• Published 29th Dec 2011
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Night's Favoured Child - Municipal Engines



With her new apprenticeship under Nightmare Moon, Empress of Equestria and Queen of the Eternal Night, the orphan filly Twilight Sparkle plunges head-first into the conspiracies, secrets and intrigues of the Empire.

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The Sky in the Ceiling

Chapter Seven:
The Sky in the Ceiling

The Empress of Equestria, seated on her high throne of obsidian glass, scowled as a nonchalant Inquisitor hopped up onto the dais and settled into his own throne. The stallion looked up at her and flashed a sly grin. He seemed oblivious to the foul mood that was so plain on his ruler’s face. Oblivious or just deliberately ignoring it? she thought sullenly.

He lay back on his cushioned throne, hanging his hooves over the arm, and floated forward a teapot and a pair of cups from the tray at her side. “Cream and sugar?” he asked casually, as if nothing were amiss. Nightmare Moon didn’t reply. She usually used their customary weekly meetings to relax; even though the Inquisitorf was her subordinate and their discussions most often centred on domestic and foreign affairs, she usually used the time to take just a bit of a breather. Nightmare Moon found it easy to unwind during their talks. It was all just so familiar with the Inquisitor.

But tonight, their discussion would be far from casual. Nightmare took hold of hers and floated it up to her seat, setting it down beside her. At last, the Inquisitor spoke.

“Is something bothering you, Your Majesty?” he asked, flicking his gaze up to her. He took a sip from his tea.

“As a matter of fact, Inquisitor, something is,” she replied in a slightly bitter tone.

Setting his cup to the side, he regarded her with his full attention. The stallion’s face became apologetic and blithe. “And that would be?”

“I received word from the Rodorian embassy tonight.”

The Inquisitor scratched the back of his neck. “Ah…”

“‘Ah’ indeed,” Nightmare Moon narrowed her eyes. “He tells me that he would not take any more insults from the Equestrian government again and so they decided to expel several of our own ambassadors. I was forced to do the same in kind. What did you do, Inquisitor?”

The Inquisitor straightened up. “Nothing at all, Your Majesty! They made outrageous claims against sovereign Equestrian territory and I simply rebuffed them. The negotiations went nowhere and in the end they threw my delegation out.”

The Empress resisted the urge to pound her forehead with a hoof – such an action would be, though perfectly suitable for this situation, utterly unacceptable behaviour from a monarch. She let out a growling, irate sigh and fixed her eyes with the Inquisitor’s own dark orbs. This would be a stare that neither of them would flinch from, but she did it nonetheless. Protocol demanded she be intimidating in these situations. To counter her icy glare, the stallion draped a smile over his face so boyish and charming that it would melt the hearts of many mares throughout the world. But Nightmare Moon had seen it too many times to be impressed. There would be no flattering his way out of this, she decided.

“That meeting was supposed to be rapprochement between our peoples,” she said. “I have reports from the General Staff that the new diplomatic situation with the griffons is now fragile enough to warrant sending several legions to the northern border forts.”

“That’s good, I’ve always thought the northern outposts had been a bit lacking in horsepower. Some of them are quite literally abandoned ruins, so we could also invest in rebuilding eff–”

“Inquisitor!”

The ice in her voice wrenched the stallion from his musings. In truth, Nightmare Moon had barely raised herself above her usual speaking level, but it was enough for him to know that this was the time to be serious. He regarded her with full attention and an expression of invitation for her to talk.

“I sent you out there with a clear mission in mind. You failed that mission and now I am going to have problems with the griffons. Those problems will be yours, understood?”

“Understood, Your Majesty,” he muttered.

“And I expect you to give me a full report on the talks with the griffon Kings,” the mare said. “I don’t know why you haven’t got around to writing me one already.”

“I’ve been busy, Your Majesty,” the Inquisitor said. His voice sounded strained – she knew he hated explaining himself. I would have thought he would be used to it by now. “I apologise.”

Nightmare Moon sighed, her anger dissipating somewhat. “I expected better from you, Inquisitor.” He winced; it was one thing for her to be angry at him, and another to scold him like she would a misbehaving foal. “You’ve proved resourceful and efficient in the past. How could you have blundered so severely?”

“I must be getting old,” the grey unicorn mumbled.

Nightmare Moon sipped at her tea, a thoughtful crease settling on her forehead. It was definitely odd. The Inquisitor had never failed so spectacularly at something that should have been so simple as flattery and ingratiating humility. A foul thought came to her. Could it be that the Inquisitor meant to fumble the talks; to get back at her for sending him there in the first place? No. She shook away the insidious thought. No matter how far we go with our little games, the Inquisitor is far too intelligent and loyal to ever go that far. The Empress took another sip from her cup and tried to rid herself of her suspicions. But one question clung to her.

"Inquisitor...” she asked, her tone dangerously casual. “What gift did the griffons offer?"

“Pardon me, Empress?”

“The gift the griffons gave us,” she snapped, her voice suddenly as sharp as a knife. “We both know the griffons exchange gifts at every diplomatic meeting. So, what did they give us this time?” She raised an insistent brow.
The Inquisitor pressed his lips together tightly. “They gave us… a collection of first-edition tomes and scrolls from the founding of their kingdoms.”

“Oh, and where are they?” the Empress pressed.

The Inquisitor let out a breath of air. “In the Overwatch storage facility.”

Nightmare Moon sighed. “Did you really think you could keep them for yourself?”

“No, Your Majesty,” the stallion managed a smile. It eased the Empress somewhat. “I wouldn’t think to do that.”

“I should hope you wouldn’t. Well… now that that’s settled—” She gave him a glare that suggested this had better be the case. “—I’d like to just sit here and enjoy my tea.” She scowled down into her cup and finished the brown, soothing liquid with a single gulp. It was hot, but the faint burn down her throat felt purifying. As she prepared another cup, Nightmare Moon stole a glance at her chancellor, who was staring off across the room with a distant expression. It should have angered her more than it did, but she knew the Inquisitor was not one to be saddened or angry that he failed a task, or that she admonished him for it. He would fix it for her. He always did.

“How have you been, Inquisitor?” she asked suddenly after a long silence.

He turned to her, the usual insouciant grin once again playing on his face. “Busy, Empress, very busy. I’ve a meeting with some representatives from the Petriculturists’ Guild tomorrow.”

“Who is the Guild President these nights?” Nightmare Moon wondered aloud. “Last I recall, it was a stallion named Axe-something-or-other.”

“Mister Stone Axe is ill, Empress. The Vice President, Clyde Pie, will be heading the talks in his place.” The Inquisitor gave a small, good-humoured groan. “He’s very boring. Smart, knows a lot of facts, but he can go into detail and a when he gets talking, there’s no shutting him up. The last time I saw him, he talked for half an hour comparing metamorphic rocks of igneous and sedimentary origin. Agh, you see? I learned more than I ever wanted to know!”

“It sounds like you will have a fun night tomorrow,” the Empress smiled.

The Inquisitor raised an eyebrow and grimaced. “Indeed.”

“Don’t be so glum, Inquisitor, I myself am meeting with the heads of the Great Houses to discuss Twilight Sparkle.”
His ears cocked at this. “Oh? I haven’t been told about this.”

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Nightmare Moon shrugged. "The Houses have been uppity ever since they discovered an orphan filly is my protégée – Blueblood’s doing, no doubt. I am just gathering them together to clarify things. You do not have to come.”

“Oh but I want to, my queen,” he cooed, flashing his teeth in a juvenile grin. “After all, won’t it be best if I’m there at your side, backing your words?”

“Hmm… I suppose I can’t stop you if you wish to attend, but it really isn’t necessary,” she replied.

A knock sounded at the door, echoing throughout the throne room. Nightmare Moon readied herself for yet another interruption to her leisure time and called the pony in. One of the doors opened, allowing a pegasus into the chamber. Dressed in the creaseless leather uniform of the Imperial Overwatch with marsh-green fur peeking past the edges, Nightmare Moon recognised this pony as the Inquisitor’s right-hoof mare. Or should I say, his glorified secretary, she corrected herself. The mare bowed before the both of them. Nightmare Moon noticed the Blackcloak’s bow was lower for the Inquisitor than for her.

“What is it, Thundersong?” the Inquisitor asked.

“As per your wishes, Master, I am here to inform you that the colt Orion has arrived,” the mare said.

“Very well. You may leave,” the Inquisitor casually flicked a hoof, motioning to the door. Once more she bowed to the chancellor and the Empress and marched out of the throne room.

Nightmare Moon gave the stallion an arch look. “You are keeping tabs on my student?”

He returned the look with a lazy smile. “Empress, I keep tabs on everypony. It is my job, after all.”

“Still, this is unsettling, Inquisitor. I can understand the Overwatch taking precautions with the members of Parliament, but you need not bring such scrutiny on a foal who is in my care.”

“I understand, Your Majesty. I will be sure to limit my subordinates’ observations to what is only necessary to make sure Twilight is protected,” he lowered his head in a short bow.

“See that you do,” Nightmare Moon replied solemnly.

Her words may have seemed threatening, but her voice was not. She had learned quite some time ago that the Inquisitor did not respond to verbal threats or outright intimidation from her. Instead, there was a silent mutual understanding that she would find special ways to punish him should he displease her. As his pride was his most prized possession, such punishments were always degrading.

That thought returned the Empress to mulling over how she would punish the Inquisitor for his failure with the griffons. She could always saddle him with more work, but the unicorn seemed to have a limitless energy for such things. She didn’t even think he did much to relax besides spend time with her and read. Nightmare briefly wondered what hobbies the stallion had, but suppressed a shudder and quickly turned her thoughts elsewhere. The secrecy of the Overwatch spawned many a dark rumour which she did not desire to investigate. She shook her head and focussed on the consequences of his failure.

It was too great a mistake on his part for the equivalent of a stern talking-to and a cuff around the ear. The Empress of Equestria gathered what she knew of the Inquisitor. It was admittedly sparse; despite so many years of service she had lost count. He was a proud pony; Nightmare could always see the ever so subtle winces he gave whenever he was forced to accommodate the most obnoxious and aggravating of ponies. A smile came to the alicorn’s lips as she thought of at least one part of his punishment.

“Inquisitor,” she began, snapping the stallion out of his own contemplations. She briefly wondered what he could have been thinking before flicking the trivial question away. “I have decided that, as of tomorrow, you should really spend time making Twilight more comfortable around you and introducing her to palace life. As a result, I think it best that you should make yourself open to her. Encourage her to ask questions and find activities for the both of you while I am not available. If she needs anything, do not hesitate to personally accommodate her.”

The Inquisitor remained stoic as he heard this. “So I’m to be her personal assistant.”

“In addition to your other duties,” the Empress smirked. “And don’t think this will let you out of even a fraction of the mountain of extra work that will undoubtedly come our way.”

“Ancestors forbid,” he said, smirking back and rolling his eyes.

Nightmare Moon’s smile shrank as she closed her eyes and focused. Being magically attuned to the cycles of the moon – and certain other celestial bodies – she had an innate sense of time. Checking her internal clock, she nodded to herself and looked at the Inquisitor.

“I will slip out briefly to take young Orion to Twilight. I shall return in a few minutes,” she announced. The grey stallion simply bobbed his head and drank his tea.

Standing up, Nightmare Moon evaporated, allowing herself to fall into a cloud of ethereal indigo. She sped out through the cracks under the door and gusted through the corridors and rooms of the palace until she arrived at the entrance, where a young colt was waiting, supervised by one of the silver-clad guardsponies.

The smoke struck the ground in front of the colt and splashed against the floor, spreading and roiling up into a swirling, opaque cloud. Then the sparkling purple smoke parted and the Empress of Equestria appeared right before the eyes of the ponies mingling in and around the entrance to the palace. A collective jolt rippled through those gathered, save for the ever stoic guards, followed by a wave of bows; Nightmare Moon noted that the colt eyed her suspiciously as he did so – perhaps thinking she would not notice.

“You may all rise,” she said, forcing a smile to stop tugging at her lips. Nightmare Moon looked down at the earth pony colt.

He was a funny thing, rather large for his age as the Empress judged it. His light blue mane was scruffy and unkempt, its bristly hair slightly swept backwards; it had a somewhat bedraggled, coarse look. He was white, like a blizzard’s snow or a marble statue. But what struck the alicorn about him were his eyes. They were alert, wary, and with an icy blue gaze that was as cold as winter stone. She couldn’t help but stare at them, and the more she did so, the more they revealed. They could be soft and even handsome, she supposed, but they seemed to hide something – a mask of detachment thrown up by a mind that had seen too much far too early. The Empress wondered what they would look like when the colt was reunited with Twilight.

