PonyScape: Where the Heart is

by GuthixianBrony

Chapter 5 - The Graveyard Shift

PonyScape: Where the Heart is

Chapter 5 - The Graveyard Shift

The moon had long since reached its zenith and was now beginning its lazy descent, gently tugging the velvet blanket of the night sky behind it. Despite the late hour, many windows in the Everfree Castle remained lit, the ponies within occupied with whatever late night business demanded such diligence. Whatever it was, King Equinox, Lord of Equestria and its denizens of Earth and Sky, would have been more than happy to trade by this time; even polishing the floors would have been a welcome reprieve from the mound of requests, proposals, demands and other equally self-important documents that littered his desk.

Procrastination wouldn’t make it any smaller.

With a sigh and a final envious look out of the grand window that dominated the office, he wandered back to the overburdened desk and tried to make himself comfortable in a chair designed not only for somepony without wings but also with a smaller build.

One would think being king would merit perks such as form-fitting furniture.

Doing his best to ignore the complaints from his wings, Equinox reached out with his magic and plucked a scroll from the top of the heap. He groaned as he recognised the seal as belonging to the office of Chancellor Puddinghead. It wasn’t that her proposals were unwelcome, but the manner in which she drafted them generally resulted in the use of the metaphorical fine-toothed comb and tweezers to identify what the earth pony wanted, and when that failed, returning the proposal to her aide with a polite yet firm note requesting an abridged version. Needless to say, they rarely made good night-time reading.

He spared a glance at the office’s timepiece, the finely crafted instrument happily tick-tocking through the seconds as its single hand marched ever closer to Dawn. Letting the scroll drop in front of him, Equinox yawned loudly and rubbed at his eyes before pushing away from the desk again. No, a scroll from the scatter-brained leader of the earth ponies was not something a sleep deprived alicorn who had to raise the sun in less than six hours needed… at least not without reinforcements.

Adjusting his gown and smoothing out the creases, he walked over to the room’s grand fireplace and tugged sharply at the pull cord dangling next to it. He spared a glance at the dwindling embers of the evening’s fire and gave them a half-hearted nudge with the poker while he waited, counting softly under his breath.

He’d got as far as fifteen before his ears pricked at the sound of cantering hoofsteps and frantic breathing outside the door. The visitor took a few seconds to compose themselves, Equinox smiled as he fancied them doing their best to make a frazzled bed mane into something respectable before knocking.

He decided to beat them to the punch.

“Come in, Checklist.”

The office doors creaked open and a young, bespectacled unicorn mare, her mane hastily tied up in a loose bun, stepped inside.

She curtsied, doing her best to stifle a yawn as she did.

“You rang, your Majesty?”

The Title was one of the perks associated with being a king and, quite honestly, one Equinox felt he could do without. Not to mention all the ponies curtseying and bowing everywhere he went had a tendency to make him feel sea-sick. The saluting from the guards wasn’t so bad, although he could never quite shake the feeling that one day an overzealous recruit was going to concuss themselves. How Old King Bullion put up with it all he’d never understand; the benefit of being born into it, the alicorn supposed.

“Sire, are you alright?”

Jerked from his musing, Equinox gave the young mare a sheepish smile.

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I drifted for a bit there. That was rude of me.”

Checklist couldn’t help but smile.

“You are the King, sire,” she reminded him, “It’s your prerogative to be rude to the common folk and get away with it.”

“Really?” Equinox asked, feigning astonishment, “Well, this certainly is a game changer. Remind me again of your official position, Checklist.”

“Personal Attendant and Assistant to His Majesty, King Equinox, Lord of Equestria and its denizens of Earth and Sky,” she replied promptly, “And more than happy to serve, sire.”

“Well then,” he chuckled, “In recognition of your loyalty and dedication to duty, henceforth you shall be recognised as Mistress of Royal Prerogatives.”

“You honour me, sire,” Checklist replied, doing her best to keep a straight face, “May I ask what my duties as Mistress of Royal Prerogatives entail?”

“Your first and foremost duty, Checklist,” Equinox intoned, “Is to tell me whether my prerogative allows me to burn all these wretched scrolls and pretend they were never delivered.”

“Unfortunately not, sire,” the mare sniggered, her poker face abandoned.

Equinox shrugged.

“It was worth a shot. In that case, would you kindly trot down to the kitchens and see if they’ve any tea left.”

Checklist nodded in understanding.

