Stories of a Warden

by Rosencranz

XV

Volume 2

I

“My boy's come back; he's here at last;
He came home on a special train.
My longing and my ache are past,
My only son is back again.”
-Robert William Service, The Home-Coming

He felt it. Through the rain and the howl of the storm, and the cut of the wind and the hail, through the shouts of his coworkers and the dull ache of labor, he felt it. It was malevolent, and it was strong. And it was getting closer.

Where...?

Wiping the water out of his eyes, the Watcher looked up, across the Skydocks. Searching. His horn glowed, augmenting his vision to see more clearly through the storm. He could see other ponies moving, slipping and sliding over the wet wooden piers, desperate to secure all of the airships. He could see zeppelins and air ballons whipping about in the air, docking, being tied down. He could even see the body of one of the older dock crew go flying off the side of one of the further docks. He chuckled at that. Whoops.

What he couldn’t find, though, was where this new feeling was coming from. Well, perhaps ‘new’ wasn’t the right word. After all, he had felt this before, years ago, back when he had been... important. His right forehoof instinctively moved to feel a long scar running the length of his left foreleg. He smiled. Something was coming. Something large.

Literally and figuratively, the Watcher thought, turning to see a massive zeppelin burst through the clouds and hurtle unsteadily towards the nearest dock. His heartbeat quickened as it neared.

This is the one. It has to be on this one.

He looked the zeppelin over. It was an expensive ship, a Zephyr model, but whoever was piloting it certainly hadn’t treated it well. The entire undercarriage was one short strut away from separating from the balloon, which was crumpled in several places where some massive force must have dented its frame. As it grew closer, he caught sight of a weak ruby glow, and realized that the engine must be exposed.

For a Zephyr to be that damaged, and for it to be carrying that? Where have they been?

The zeppelin turned slightly, and he saw the words ‘Royal Expeditionary Aggregate’ painted on the side of the balloon.

Ah. That explains a lot.

Grabbing a length of rope, he slunk away from the cliff face, out onto the dock nearest the Zephyr. He felt the sensation growing stronger as he moved. This was definitely it.

But why now? He wondered. Why come back to Equestria with no warning? How could the others not know?

The Watcher frowned. The others didn’t know. Right. He was in for a long night. There would be many ponies to visit. Of course, he had known what he was in for when he signed up for the job, but he hadn’t expected this to happen so soon, and certainly not on his watch...

Still, though. This was a blessing. There was so much to be done, but then, he supposed, it was right that he would be the one to handle it.

“Hey!” a shrill voice called out to him. “You, on the docks!”

The aura around his horn intensified as he further enhanced his vision. Squinting, he could make out the source of the voice, a light grey pegasus, sopping wet, clinging to the edge of the undercarriage.

“Get the ropes!” he called. “We’re coming in!”

The Watcher’s brow furrowed as he realized the ponies aboard the zeppelin intended to dock immediately.

They’re coming in too fast, he thought. If they don’t slow down, they’re going to crash right into the--

His eyes widened. No, no, no, no, no, no! Turning away from the zeppelin, he sprinted away from the end of the pier. A split-second later, he was thrown from his hooves as a great crash echoed across the Skydocks. All over the piers, heads turned.

As he scrambled to his hooves, the dock gave a massive shudder and tilted dangerously sideways. From somewhere below him came a gut-wrenching series of snaps and cracks as the pier slowly ripped itself away from the mountain. Wrenching his neck, he saw that the Zephyr at the end of the dock was now completely split in half. Its balloon was now completely gone, its undercarriage twisted and mangled, stuck halfway through the thick wooden boards that made up the surface of the pier.

There were figures moving around the wreckage. Five of them, moving to carry something. He couldn’t tell what it was.

Of all the nights for Luna to raise a new moon...

The Watcher paused for a moment, getting his bearings, then began to cautiously walk towards the end of the pier. He could feel ponies’ eyes upon him, and realized that the other dock workers had stopped to congregate at the cliff face nearest him. It made him uncomfortable. He didn’t like being seen, not by this many ponies.

One of them might remember he was the one to help these newcomers, might tell... whom? Celestia? Shining Armor? No. It was fine, it wouldn’t matter. Nopony, not even the Princess, could possibly piece together the implications of this chance meeting. And even if they did, by the time they could even try to stop him, he would already be... invulnerable.

