.” Rarity's reply was bitter and sharp. “Okay, this can be salvaged. We just need to take a route around.” The ghost, having floated beside the sisters all this time, began to hum. Sweetie's brow furrowed. “What do you mean 'not now'? It was a joke, I thought you liked them.” “I like jokes when they are funny, Sweetie.” The last word was spoken with vitriol. The humming morphed into the sound of violins. “Keep it down, Will ya.” A stallion in the crowd said. “I beg you're pardon!” Rarity replied. “Do you know who I am?” “I know what you are; loud and irritating, like a rash that screams.” “Shut up over there!” A mare replied. Soon the entire crowd was embroiled in a massive argument, exchanging rude comments and ear-ringing shouts. The sheer disharmony on display made one wonder if they were still in Ponyville or some horrible satire. All the while Sweetie Belle sat to the side, the only one not filled with rage in the whole block. As the crowd grew louder and louder, spewing words and phrases that a filly shouldn't hear, she wondered what possessed them to act on such rage. 'Wait. Possessed.' On that thought, she glanced up to the spectre, expecting it being behind the rather poor display. What she saw betrayed no intentions, but what she heard was another matter. Up to this point the specter had been a silent sentinel, content to float about and observe. Now through what passed for its mouth came sound. Not words or speech, but instead a manic musical melody within which Sweetie Belle identified violins, cellos, even a piano. As the crowd fed their rage, the music sped up and became more frantic. 'No, it's the other way around!' She was certain. How? She wasn't certain, but she just knew. To test her theory, she tried to will the song to stop. To her suprise, the ghost was silenced with little effort. In spite of this, the ponies before her were still being mean to one another, bickering and yelling, merchant and customer, mare and stallion. The cacophony of verbal violence did not cease with it's source silenced. Some started shoving one another, and Sweetie swore she saw hooves flying. Though they usually got along, Sweetie had been in enough fights with the Crusaders to know the ponies before her would remain riled for a while longer. But they never got into a fight like this! How much damage will be done? 'No. I can't let it happen. I have to stop this, but how?' Sweetie knew she had only one real chance to defuse the situation and sent a mental message to the ghost, telling it to somehow calm down the crowd Sweetie Belle had low hopes for her plan's success, and when she heard music once again her heart seized. Yet this music was different than before, less energized and far more subdued. As Sweetie listened she felt all stress and fear melt away, and she wasn't the only one affected. The crowd had quieted and stilled, the inferno of rage extinguished. Apologies were exchanged in place of arguments, hooves that not long ago were pushing ponies on the ground were lifting those very ponies up. Some briskly trotted away, worried about what they did, but most ponies returned to their tasks embarrassed they would Behave like that. Once everyone was back to normal, Sweetie Belle stopped the music and went looking for her sister. She wasn't hard to find, though she looked like she needed a few moments to her self as she stared into the distance, body unnervingly still. “Are you alright Rarity?” As much as she felt her sister needed a minute, Sweetie now understood why her sister wanted her to hurry up. “Hmm? Oh, yes Sweetie I'm fine. I feel a bit confused and silly given what happened, but I only need a couple of seconds to reorient myself. We need to get going if we're going to get that letter sent before the end of the day.” The duo took their detour in silence, unsure what to say to one another. Rarity was the first to break it. “I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I don't know what came over me.” “It was the ghost,” Sweetie replied with a steady monotone voice. “I'm sorry, what did you say?” “The ghost. She played some kind of music that made everypony angry.” Sweetie investigate the ghost further. “She also played music that calmed them down when I told her to, so I can't be too mad at her.” “...We really need to hurry along to Applejack,” Rarity's pace picked up. “You don't believe me?” Sweetie Asked incredulously. “Of course I do, that's why we need to hurry along.” Though she knew it was fruitless, Rarity wished Sweetie would accept that answer and move on with her. The sooner they