“Chancellor Puddighead, sire?”

“Chancellor Puddinghead.”

“I’ll be sure to express the severity of the situation to the kitchen staff, sire.” She curtsied again and began to back away, “Will that be all?”

“Yes, thank you Checklist,” Equinox replied, turning his attention back to the fireplace, “Feel free to go back to bed afterwards.”

“Thank you, sire,” the mare replied, stifling another yawn as she closed the door behind her, “And if I might be so bold, sire, I would advise you do the same; not everypony appreciates a late rise, after all.”

Equinox couldn’t help but smile at her comment as the office door clicked shut behind her. Giving the embers a parting nudge with the poker, he moved back to the paper-stacked desk. Picking up the scroll he’d previously discarded, he mentally prepared himself for the inevitable, seemingly nonsensical, ramblings within.

Might as well get this over with.

Breaking the seal, the alicorn unfurled the scroll and examined its contents. After a few seconds he turned the scroll around and studied the reverse side in case something had been hidden there. Eventually, he flipped the scroll around again and stared at the simplistic message.

It was a foal’s game of hangmare, though somepony had made sure the unfortunate stickmare was recognisable as both a unicorn and royalty.

Beneath the drawing were two recognisable signatures; one was obviously Puddinghead’s, a confusing mass of loops and whorls. The other simple, yet bold scrawling belonged to the leader of the pegasi, General “Commander” Hurricane.

Equinox understood the meaning behind the drawing well enough, even without Puddinghead’s helpful annotation of “Plan B”. As much as he respected the two ponies, even they had to recognise that the last thing Equestria needed right now was civil war.

It was funny, (well not funny per se, but ironic at least), how things had turned out. He’d cut ties with his world and fled to this one to avoid getting entangled in exactly what his presence here risked inciting.

Yes, the so-called “Adamant Kingdom” was an issue that would need to be dealt with, but Equinox felt confident that with enough time “Queen” Platinum would come to her senses; even she wasn’t so foalish as to jeopardise everything the three tribes had built simply because she’d not got her way.

Probably.

A gentle pop drew the alicorn’s attention back to the mound of paperwork on his desk, where a new scroll had materialised. Recognising the seal, he moved the Chancellor and General’s “solution” to one side, opened the new arrival and read its hastily scrawled contents.

You’ll want to see this. Meet me upstairs.
P.S. Bring Snacks!!!

Equinox groaned; ignoring a summons from this particular pony in favour of paperwork was not worth the grief that would dog him until he apologised for being a “Stick-in-the-mud”.

Finding a scrap of parchment, he quickly jotted an apology to Checklist, informing her of where he was and that the tea needed to follow. Making sure that the message was left in plain sight, the King of Equestria walked from his office and out into the candlelit corridors beyond.

Teleporting would admittedly have been far faster, (and considerably easier these days, too), but Equinox had always enjoyed walking, and strolling along the castle’s passageways certainly kept him in shape. More to the point, Checklist was right; he was King.

If he couldn’t get away with keeping Equestria’s most powerful magician waiting, who could?

Stardust gave a contented sigh of an arduous job well-done as she heaved herself up the last rung of the Vault’s ladder. All of the “crystal ponies” (well, all bar her new friend Autumn Gem) were still sleeping soundly below her in the vast, silent hall.

She pouted; Mother’s Legacy shouldn’t have to sleep under such a dreary silence. She dropped the pout and beamed as an idea came to her.

Taking a deep breath, she began to sing (if going “la-lala-lalaa” counted as such). If the song had words she didn’t know them, and none had ever featured in the version sung by her sister. She had always thought of it as a happy song; one full of friendship and magic. The kind Mother would want her children to hear in their dreams.

If only hers could be so pleasant.

She couldn’t even remember what had terrified her so badly, but it had been enough to jolt her awake in a cold sweat, gasping for breath and desperate for any activity to distract her, (hence the night-time diligence). Whilst infrequent night terrors were part and parcel of her nightlife, Stardust blamed these new terrors on the World Guardian, though truth be told it was her own fault for asking (ie begging) him for tales of his adventures, his friends or simply his world’s history; considering the villains that generally featured, she couldn’t help but marvel at somepony capable of surviving such quests.

Regardless, such tales before bed were a recipe for disaster.