“I presume you are Orion.” She gave him no question to answer, only a statement.

The colt gave a short, barely-courteous bob of a bow. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Nightmare Moon smiled a false smile. Orion unsettled her; he seemed too cold, too defiant to be the type of pony she wanted to mingle with her student. Still, as long as Twilight’s happy with her friend, I shouldn’t really complain. She smirked at that. Who would I complain to, anyway? The Ancestors would find it petty and the Inquisitor would find it amusing.

Nightmare knew that she was seen as perhaps a little too authoritarian by some of her subjects, and those who thought so were usually polite enough to keep it to themselves. The colt moved stiffly, as if wary of revealing even a hint of his thoughts through his body language. Which itself revealed all too much. Could one so young see her in such a mistrustful light, or was he simply wary because he was in the presence of royalty? The Empress pushed these questions to the back of her mind.

“Twilight Sparkle is waiting for you in her room. Follow me, if you will,” Nightmare Moon said, and turned to lead the colt deeper into the palace.

==========

Twilight darted around her bedroom, making sure everything was spotless. Of course, Orion would care little for whether the room was tidy or not, but she doubted he would even be able to move for all the mess on the floor. Mountains of books, broken quills and paper – both scrunched up and intact – stood as testament to her latest bout of binge studying. Dirty plates were left stacked in the corner. Twilight stopped and glowered at the mess. Maids and servants usually cleaned all rooms of the palace, but Twilight had asked that nopony tidy hers after the first time they re-shelved all her reference material. It was a decision she already regretted.

Licking her lips, the foal closed her eyes and her brows knitted in concentration. She knew she always made funny faces when she focused hard on a spell, but she couldn’t help it. Spending any thought on keeping her face calm just made the magic that much harder! A spark of magic flashed and the books all rose. Dividing her focus between dozens of different objects was difficult, but her practice sessions with the Empress had demanded far more of her. In quick succession, Twilight slotted the books into the shelves without regard to which belonged where. Tomes that had been brought over from the library were quickly and sneakily stacked them underneath the bed. I’ll take them back later, she promised silently. Twilight turned and stared at the scattered papers, and then at the clock. They followed the books under the bed, though Twilight offered them a murmured apology.

The dirty dishes slid into a cupboard where she prayed she wouldn’t forget them. Just as she finished making her bed (so much easier with magic!), there was a string of knocks at her door. “Come in!” she called.

Empress Nightmare Moon swept into the room, but Twilight had eyes only for the familiar white and blue colt peering between her hocks. A smile spread across his lips and his eyes twinkled for a moment with an emotion that Twilight could have sworn looked like relief.

“Orion!” the filly whinnied. Nightmare Moon took a quick step out of the way, giving a bemused snort as Twilight scampered up to him and pressed her neck to Orion’s in a warm, excited embrace. “Hey, Twilight,” the earth pony replied. The purple foal stepped back from him with a happy grin that stretched ear to ear. The Empress drew the beaming little unicorn’s eye as she turned to leave.

“Well, I think I can leave you two on your own,” the obsidian alicorn said. “If you need anything, Twilight, don’t hesitate to ask the servants. I, on the other hoof, will be busy for the rest of the night.”

“Yes, Empress; thank you, Empress,” Twilight chirped.

Nightmare Moon nodded and evaporated into a cloud of sparkling purple and streamed out of the room, drawing the door closed in her wake. Twilight and Orion were left alone.

“So... how have you been?” the filly began.

Shrugging, the colt gave his monosyllabic reply; “Fine.”

“Up to much since I, um, left?”

“Not really. Just studying,” he said. “It’s been kind of boring without you to talk to. Nopony else really shares my interests.”

“Don’t you have a new roommate?” asked Twilight.

“No, I asked Miss Loch if I could have a room on my own,” Orion let out a small, good-humoured huff. “She wasn’t very enthusiastic, but she came around eventually.”

An uncomfortable lull settled over the conversation. Twilight wracked her brain for any news that was new to Orion, but they had conversed so much through letters that little was left which he hadn’t heard before. Orion had been less forthcoming about his own life, though. Not that she expected life at the orphanage to suddenly become exciting behind her back, but she groped for a topic to at least get them talking again.

“So… how are things back at the home?” she asked. “Have you had any trouble from Blitz?”

"Oh, he and his lot have gone back to picking on everypony, but it's not so bad.” The colt shrugged the subject off. “How about you? You seem to be doing well."

“Yes, I’m very good, thanks. I have plenty to do,” Twilight grinned as she sucked in a deep breath of air. “There’s so much to read. The library is like a maze! You should see it, Orion. They probably have every kind of book ever written there. The shelves are really tall and they go on for miles. It’s about four floors, and they’re all packed with so many books! There’re always so many ponies there, but they all seem to be really clever – although I never talk to them – and they don’t make a sound. It’s really quiet and cosy; you’d love it!”

Orion stared for a few heartbeats, then snickered. "Yes, I think you might have mentioned something about that in your letters! Honestly, Twilight, have you even seen the rest of the castle?"

“Um.” She blinked and hesitated, scuffing the carpet with her hoof as her cheeks heated.

Orion’s eyes widened. "What, you really haven’t?!"

"Well, I've attended a couple of sessions of Parliament with the Empress, but they turned out to be kind of boring. The gardens are nice though, and there are... um… offices," the filly smiled pathetically.

"What about the chamber of the crown jewels? The Skylight Spire? The art galleries?"

Twilight shook her head. “No, I, uh… I guess I didn't think to."

“What about the observatory?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She silently shook her head, hunching down toward the floor.

Orion rolled his eyes. “Honestly Twilight, I would have thought that’d be the first thing you go to – aside from the library.”

“I have a perfectly good telescope already,” the little lavender unicorn objected, pointing to the tripod set up on the balcony.

“I guess you do,” Orion gave her a small smile. “How about we join one of those tours you used to beg Miss Loch to take you on?”

Twilight slapped a hoof against her forehead. “Of course. Why didn’t I do that earlier?”

“I can’t imagine,” the colt deadpanned, casting a meaningful glance toward the walls full of books.

Twilight giggled and followed him out the door, then moved into the lead as her horn glowed to close the door behind her. She led the way through the maze of the palace halls. It was easy to get lost, but Twilight knew several routes well; a circuit flowing through the reception hall, the kitchens, the feasting hall, the throne room and the library, then back to the Residential Wing. Twilight was sure that was less than a tenth of the entire complex. As she passed, a longcase clock in the corridor solemnly bonged eleven o’clock. “Oh, no,” she groaned. “We missed it! Now we’ll have to wait a whole hour for the next one.”

“Come on, everypony! Gather ‘round!” a cheerful mare’s voice cried from a side hallway. Twilight and Orion traded a glance, grinned, and dashed off down the corridor toward the guide.

They halted where their hall met a vast, vaulted arcade lined with tall windows that let in the bright moonlight. A knot of ebullient foals and their long-suffering parents clustered before an earth pony mare the colour of a lemon with a curly blue mess of a mane. She beamed a pleasant smile while the adults shushed excited youngsters, then began her spiel in the sing-song tones that adults sometimes used to patronise children.

“You are currently standing in the Empress’s Gallery, which runs from the Royal Apartments to the Throne Room. As the name suggests, this is the route our beloved Empress takes every night to begin court.”

“Nuh-uh,” Twilight muttered as the guide went on to point out the frescoed ceiling. “She usually teleports so she doesn’t have to talk to Duke Blueblood.” Orion gave a flat-faced huff of a laugh. Then they peered up at the intricate painting above them. Apparently the pegasus artist had done it all while standing upside-down on the roof.

“We will end our tour,” the guide finished, “at the Royal Apartments, but for now, we proceed to the Throne Room itself. Keep up, please!”

As the group started off again, the young pair of foals slipped in at the back. The tour guide launched into a brief history of the castle, pointing out busts and paintings as they walked. Sketchy as the account was, to Twilight’s delight, she had heard little of it before. She knew the city’s general history from books, but classes at the foster home were disconcertingly lacking in proper academic studies. As far as Twilight was concerned, learning about cutie marks, social skills and “life lessons for foals” did not count as a true education.

The filly continued to pass snippets of personal experience to Orion as they walked. For his part, he held his tongue and nodded along with both the guide and her own whispers. The throne room, impressive as it might be, was old news to Twilight. Her eyes rose to the gallery, picking out the spot where she’d sat playing with her hooves for most of an hour, bored out of her skull while Duke Blueblood pontificated. Orion, for his part, looked all around with his usual blank expression except for a faint crease between his brows.

After that, a winding course up stairs and across bridges left Twilight as completely lost as the tourists. The guide was just finishing her tale of how the House of Blueblood, last surviving branch of the royal Platinum Dynasty of Unicornia, had gifted the castle of Canterlot to Nightmare Moon when the group came upon a large door to their left. It was massive and old and looked to be very important. If the elaborate, detailed carvings hadn’t hinted that to Twilight, then the large, equally ornate lock did. The yellow mare stopped abruptly and motioned to the door.

“This door marks the start of a passageway that leads deep into the mountain to the Hesperidium, the magical subterranean garden that was planted by an alicorn prince named Discus as a gift to his lover,” she said. “It is said that it was part of the many tasks he was given by his lover’s father, who wanted the young prince to prove he was worthy to court his daughter. He commanded Discus to find him an item brighter than the stars that grew from a child of a skyless land. So Discus dug a tunnel into Canterlot Mountain and found a natural wellspring of magic, where he planted a grove of enchanted apple trees that grow shining golden apples to this very night!”

The pregnant pause after the mare finished speaking let the group realise that they could ask questions. One grey, straight-maned earth filly put up a hoof.

“Yes dear?”

“Why is it locked? Can’t we go that way?” she asked.

“Excellent question! It is locked because the fruits are powerfully magical. Thieves have tried to steal them before, but without much success. For security’s sake, only the Empress is allowed beyond this door, and Her Majesty keeps the only key.” There was a collective groan in the crowd and the tour guide resumed her path to the crown jewels. “Moving on!” The grey filly hesitated, stretching out a hoof to lightly brush the surface of the door, then snatched it back and scurried after her mother.

The path took the group to the edge of the cliff and beyond, into towers that teetered miraculously over empty space. Several of the foals hesitated, peeking over the edges while the guide explained how enchantments held the structure together. Twilight flicked a glance toward Orion and strutted ahead, affecting an indifferent air in spite of the butterflies in her stomach. Still, she was glad when the guide led them back inside where she could pretend there was solid stone beneath her.

Wood, ancient and faded, dominated the place; no marble or granite tiles here. Beams and finely carved arches bespoke an area of the castle that was more reserved in character, but no less proud to be part of the Imperial Palace. The sense of ponderous antiquity, like an old grey mare with a lifetime of stories to tell, lent the place the feel of a museum.

In fact, that was exactly what it was. Display cases, plaques and paintings crowded the interior of the tower like nobles vying to stand as close as possible to their Empress, the Crown Jewels of Equestria. Several guards clad in steel and silver were posted there too, standing vigilant watch over the precious treasures of the monarchy. The sky-blue-haired mare whirled theatrically to face her followers.

“Here we are, the Crown Jewels Exhibits!” she cried in that sing-song voice that was beginning to irritate Twilight. “Please, feel free to wander around and take a gander. I’ll be right here if anypony has questions.”

Twilight and Orion split off toward the displays of jewelry and clothing. She was nearly blinded by the riot of sparkling colors and glittering metal shining from each display case. Every piece had so much history behind it. The plaques and pamphlets on every display called to the lavender filly like a choir of sirens. Wide-eyed with all the new information she could learn, Twilight giddily dashed to the nearest display.

One of these displays was the usual cases of jewellery taken from absorbed nations and the states of old. Among them was the Crown of Unicornia, with its white fur rim and broad, spade-shaped tines set with massive spherical amethysts. The Bluebloods, as Nightmare Moon had told Twilight, were constantly clamouring for the crown to be given to them as the “rightful heirs of the Unicornian throne”; a long-dead position. Beside it, incongruous in its spartan simplicity, was the iron war helmet of the Archons of ancient Pegasopolis; a bit of gold trim and a crest of stiff charcoal hair from the first Archon’s tail were its only concessions to ostentation. Finally, a velvet pillow bore a golden oval brooch, rather simplistic save for the crossed sickle and hammer of the now-defunct Old Earther Confederacy: the Chancellor’s symbol of office.