Oh, to feel that power again... What I wouldn’t give to--

His thoughts were interrupted as the boards beneath him gave an alarming pop. The Watcher stopped dead in his tracks. He stood for a moment, breathing slowly, evenly, waiting for the floor to give, for the moment he would be cast into abyss below Canterlot mountain.

It never came. He heaved a sigh of relief, and hurried down to the end of the dock. By the time he got there, the five ponies had extricated themselves from the wreckage, and were dragging a sixth, who appeared to be leaking blood, away from the zeppelin on a tattered medical stretcher. One of them, a unicorn mare, was calling orders to the rest of them.

“Roads, take Willow up to the Castle and let the Princess know what’s happened. This whole thing’s a mess now, and we’re gonna need her help, especially with Redbud. Aspen, you’re with me, we need to get Redbud up to the medical center, now. Chief, you stay here and get as much of the cargo to safety as you can before this dock gives way. Start with my stuff, everything valuable is in there.” She looked up at the Watcher, staring at him with one commanding eye, and addressed him. “You,” she said. “You’re a dock worker, right?”

He nodded.

“Good.” She gestured to a massive, brown-coated earth pony who stood beside her. “This here is Chief. You help him move the cargo, and I’ll talk to the Aggregate about getting you some kind of commission. Slow him down, and he’ll kick you off the side of the pier. Got that?”

He nodded again, trying to suppress a smile. He liked this one. He hoped she would be involved--breaking her would be fun.

“Good,” she said. “Alright everypony, move out!”

The pegasus, followed by a small, slender earth pony, charged past him, headed down the dock. ‘Chief’ turned and delved back into the wreckage, grunting as he ripped through steel and wood to clear his path. The unicorn shouldered her pack, levitated her end of the stretcher, and marched past him. As she passed him, so close he could almost feel her cyan coat, he felt another presence, lurking somewhere on her person.

A tingle ran down his spine. So it’s her, he thought, a curl forming around the edges of his lips. Perfect. He watched her as she made her way down the dock, looking away only when she turned to steal one last glance at him and Chief.

Shouldering the length of rope he still carried, he trudged over to aid the earth pony among the rubble. He got to work as quickly as he could. The sooner he finished this, the sooner he could go tell the others what he had found. Something big was coming to pass, and he was determined to be at the heart of it. A knot of dark excitement formed in his stomach. This was it.

He could hardly wait.

_________________________________________________________

Roads was tired of being wet. It had rained on the island. It had rained the entire trip back to Equestria. And now it was raining here. As he stood at the edge of the gate to Canterlot Castle, the storms were as intense as they had ever been on the island. Shivering, he huddled against Willow for warmth.

Come on, he thought as he waited for the guard to open the outer gate and let him into the grounds outside the castle. Hurry up already, it feels like I’m dying out here.

He was hardly exaggerating. Between his broken right wing, charred left wing, fractured face, and his headache, he thought he would pass out at any moment. He was sure he was either concussed or dehydrated. Or both. Given his luck, it was probably that. Closing his eyes, he pressed a hoof to his forehead, trying to block out the pain.

“Are you okay?” Willow asked.

Roads nodded. “I’ll be fine,” he said. He looked up at the guard post at the top of the high stone wall attached to the gate. “Just as soon as I can get inside.”

“I’m sure they’ll be here soon. We rang the bell four times, after all, I’m sure they heard--”

Before he could finish, a small, wrought-iron door beside the gate swung open, and a wrinkled, grey maned earth pony beckoned them inside.

“In here!” he yelled as they approached. “Come on in, out of the rain!”

“Thanks,” Roads replied, stepping through the door into a small, cramped room that must have been built as an extension of the wall around the Castle.

As he wiped his hooves on a frayed mat next to the door, he glanced around the room. It was sparsely furnished, with a cot resting against a wall, and a small wooden bureau beside it, on top of which rested a heavy, ancient ledger, pages yellow and torn. The entire room was lit by a single lantern, hung low enough that Roads had to duck to avoid hitting his head on it, that swung just above a rickety oak table that was ever-so-slightly too large for the room.

“I figured there was no reason to open the gates for just two ponies!” he shouted at them. “So I let you use the maintenance door!”

“Um, sir, why are you yelling?” Willow asked him timidly.

“Whassat?!” the old pony asked. “Speak up, now!”

“Uh... I asked why you were shouting!” Willow said, much louder now.

“Who’s shouting?!”

“You’re shouting.”

“What?”

“You’re shouting!”