She was still singing as she walked through the open doors of the Vault and into the chamber beyond. This was an unintentional benefit of the World Guardian’s visit, as until Mother saw fit to seal the Vault again, Stardust could come and go as she pleased. This helped on two fronts; firstly it meant Stardust no longer had to rely on teleportation for entry (which often left her feeling nauseous); and secondly, she no longer had to disturb Mother to perform the Duty. While she enjoyed their “conversations”, Stardust knew the lingering echoes her newest night terror would concern Mother. She simply did not want to worry Her.

Once in the chamber, she pondered her choices. The Duty was done, and the day hadn’t even begun. The siren’s call of sleep was ever-present, and whilst she was feeling calmer, Stardust wasn’t ready to surrender just yet. She could do whatever she felt like; read in the library, avoid the World Guardian’s pet like the pony-pox, raid the now full food stores for an early-early breakfast or have a bath even!

The last fortnight had seen a reversal of fortune that she would never have thought possible. Thanks to the World Guardian’s efforts, the Sanctuary’s stores had never been fuller; he’d made it his mission to return every two to three days, bringing gifts of food, blankets and candles. Even the reservoirs were fit to burst thanks to the incredible stones he referred to as “runes”, though his greatest gift had been a pouch of bath salts, half-a-dozen bars of soap and a long-handled scrubbing brush. He’d blushed bright red when he had given her these, as if he was doing something wrong or offensive. She had all but squealed and hugged him (okay, maybe she had) before running off with Autumn in tow. The two of them didn’t emerge from the baths for best part of half a day.

Five years worth of grime hadn’t gone without a fight.

A rumbling from her stomach answered her immediate question of ‘what to do’, though she hadn’t made it halfway to the stores before her ears pricked at the sound of a distant rattling from the Main Hall. Admittedly unexplained rattlings and rumblings were hardly unusual in the Sanctuary; a half-starved unicorn made for a poor repairmare. The Hall was a different matter however. Back in the day it had operated as something of a social hub and nexus to the Sanctuary's many chambers, and while most of said chambers were now lost behind several tons of masonry, the Main Hall had stood strong for the last half-decade. It wouldn’t be crumbling anytime soon.

Which left only one possibility; somepony, or something, was in the Main Hall.

Stardust considered the options. Something from the outside was unlikely as Mother’s wards kept the windigos at bay, and the World Guardian had insisted on collapsing the passage he’d originally used so as to “stop the draft”. On that point, the World Guardian’s method of entering the Sanctuary brought him to the Vault, plus it was far too early (or too late) for him to be visiting. So, considering that she herself wasn’t in the Hall, and as far as she was aware her new roommate was still fast asleep, there could only be one culprit.

Fully prepared to give the World Guardian’s insufferable little toy a piece of her mind, Stardust turned on her hoof and stalked back down the corridor. Admittedly, shouting at the automaton was as pointless as chasing her shadow; it’s chirping and squawking was as incomprehensible as the day it had arrived. It didn’t really help that it couldn’t understand her either. Regardless, the shouting made her feel better.

It wasn’t that she hated the thing, that would be as pointless as hating her abacus. Unlike her abacus, it managed to find new ways of irritating her on a daily basis: going places she’d made clear were off-limits; opening doors that it shouldn’t; and rearranging the library to name a few. The fact that Autumn Gem doted on it had made the thing exceptionally brave, knowing that it could run to the mare for protection.

However, if it had touched anything in the Main Hall, there would be no hiding behind Autumn this time.

Any other day Stardust was willing to take any length of detour to avoid setting even one hoof in the Hall. However, any objections she had were overruled by the indignation she felt at the thought of the wretched automaton touching the… the things in there. Even so, her resolve waned as she drew nearer; the sturdy walls of the Hall could well be considered a testament to unicorn brilliance, but what sat between them would forever be a testament to unicorn cruelty.

Taking a breath to steady her nerves, Stardust stepped into the Hall. She regretted it almost instantly. The automaton must have been stealing candles from the stores, as every sconce and stand was alight, casting a warm, flickering light over the harsh reality of the charred… of the things, that had been left heaped and ignored on the stone floor. Empty sockets and blackened smiles greeted her as she crept forward; if she hadn’t been so angry, she would have fled in terror.

The… things stared at her accusingly.

“Why?” they seemed to ask. “Why you and not me? What made you so special? Why wasn’t I spared?”

Stardust pressed on. She couldn’t answer them; she didn’t know “why”.

Liar.