When she looked up from the Chancellery Brooch, Twilight realised that Orion was no longer beside her – he was two displays over, ogling a weapon. She rolled her eyes. Boys. The unicorn trotted over to the white colt, lightly brushing against him to get his attention. He turned to her, practically glowing with a small, tight smile.

“Look at that,” he said, nodding to the massive sword, which was encrusted with sapphires and white gold. The blade gleamed in the light, sharp as a hot razor. “It was given to the Empire as a peace offering from the griffons.”

“Are most of the Crown Jewels gifts?” Twilight asked.

“I think so,” he shrugged. “At least, all the interesting bits are.”

They shuffled over to the adjacent display, yet another gift. This time it was a peytral; a smooth slab of dark grey steel, rimmed with black-purple obsidian. No gold or fancy gemstone adorned it. The donators were the Konnicans, a nation of hardy ponies with a complex hierarchy and honour system. The dark piece of armour seemed fitting for such a warlike people. She skimmed the rest of the plaque, but an exotic piece of jewellery in the next display case caught her eye and she trotted over to get a better look.

This one was a wide, thick choker of heavy rose gold, the coppery metal inscribed with exotic zigzags and geometric patterns. Tiny rubies dotted the outer circumference, though numerous vacant sockets made it seem unfinished.

“This traditional royal necklace was gifted to Her Imperial Majesty by the ancient Sky-Fire Empire at the height of its power on the Zebrican continent. The most powerful and well-known ruler of this nation was Pharaoh Mbingu-hii-Machungu the Great, who wore the necklace into battle and added a ruby for every city-state he conquered. There are over a hundred in this piece,” Twilight read.

Orion leaned over to the plaque and after quickly scanning the Pharaoh’s name, said, “I did a report on him for extra credit in history.” He grinned. “His name is Zebrican for ‘heavens, this hurts’.”

Twilight looked at him, her eyebrows knitting in puzzlement. “Why was he called that?”

“Because that’s what his mother shouted when she was giving birth,” Orion blithely replied, eliciting a small giggle from the filly. One display rather unique amidst the precious metals and sparkling jewels drew her attention.

The display consisted only of two ponyquins dressed in elegant, shimmering gowns. One shone gold like the light of a lamp in the darkest hours of evening, while the other seemed to glow with its own soft light the colour of the Dull Moon. Both were oddly simple; their only decorations were swirling embroidery like the stylised branches of a leafy tree.

“Formal gowns,” Twilight read aloud from the plaque, “gold silk and spider silk with silver threads. These gowns were spun by the deer-folk as a gift to Her Imperial Majesty from the White Hart, Eternal Protector of the Forests and Great Prince of Cervidia.” She had never heard of this ‘White Hart’, so she made a mental note to read up on Cervidia or at least ask Nightmare Moon about him.

After reading her fill – a fascinating explanation of what the silkworms and spiders fed upon to create such thread, followed by some dressmaking details that only a fashionista would find interesting – Twilight moved on. The two continued through the exhibit, taking in the sights and calling one another’s attention to the items on display. They admired a shining platinum sceptre from Gallopfrey, apparently used for the occasion when the Empress would judge a case personally during Open Court. Orion seemed to take a macabre interest in the Gilded Horns of the last Bovini Autocrat. Twilight was split between horror and fascination as the earth pony explained how the golden horn-covers were taken as a trophy after the Empire of Equestria intervened to end the tyrant’s bloody, expansionist regime.

He was about to go into the unpleasant, exact details of how Minos the Mad would publicly roast his enemies in hollow bronze statues of himself when Twilight quickly sidled over to the next exhibit, hurriedly pointing out the strange drinking horn shaped like a snarling wolf. According to the plaque, it was a gift from the wolf-god Fenrir, lord of the faraway Canids, to commemorate the fifth century of the Empire’s existence.

“They actually managed to defeat a dragon that big?” Orion gasped as Twilight queasily read that it was carved from an actual dragon fang. I’ve never even heard of Fenrir before, she thought, swallowing her revulsion. I’ll have to find some books on world history tomorrow and see what these plaques are leaving out.

The two moved on down a long display case of smaller jewellery, mostly gifts from lesser states that were eventually absorbed into Equestria. Though they glittered and shone beautifully within their protective cases, they were a bit underwhelming after the earlier treasures. A large, golden orb on a pedestal caught her eye, however. Raised letters of the Ancient Equine tongue circled the equator. The words, according to the information kindly provided by the palace museum, translated as, “Salt of the Realm within the Aegis Globe”. It’s just a description of what the object is! The plaque told Twilight that soil from all provinces of Equestria – including some cloudstone from Cloudsdale – was packed inside that golden orb. Twilight remembered the Inquisitor mentioned it during one of their few conversations as something he had to place his hoof on during his inauguration as chancellor. It obviously had symbolic value, but for the moment the symbolism was lost on Twilight.

The colt and the filly stepped through a doorless archway into the final exhibition room. This chamber, unlike the rest, held only two display cases with plenty of room for ponies to crowd around. Each one was flanked by the intimidating pegasi of Nightmare Moon’s personal Honour Guard. They had identical coats of murky grey and catlike yellow eyes, but their most startling feature was their batlike wings. The Empress had assured her that the guards’ signature purple armour carried a suite of illusion and transformation spells which created their strange, identical appearance, and while it was comforting to know they were really just normal ponies, they still made her uneasy.

Even without the presence of Equestria’s elite warriors, Twilight could tell right away that the contents of this room were special. Twilight had been undergoing training with Nightmare Moon to enhance not just her endurance and mental skills, but also her natural ability to sense magic. Although all unicorns had it; most would not feel so much as a faint tickle. One had to practice their magical reception of spells and enchanted artefacts to get anything stronger. A sensation of raw, unbridled power struck her from both cases; a combined magical emanation as intense and overwhelming to her magical sense as a bolt of lightning was to the eye.

Tentatively, she took a step towards the display case on the left, peering at the objects within. They were two simple rings. The bands were tall and not perfectly cylindrical, but angled, like a cone that had its top cut off and the middle carved out. They were obviously meant as horn-rings, the quaint jewellery traditionally presented to unicorns as symbols of marriage or engagement. But no unicorn she knew could wear these; they were clearly made to fit… Oh, my stars. The only horn that could fit them tonight belongs to the Empress herself! The magic radiated from them like heat from a fire, playing against her body as she leaned in close. It was a strange powerful, intoxicating feeling. Each ring was set with a diamond, and if she squinted and pressed her nose right up against the glass, she could make out a light dancing within each gem.

No, not a light, she realised. A star!

Shimmering inside the diamonds of the horn-rings was a pair of tiny but unmistakably real stars. Desperate to understand, Twilight scrambled to the plaque. It told part of the legend of the Discus Romance and how, after completing his labours, the alicorn harnessed the power of the universe itself to create a binary pair of stars, shrank them to the size of a horsefly, and trapped them. The alicorn prince presented one to his lover as he proposed. Twilight would have normally been sceptical of such a story, but the evidence was right in front of her. They must have taken an unthinkable amount of magical ability to craft. Just thinking of the power required to perform such a feat made her feel tiny and feeble; as great as her potential might be, her own abilities were insignificant in the face of magic that could bend stars to its will.

Twilight shuddered and shifted to the next case, the final piece of the Crown Jewels. What could this case hold to warrant sharing a room with the Star Rings? The answer did not disappoint. They were a pair of crowns. Not too elaborately shaped; no arches or hoops or large, jutting pieces like those in the main exhibit room. They were simple, understated circlets. They were intricately engraved – extraordinary amount of detail was put into the patterns on the rims – but any gemstone or precious metal in Equestria would seem like filth to be scrubbed off of them. The crowns were made of a strange, alien material that Twilight could barely describe, like streamers of light made solid. One crown shimmered with translucent whites and blues and silvers, while the other burned red and yellow and gold. They both literally shone. Light and purity poured from them as if they were looking-glasses to the heavenly pastures of the Eternal Herd. Twilight felt the raw magic from them burning through the glass. Unlike the Star Rings, whose magical sensation was subtle and comforting, these crowns’ fields of magic were raw and cleansing. It put the filly simultaneously in mind of a hard rain, a winter windstorm, and a roaring bonfire.

The allegedly-descriptive plaque only left her with more questions. These circlets were the fiery Imperial Crown and the tranquil Crown of State: the Great Twin Crowns of Equestria. Not even Nightmare Moon wore these; they were purely symbolic and went unused. Twilight briefly wondered, were one to wear one of these crowns, if it wouldn't burn right through their skull. The plaque mentioned that these relics were made from solid magic, but not much else. It did not say how they were made, nor did it tell her what ‘solid magic’ was. Her excitement marred by a vague dissatisfaction, Twilight turned and exited the room. She drifted over to a display of some bejewelled gold slippers, barely glancing at the plaque to note that they were a gift from some princess named Cadence."

Orion joined her after a few more moments, nudging her with his shoulder. “Did you enjoy that?” he asked.

She nodded distractedly, her mind still on the powerful items that lay behind them.

“Are you all right? You looked kind of mesmerised in there.” The earth pony gave her another nudge.

She nodded more forcefully as she snapped back to the present. “Yes, sorry! I’m fine. It was just… kind of overwhelming.”

“I know what you mean,” Orion said as they trotted through the rest of the exhibits. After the rings and the crowns, treasures of mere gold and gems could do little to hold their interest. “I’ve never seen anything like them before. Something about that room made my hooves itch, though,” he added.

She stared at him for a long second. “You didn’t feel that?”

“Feel what?”

“The magic! The rings and the crowns, they were so full of—” She stopped short as Orion pointedly tapped the tip of her horn with his hoof. “Right. Of course. Sorry…”

“So, what’s next?” the colt asked, giving a perfunctory glance to the enchanted hornblade worn by Queen Beryl of Unicornia. “Stick with the tour, or…?”

Twilight shrugged. “I don’t know what could compare after… that,” she replied and nodded back over her shoulder. “I want to do some reading about solid magic and Prince Discus, but that can wait till after you’ve gone home.”

Orion leaned closer, dropping his voice to a murmur. “How would you like to see the Hesperidium? As in, actually go in there?”

“Oh, that would be amazing!” Twilight beamed, trying to imagine the ancient, magical mysteries that lay behind that door. The door, she remembered, right. “Except it was locked, remember? Nopony is allowed to go in.”

Orion nodded, his face still mostly impassive save for the small, knowing grin rising on his lips. “But the Empress has the key, remember?”

“Well, it’s actually the master key for pretty much the whole castle. She used it once to show me the restricted section in the library.”

“And she’s out all night, isn’t she?” Orion continued, his grin becoming wider and more devious.

Realisation dawned on the little filly. “Are you–” she quickly lowered her voice to a whisper and leaned in to the colt. “Are you suggesting we take the key from her room?”

“It’s just a thought, Twilight,” Orion shrugged. “I mean, if we find it, go to the golden apple orchard and get it back before she returns home, she’d never know.”

“But… but she’s the Empress!” Twilight gave a hushed cry. “And that’s stealing.”

“If you want, think of it like borrowing without permission. Nopony will get hurt as long as we give it back before it’s missed,” the earth pony gave her a reassuring smile. “Besides, don’t you want to see the Hesperidium? Don’t you want to know what magic the apples can do? What secrets they have?”

“Well… yes… but I don’t want to risk getting in trouble with the Empress just because I’m curious,” she countered.

“You won’t get in trouble. We can be extra careful.” He seemed extremely keen on the idea. “Think of it like an adventure. Haven’t you ever wanted to go on an adventure before?”

“Life isn’t like those books you read,” Twilight rolled her eyes. “Normal, sane ponies don’t run around having adventures all the time. Nopony battles hydras and faces dragons as night-to-night activities.”

“Come on, Twilight! We’re never going to get this opportunity again. How would you feel if you missed this one chance to have some excitement, to find out about something truly special?” he said, his voice thick with wonder. “Nightmare Moon is busy the entire night and won’t think to check up on us. We’ll be free, in this one window of opportunity, to discover the secrets of the Hesperidium.”