arrived, the sooner they could fix this, the less she'd have to worry about all of this. She took no pleasure in being right. “Quiet Riot.” “Pardon?” “The ghost, I'm naming her [QUIET RIOT]. It's a fitting name, wouldn't you agree.” For a minute, the only response Sweetie received was a disbelieving stare. After wich, her sister's expression deflated to a resigned frown. “I suppose.” While her friends were out and about, Scootaloo was sadly more stagnant. It wasn't like she wanted to spend a nice summer's day cooped up in the house, and if it weren't for the stupid ghost bird she would've spent the day hanging out with her friends. Heck, she'd take cleaning up Goldie Delicious's house again if it gave her something to do other than lay around and stare at the ceiling or look at that darn bird all day. “Gaaahh!” “Now Scootaloo, there's no need for that.” Aunt Holiday was sitting on the couch with her, forehead bandaged from the earlier pecking. Had the bird been less violent, Scootaloo might've been willing to talk to her aunt. As it stood, however, it would've been too awkward and would've raised questions she couldn't answer. Now that the alternative was death by boredom, she figured it couldn't hurt to try. “I know, I know. I'm just trying to find something to do until Aunt Lofty returns.” “You could always read a book.” “Already read everything I have, and I don't feel like re-reading any of it.” For a moment, there was naught but silence. “Are you alright?” “Hmm. Oh, you mean this?” Holiday pointed her hoof at the mass of bandages on her forehead, already dyed red in spots. “It was quite a shock, but believe it or not I've taken worse knocks in my day. It stings, but I'll be fine.” “Good to know. Sorry about that.” “Oh dear, there's no need for you to go apologizing.” “But I'm the one who told it to make itself known. If I had just been more clear in my instructions...” “If, if, if,” Holiday interrupted. “I won't sit here and say you did the best you can, for there's always room for improvement. Nor will I tell you to stop thinking too hard about it because looking back at our mistakes is how we grow as ponies. Beating yourself up over it, on the other hoof, isn't a healthy part of anything. You didn't mean to cause trouble and the deed's been done, what will worrying endlessly do to fix it?” Unable to argue her point further, Scootaloo only nodded in response. The conversation, though enlightening, was all too brief. Thus Scootaloo was bored again in short order, and suffered in silence for a moment before Holiday noticed and smiled. “So, can you tell me what this spirit looks like?” “Bird.” “I know that, silly! I mean, you know, what color is it? Does it look like an eagle? A pigeon? A chicken?” “It's head kind of looks like a falcon.” Scootaloo ignored the chicken suggestion out of habit. “And it's main coat is red but under the wing is a rainbow of feathers. Actually, I'll draw it for you. Would make things go by faster.” 'And give me something fun to do,' was the unspoken addendum. Without waiting for her aunt's response she rushed to her room and brought back a notebook and a box of crayons. Drawing the creature and getting every detail drawn on paper challenged Scootaloo. On the one hoof, this made it more fun. On the other, she wasn't able to get all the everything down on the first try. The vibrant sheen of the primaries were muted on the canvas, as she knew not how to capture their shine. The unnatural leg joints no sane artist had experience with, so even if what she drew matched reality it still looked wrong. Several times she had to scrap one piece and start on another, though she always gave them to Holiday to give her a good idea on what the creature looked like. Well, the creature did, but from her understanding there wasn't really any difference. That brought up several questions that Scootaloo would rather not consider, yet though she tried she couldn't keep them away. Was it really just a ghost? Why did it point at her this morning when she asked what it was? Was this that astral projection thing Twilight mentioned that one time? She hoped so, it meant she had some cool unicorn magic. Not as cool as flying, but better than noth-. “Gah!” The crayon she was holding in her mouth suddenly broke, smudging the drawing she spent the last few minutes working on. 'This would be a lot easier if she could see it,' Scootaloo thought. 'Heck, I'd be out with Applebloom And Sweetie if she could see it.' She looked towards the bird once again. 