Guilt blossomed inside her mind, choking the bloom of anger that had led her here. She knew perfectly well why. She just couldn’t admit it. She couldn't admit that when the soldiers came she had run away and left her Sisters to… to…

“Miss Stardust?”

Jerked from her dark thoughts, Stardust found herself looking into the concerned eyes of Autumn Gem. A friendly face amidst the horror was enough to make her sag with relief.

Her relief was short lived, however, as she stared in wide-eyed horror at what the other mare was holding in her arms.

“Autumn,” she asked, her voice oddly calm, “What are you doing here with these… things?”

Her friend looked down guiltily at where Stardust was staring.

“You mean the bones?”

Stardust managed a curt nod; her throat had gone dry.

“Oh… Well, there’s no point in trying to keep it secret now,” the mare pouted with a disappointed sigh, “Mr Cresbot and I had been planning to surprise you by tidying up the bodies!” She inclined her head towards a heap of things, where the World Guardian’s pet was busying itself, “He really wanted to do it all by himself, but he’s too small to move the bigger bits.”

Stardust stared, dumfounded.

“Why?”

“I just told you “why”, silly,” Autumn replied, wrinkling her nose in confusion, “We wanted to surprise you! You haven’t still got dirt in your ears, have you?”

“No,” Stardust replied, finally finding her voice, “I mean, why is he- it, why is it doing this? Why are you doing this?”

“Oh!” Autumn nodded as realisation dawned. “Because it’s the right thing to do, isn’t it? Oh! I know!” The crystal mare started forward with her bundle, as if to pass it to Stardust. The obvious recoil from her friend encouraged her to deposit the charred pile neatly on the floor instead. Autumn smiled apologetically, “Just wait here, Miss Stardust, and I’ll go and ask Mr Cresbot, he can say it much better than me. Also, you shouldn’t be so rude about him; he’s really nice once you get to know him!”

Stardust watched her friend prance over to where the World Guardian’s pet was working, seemingly unfazed by the Hall’s horrors. If anything, she seemed to be glowing brighter than usual.

She was dumbfounded. Not once had the state of the Hall cropped up in previous conversations with Autumn; even the World Guardian tactfully avoided asking about it. And yet, here these two were, sorting through the piles of charred bones apparently on a whim. They were treating the mortal remains of her adoptive family as if they were nothing more than snowdrifts at Wrap-up.

It was appalling. She wanted to scream at the pair, to rage at them for their behaviour.

But she couldn’t.

The World Guardian had once referred to Autumn as a “goodwill-generator”, and only now was Stardust beginning to understand why. She had always known the theory behind Mother’s Legacy, but to feel it in action was something wholly different. Here she was in a room that she took great pains to avoid setting hoof in. A room that would take her to the bitterest of memories and feelings of self-loathing if she so much as thought of it.

And she felt fine. Better than fine, even.

All because Autumn Gem was happy.

The World Guardian was right to be cautious, Stardust mused as she watched her friend engage in a lengthy guttural exchange with “Mr Cresbot”; whether they were conscious of it or not, the Crystal Ponies had an awful lot of power at their fingertips. The fact that Autumn was even able to talk with the obnoxious little toy was a case in point; the walls of language apparently crumbled at Mother’s touch. In the back of her mind, doubt reared its ugly head; was Equus ready for ponies like this?

“Okay, his explanation was pretty long, but Mr Cresbot says that he learned from Mr World Guardian that leaving dead bodies piled up to go smelly is wrong and that it upsets people; he thought the same would apply to ponies, and I said he was right, otherwise you wouldn’t take such long walks to get around the Sanctuary when you could just cut through the Hall. Or you just take the extra long walks to stay in shape, but then I thought it’s more likely that you just don’t like walking through the Hall and the well-toned body is a happy coincidence.”

Stardust’s misgivings were quickly forgotten as she struggled to keep up with Autumn’s sudden reappearance and verbal flood. She latched onto the recognisable name like a piece of driftwood and decided to ride the wave from there. The compliment could be pursued later.

“So, the World Guardian instructed… “Mr Cresbot” to tidy up the… the bodies?”

“Nope.”

“Then why?” Stardust hissed through clenched teeth.

“Like I said,” Autumn replied, speaking slowly, “Mr Cresbot wanted to make things better; he knew you were upset by the bodies and wanted to make it right!”