For all her objections, Twilight was seriously considering it. She didn’t like the idea of invading Nightmare Moon’s private space, let alone stealing something from her. But Orion sounded so sure, so confident in his plan. He made the whole idea sound exciting and epic. Twilight really did want to go and discover the “secrets of the Hesperidium”. What could she find down there? What do the fruits do? Besides, if Nightmare Moon doesn’t know about it, and we return the key to the exact same place we found it, then who’d be any wiser? Orion had a level head; he was okay with the idea, so why was she worrying? He wouldn’t let anything go wrong.

“All right, but we do this as quickly as we can,” she said.

Orion grinned and nodded. Twilight was surprised to feel a little leap in her chest at the earth pony’s open display of emotion. He was usually so withdrawn and stoic. Perhaps all he needs is some excitement, some adventure? He certainly loved those books with perilous journeys and swashbuckling heroes like the Gallopreyan explorer-adventurer Shetland Quartermane or the questing Konnican warrior Bay Wolf.

Soon the tour guide called her group together. Twilight and Orion rejoined the small crowd.

==========

The tour guide nattered over minute details of the palace’s history, but Twilight was no longer listening. She turned Orion’s plan over and over in her head. She’d already had second thoughts by the time the tour returned to solid ground; as they approached the residential wing, she’d made it all the way up to fifth or sixth thoughts. If we’re caught, her pessimistic nature warned, I’ll no longer be welcome at the palace, that’s for sure. I might even be put in prison! She gulped. What about Orion? It was his idea, so he’ll probably be banished. I can’t let them do that to him! I’ll say it was my fault, which I suggested we do it. Hopefully Nightmare Moon will be more merciful to me than she would be to him.

Caught by who? her curiosity insisted. There’s nopony here to do the catching!

“Here we are in the Residential Wing of the palace,” the tour guide announced. Twilight snapped out of her reverie to realise they had stopped, and she knew where they were. The vast, stone tile-floored atrium was quite familiar. The tour guide swept her leg in a wide arc to take in the cavernous room and the long hallways that radiated from it. “These are the apartments of government officials and nobles who have been granted the right to live at the palace. Many are currently at their estates for the summer growing season, but others remain here year-round.” Each door was marked with the name and position of its resident, and a few were graced with grand double doors emblazoned with the family crests of particular important personages.

She gestured to the great, arching doors emblazoned with the image of Nightmare Moon holding the moon aloft, flanked by a pair of identical purple-armoured unicorns, standing as still and silent as golems. They had the tell-tale cat eyes and grey coats of Canterlot’s elite. “Behind me is the entrance to the Royal Apartments complex, the very home of our illustrious ruler, Empress Nightmare Moon. This part of the palace is private, and only royal family members are allowed in without a specific invitation. The Honour Guard protects these doors at all times. So before you ask, no, I can’t give you a tour.” She laughed a practised laugh.

“Shall we?” Orion said.

Twilight grinned, and together they trotted forward past the guide. “I just said you’re not allowed—” the mare began, but then the guards’ horns flashed and the doors swung open before Twilight and Orion.

“Thank you,” Twilight chirped as she strutted past. She couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder and barely holding in laughter at the dumbstruck expression on their guide’s face. Her jaw hung slack, and her left eye twitched just a little as Twilight added, “Thank you for the tour!”

Just before the doors boomed shut, one of the foals piped up, “I wanna go next!”

Twilight trotted ahead, bubbling with giggles, while Orion followed with his small smirk of amusement.

Laughter stopped soon enough, though, as the filly recalled the enormity of their task here. They stopped in front of the ornate entry opposite Twilight’s own room. “Is this it?” Orion asked. Twilight nodded in reply.

Orion flashed a grin and, after a brief check down the hall, peeled open one of the doors. Twilight crept up next to him, jittery with excitement in spite of the knot of worried guilt bubbling acid in her stomach. She had always wondered what the Empress’s room looked like. If hers was so fabulous, then the Nightmare’s must be unparalleled! Her imagination was alight with images of silks and marbles and precious metals washing over the room. Perhaps even the ceiling was studded with diamonds – like the stars in the sky. She could see the chandelier in her mind, expertly crafted from white gold in the shape of the moon. Unable to contain herself any longer, she put her front hooves on his back and thrust her head forward, peeking into the room over his brushy mane.

Instead of the marbles and precious metals, the floors were a simple carpet – a soft, dusky shade of violet not unlike the streak in her own hair. The walls were a muted midnight blue that seemed chosen specifically to swallow up firelight. There were furnishings and shelves similar to those in Twilight’s own room, and firewood was laid but unlit in a small, quite plain fireplace. Paintings, strangely simplistic and quaint, depicted nothing more exotic than parts of Equestria in different seasons. A couple of portraits of alicorns hung on the wall above the hearth. One was a stallion, white with a mane of blazing red, and the other a mare with a coat of steel blue and silver hair that flowed like liquid. But for the colours and the furniture, it could have been a twin to Twilight’s own room.

Twilight comforted herself that the bed, at least, was almost as opulent as she had imagined. A shroud of translucent curtains hung around the bed like silken leaves drooping from a willow tree, tied back to reveal a strange, round, almost basket-like piece of furniture. She was irreverently reminded of an overgrown pet bed. Though it lacked the sort of decorations the crown jewels had primed her to expect, it was piled with plush, silky (and rather rumpled) velvet covers, and its four pillows, though disappointingly plain, looked as soft as clouds.

“Twi, look,” Orion said, gaping as he craned his neck back. “It’s full of stars.”

An endless field of stars and nebulae hung above their heads in place of a ceiling. The walls reached up to vanish into darkness – whether it was some black mist that blotted out the roof, or if by some enchantment the room really did open onto the infinite depths of space, Twilight wasn’t sure. The centrepiece of the display was the ghostly image of the moon. The image was perfect in every detail, but unlike the unthinkably distant orb in the sky, it drifted just feet above her head, like a toy ball suspended in the air. Twilight fought the urge to try and reach it, to touch the surface of the shining orb that hung in the middle of the ceiling.

She could have happily sat and stared at the glorious reflection of the sky until Nightmare Moon returned, but her native caution and worry quickly overwhelmed the wonder. She pushed the door closed with her magic. Orion jolted as if a hypnotist had suddenly clopped his hooves to release the colt from a trance. “We should get moving,” she smiled nervously at the white colt.

“Oh! Yeah, right. Sorry.” Orion shook himself and blinked hard. “The key. Where would she keep that?” The pair moved on into the room, tiptoeing as if afraid to disturb the silence of the Empress’s empty room. Taking great care not to leave any trace of their presence, they got to work.

As it turned out, the key was in the second place Twilight looked – the top drawer of a chest of drawers, tucked in beside rows upon rows of socks. Odd, Twilight had never seen the Empress wear such clothes. Slowly, she picked up the key, memorising its exact position within the drawer, and turned to Orion. The white colt was about to look in a closet when Twilight hissed, “I found it! Let’s go!”

They beat a hasty retreat from the forbidden room and closed the door as silently as they could. Twilight made a quick detour to her room to grab what she felt were adventuring essentials – a compass, fifty feet of twine (since she didn’t have any rope handy), two bottles of water, a few granola bars, and a third edition copy of 'The Complete Manual of Monsters’. She packed everything into her saddlebags, tucking the key in its own pouch for safekeeping.

“Got everything you want?” Orion asked. She nodded. “Good.”

The foals were off again, speeding neck-and-neck down the halls of the castle like Spitfire and Nightshade at the last Canterlot Derby. They burst through the doors, drawing startled looks from the unicorns on guard there, and raced on through the Residential Wing. The tour guide and her group had disappeared, leaving the halls feeling rather deserted. Twilight led the way back through the winding, confusing passages of the palace, retracing the tour’s route since she was still afraid that she might make a wrong turn and end up in a creepy or forbidden part of the castle. Instead, you’re making a deliberate effort to find a different forbidden and possibly creepy part of the castle, her subconscious cynic reminded her.

The foals slowed to a trot, then stopped before the ornate, foreboding door to the Hesperidium. Orion looked to Twilight, his jaw set. “Are you ready for this?”

She nodded. “Let’s do it.”

They glanced up and down the corridor, making certain they were unobserved. Then Twilight fished the key out of her saddlebags and hurriedly jammed it into the keyhole. It turned easily; a rewarding click signalled that the door was unlocked. Twilight gave the strange, round, button-like latch a push and the door clicked and swung slowly inward. The foals scurried into the dim passageway at once and pushed the door closed behind them.

Twilight saw ahead of her nothing but a stone tunnel. It sloped ever so slightly downwards, running straight ahead into the heart of the mountain. The unicorn filly decided this would be an ideal time to practice her magic and cast a simple light spell. The tip of her horn glowed intensely, lighting the way ahead like a torch.

Ahead, the tunnel’s insatiable darkness greedily swallowed her feeble light, and with each step she could feel the mounting weight of untold tons of stone and oceans of time above her. How many eons had it been since Prince Discus hewed this tunnel with the same overwhelming magic that stole two stars from the very sky? How long since any hoof but Nightmare Moon’s had trod this path? Twilight swallowed, immediately unsure about the whole endeavour, her doubts rising up even stronger than before. What if there’s something really bad at the end of this tunnel? Her mind buzzed with all the possible dangers. What if it’s a labyrinth and we get lost forever? What if one of us breaks a leg or gets trapped or—

Her eyes dropped to her saddlebags and the pouch with its innocuous, barely-noticeable bulge. Even once someone misses us, no one will ever think to look for us here. She felt her knees begin to tremble. No one will even be able to get in to look for us, because we have the only key. We’ll be trapped here forever and ever and nopony will ever find our bodies and—

Twilight shook her head to shoo away the morbid thoughts and tried to take one more step, then stopped, unable to force her hooves any farther. She gasped for air and her legs shook uncontrollably, threatening to dump her on the floor if they didn't bolt back up the tunnel and drag her along for the ride.

Then Orion's shoulder pressed up against hers. "Don't worry, Twi," the older colt said, flashing one of his rare reassuring smiles. "I'll make sure nothing happens to you."

Twilight startled, nearly bolted then and there, but the simple touch of another pony began to banish her imagined terrors. The mountain ceased to press down on her, and the darkness gradually seemed to lose its hungry quality. Her trembling gradually stopped. "If you say so..." she hedged, but the promise did make her feel a little better. She returned an uncertain grin and took another step.

Side by side, they walked onward into the deep.

==========

Chatter echoed out of the Grand Chamber of Parliament as the doors opened to the Inquisitor's magic. The Parliament was not in session, but the front benches still groaned under the weight of dozens of ponies. The crowd was a mixed bag of unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies, but all were equally slaves to current fashion trends. The stallions' fine suits and robes were ruined by gaudy sashes, and the mares seemed to be waging a war to see who could still walk under the most cumbersome dress. Both sexes glittered with jewellery displayed not to accent appearance, but to flaunt their ability to acquire it. The most reserved of them all was the Duke of Canterlot, Prince Blueblood. He wore a simple (but nonetheless immaculate) suit of dark satin and a red sash bearing only a pair of medals and the crest of his House. Of course, the Inquisitor's own plain black leather made even the Duke look downright ostentatious.

The aristocrats' chatter ceased instantly as Nightmare Moon entered the Parliament chamber with the Inquisitor at her side. He peeled off to take the chancellor's seat in the centre of the floor, while the Empress strode to the far end and ascended the dais there to settle in the rarely-used throne. She gazed at them dispassionately, as if she had resigned herself to an unpleasant task. Indeed, she had ranted at some length about it to the Inquisitor, but it was necessary for the noble Houses to understand that Twilight Sparkle was here to stay. A good thing, too, he thought. The girl is perfectly malleable and owes loyalty to nopony. She will make a fine tool when the time comes. Besides, she’s such a little darling. The curves of his lips twitched in a deeper grin before quickly settling back down into his usual, reserved smirk.

Nightmare Moon inclined her head to him, and the Inquisitor in turn nodded to the chamberlain, who banged his gavel for attention – as though there had been a peep since she entered. “My lords and ladies,” he announced formally. “Hark ye now to the word of Her Imperial Majesty, Nightmare Moon of Equestria!”

The Empress cleared her throat and spoke in a clear, regal tone. “I have gathered you here to discuss the rumours that are circulating about a certain personal student and protégée of mine.” She let the words sink in for a moment before continuing. “They are, for the most part, true.”