Across the room, another door swung open. “Hey! What’s all this yelling about?” another voice called. Another earth pony slipped into the room, this one shorter than Roads, but stockier, pudgy around the midsection, with a brown coat and light blue mane, slick with gel.

“It’s him!” Willow cried. He blinked, then realized what he had done. “Uh, I mean, he was shouting. I think he’s--”

“Hard of hearing?” the other pony finished. “Yes, well, that’s Old Felix for you. Deaf as a doornail. I honestly don’t know why they still let him work gate duty, he can never hear the bell.”

“Whassat?!” Old Felix asked. “I heard my name!”

“Nothing Felix!” the pony yelled. “Just get the ledger ready!”

“Alrighty!” Felix cried as he hobbled across the room towards the bureau, bumping into both Roads and Willow as he went. “Come on, out of the way you blasted idiots,” he said--quite audibly--in what he must have thought was a murmur.

“Don’t mind him,” the other pony said. “He should be retiring soon. Or, at least that’s what I’ve been telling the Captain of the Guard.” He shook his head, eyes on the ground. “Shining just never listens to me though, I just know some day it’ll get him fired...” he mumbled. Suddenly, his eyes snapped back up to meet Roads’. “Excuse me,” he said. “In all the hubbub I’m afraid I never got your names--how discourteous of me.” Roads noticed with displeasure that the he had a habit of licking the tip of his upper lip each time he finished talking, giving him an unsettling, lizard-like appearance.

“Well,” Willow said, sticking out a hoof. “I’m Willow, nice to meet you.”

The other pony looked down at Willow’s extended foreleg and wrinkled his nose. “Yes, well, I don’t shake hooves, I’m afraid. Nasty habit. Spreads disease.” He turned to Roads. “And you?” he asked.

“Roads,” he responded.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, my name is Poppycock. You’ll notice I didn’t say just my name, as that’s generally considered discourteous. Now,” he said, pressing a hoof to his chest. “I’m sure you’ve heard of me?”

Roads cocked an eyebrow. You have got to be kidding me. I don’t have time for this! he thought.

“Actually--” Willow began.

“No, we haven’t, sorry,” Roads interrupted. “And we don’t really have time to chat, either, we have to--”

“Yes, well,” Poppycock interrupted, frowning now. “Surprising that you wouldn’t have heard of the Head of the Royal Gateskeepers, given that I’m the pony who presides over everypony who enters or leaves the Castle grounds... What are they teaching kids these days...”

“Look, I’m sorry, but there’s really no time to talk, we need to get into the Castle, now,” Roads said, hoping Poppycock would take his request seriously.

“Mmm... urgent business in the Castle, huh? Sounds interesting, what is it?” he asked.

“We need to speak with the Princess!” Willow piped up.

“Oh? About what?”

Willow took a deep breath. “Well, you see, Roads and his friends were on this expedition when suddenly they crashed on our island and we--”

Roads nudged him with an elbow. “No,” he interrupted. “Not now. He’s just trying to stall us.”

“Stall you?” Poppycock asked. “Why, don’t be so rash. I just wanted to know what the urgent business was. If you really need to get into the Castle so badly, I’ll take you right there.”

“Thank you,” Roads said, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Just as soon as you fill out these visitation forms,” Poppycock said. “In triplicate.”

“What?!” Roads exclaimed.

“Felix! Do you have my ledger ready!” he called.

“I got it!” Felix said, then hobbled over to slam the ledger onto the table, as well as a large stack of parchment covered in tiny, dense scribblings.

“Here you go,” Poppycock said, shoving the papers into Roads’ and Willow’s hooves. “Just fill out these forms and we’ll enter you in the visitation ledger.”

“Roads?” Willow asked, reading the papers. “What is a ‘maiden name,’ and why do they need to know my mother’s?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Roads replied, grabbing the sheaves out of his hooves, and slapping them back down on the table. He looked back up at Poppycock, squinting out of one eye as his headache intensified.

If we don’t get to the Princess fast, Redbud could die. If we lose him because I couldn’t get past some bureaucrat, I’ll never forgive myself. As uncomfortable I am with conflict, I’m just going to have to get over it. He bit his lower lip, still staring at Poppycock. Come on, Roads, he thought. What would Summer do?

He exhaled harshly and slammed a hoof on the table, on top of the ledger. “Look, Poppycock,” he said angrily. “I am a personal student of the Princess, working under her orders, and if I don’t see her right now, somepony is going to die. I swear on the sun that if you do not let me through to Canterlot Castle in the next thirty seconds, I will personally make sure you don’t work another week as Gatekeeper, you got that?”