Stardust stared at Autumn, and then turned to stare at Cresbot, biting her lower lip in thought. She’d always considered the little creature a sophisticated tool; a walking, squawking abacus. It was a construct of metal, programmed to learn; just lights and clockwork. It had seen its master perform similar actions before, and now it was mirroring them. That was all. A parody of life.

Now, she wasn’t so sure.

Cresbot hadn’t started this task from any instruction or order. It had chosen to do so. And why? Because it had noticed she was unhappy, in pain, and had wanted to ease it, to help. It had wanted. When was the last time her abacus had wanted anything, let alone to make her feel better?

She watched the little creature a while longer before turning back to Autumn.

“Would you… would you ask it… him, if he’d like an extra pair of hands?”

With hindsight, perhaps teleporting would have been the more sensible course of action after all.

Equinox gripped the banister of the spiral stairway and wheezed as he waited for the black spots that danced in front of him to vanish. Now he was exhausted both physically and mentally, and had just over five hours until he had to raise the sun. He suddenly understood why the unicorns had worked in groups of a dozen to perform the wretched task.

Regaining his breath, he lifted his drooping wings and advanced up the last of stairs to the door before him, and the guest that had asked for him.

It was not through personal choice that Equestria’s most powerful magician had come to live in one of Everfree’s taller towers, (though he had no complaints regarding the views that were offered), but the nature of his profession.

Initially, Equinox had ensured that apartments and facilities befitting such a distinguished guest were readily available. The pony in question had seemed overjoyed with what he was provided, setting up his workshop and other mysterious tools of his trade in a giddy rush, all the while manically explaining what an exciting opportunity this was to anypony willing (and those who weren’t) to listen.

All had been well until that afternoon, when an almighty explosion had rocked Everfree to its foundations. Fearing attack from the Adamant Kingdom, Equinox had wasted no time in mustering the guards and ordering them to their battle stations, only for no enemy to be found at the gates; only a rather sheepish (and somewhat concussed) magician, found in his now charred and windowless workshop, smiling dreamily and announcing he knew what went wrong.

A couple of months, several repeat offences and a long line of traumatized servants complaining of ghastly smells later finally convinced Equinox to relocate his guest to the present abode. These days the pops and whizzes that came from the tower garnered very little attention from the ponies of Everfree; even the louder booms attracted little more than a rolling of the eyes or an affectionate tsk from the guardsponies on duty.

Needless to say, Equinox had grown quite fond of his guest, considering him one of his closest friends and confidents. Inspite of (or perhaps due to) a tendency to pull at the fraying threads of the universe and record the results, the pony’s knowledge of matters both arcane and mundane were unrivaled. The Imperium of Ostium had access to the knowledge and histories of a thousand worlds and civilisations, and even then that seemed dull when compared to this particular pony’s brilliance.

It was a pity, Equinox conceded as he concluded his upward journey, that his friend’s brilliance didn’t extend much beyond academic matters; such as dress-sense; or appropriate head-gear.

Smiling to himself and wondering what the old stallion had cooked up this time, he knocked on the door. There was a rapid clatter of hooves across the floor and a muted thud as somepony narrowly avoided colliding with the door. Light appeared from a little spyhole for a moment, and then a suspicious eye took its place.

“What’s the password?” a voice demanded playfully from behind the door.

“Just open the door, please,” Equinox sighed despairingly; he was not in any shape to be playing games.

“Nope! That was Tuesday’s password,” the voice chided. “Try again!”

“Not tonight, Starswirl,” Equinox pleaded, rubbing his face.

“That’s not it either, are you even trying?”

Equinox felt his patience snap and was about to launch a tirade at the door when a flash of light from behind caught his attention. He turned to discover Checklist had teleported behind him, facing the stairwell. It struck him as odd that most unicorns were incapable of altering their direction when teleporting.

“Not a drop spilled,” the mare praised herself. “Checklist, my dear, you are brilliant!”

“Very impressive,” Equinox agreed. Teleporting with multiple objects did have a tendency to make a mess.

Checklist squeaked in surprise, and spun around. Several oatcakes and a cup fell from the tray she was holding. It seemed the laws of physics were sore losers.

Equinox held out a hand and used his magic to catch the items mid-fall and sent them tidily back onto the tray; a simple feat these days, even as tired as he was. He could almost imagine his old tutor’s face at the magical dexterity he’d just shown.

“I- I’m so sorry your Majesty,” Checklist stammered, trying not to disturb the tray again. “I thought you’d be inside.”