Nightmare Moon paused as a murmur rippled through the gathered ponies, their faces demonstrating a spectrum of reactions. Some were visibly frustrated, others confused. The Inquisitor’s eyes met with those of Duke Blueblood, who looked on with unflappable aplomb. Naturally, since the Inquisitor had personally introduced him to the filly. He was doubtless here to try and pressure Nightmare Moon into granting the nobility some kind of compensation for what they perceived as an insult. Or what they thought they could get away with pretending they perceived as an insult, if they could get some compensation out of it. The vultures. The ashen stallion’s ears pricked up as the Empress's resonant voice continued.

“Earlier this month, I discovered a filly with great magical potential. Some of you may have felt the surge of thauamaturgical energies–” this elicited nods from several of the unicorns in the chamber “–which was what attracted me to the location of a little unicorn named Twilight Sparkle. She was lost in an uncontrolled Flare, and an incredibly powerful one at that.”

The hushed chatter returned at that. The Inquisitor could see a number of unicorns in the audience explaining to their fellows that Flares were an exceedingly rare event and few unicorns were powerful enough for their raw magical energy to exceed their ability to control it. There was also a good deal of consternation over anything that the world's sole alicorn would describe as 'incredibly powerful'.

The Empress raised a hoof for silence, and received it. “So I took Twilight Sparkle under my wing for apprenticeship and tutoring. Some of you may have seen her around the palace,” she raised her head and visibly steeled herself against the coming backlash. “She does not belong to any House, nor is she of the aristocracy. She is an orphan.”

Nightmare Moon paused just long enough for the gathered aristocrats to react. It was still little more than a low murmur, but the Inquisitor heard some definite notes of outrage from them. He glanced up to the obsidian alicorn, whose face was locked in a glare that could freeze water and break rocks. The chancellor knew that she had heard the snippets of scandalised voices and was probably trying her best to not snuff the fools out then and there. Instead, she simply raised her hoof again and continued.

“Before any of you ask, I am indeed only taking in one student. I will not be open to suggestions of additional apprentices,” she breathed out a sigh and leaned back in her seat slightly. “Any questions?”

At once, the audience exploded in shouted questions and raised forelegs. Blueblood, rather than joining the tumult, was whispering in the ear of a mare to his left. The Inquisitor frowned and made a mental note to teach himself the useful skill of lip-reading. The Empress waited for the first wave of cries to pass, then pointed her hoof at one of the aristocrats – a random choice – to hear her question.

The green mare rose. “Is this ‘Twilight Sparkle’ to stay here in the palace permanently? Or will she be returning to her home soon?”

“Soon, Lady Hoofenzollern?” Nightmare Moon pursed her lips. “I do hope you are joking. She’s not even ten, and an orphan. I have no intention of ever returning her to the foster home. Twilight Sparkle will stay in the palace until she comes of age and decides to make arrangements of her own.”

Lady Hoofenzollern nodded. “Your Majesty is very kind. May I ask where Miss Sparkle is to be quartered? As you know, my own children are grown and making families of their own, so I would be overjoyed to accommodate the girl in my own apartment.” The Inquisitor chuckled quietly to himself. Sly girl.

“She is staying with me in the Royal Apartments.” Eyes widened at this new piece of news, but Nightmare Moon gave them no time to discuss the implications. She thrust her hoof toward another pony. “You may speak.”

“Are there any plans to give the child inheritable lands or to ennoble her once she is of age?” asked a pink stallion weighed down with so many medals he rattled when he moved.

The Empress seemed only slightly taken aback by the question. It was a valid concern. The creation of a new noble – or at least a member of the gentry – would throw all the careful alliances of the aristocracy into chaos. Her close ties to the Empress already made her a potential threat or ally, as the aristocrats counted such things. A landed 'Lady Sparkle' would make quite an enticing target for ambitious members of the upper class.

Indeed, the Inquisitor could vividly picture the sons of these ponies lining up to take advantage of Twilight’s naivety. In the ancient feudal customs of the Empire, marriage was a prime way to secure alliances, and any house would love to sink their teeth into the direct and personal link to the Empress that was her protégée. Of course, if the girl were to actually exploit that influence, she could easily shift the balance of power in the Empire... which would make her a target of another sort.

“I have no plans to do so at the moment, Count Whittleback, but I can't make any promises,” the alicorn said. “In fact, the thought hadn’t crossed my mind until now. Any other questions?”

The meeting proceeded in much the same vein. Some were vapidly pointless questions of protocol, like whether Nightmare Moon expected them to send gifts to commemorate her choosing of a student or not. Others were so intrusive as to fall a mere hair's breadth short of insolence, like one mare who asked what the Empress was teaching the filly and whether the Great Houses could be sent progress reports on Twilight's development. Nightmare Moon cut those questions down with the scathing retorts they deserved.

When Duke Blueblood signalled to be recognised, no other hooves joined his in the air. Ah, the Inquisitor thought, perking up. The prelude is finished at last. Blueblood pushed himself to his hooves and cleared his throat, face set with professional passivity, and spoke in a careful, sophisticated voice. “What I wish to understand, Your Majesty, is why, if you were so interested in taking on a pupil, you did not first make your intent clear to those of us gathered so you may select a student from among the Houses.”

The Inquisitor spotted several small, almost instinctive nods of agreement from the mares and stallions gathered. Nightmare Moon took several deep, steady breaths, the effort to keep herself calm almost unnoticeable unless one had known her as long as the Inquisitor had. It was an opportune time for the grey unicorn to inject himself into the discussion, especially since it was a rival of his who had just come perilously close to making an open accusation against the sovereign.

He reached out to the Regent of the Moon and slipped his words into her mind, half-forming a telepathic link. ‘Would you mind if I were to interrupt you, Empress? I can deal with Blueblood.’

Without even a twitch to betray their silent communication, she completed the link and replied. ‘I would be very grateful, Inquisitor. Please do.’

The Overwatch Commander rounded on Blueblood, his eyes boring into the Duke’s. The pure white unicorn returned the gaze with a hard stare of his own. Oh, he is definitely in need of a good humiliation. The Inquisitor assumed the air of righteous indignation appropriate to a full-scale rebuke. “I do not know why you assume that our divinely-appointed sovereign, Nightmare Moon, Immortal of the Equines, would require your approval in such a decision, Your Grace. Do you now oversee such personal matters of the Royal Household as whether or not the Empress chooses to train a talented student?”

Blueblood narrowed his eyes. “I seek no such thing, Your Excellency. I merely wish to understand why Her Majesty would pass over the progeny of the fine and deserving stock represented here tonight,” he replied with a grand gesture of his hooves. There was a chorus of supportive murmurs.

Probably because your ‘fine stock’ are inbred, talentless swine who aren’t worth the rope it would take to hang them, let alone tutelage under Luna. The Inquisitor smiled pleasantly. “I was personally at the scene of Twilight Sparkle’s Flare. I can assure you from first-hoof experience that Her Majesty has made a wise and excellent choice in her student – a choice based on merit and ability.”

“Besides, Duke Blueblood,” Nightmare Moon interjected. “I never asked for applications. I found a filly of unparalleled potential which would otherwise go to waste, so I decided on the spot to train her myself. That was entire motivation for taking her on. It was, if you like, a spontaneous decision. I did not hunt around for a student among the public and single out a common pony out over those of land and inheritance. I have no desire to insult the Houses in any way.”

That answer seemed to satisfy a great many of the gathered nobleponies. A ripple of agreement or neutrality washed over their faces, replacing the scandalised and frustrated looks they had been wearing. Still, Blueblood seemed determined not to let the matter rest.

“I can understand your point, Your Majesty, but I still wish there was some way to placate the incessant calls I have been receiving from my peers. They, of course, desire only to further their own children’s chances and education.” He gave the sad, theatrical sigh of a pony who was the unwilling bearer of bad news; a victim with responsibility weighing heavily on their shoulders.

The Inquisitor had to admit a certain respect for the Duke’s way with words. The sly dog had nicely voiced his own worries without directly insulting the Empress, and while seeming genuinely concerned for the well-being of others. The Inquisitor knew exactly where Blueblood was going with this; he wanted compensation from Nightmare Moon.

Both he and the Empress knew the Prince of Unicorns was very hard to touch. His popularity with the mob was the result of a masterful publicity campaign, portraying him as a dashing hero and a pony who, despite all his wealth and station, had the people’s interests at heart. His power and wealth secured him unrivalled influence over many of the unruly and self-entitled nobles who governed the feudal provinces of the Empire. In short, he had a shield in the form of a loyal, supportive proletariat and a ruling class who hung on his every word. The Inquisitor honestly wondered how he had let so much control slip away from him and into the Duke’s own hooves.

“I think, Duke Blueblood,” the Inquisitor began, determined not to let the self-entitled aristocrat get anything from this meeting, “that it would be best if you were to assure your peers that they are quite capable of paying for the very best education for their children.”

The Duke tossed his head and performed an exaggerated shrug. He was definitely enjoying making this difficult for the Empress and her chancellor. “I do know that, Lord Inquisitor, but I fear there may be whispers of favouritism from certain circles. I do not know how to pacify these ponies,” he sighed and hung his head, before looking up at Nightmare Moon with pleading eyes and a smouldering smile. “Unless… if Your Majesty were to see fit to open up positions and scholarships in the Imperial Academy – as well as the Manehatten Institute and the Cloudsdale College for non-unicorns, of course – to members of the Great Houses, I think we may be able to satisfy those who feel themselves left out.”

The Inquisitor flicked his eyes to Nightmare Moon, who stared down at the Duke with a stern, regal look that betrayed no anger or frustration. She narrowed her eyes just a little bit.

“I do not think that will be a good idea, Blueblood,” she said, steady voice echoing throughout the chamber. “Those schools – my Academy especially – accept students based solely on merit, ability and intellect. I will not tarnish their immaculate record with a bout of nepotism the likes of which you are suggesting.” She shifted her wings as if preparing to take flight. “I feel this discussion has drifted far from the original point. I gathered you all here to enlighten you on the situation regarding my personal student, Twilight Sparkle. She is to be treated with the utmost respect and kindness, is that understood?”

Blueblood bowed his head. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Good,” Nightmare Moon said with a satisfied smirk. “In that case, I will take my leave.”

The alicorn rose, followed by the rest of the assembly in a gesture of respect, and swept out of the Parliament chamber with fluid, graceful movements. The Inquisitor watched her go before his eyes settled on Blueblood. The white unicorn returned the glare of his ashen counterpart. Already, ponies were splitting off into loose groups, mingling and talking. The room buzzed with conversation, and no one paid any attention to the Inquisitor, not even as he stood up and slithered over to Blueblood. The Duke was already heading towards him, and they met halfway, standing in the centre of the chamber floor.
Blueblood was the first to speak. “I thought I was being rather courteous, especially given the circumstances. Couldn’t you let me have this one small recompense?”

The Inquisitor chuckled low, Blueblood scowling more deeply with each cutting breath. “Not even this little single thing, Blueblood. Quite frankly, if your spawn are less educated; all the better for me.”

“What? So that our illustrious inheritors won’t pose as much a challenge when you grow old and decrepit?” the Duke snorted. “When that night comes, you will be forced into retirement for senility anyway, and while you’re wasting your nights drooling on yourself, my son will be unopposed in Parliament. I dare say he might even be offered your job, if I play my cards right. That will be my victory.”

The Inquisitor licked his lips and gave Blueblood the roguish grin that had unnerved mares and stallions alike for many decades. “And what makes you think I won’t have a successor of my own? Or perhaps I have a huge supply of the fabled anti-aging elixir of the zebras. You know the one, made with forbidden rites from the lifeblood of living sacrifices? And what if I shatter your family before my time is up?”

“You dwell far too much in the realm of ‘what if’, Inquisitor, and not in the sense of ‘here is what happened, how can I make the best of it?’” The aristocrat met the Inquisitor's grin with one of his own.

The grey pony sighed and his leer dropped. “Very well, Blueblood. What is it you want?”

“I heard that your recent diplomatic mission to the griffons ended in disaster.” The grin morphed into a smirk. “And now there is talk that a bill to bolster the defence budget it in the works, as well as a strengthening of internal security.”

“I believe that there might be discussion between certain members of government preparing for the worst. Hypothetical scenarios from the downturn in relations with our northern neighbours are being tossed around as a matter of course.” The Inquisitor’s smirk returned along with an arched brow. “It is nothing to be concerned about.”

Duke Blueblood huffed. “It concerns me greatly that at the first sign of trouble, this government sharpens its blade and rattles its sabres rather than commit to easing the diplomatic situation. There is a tradition of ambassadors and skilled diplomats from among my social circle, whose expertise I would be happy to lend to her majesty.”

