My armor clanged together at its joints from the uneasy ride of the old elevator. It was comparatively rougher than most other lifts in Zephyr Heights. Maybe that was a sign of recent disuse weathering the cables and gears. Or, maybe, it was a sign of decades of heavy use showing its aches and pains.
In either case, the condition of the elevator wasn't going to matter much longer. This station was being sealed shut. Neither unicorn nor earth pony would ever leave a hoofprint in Zephyr Heights again, not as long as I have any say in it.
The ride came to a sudden end with an aggressive jolt, a light ping from above signaling I reached my stop near the summit of the mountain. The twin doors cracked open as warm sunlight poured through the slowly forming gap. I shielded my face with a fetlock, grumbling to myself, cursing whoever had the bright idea to have the elevator’s exit line up with a window facing the setting sun. Of course, whoever designed the station was long gone. They were probably some unicorn paid off by a puffed-up royal demanding the elevator be placed here for easy access to their estate. Maybe I could find the architect's name in an old record book, just to curse it.
A broad shadow fluttered across the problematic window, alleviating my eyes from the assaulting sunlight. A pair of pegasi carried a massive purple tapestry depicting the head of a unicorn in front of a rising sun and moon over each shoulder. Ponies were already hard at work stripping the station of its valuables and removing grounder advertisements, piling the offensive things in the center of the bay.
I stepped out into the less-than-bustling station, taking in the solemn ambiance. The massive cavern carved out of the mountain once acted as Canterlot’s airship station. Ornate carvings in the stone and stained windows depicted Canterlot as it once was, a hub for the three tribes to meet and govern. Now, however, it was an expansive and impressive feat of old Equestrian architecture and hubris. Those days were now well behind us; this city in the clouds belonged to our kind now – pegasi. Ponies were already hard at work scrubbing away anything pro-unicorn or earth pony that wasn't built into the structural integrity of the bay.
"Captain!" a nasally voice called out from my right as I stepped out – a voice I was far too familiar with at this point.
Turning to face the voice, I put on the best smile I could for the approaching silver pony. "Archiver Fairweather, just the mare I was called in to see. Do you have your permit to be here?"
"No thanks to your meddling, Captain," Fairweather grumbled, raising the pass hanging around her neck. Sunlight reflected off her glasses, masking her golden eyes, burning with frustration, behind the white sheen. "As you can see, I have it despite the protests raised from your lot."
"I haven't the slightest clue what you mean." I was lying, but I had no intention of giving this smug virtue-signaler anything.
"I have multiple letters – delivered to my office – signed by a Captain Buck Wild that say otherwise," she retorted, sneering all the while. While I didn’t appreciate hearing somepony spit my name like that, I didn't let my smile waver.
"In that case, I apologize," I said with a light bow, crossing one of my teal wings over my chest. "Many documents cross my desk, some of which I sign without paying much attention to. I'm sure you see much the same in your line of work."
"No, I don't," she growled. To some, Fairweather probably sounded like a snarling tiger ready to pounce, but to me, it was music. "Unlike you, I pay attention."
"Nevertheless," I began while returning my wing to its place, "what are you here for, Archiver? I was told somepony was bothering the crown-sponsored workers. Your petitions to record the history of this station were denied. As I have told you several times now, everything in this station is the private property of the Zephyr Heights royal family. If you do not leave, I will arrest you for trespassing and being a public nuisance.”
"That’s exactly why I'm here!" She stomped a hoof, startling several nearby ponies. Not everypony, I noticed, some were shaking their heads – as if they’d heard this routine once already. Knowing Fairweather as I do, they probably had. "I'm protesting the destruction of Equestrian history!"
"Keywords being both Equestrian and history," I said with a roll of my eyes; at least she was making this easy. I quickly scanned the room, spotting one of the guards stationed by the airship entrance, and waved him over. "I wasn't kidding about arresting you, Fairweather. Equestria is gone – for good this time. There's no point clinging to the past, especially when that past is so tightly bound to the grounders who helped destroy it."
"Sir!" the guard chirped his arrival, finishing with a crisp salute.
"Take the Archiver in –"
"You have no legal right for this!" Fairweather shouted in my face, pulling herself free of the guard’s loose grasp on her shoulder. I'll have to remember to send him back to basic training for that; he gave her far too much room to retaliate. Sloppy. "Under the Historical Protection Act – personally introduced and signed by Princess Celestia in 1162 – any ponies protesting the destruction or removal of a structure older than one hundred years cannot be imprisoned without explicit involvement by the sitting princess!"
Historical Protection Act? "Never heard of it. Besides, that sounds like an Equestrian law – not a Zephyr Heights law."
"Of course you haven't; ponies aren't being taught our history. It's all paranoia and hatred now. And, in case you forgot, we live in Canterlot, capital city of Equestria!"
"That's enough, ma'am." The guard grabbed hold of the raving mare, wrapping his forelimbs across her barrel and pinning her wings to her sides.
Credit to the mare, she wasn’t going down without a fight. Fairweather bucked the poor armor-clad stallion off her back. His helmet flew off, clattering against the ground several paces away from the rest of him. At least I can tack assaulting an officer onto her sentence without falsifying any evidence now.
"The unicorns aren't responsible for this! Neither are the earth ponies!" Fairweather called to the clouds, grabbing the attention of every pony at work, her fluffy and untamed deep purple mane bouncing as she twisted and turned. "They did not destroy our history. The only one I see doing that –" she jabbed a hoof at me "– is you!"
"Fairweather, you're making a scene."
"And you're tossing Harmony in the garbage! Surely you heard the tales of the Guardians of Friendship? You and that legion of fanatics crushed the friendship they formed with the non-pony races. Now you're turning your attention to the unicorns and earth ponies! Who's to say that mob won't find a reason to come after you nex –"
My guards finally pulled themselves together and converged on the raving pony, collapsing on her like a wave. Four guards – one sans their helmet – tackled Fairweather from three sides, pinning her to the ground with all their body weight. I heard the telltale crack of her glasses shattering under somepony's horseshoe. The helmetless guard pressed down with a bit more vigor than the rest of his compatriots. I felt a drop of pride at his tenacity. Only a drop, however.
Standing over a degenerate while they squirm at my hooves was far more euphoric.
"Remember that I gave you the chance to walk away, Fairweather. You have nopony to blame for this but yourself." Smirking, I bopped her on the snout. She didn't find the prodding as amusing as I did. The near-feral mare bit at my hoof, reaching and stretching her neck like a snapping turtle. Turning away, I faced the crowd of workers gathering around, "Alright, that's enough. Get back to work, all of you. The crown wants everything pulled down and burnt by the end of the day.
"As for you." I wheeled around to see my team hoist the still-struggling historian off the ground, forelimbs cuffed together. "I'll personally see to it that your title is revoked while you're in jail. Don't worry, you won't be in for long – just long enough for a quick and easy trial. I'll make sure your final sentence is something you'll like – clipped wings. You'll fit in with those grounders you love so much after you're cast out of our home.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to gather a few officers to search your home and office. Hopefully, you don't have any incriminating grounder propaganda in your pro-Equestrian haven." I turned away from the collection of ponies, ignoring the defiant curses flung at me, and ripped an advertisement for a sun-themed unicorn school off the wall before I re-entered the elevator.