“Yes, I thought so too,” Equinox sighed. He smiled deviously and winked at Checklist as an idea came to him. Clearing his throat, he continued, “But, if my guest has decided he doesn’t want my company, then you and I will just have to enjoy this tea you’ve brought back at my study.”

There was a sudden rattling from the door as various chains and bolts were removed and unlocked. In a matter of moments, the door was open and a great silvery beard wearing a ruffled unicorn stallion stood on the precipice. He scowled at the king, the (presumable) pout on his face more befitting a child than the world’s most powerful magician.

“Well there’s no need to be like that, you know,” Starswirl stated sulkily. He pushed past Equinox and snatched the tray from Checklist before retreating back into the room, leaving the door open for the king to follow.

Equinox chuckled at the small victory, giving Checklist a thankful nod and a brief wave relieving her from her duties. She smiled at him and curtseyed before teleporting away. He would have invited her to join them, but the two cups she’d provided was proof that she had not expected such a request.

He’d have to correct that thinking at a later date.

“Are coming in or not?” Starswirl called from deep beyond the door. “The tea’s getting cold!”

Equinox ducked through the doorway and entered Starswirl’s workshop. How the old stallion knew where anything was in the place was a mystery to him.

There was a table of glassware that looked as if someone had hiccupped while blowing it; shelves upon shelves of disorganised books, strange rocks and jars containing some putrid coloured liquid; and two pony skeletons wired to stand unaided, one quadrupedal and the other bipedal. As for the rest of Starswirl’s paraphernalia, Equinox wasn’t sure even the Imperium could identify it.

As he approached the table and chairs at the far end of the workshop, Equinox noticed that part of the outer wall looked on the verge of collapse. It seemed to be held in place by hastily erected board and nails. It occurred to Equinox that perhaps some form of underground bunker might be more befitting his friend’s pastimes. If that couldn’t contain the brilliant magician’s destructive experiments, Titans knew what could.

Either way, it was a matter for another day.

“So,” Equinox began, searching for a chair or some form of flat surface that was not otherwise occupied by haphazardly piled books or bizarre metal contraptions. In the end he opted to carry on standing, “What was it that needed my attention so urgently?”

“Oh, just the most incredible thing!” Starswirl announced, pouring the king a cup of the cooling tea. He took a swig from his own cup before leaping from his chair and dashing back to the open window and the telescope situated there. “Here, here! Take a look for yourself!”

Wearily, Equinox maneuvered his way towards the window and placed an eye to the ‘scope’s lense. It seemed to be trained on one particular point of light that seemed marginally bigger and brighter than the surrounding points of light.

“Ah. Very nice,” he conceded, not having any idea what the old stallion was expecting. He moved away from the lense, and Starswirl immediately took his place, “Very nice indeed.”

“I knew you’d be thrilled! This is the first time in over two millennia that the Secretariat Comet has come into view.” He glued his eye to the lens of the ‘scope, chatting amicably all the while. “If my records are correct, it should pass over Equus in another thousand years. Isn’t that fascinating?”

Equinox collapsed on the now vacated chair and sighed; he’d just exhausted himself over a comet that wouldn’t really matter for another one thousand years. What else he should have expected from his eccentric guest? Admittedly, this distraction had gotten him away from his desk and all that blasted paperwork, so he shouldn’t complain too much about it.

“So, what’s the latest news?” the magician enquired, not leaving the telescope. “I don’t tend to hear an awful lot up here; none of the servants ever want to stay long enough for a decent chat.”

I wonder why that is, Equinox mused, surveying the organised chaos that the magician called home; any servant worth their salt would feel their hands start to itch if they spent more than a minute in this mess.

“You’ve not missed much, I’m afraid,” he replied out loud, sipping his tea, “Just the usual problems with the usual solutions offered every time.”

“Ah. Not to worry, sire, I know Platinum of old,” the magician responded sagely, “She used to throw similar tantrums as a filly, although back then she was limited to shutting herself away in her room. She always saw sense in the end, though, and this will be no different.”

“I hope you’re right,” Equinox sighed. A wry smile flickered across his face, “After all, she’s a bit big to put across your knee these days.”

“Ha! Very true!”