“But what if war does come, Blueblood, and we did not bolster our military? What then?”

“War will never arrive,” the answer came, bitter and sure of itself. “The griffons are afraid of our Empress, and of our armies. They have not forgotten the last war.”

“If you remember your history, Duke, the last war with the griffons was over a century ago. That is ample time for them to forget the horrors and only remember the humiliation they suffered.”

The unicorn prince raised his head –an assertive gesture that the Inquisitor recognised as a sign that Blueblood was on the defence. “My allies among the Great Houses and the nobles that orbit us will not contribute to any asinine attempt to prepare for an impossible war. Any increase to the military and your already iron-tight security measures will most likely result in nothing more than a costly arms race with the griffons.”

“I think that our Empress is willing to take that chance,” the Inquisitor grinned. “But what do you hope to gain from boycotting government proposals as you are suggesting?”

“A reminder,” Blueblood narrowed his eyes and smiled dryly, “to you and Her Majesty that I do have sway in this country; that I do not appreciate being stonewalled in every little matter. A reminder that it does not take a show of force to rebel. Sometimes, unproductivity and intransigence are the most effective forms of protest.” The unicorn swivelled, strutting away with his nose proudly in the air.

The Inquisitor stood alone, lost in his own thoughts amidst a crowd of nattering nobles. He mulled Blueblood’s words over and over in his head. It was like a game of chess. The first round had just begun, but already the chancellor was trying to gauge Blueblood’s thoughts, to anticipate his moves. The Inquisitor laid out plan after plan, setting them against all variations of what he guessed to be coming events. The Duke’s intent was clear, but he did not know exactly how the aristocratic unicorn would unveil his machinations and set into motion the next rounds of this game. It was all very exhilarating. The Inquisitor couldn’t help but grin.

Finally, he thought to himself, suppressing a small chuckle. Blueblood was an intelligent and charismatic individual. If anypony could pose a threat to the Inquisitor, it would be him. A challenge. Let the game begin, Your Grace. I look forward to seeing how you move your pieces. And how well you remember what a pawn can become.

==========

Twilight and Orion struck forward for quite some time. They had no idea when they were going or what they were going to find when they got there – aside from golden apples, of course. Time and distance seemed to fade away in the perpetual blackness of the featureless, seemingly endless tunnel. “How long do you think this goes on for?” Orion asked.

The purple filly shrugged. “I don’t know. If this apple tree is in the middle of the mountain, then we shouldn’t be far off.”

Even as she spoke, a new wall suddenly loomed out of the darkness. The tunnel bent sharply to the right, and beyond, light! The two immediately galloped forward, eager to leave the dark passage behind them. At the same time, Twilight was struck by a faint but pervasive sense of magic, like that she felt from the crown jewels, but also completely different. Where the crowns and rings had felt like light and fire, this was a steady, gently insistent flow, the caress of a rippling stream mixed with a constant, deep bass string’s resonance.

An impossibly large cavern greeted them with what looked like to be a verdant green field as the floor. The area was lit, though Twilight could not see any source – as if the air itself were faintly aglow. A waterfall poured down into a pool from a hole at the top of the cave’s soaring walls. In the centre, clutching and almost enveloping a tiny hillock like a griffon holding a baseball, was a giant, twisting apple tree.

Its trunk was as thick as an elephant’s waist and the myriad of branches were home to leaves in all colours of autumn; oranges, yellows, reds and golds salted with purple and fading green. Sharing the smooth, ancient limbs with the fiery leaves were the largest, most extraordinary apples Twilight had ever seen. They weren’t just coloured gold; they shined and glistened more brightly than the polished sceptres and orbs they had seen earlier in the night.

Twilight’s magical senses, thanks to her training with Nightmare Moon, were tuned more sharply than most; however, she was certain that even the most magic-deaf unicorn would feel/taste/hear the flavour of these apples buzzing through them. They sang in bell-tone harmony with the thrumming note of the grotto and left the memory of the flavor of apple juice on her tongue. She shivered. If their magic feels like this from so far away, what would it feel like to actually touch the tree? Then the image of the Imperial Crown burning through her scalp returned to her, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to try it anymore.

Orion suddenly stepped forward, trotting toward the unearthly tree. Twilight remained just inside the door, tearing her eyes away from the tree to take in the rest of the cavern. The floor was dotted with little hillocks like the one the tree perched on, and as she watched, she realised the floor was slowly… rippling. One of the mounds almost imperceptibly expanded, then shrank again. That’s strange, Twilight thought. Hills don’t move. For that matter, they don’t shine like that, and they don’t snore or have legs or–

Her perspective shifted with an almost audible snap. She spun around to the blue-haired earth pony trotting eagerly up to the golden apple tree and shrieked, “Orion, stop! There’s a–!”

A massive clawed fist crashed down just in front of Orion, making him reel back and whinny from shock. Before she realised it, her legs were in motion, propelling her toward her friend as all her worst fears suddenly became real.

“Twilight!” he screamed. “Get out of here! Run!”

The purple filly whirled toward the exit, but a gargantuan, scaly tail fell across the tunnel entrance, blocking their escape. She twisted in a frantic circle, looking for any other way out. There was nothing but bare stone and green, scaly flesh. Orion reached her just as a monstrous head loomed over them.

The creature now revealed itself in full. It looked almost like a dragon, but vast and serpentine. Dull green scales, overgrown with moss and lichen, covered its snake-like body. Its legs were powerful, muscled so thickly that they looked like they could kick through a mountain. The thing lacked any wings, but it most likely found no use for them. Its head was the broad, fanged arrowhead of a viper and its lithe body lay in boneless loops across the cavern floor. The creature stretched itself out, standing on all fours with a fist blocking access to the tree. It was long enough to half-coil around the cavern.

“What’re you two doin’ in me cave?” the creature demanded. His voice was deep and gravelly, but the accent it sported paradoxically set Twilight a bit at ease. Though the creature could assuredly crush them both into paste, he sounded like someone’s strange, foreign uncle. “From the looks o’ you, you young’uns ent the sorts ta be plunderin’ them apples.”

Twilight pressed tightly against Orion, unable to cower away from a beast that half-filled the chamber. Next to her, the colt swallowed and forced on his face a mask of stoic bravery. “We were just exploring. We’ll leave now, if you’d let us.”
The creature arched a brow. “An’ how’d you get in? Nightmare Moon has the only key.”

Orion opened his mouth to speak, but Twilight summoned up her courage and hurriedly cut him off. “We… we took it from her room. I’m her student and I live here at the palace.”

The creature’s eyes widened and his heavy brow ridges rose in a very un-snakelike manner at her words. The stern, almost angry, look on his face vanished and he threw his great serpentine head back and let out a bellow of a laugh that shook the cavern and set Twilight’s ear ringing. The monstrous guardian howled with laughter until Twilight was beginning to seriously wonder about the structural integrity of the cavern. Finally, he wiped his eyes as his mirth faded, folding his arms and lying down with a grin wide enough to span a small river. He was no longer blocking the path to the tree, but neither Twilight nor Orion dared move a muscle.

“Oh, it’s been centuries since I’ve ‘eard something that funny,” he beamed a fang-filled grin at the two foals. “Ol’ Moon’s got ‘erself a young student, eh? An’ an ent’prising lil’ thing at that! You actually walked right into ‘er room, bold as brass, an’ took the bleedin’ key?”

“Uh… yeah,” Twilight nodded, dumbfounded by the sudden change in attitude. “I mean, yes sir. We didn’t want to try and steal the apples, honest. We only wanted… an adventure.”

“Adventure, huh?” the monster chuckled. “Tell you what. It’s been yonks since I ‘ad a good chat, and you lil’ things seem like decent kids. I’ll let you both go if you stay an’ talk with me.”

“Y-you won’t tell Nightmare Moon what I did?” Twilight asked. Now that she wasn’t in fear for her life, that worry bubbled to the surface. She could almost hear herself telling her, I told you so.

The serpent considered this for a moment before shaking his head. “Nah, young’uns’ll be young’uns after all. No sense punishin’ you if you don’t mean no harm. So, what’s your name?”

“I’m Twilight Sparkle, and this,” she motioned to her wary companion, “is Orion. Do… you have a name?”

“O’course I do! Me name’s Ladon. Tell me, young’un, how’d you end up as the last alicorn’s own prentice? Spare no details – I want ta hear everything, an’ I have all day.”

Wait, what’s a ‘day’? Twilight pondered the word for a moment, but dismissed it as part of the serpent’s odd manner of speech and began with a brief introduction of herself. She politely shrugged off Ladon’s sorrow for the loss of her parents and continued with the tale of her escapade to the Eclipse Festival and her resulting fascination with magic. She told him of how she almost failed the practical entrance exam until a freak explosion triggered a panic response as she was channelling magic. How the Empress saved her from the chaos that followed and accepted her under her wing. Ladon seemed enraptured with her story, so Twilight continued, detailing life at the palace and what she had learned in her time there. She carried on right up to her and Orion’s adventure into the Hesperidium.

Ladon took a minute to digest it all before finally speaking; a smile coming to his lips. “That’s quite a life you’ve got there, young’un. So all you wanted ta do was find out about these ‘ere apples?” He nodded towards the tree.

“Yeah… they’re magic, aren’t they?” Twilight immediately regretted the question. Of course they’re magic, you can feel them!

“Well, they taste real good,” the great serpent-dragon said.

“But what do they do?” Twilight asked. “What powers do they have?”

Ladon gave a massive, heavy shrug and a simple, lazy answer; “Dunno.”

“Don’t… but… how…” Twilight stammered in exasperated shock. “But you guard these things, don’t you? You should know why Discus planted them!”

“Well, he planted them ‘cause he wanted to impress some bird an’ her dad didn’t want nothin’ ta do with him, him being one a’ the lowest class of alicorn an’ all,” the serpent scratched his chin thoughtfully before continuing. “People’ve come down ‘ere ta steal ‘em since they first ripened.”

“Uh… ‘people’?” Orion tasted the word with uncertainty.

“Jest tryin’ ta be all cosmopolitan, young’un. Ent you ‘eard the term before?” Ladon raised a brow. “What’re they teachin’ you lot at school nowadays that you don’t know what words like ‘people’ mean?”

Orion looked down bashfully and muttered something inaudible. The purple unicorn looked back up to the massive, dragonish creature, eager to pick her host’s brain in turn. “How did you end up guarding the tree? How did you get down here?”

“Signed a contract, believe it or not. Two thousand years of sleepin’ an’ guardin’, an’ then I’m off,” Ladon replied.

“Wait,” Orion started. “Contract? You’re getting paid for this? With what?”

“That’s between me an’ me contract, young’un,” the serpent retorted, smirking wickedly. “An’ I expect whoever’s runnin’ the place by the end of it ta pay up.”

They continued talking for some time. Orion seemed more disinclined to conversation than Twilight, and much more uncomfortable, but the filly was too busy with Ladon to pay the colt much mind. The strange dragon exchanged stories with her, telling her what he decided was okay for her to know. He told mostly of the alicorns; remembering the time before they Ascended. He told her of the Immortal lords and ladies that oversaw the mortals and their kingdoms. Twilight was transfixed and, in time, Orion was sucked in as well.

Ladon spoke of personal experiences in a time that now existed only in legends and myths. He spun epic tales of gods and their lives, their loves and their wars. He told jokes he heard from alicorn princes and sang songs whose tunes had been forgotten a millennium ago. The little unicorn soaked it all in with wide eyes. The accounts from this eye-witness to history’s most important events were better than anything she could read in any library! His tale of a battle in the War of Black and Red, a personal face-off against the demonic alicorn tyrant Cheimon the Conqueror, sent shivers down her spine. More terrifying yet, the enormous, ancient monster had been forced to retreat. No wonder Cheimon's name was still used to personify evil and betrayal. Orion seemed to grow more and more excited with each tale; particularly those of the battles that this ancient veteran had fought in. It soon became evident to Twilight that Ladon was some kind of mercenary. He had hired himself out to different factions throughout history. The serpent never elaborated on what his payment was, but he added at the end of every story, “I always collect me pay.”

After finishing another story of war and blood, Ladon suddenly looked upwards, as if staring through the cavern’s roof. Returning his eyes to the pair of foals below him, he sighed.

“It’s time you young’uns be off, I think,” he said, cracking his great winding neck. “It ent gonna be too good if ol’ Moony comes back ta find her key missing, will it? As much as I’ve enjoyed our lil’ chat, I can’t keep you ‘ere forever, now can I?”