'Why can't she see it? Can Aunt Lofty? She didn't react to it at all when I last saw her, and I know she has no reason to not tell me. They can feel it, they can see it's moving paper, so why can't they see it. Maybe if I poured paint on it, they'd see it.' The more Scootaloo thought about it, the more she found how little she knew about it. She knew Lofty was getting somepony to help, and Scootaloo knew it was some kind of ghost, but that was it. Maybe if she looked at the facts she would find something. She knew it only came up today, so were there any bizarre events yesterday that would've- Right. The arrow. There really wasn't anything else it could be, was there? Okay, so the arrow was involved in this somehow. Twilight was studying the arrow, so more answers will come forth. Until then, she could only speculate; a useless task, but it could be fun. Maybe the arrow was cursed somehow, or some spirit locked away for a thousand years had entered into her through the arrow. Scootaloo rolled her tongue, nervous at the prospect. It wasn't the most unlikely scenario, and what a town Ponyville was where she could honestly say that. “Alright Scoots, what's got you worried this time?” The tone was normal, but Holiday's face betrayed her maternal worry. “Just realized how much weird stuff happens in this town.” “Thinking this might be the next headline for Equestria Today? 'Breaking News: Ponyville Foal Possessed by Poltergeist Poultry – End of the World Imminent.'” Hearing the absurdity of the situation out loud, Scootaloo couldn't help but chuckle. “Heh. Yeah, it does sound dumb when you say it like that.” Holiday stood up from her couch and hugged Scootaloo. “Don't fret, dear. Lofty should be back any minute now and this will soon be behind us.” Her face lit up “Oh! We could get ice cream after this. How does that sound.” “It sounds nice.” While Scootaloo appreciated her aunt's optimism, something in the back of her mind said otherwise. She was shaken out of he thoughts by the sound of the door opening. Two familiar ponies walked in; one was of course her Aunt Lofty, but the familiar striped mare besides her was a surprise, though in hindsight it shouldn't have been. “Zecora! How's it going!” Scootaloo excitedly spoke. “Scootaloo, my day has been swell. Baring your problem, all is well.” “Oh, sorry.” “There is no need to apologize, I'm glad to be of aid.” She turned to the other mare. “And worry not of the price, for you have already paid.” That sounded ominous to Scootaloo, but looking at her Aunts' calm expressions and aware of how nice a pony Zecora was, said price was likely something mundane. “I'll bring it over.” Scootaloo said, only for the bird to materialize right beside her. She did feel something within her as it emerged, but it was too imperceptible to tell what she felt. More surprising was Zecora's reaction, in that she had one. Raised eyebrows and a step back, to be exact. 'Finally, somepony else sees it,' Scootaloo thought. “When I walked out my home today, I did not expect things to go this way.” “You know what it is?” Asked Scootaloo. Zecora just nodded. 'Yes!' Scootaloo thought, 'I admit I'm a little curious to know what it is “With what your aunt said, the thought rested in my head. Now that I have seen with eyes true, I know what it is and what to do.” Something rose from behind Zecora, rising through her flesh in ways that should be impossible. It left no mark and didn't appear painful in the slightest, yet still Scootaloo took a step back. She had seen this before, this morning in the bathroom when she called out the bird. “Wh-What is that?” Scootaloo asked. “An expression of my very soul, one I've had since I was a foal.” The gasps of Holiday and Lofty went unheard “The being and the bird the same, to see it myself makes me glad I came. I expected revenants, ghosts, and spirits of rot. To see another stand, I expected not.” Near the peak of the Canterhorn, the city of Canterlot was bustling with activity. The business owners and their employees were hard at work. Even the nobles, despite what stereotypes would tell you, worked on their speeches and pleas to the royal court for whatever they felt was necessary. Indeed, some nobles were already doing so. “So you see Princess Twilight Sparkle, if Equestira placed tariffs on all products from Griffonstone, we could generate enough additional revenue to...” Twilight had already made up her mind on the noble's proposal and was kindly, patiently waiting for him to finish up Day court had been open for two hours and this one noble had taken up all of it. She knew nobles had a tendency to be windbags and planned