The pair of them shared a laugh at the thought of the self proclaimed Queen punished in such a fashion. Equinox smiled contentedly. He had needed this more than he’d been willing to admit. He took a sip of his tea and reached out for an oat cake when something else caught his eye. On the table was a map of the kingdoms of Equestria, with a scattering of pinprick lights which twinkled across the surface. Starswirl had once explained that it was a way for him to monitor and record where unicorns used magic. Naturally, each of the major cities had a small constellation of their own, but there was one lone light to the north that seemed to pulse brighter than all the others.

“Is it meant to be doing that?” Equinox asked the magician, inclining his head to the map.

“Hmm?” Starswirl abandoned the telescope and peered over the king’s shoulder to see what had caught his eye. His face lit up with recollection when he saw the map. “Ah, yes. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”

He quickly walked around to the far side of the table so that the northernmost light was within prodding distance.

“Now,” The old stallion lectured, prodding the offending light as he did, “I know studies can be quite dull sometimes, and the prospect of adventure seems infinitely preferable; I myself skipped more than a couple of classes in my youth.” Something that might have been a wistful smile passed behind the beard, “But, I think you should tell your eldest that it is not appropriate to avoid her tutors so often, and that there are safer places closer to home if she absolutely must.”

“But, Celestia hasn’t missed any of her classes,” Equinox assured. “Nor has Luna.”

“Are you sure? I mean really, really, really sure?” Starswirl asked, squinting at the offending light. “If she has a new teacher she doesn’t like then I can understand how traipsing around the north would seem the lesser of two horrors, but it’s really is not a healthy attitude to have.”

“How often has this been happening?” Equinox frowned, a flutter of panic running down his spine

“Oh, on and off once every two days or so, for the last two weeks,” Starswirl explained with a shrug. “The magic is far too strong to a unicorn’s magic, and I know you and your wife wouldn’t make such a foolhardy trek; there’s nothing out there but windigos and yaks.”

“You’re right, but it is a good place to camp for a reconnaissance mission. Nopony would think to look there,” Equinox muttered darkly. “And every two days means that somepony is reporting back.”

“I’m sorry? I’m afraid you’ve lost me there,” Starswirl spoke a little louder, trying to get his king’s attention. “What are we talking about?”

Equinox ignored the old stallion as he rose from his seat, feeling renewed and setting his cup on the tray.

“I’m sorry Starswirl, but I must deal with this immediately,” he announced, standing up to his full height. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

With a burst of mulberry light, Equinox teleported away.

“Well, that was peculiar,” Starswirl muttered to himself after a moment of silence. He then looked over to the tea tray and the plate of oat cakes it held. He could hear them calling him.

“All the more for me.” He grinned.

With the last pin out, Checklist’s mane tumbled about her shoulders. She gave her head a shake as she reached out for her brush. She wanted to get the kinks out of her hair before she finally settled down for the night. She turned to her mirror and raised the brush only for her heart to stop as Equinox appeared behind her from a burst of mulberry coloured magic.

“Your Majesty!” she gasped, dropping her brush as she spun round to address him.

“Please Checklist, no time for protocols,” Equinox stated, his hands raised to placate her concerns. “I need you to get word to Captain Firefly and tell her she is to see me at her earliest convenience.”

Checklist pulled her personal parchment, quill and ink to her in a flurry of viridian light and began to scribble furiously, easily falling into her role as his personal assistant.

“And what should I tell the captain to expect at this meeting, sire?” she enquired, her quill poised at the ready.

Equinox’s face was dark with worry.

“Tell her it’s a matter of national security.”

Checklist swallowed, the king’s tone dropping a stone of dread in her stomach. She shivered.

“Shall I reschedule all your appointments tomorrow, Your Majesty?” she asked,

“I think that would be best, Checklist. Thank you,” Equinox nodded gratefully. Turning to leave, he paused and looked back to her. “The tea was most excellent.”

In another flash of light, he was gone.

Checklist let out a small huff. Now she had three weeks’ worth of appointments to juggle in order to clear the day for the king. Not to mention the midnight missive for Captain Firefly would not be well-received, and considering that royalty was expected to make awkward requests at ridiculous times, she would be the one catching the fallout.

All in all, it was a good thing she hadn’t been planning on sleeping tonight. No, really; she hadn’t.

Sleep was usually easy prey in the cool of the night. This last night, however, it had proved to be an elusive quarry. Dawn hadn’t even broken, yet Ayla had risen, run the rooftops, and eaten breakfast. This wasn’t too out of the ordinary, but it was the first time she’d employed it as a technique to tire herself out.

It hadn’t worked.