On cue, Twilight’s stomach rumbled and she blushed. “Is it that late already? They might not be serving lunch for much longer, so we’d better hurry,” she agreed. “Thank you very much for your hospitality.” After a few moments of silence, she gave Orion a swift, light kick on the hindleg.

Orion jolted and murmured, “Yes, thank you!” He still seemed in shock from the whole ordeal, or at least still mistrustful of the great monster.

“Think nothin’ of it. Now, unless you’re plannin’ ta steal one of me apples, lemme sleep,” Ladon yawned and curled up on the grassy floor again, his tail finally clearing the doorway. Soon his snores were bouncing off of the cave walls.

The two foals left without another word. The trip back through the dark tunnel was devoid of the apprehension they had felt on the way in. Orion and Twilight talked about Ladon and his stories. The earth pony seemed to like them just as much as the little filly did, if not more. The serpent-dragon’s tales of conflict and adventure were, Twilight assumed, just the sort of thing to excite a colt like Orion.

Twilight was, however, left wondering about how much of the world’s past the serpent knew and, in turn, how much Nightmare Moon knew. Did she fight in wars too? Had she also visited strange, wonderful lands? The unicorn’s imagination soared as she imagined the adventures of her teacher before the alicorn had founded the Empire of Equestria. She desperately wanted to ask Nightmare Moon about all this at some point, but she was all too aware that the Empress would likely be far less willing than Ladon to expound upon her past.

Orion unlocked the door back into the palace proper, then eased it open a crack and peeked through to ensure nopony would see them come out. After a few seconds, he poked his head out and glanced rapidly to either side. They quickly stepped into the corridor and shut the door to the Hesperidium behind them. Twilight heard the locking mechanisms click and seal the door once again.

The pair dashed back to the Royal Apartments, barely pausing to dump Twilight’s saddlebags in her room before they galloped into the Empress’s chamber to return the key. Thankfully, the alicorn had indeed not returned yet, but until the door was closed behind them once more, Twilight was haunted by terrible visions of Nightmare Moon appearing in the doorway while she was balanced on a staircase of open drawers.

“So,” Orion said as they trotted away from the scene of the crime, both foals fighting to act casual while they waited for their hearts to stop pounding. “Where can we get something to eat around here?”

Twilight’s stomach gurgled again at the mention of eating. “The kitchens always have something good. We’ve probably missed the lunchtime feast, but they still serve meals to anypony who wants it.”

“Then lead the way,” Orion smiled.

==========

Salt Wind gave Twilight a kind smile, while Ram Sea kept his head down over a bubbling pot of sauce but for a brief nod of acknowledgement.

“Hungry, Twilight?” Salt Wind asked in a tone that suggested she considered this the default state of all foals.

“Oh, yes. We missed lunch.” The filly motioned to the white colt behind her. “This is my friend, Orion.”

The mare shifted her cheery grin to him. “Pleased to meet you, Orion. My name’s Salt Wind. Do you have anything in particular you fancy?”

Orion thought for a moment before answering. “Sandwiches would be nice, thanks.”

“And some salad with tomatoes and cheese too, please,” Twilight added, beaming sweetly.

Salt Wind nodded and slipped off to the pantry to prepare their lunch. The mare was very quick about it. In the time it would have taken Twilight to make one sandwich, she was back with a whole plate of sandwiches and salad besides. Then again, if Twilight was making a sandwich, she would need a set square, a good, straight knife for the crucial task of spreading the butter over the bread very evenly, and a set of weights. Twilight had only rarely been called upon to cook for herself, but she knew it had to be done right.

“Thank you!” Twilight smiled as she levitated the dishes, leading Orion back out of the kitchen and to the reception halls.

There, courtiers mingled with visitors and government employees around ornate stone tables while waiters bustled in and out with trays of food and drink. She wasn’t the only one enjoying a late lunch, it seemed.

Selecting a secluded table in the corner, the foals sat down and set to with a will. A waiter came over – quite quickly, Twilight noticed –and offered to bring them drinks. “Sarsaparilla!” Twilight said, and Orion followed suit. Within a minute they were both guzzling sweet, bubbly soda.

The purple filly chatted to Orion between bites, talking about everything she had learned since they last saw each other and what they had done. Orion mentioned some kind of “vocational training” Miss Loch was giving him, but did not elaborate further.

A knot of fillies in bright, yet somehow coordinated dresses drew Twilight’s attention as they trooped past, radiating an almost tangible aura of smug superiority. She recognised them as the daughters of some of the nobility that frequented the palace, although it wasn’t hard to infer their social status from their behaviour. They chatted amongst themselves as they walked, casting sly, pointed glances at other ponies. Occasionally one of the girls would make a comment in a low voice, followed by a burst of derisive giggling. They immediately shut down their conversation when they neared Twilight and Orion’s table, though. Granting the foals only a single contemptuous glance, most of them turned their faces away slightly and upwards, haughtily avoiding eye contact. All except a couple, who trailed along behind their peers and glanced at each other awkwardly before giving Twilight an apologetic look. They scurried to keep up with the group, though, who strutted through the gauntlet of tables with apparently-closed eyes. Nobles must develop a keen sense of echolocation, Twilight mused.

“Do you miss the orphanage, Twi?” Orion asked, turning back to face her after watching the aristocratic fillies pass.

Twilight blinked, slightly unnerved by the sudden question. “O-of course I do! I mean, not the orphanage itself, exactly, but Miss Loch... and you..."

"Have you made any new friends here?" The colt’s face was impassive but he arched an eyebrow as if he already knew the answer.

"Well... there's the Empress," she smiled sheepishly.

“Friends your own age?" he pressed.

Twilight bit her lip and shook her head. “It’s kind of… complicated,” the little unicorn sighed. “The children of the noble families still see me as a commoner orphan, so they don’t want to socialise with me, but since I’m the Empress’ protégée, they don’t want to offend me either. So they kinda try to ignore me, I guess.” She poked at her salad with her fork, suddenly listless. “A few of them aren’t that bad, but they still play along when the others are around.”

“What about the staffs’ foals? They don’t treat you badly, do they?” Orion prompted.

“No, they don’t. But they’re scared to get to know me because I’m so close to the Empress. They’re all ‘yes miss’ or ‘if you like, ma’am’ – I don’t want them to do that, but they do it anyway. They act like I’m one of those prissy little noble fillies who would take it as a personal insult if they didn’t bow enough times.” As Twilight spoke, she had slumped down in her seat; her head hanging and her voice bleak. She pressed her lips together tightly and furrowed her brow. “But I don’t need any of them. Not really. I have my studies and Nightmare Moon and you, and I’m perfectly fine with that.”

Orion sighed and shook his head. “I just want to be sure you’re happy here.”

“I am,” she snapped.

“I know, I know,” the colt held up his hooves defensively. “It’s just, if you ever feel like it, you can come over to the foster home and talk to me.”

The filly drew in a breath and let it out in a calming sigh. “Thanks, Orion,” she replied with a frail smile, then continued in an insincerely hearty tone. “Come on, let’s eat up. I have a place I want to show you.”

They finished their food and left the empty dishes on the table, though the colt clearly had to fight the urge to tidy up after himself. Twilight led Orion outside and into the gardens. The sky was cloudless; the Bright Moon shone unimpeded overhead, its soft, silver light making the plants and flowers glow with colour as it began to sink toward evening. The stars were not outdone by the gentle glowing orb, but complimented by it, and echoed by the fleeting glitter of moonlight off the decorative streams and pools as Twilight and Orion passed them.

Twilight smiled happily to each of the gardeners and groundsponies she came across, returning their bows without showing the frown she felt tug at her lips each time. The foals soon came to the secluded willow grove where Twilight had practiced her magic so often in the past weeks. Something about the place – be it the softness of the ground or the strangely calming way the drooping leaves swayed in every breath of air – made Twilight feel warm inside on even the coolest of nights.

“This place seems really peaceful,” Orion murmured, watching the delicate leaves rustle lazily in the wind.
The purple unicorn nodded. “This is where I come to read sometimes, but it’s mostly where Nightmare Moon and I have our lessons.”

“So what spells have you learned since I last saw you?” He spoke in a low voice. The willows muted the sounds of distant voices and the rumble of falling water beyond the cliff edge; like the busy silence of a library, the contemplative quiet subtly discouraged noise.

Twilight tossed her head to the side, looking upwards in a search through her memory. What had she learned while she was studying? Not much to wow an audience. She had spent her lessons with the Empress developing concentration, endurance and creative thinking, not learning new spells. So?

So? The inspiration hit her like a falling flowerpot. Think creatively! That's what you've been training for, isn't it? The filly imagined her mentor's voice, low and steady. You need to entertain an audience with your magical talent. You have only the spells you know by heart. You may use any props that are available in the willow grove, but you mustn't damage the landscaping. How will you impress them? She glanced around herself, noting the objects at hand. Branches and leaves, of course. Tree trunks. The graceful, lazy fish in the pool beside the willows.

Her mental Nightmare Moon raised an eyebrow. Is that all? The moss underhoof. Soil and rock beneath that – difficult to use given the restrictions, but available nonetheless. The water in the pond. The air around them. The light from the moon and stars, though she had no spells to affect that directly.

“Well,” she began, looking diffidently back to the colt. “There is one I think you might like.”

The earth pony lay down on the soft, mossy ground, folding his legs beneath himself. “Let’s see it then.”

Twilight over to the pond, closed her eyes, and began to concentrate, simultaneously holding all the key aspects of the spell in her head. It was a simple enchantment, really. In fact, it was less of a spell and more of a special way of applying her psychokinetic energy.

Unlike simple levitation, which most unicorns could manage as instinctually as a griffon could wrap her talons around an apple, this technique required Twilight to hold her magic in shape without a physical object to mould it around. She had to hold the shape in her mind instead, forming the magic around surfaces that existed only in her imagination.
As her horn flared with energy, she visualised a solid, invisible ‘board’ of magic. Forming this flat sheet of matterless inertia, the filly stretched it over the length of the pond. Opening her eyes, Twilight gingerly put a hoof down on the liquid surface of the pond while holding the 'board' firmly in her mind's eye. Any waver in her concentration would break the spell. Rather than sinking into the water, her hoof met the invisible solidity she had placed just over the water’s skin. She allowed herself a small smile as fish gathered beneath her hooves, hoping for a meal of bread crumbs.

Twilight began to walk forward, slowly and somewhat timidly. She knew that there were spells for walking on certain substances that wouldn’t have required constant concentration to manage, but she had no idea how to cast them without access to her library. This was a trick that Nightmare Moon had taught her in the 'trapped on a cliff by a hydra' scenario. It was, the Empress had claimed, something perfectly within her capabilities despite the extreme level of focus it demanded. As if in response to that thought, the spell began to waver. She quickly pushed away everything but the spell and placing one hoof in front of the next.

Once at the centre of the pond, the filly carefully turned around and beamed hopefully at Orion. The colt clapped his hooves together in delight. “That’s amazing, Twi! Only a couple of weeks ago you could barely pick up a hairbrush, and now you’re walking on water! You really have a talent there.”

Twilight blushed and her ears folded back in spite of her pride. “Thanks, Orion. Though I’m not really walking on water, I’m–”
The loud crack of a branch made her start, and the delicate balance between concentration and conversation shattered. The lavender glow under her hooves warped and flickered for half a second, then evaporated. With a yelp, Twilight plunged into the cold, lily-filled pond as the eager fish scattered in panic.

She thrashed wildly against the water for a few seconds, but then her hooves struck bottom and she discovered that the ornamental pond was only a foot or so deep. Even so, the water topped her withers, and the plunge left her mane soaked and clinging to her neck.

Twilight waded to the edge, where Orion reached out to help her out of the water as the foals traded chagrined giggles. She scrambled up the muddy verge, but even with the colt's assistance, she slipped and fell twice, caking her legs with muck. “Th-thanks,” Twilight shivered, instantly huddling against the chill of the steady mountain breeze.

A polite clearing of the throat brought their surprised stares up to meet the aloof, insolent eyes of Prince Blueblood the Tenth.

Embarrassed, chilly, and disinclined to let the pompous brat interfere with her special night, Twilight took a step between Orion and the princeling. “What do you want, Blueblood?” she scowled.

A frown flickered across the noblepony's face as he took in her muddy disarray, but his expression quickly slid back into a practiced smile. “Miss Sparkle,” he said breezily, “I don't wish to inconvenience you, so I shall come straight to the point. I wish to apologise for my behaviour toward you earlier in the week. I had no idea who you were, and no offense was meant. You have my deepest regrets for the misunderstanding.”