to include a limit to how long they could speak, but she deemed it a lower priority than other tasks. She was so going to amend this mistake before the end of the day. “Thank you, Mr. Copper. I will consider your proposal.” She hated being dishonest like that, it felt like she was ignoring the very lessons that lead her to her position. Still, she wasn't lying per say; she will consider the proposal for a few more seconds after he left. Her canned answer satisfied the stallion, and as soon as he bowed and bowed out of the room, Twilight turned to the closest guard. “Please tell the guests the day court adjourned for lunch and will be back in half an hour.” The guard saluted his sovereign and left the great hall. Twilight soon followed with a quick teleportation, landing in her private office. It was a room modest yet large, the walls adorned with a clock, a portrait of the Royal Sisters, and numerous bookshelves and filing cabinets. Organized on the shelves were countless books on law, governance, economy, and everything else a novice regent would need to most effectively govern and rule a nation. At the very center of the room was a large rectangular desk, designed to hold all manner of paperwork and it showed, much to Twilight's irritation. At a desk perpendicular to hers, her trusted assistant for many years looked up from his paper work. “That rough, eh Twi?” “That obvious, is it?” Twilight's asked weakly. “You're slumping a little in the back, you sound like you just ran a marathon, and you're taking your break thirty minutes early.” Twilight looked worried at the thought of breaking schedule, but soon her face returned to how it was before. “I know, but right now I really don't care.” “Oh dear! Little Mrs. Schedule Freak breaking schedule? I see you finally had that stick clawed out of your-” “Discord!” She hadn't noticed him standing by the side of a bookshelf as he flipped through a law book. He didn't read it, just flipped through the pages. “Care to explain why you're here?” “Oh Twilight! You wound me. I'm just here to check out my cookbook; Fluttershy is having a tea party next Sunday, and I wouldn't be caught dead bringing the same old thing. I'm thinking lemon asparagus cooked over an open fire with a side of bleu cheese, does that sound good?” He continued before Twilight could respond. “Oh, who am I kidding, I know it'll be too die for. So, could you get it for me?” “Discord, I don't run a library anymore, you can't just- wait, sorry, I forgot you lent it to me.” In a bright flash of light the book appeared in his hands. “Here you go. Now, can you please leave?” “Day court rougher than you thought? Would it make you feel better to know Celly had a tough time some days too?” Twilight nodded: knowing her mentor had days like this reduced her stress. It meant she didn't have an impossible standard to live up to. “Glad to help. As for your other question, as much as I'd like to leave, walking all the way here was such a pain. My legs ache and I'm completely exhausted. I'd rather stay here for a bit longer and recuperate. I would teleport out of here but, you know.” Discord lifted his arms up. Around each wrist was a cuff, every inch etched in runes. “It's your own fault for what you did behind our backs. Yes, you're intentions were noble, but anypony would've been able to see how gathering the worst of our foes together would backfire, you especially. Going without magic for a month is a fair punishment, and you have less than a week left. If it makes you feel any better, you're allowed one teleportation for emergencies.” Discord lowered his arms in a huff. “I'm guessing this isn't one of those emergencies.” Twilight's smile was the only answer he needed. “Very well then,” continued Discord, “if I cannot use magic then it would just be cruel to make me walk all the way back so soon. I'll stay here for a while, drink a tall glass of water, and then I'll be out of your hair for the rest of the week. Deal?” Twilight didn't want to agree, but did she really have a choice? “Fine. If you're pouring water, can you make me a glass too?” Discord was already walking towards the sink. “That's what friends are for.” “Alright Twi, something's bothering you. What is it?” Spike asked, having long since put down his paperwork to give his undivided attention. “Mostly it's just what I expected; nobles asking for unreasonable policies that undeniably benefit themselves and no one else. Such drivel is already a slog on a full night's sleep, and there I was with four hours!” “You expected this, yet still you figured your 