She knew what she had to do, and her conscience wouldn’t let her alone until she’d done just that.

Hence why she was lacing her boots when Aliks stirred in his sleep beside her.

Her husband rolled over to curl around her sitting form. Smiling, she cradled his jaw tenderly in her hand, gently caressing his cheek with her thumb. He mumbled something unintelligible before rolling over again. Sighing, she ran a hand through his hair before leaving his side.

The lengths she was prepared to go to for this man…

Moving to his desk, Ayla pulled out a scrap of paper and scrawled a quick note. After searching for and failing to find a clear, flat surface for it to be discovered on after he woke, she elected to pin it to his wardrobe; the arrow would certainly demand his attention.

Gathering the bundle of cloth that held the city seed in the crook of one arm, she removed a tiny crystal from a pouch at her belt. She held it up to her eye, inspecting it critically; it was pulsing gently with its own internal light. Satisfied, she moved back to the bed and gave her husband a parting kiss to the forehead before holding the crystal to her mouth and speaking softly to it, remembering to shut her eyes tight as she did.

“Prifddinas. Clan Cadarn.”

There was a burst of cyan light so intense that the back of her eyelids lit-up, and a brief sensation of falling forwards that made her stomach flip.

After she’d finished fishing the stars from her eyes, Ayla found the world had changed around her. Gone were the cramped wood and plaster walls of Aliks’ lodgings; in their place were towering walls of opaque, silver crystal, whilst at her feet, picked out in green and white tiles, was a mosaic of a great stag’s head crowned with a wreath of leafy vines; the coat of arms of Clan Cadarn.

“Croesawaf, Heliwr.” a voice greeted.

Ayla looked up to see the Cadarn herald standing in front of her. The elf, garbed in the traditional fashion of the city (various greens) bowed respectfully, and Ayla returned the gesture.

“Lord Cadarn has been expecting you. He will see you at your leisure, Heliwr.”

“Diolch i chi, Herald. I know my way.”

It didn’t take the ranger long to navigate the silvery halls to the Lord’s chambers. Despite having an integral role in its rebirth, she still found it hard to believe that this tower, let alone a whole city, had been grown from a single seed. It was no wonder Aliks had desired the means to provide such a wonder for his new friends.

Reaching her destination, she knocked on the great doors before letting herself in to the room beyond.

“Bore da, Arianwyn,” she greeted her old friend, “Please forgive the early hour of my return.”

The Lord of Clan Cadarn, garbed in an unremarkable tunic of autumnal browns, rose from behind the desk at which he’d been reading and embraced her.

“Peidiwch â phoeni, Ayla,” the Elder gently chided, returning to his desk and inviting her to sit, “With all that you’ve done for my people, I think you have earned leeway for unholy visiting hours.”

“Well, I hope this will keep up that goodwill,” she mentioned, unwrapping the bundle and placing the seed on the large desk before her.

The relief in Arianwyn’s eyes were obvious as he beheld the crystal in pristine condition. He smiled as he re-wrapped the bundle, and placed it safely in a chest. He turned back to Ayla, only for his smile to falter slightly when he noticed the troubled look in her eyes.

“What ails you, my friend?” he asked, his concern unappeased by how she fidgeted uncomfortably; the human was renowned for being as calm and collected as one of Clan Cadarn’s best rangers. To see her thus was unsettling.

“I need a favour, Arianwyn, and I’m sorry I must ask this of you,” she announced solemnly.

“What is it?”

“I need an audience with Seren. Today.”

Author's Note:

Big thanks once again to the wonderful LNicol1990. Please check out her work if you've not done so already.

This chapter would not have happened without her love, understanding, patience and sharp stick,

Comments

[Try Hard]

Can't say I've ever seen a runescape crossover on here. Hmm

[GuthixianBrony]

6161031
Well, here's hoping that's a good thing.

[Constellation]

Yes! Finally more Runescape! I've been waiting so long now, I was just thinking about this story like two weeks ago, I was afraid you'd given up on it! So glad I was wrong! Can't wait for more!

[GuthixianBrony]

6189780
Eh. what can I say? I'm an awfully slow writer. On a lighter note, Lnicol1990 is working on a project she calls "Defining moments". More on that when it's closer to being published.

Glad you're enjoying my scribblings.

[Bronzer]

Ah, RuneScape. A game close to my heart. I started shortly after the original RuneScape changed over to 3D. One I have not played in years and I feel bad about that...