“Oh… um, okay then.” Twilight looked away, her hostility evaporating into shame for her belligerent greeting. Perhaps the prince wasn't such a bad pony after all...

“I would like for our relationship to start anew, fresh and untarnished by past mistakes.” He bowed toward her, flashing a hopeful grin as he raised his head again.

Twilight returned the bow, painfully aware of the sodden mane sliding against her forehead as she did and resisting the urge to push it out of her face with muddy hooves. “That's, er, that's really nice of you. Apology accepted, I guess?” That must have been the right response, because the prince's expression grew warmer and more relaxed.

With the slate of their relationship freshly cleaned, Blueblood seemed to notice Orion for the first time. The colt was glaring something unreadable at Blueblood, but the fact that he had slipped on his cold, stoic mask was enough to tell Twilight that Orion had already decided he didn't like the aristocrat. The prince returned the stare with a look of wary disdain.

“Who is this?” Blueblood asked cautiously.

“This is Orion,” Twilight said in a tone of strained cheerfulness. “He's my friend from the orphanage.”

The earth pony flicked his eyes briefly to Twilight, who smiled at him encouragingly. After a small, barely-noticeable sigh, Orion offered a hoof. The noble studied it, his lip curling into an involuntary grimace. When the other colt showed no sign of accepting the offered hoof, Orion scowled and planted it firmly back on the ground.

“What’s your problem?” Orion asked through gritted teeth.

The lordling raised a condescending eyebrow. “Your hoof is muddy.”

Twilight glanced at her friend’s hoof. It was a little muddy, she had to admit. Orion simply pressed his lips tightly together. “So?”

Blueblood sighed. “I shouldn't have expected someone like you to understand. As a prince of the realm, I am expected to maintain a decorous appearance at all times. Surely you don't expect me to sully my hoof with that filth."

Orion flinched at that, a flash of anger slipping past his facade as if some mental gear had suddenly snapped. “What do you mean ‘someone like me’?” he growled, biting off each word.

“Orion, he didn't—” Twilight tried, but Blueblood rolled right over her. The prince tut-tutted and rolled his eyes.

"I suppose it's too much to ask for a commoner to understand the pressures and obligations of nobility. I order you to go wash your hooves immediately."

“You order me?” Orion scoffed and narrowed his eyes at the noblecolt. “You can’t order me around like one of your servants!”

“You forget your place, earth pony.” The prince took a bold step toward the colt. “Allow me to re-educate you. There is a strict hierarchy in this country, and you would do well to abide by it.”

“This isn’t Konnica,” Orion snapped back. “We're not your serfs. What are you going to do? Arrest me?”

Blueblood's self-satisfied indifference was receding fast. “Test me, peasant. See if I don't.”

Twilight could see the situation spiralling out of control, but she was helpless to stop it. She doubted the dirty hoof even mattered anymore; Orion wouldn't offer it again, and even if he were to clean up first, Blueblood wouldn't shake without a full apology that her friend would never give. She glanced between the colts, watching Orion's facade crumble as bottled-up anger bubbled to the surface, and Blueblood's own studied calm disintegrated in the face of frustrated privilege. Perhaps if she let them argue it out, they could all just walk away?

“What’s the matter, afraid to get dirty?” Orion casually lifted his hoof and flicked a couple of specks of mud at Blueblood. Twilight winced as they hit the young prince’s coat.

“How dare you!” Blueblood roared. “I should have you charged with assault!” The unicorn furiously but carefully scraped the dirt off of his coat with magic. Then he turned to Twilight, a nasty smirk on his muzzle.

Whoa! Leave me out of this!

“You'd best stay close to me, slathered in mud like that,” he said. “Dirt tends to make earth ponies rather amorous, and you've nopony else here to protect you from this ruffian's base instincts.”

Twilight's mouth worked without sound, her face exploding in a fierce blush as Orion stepped forward, his muzzle almost touching the unicorn colt's, no longer trying to conceal his feelings. “You pompous little son of a nag!” he snarled. “I should buck your flank clear off the mountain!”

“Oh? Am I supposed to be afraid of you?” The unicorn puffed out his chest, ignoring the name-calling with a sneer. “Don't you know who I am? My father is Blueblood the Ninth, Duke of Canterlot and Prince of Unicorns. I am one of the most important and well-bred ponies in Equestria. Who are you? The spawn of a couple of dirt-farming, nopony peasants?"

Orion flinched again, and the anger drained out of his face, replaced by a blank, frozen expression she had never seen before. This wasn't the stoic mask that Orion used to hide his feelings – it was something completely different. Not a veneer of indifference, but a vast, terrifying coldness that went all the way to the core. Blueblood clearly didn't recognise the difference; he ploughed ahead recklessly, eyes sparkling with malicious glee.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I just assumed you know who your parents were. Silly me, I forgot you were an orph–"

A white hoof shot out and struck Blueblood in the muzzle. There was an audible crunch. The unicorn colt stumbled backwards, clutching his nose, and slumped down in shock and sudden pain. Twilight heard herself gasp seconds late and blinked in disbelief, her brain refusing to register what just happened. Blueblood had undeniably gone too far, but she'd never expected Orion to actually hit him! Despite all this, the white earth colt looked calmer than ever. He lowered his hoof to the ground and walked slowly towards the downed prince. Blueblood stared up at him, fear as clear on his face as the trail of bright crimson that trickled down his lip. Stopping a foot in front of him, Orion just looked down and spoke in a monotone voice.

“Don’t talk about my parents, understand?”

The silence that hung in the willow grove was unbearable. Twilight sidled up to Orion and bit her lip, uncertain whether to call down her friend, apologise to the other unicorn, or just flee the scene altogether. Blueblood still seemed to be in shock. Orion was still staring down at him with those dead eyes. Her hoof shaking, Twilight reached out and lightly touched her friend on the shoulder.

That seemed to break the spell. Orion blinked and looked up, the horrible dead expression falling away as he registered her touch. The colt offered her something approaching a comforting smile. It was only then that Blueblood seemed to return to himself.

“You homicidal psychopath!” He clambered to his hooves, stumbling over himself as he scrambled away from the other colt and twisted to run. “The guards will arrest you and you’ll go to jail forever!”

Twilight's heart skipped a beat. If he did go to the guards, they would all get in trouble. She doubted Nightmare Moon would abandon her over this, but Orion could indeed go to jail, or prison, or... worse. Whatever the case, her friend would certainly never be allowed to visit again.

A friend has attacked a noblepony, the Empress said inside her head. If the noble fetches a guard, he will be jailed. You may use no magic. How do you save him?

“Stop,” she said, the first words she had spoken since the argument – the fight – began. She was surprised how steady her voice sounded. It was a calm, certain tone that presumed obedience and brooked no argument. Just like Nightmare Moon's.

Blueblood turned to her, incredulous. “Excuse me?”

The little unicorn took a bold step forward, a frown settling on her brow. “You will not call the guards.”

Blueblood's eyes widened. “You can’t stop me. He hit me! I have every right to put this thug to justice.”

A euphoric sensation fell over Twilight. Though her heart pounded with terror, she had to fight to keep a wondering grin off her face. He obeyed! I said stop and he stopped! “I’ll tell the Empress that Orion was only protecting me. That you came here to take revenge on me for your embarrassment with the table, and he hit you because you were trying to hurt me.”

“You… wouldn’t dare…” the noblepony gasped, but his voice trembled with uncertainty.

Twilight took another step forward. “I do dare. Orion will back me up. Who will they believe: the Empress's bookish little student and her orphan friend, or a spoiled, self-important princeling who's known for throwing his weight around?”

“I… I…” Blueblood seemed to be choking now.

“Go. Go home. I don’t want to see you again for the rest of the week,” Twilight ordered. The white noble unicorn began slinking away, staring at her like she'd sprouted another horn. If anything, he looked more terrified of her than of Orion. “And if anypony asks about the broken nose, tell them you fell.”

And then he was gone. Twilight stared after him, wobbling a little on her hooves as the adrenaline faded and the enormity of what she'd just done fell on her. She panted like she'd run half a mile, swallowing hard as her lunch threatened to come back up. At the same time, the glow of victory buzzed in her head. It was actually very... satisfying to lord it over Blueblood like that; cut him down to size, in a manner of speaking. The sense of power was intoxicating.

“Wow, Twi,” Orion said. “I didn’t know you could be so... assertive!”

Twilight’s ears flattened sheepishly. “I… neither did I. Oh, I’m sorry, Orion! I just really didn’t want you to get in trouble.”

The bristly-maned colt nodded sagely. “It’s all right, Twilight. I appreciate it, I really do.” He gave a smile that seemed to take a substantial effort for him to maintain. “I’m sure Blueblood will think twice before coming after you again.”

“Yeah… I think he’ll leave me alone for a while. I hope so, anyway.” Twilight sighed and looked at him with serious eyes. “We should head back to my room now. I need to get cleaned up.”

Orion just nodded and followed her out of the glade. Their journey back to the Royal Apartments was a quiet one, both busy with their thoughts. Twilight, now more than ever, wanted to know what it was that made Orion so withdrawn, so emotionally isolated. She had rarely known him to connect with anything or anypony besides herself. She always wondered if it had something to do with his parents, and his violent outburst just confirmed that theory. Twilight considered letting him brood, but by the time they reached the Royal Apartments, she had decided to at least ask him about it.

Orion silently plunked down on the edge of the bed, staring at his hooves as she stepped into the en suite bathroom to wash up. Ten minutes later, as she trotted out with a towel rubbing itself against her damp mane, he hadn't moved a muscle. Twilight tossed the towel away and climbed up beside him. She watched him for a couple of minutes, waiting for the colt to say something. Anything. He didn't even acknowledge her presence.

“Orion, I know it’s probably the last thing you want to talk about, but I think you really need to,” she began. “It’s not good to bottle these things up, and I… I can be your shoulder to lean on, if you want it.” He finally looked up at her and she continued, encouraged. “I just want to know. I want to try and understand so you don’t have to be alone in this.”

There was another long silence. The colt stared through her for a long time, then finally closed his eyes and released a heavy sigh. Opening them again, he told her everything.

“We lived in Ponyville until a couple of years ago.” He spoke in an even, detached tone, his face like a statue's; not even a twitch betraying his feelings. “Mom and Dad said they wanted to come here to be closer to their customers and suppliers. I didn’t want to come. I wanted to stay with my friends back in Ponyville. I probably would have stayed with relatives, if I had any. But I didn't, so I went with them. We got an apartment in the Artisan’s Quarter. I didn’t make many friends. There weren’t many kids near us, and my parents decided to home school me.”

He snorted out a gust of air from his nostrils. “But I think you put that much together already. The apartment building we lived in caught fire. I don’t know how. The authorities never told me. It started from the bottom, so there was no escape. It spread too fast for anypony to react. The first we knew about it, it was in our apartment. The fire was everywhere. Mom passed out from the smoke. I was trying to wake her up, but Dad pulled me off her. He looked at me with a face I’ll never forget. He was sad, so sad, but determined beyond all else. He was wheezing from the smoke as he told me he loved me, and then... he got me out.”

Despite Twilight's horror, the colt's voice never wavered, a monotone recitation. “He teleported me out of the building just as the fireponies arrived. It was too late for everypony else. Since I had no relatives, they put me in the orphanage.” He fell silent for a few heartbeats. “And that’s it.”

Twilight was stunned. She had known his parents were dead – why else would he have been placed in the foster home? But she literally couldn’t imagine what it must have been like to see his parents die like that; to experience the horror of death up close. For her, 'parents' were an abstract thing, something other ponies had but she didn't. The closest thing she could imagine would be losing her magic. What was worse, Twilight realised; he still hadn't really opened up to her. Verbally, he had given her what she asked for, but he kept the emotions at arm's length. The filly scooted closer to him on the bed and wrapped her forelegs around him, pressing her neck to his.

“Orion, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise.”

Silently, tentatively, the white colt leaned into the embrace, resting his chin on her shoulder. Slowly, he wrapped his own hooves around her, and then, like willow leaves stirred by a breath of wind, his shoulders silently started to shake. Twilight felt the tears fall on her, but heard no sobs or noises from her friend. She held him tight, doing the only thing she could do for him, a friend trying to comfort a friend. They remained like that for some time, still and without a sound.