'normal' sleep schedule would do?” Discord chimed in. “Honestly, Sparkles, you need to start getting more sleep like dear old Dashie. Has anyone ever tolerated a monarch who sleeps on the throne?” Discord started filling the glasses. “During court hours and important meetings, I mean. I don't doubt Celestia had fallen asleep in the throne on more than one occasion. I don't recommend it, bad for the back.” “I know I need to fix my sleep schedule, Discord-” “I never said anything about a schedule~” He interrupted. “-but I couldn't help myself. I had the most interesting object of study last night, an archaeological find for the ages.” “She means an arrow.” Spike helpfully interjected. Discord quickly turned off the water. “Could you describe this arrow?” Twilight would've dismissed Discord's request, were it not for two facts; he was actually expressing interest in one of her conversations, and he almost sounded worried. The possibility he knew anything was slim, but if he was going to be around anyways she might as well milk him for info. “Just an arrow with an intricate golden head. Most likely for ceremonial use. Not matched to any known culture from my studies. Seems to have some kind of virus on the tip, though it doesn't appear contagious.” “It didn't pierce anyone did it?” Discord sounded interested, which just screamed 'something's very, very wrong here.' In this case, it also screamed 'I have intimate knowledge of the arrow, and I might be willing to share it with you.' Now Twilight couldn't let him leave. “Yes. The Cutie Mark Crusaders all sustained injuries from it.” Twilight's tone was steady and cautious. “They were a bit under the weather sick when I last saw them. What do you know about the arrow?” “Oh, plenty. I just need to figure out if they're still alive. We can walk and talk if you want.” “Still alive? We? What are you-” A flash of light right in front of Twilight interrupted her. It was a scroll, hastily tied together and bearing a familiar seal. “Hold on, it's from Applejack.” “Let me guess; Applebloom did something weird and there's some mention of ghosts.” “Stop it with the sarcasm, Discord,” Twilight sternly said. As she read the contents of the letter, she realized there was no sarcasm. “Well, Twilight? Was I right?” She must've gotten something wrong. That must be it, yes! She just had to re-read the letter and she'll see what she missed. 'Alright, Twi. Once more from the top.' “Twilight. “Hey, it's Applejack. Sorry for writing on such short notice, but you said to let you know if something happened and well, something did. This morning I was waiting for Big Mac to arrive from the carver with a new wheel for the wagon, since the old one was 'bout to break after so long. Broke this very morning in fact, but I digress. “Anyways, I notice him staring at Applebloom and talking to her, so I was wondering 'what the hay was going on' and walked over to them. Turns out, Applebloom repaired the broken wheel. Weird part was she didn't use hooves or tools or anything of the like to fix it, but did so with just her mind. I know this sounds crazy, but the only reason I know that much because she took apart the wheel with her mind soon after the same way. “I know your busy and all, but if you could come down here soon to sort things out, I could use your magical know-how. I'd ask Applebloom, but she ran away yelling about ghosts, the arrow, and the other Crusaders. “Your pal, “Applejack “P.S. Sweetie and Rarity came over as soon as I finished this letter. They claim something about a ghost that possessed Sweetie Belle and that it made music to get ponies angry and calm them down. The arrow was mentioned as a potential culprit, just in case you needed more reason to come down.” No, she read it right the first time, much to her irritation. “How did you know?” She asked Discord. “Now see, normally I would just up and tell you, but I know you trust me about as far as you can throw me; a respectable distance, but not quite far enough.” He held up his talon, poised to snap. “ So why should I be the only one to tell you?” “Discord, I know what you're thinking. Don't-” “I'm gonna stop you right there, chief,” Discord interrupted. “I know what you're going to threaten me with, but believe me when I say this is one of those emergencies. Or don't, you'll know the truth soon enough.” With a snap of his talon, a bright flash of light filled the room. Where once there was naught but empty space, now stood two imposing figures. Two familiar figures. “Discord,” spoke Celestia, “I hope there's a good reason for this.”