Poppycock raised an eyebrow. “Tsk, tsk,” he hissed. “Talking to me like that? How rude. If there’s one thing I simply cannot abide by, it’s discourtesy. And let me tell you something: if you don’t apologize for that in the next thirty seconds--and fill out these forms, of course--I will personally make sure you never see the inside of the Castle again. You got that?”

And that was when Roads snapped. Somehow, between his headache, his shellshock from the island, and his infuriation with Poppycock, something in his brain misfired. Before anypony could bat an eye, Roads reared, planted his forehooves on the table, and shoved it as hard as he could into Poppycock, pinning him to the wall. Grabbing the other pony by the mane, he pulled downwards, and heard a dull crack as Poppycock’s face slammed into the splintering wood of the table. The other pony gave a feeble cough, then went limp, still stuck against the wall.

“Roads...” Willow breathed.

Roads turned to see him and Felix staring at him, both wide-eyed and open-mouthed. There was a brief silence as he glanced from one to the other, breathing heavily, teeth gritted.

“Let’s go,” he said to Willow. “We’ve got to go see the Princess.”

Willow nodded and followed him silently out the door, leaving the stunned Felix and unconscious Poppycock behind. He shuddered as he stepped once more into the rain.

“Roads, what was that?” he asked.

“Not now, Willow,” Roads replied. “Later.”

He stood still for a moment, head swiveling, looking across the wide, rolling lawn, punctuated by dirt hoof-paths and cobblestone roads, trying to figure out where to go next. It had been a while since he had been in the Castle, and he didn’t have a clue where Celestia might be at the moment.

Finally, he picked out a door that looked promising, and turned to Willow. “There,” he said, pointing. “Follow me.”

And with that, he dashed out across the lawn, Willow in tow, hooves splashing in the wet grass. By the time they reached the awning that arched over the entrance of Roads’ choice, both of them were half-covered in mud. Swallowing and trying to catch his breath, Roads pushed the door open with a mud-caked hoof and stepped into the Castle.

The room they entered appeared to be some sort of foyer, a long, wide room with a pristine tile floor and vaulted ceilings, and two majestic staircases on the left and right walls, each spiraling off to Celestia-knew-where.

“Hello?” Roads called, walking into the center of the room, underneath a golden candelabra. “Anypony here?”

His voice echoed through the long hallway before him, resounding off the polished granite walls, and only slightly muffled by the tapestries slung across them depicting ponies long dead standing in heroic poses. He waited for a second, listening. No response came.

“Guess there’s nopony around this part of the Castle,” he said to Willow.

“So what now?” Willow asked.

Roads gestured to the staircase on their right. “Celestia’s quarters are at the very top of the Castle, in the center of all four wings. We’re on the ground floor of the West Wing now, facing, uh, north, I think, so if we go right and up for long enough, we should at least get closer to where we need to be.”

Willow nodded. “Alright then,” he said. “Let’s get going.”

Roads turned away from him and headed up the staircase, cringing as his muddy hooves soiled the magenta carpet that covered the stairs. For a while, they trudged in silence, eyeing the portraits and decorations that coated the stone walls around them.

Finally, they came to the top of the stairs, into a long, softly lit hallway, lined with polished wooden doors and blue-flamed candles. There were no portraits or tapestries here, but instead, stained glass windows, all colored blue, green, or violet, depicting little more than abstract shapes and geometrical patterns. Between the glass and the candles, the dark, reflective walls of the hallway seemed to give off faint, shimmering auras of cool colors.

It was silent here as well, but a different sort of silence. The foyer had carried the silence of desertion, but this place carried a fuller, richer silence, one of reverence and tranquility. The two could hear nothing save for their own hoofsteps, which gave off clear, resounding notes as they touched the smooth, hard stone floor.

“Where are we?” Willow whispered to Roads as they made their way gently down the hallway.

“I dunno,” he replied softly.

Despite the hurry both were in, somehow neither could dare to break the stillness of the corridor. Roads got the distinct feeling that unnecessary sound or movement might disturb the very building itself and send it crashing down on top of them. Swallowing, he edged over to one of the doors, and peered through the glass inlaid in it just below the top of the frame. Through it, he could see shelf after shelf of old parchments, texts, and tomes, all surrounded by a thick white mist. Suddenly, he realized where they were.

“Wait a minute,” he whispered to Willow. “I know this place. It’s the Hall of Hidden Tomes, where the master unicorns of the Castle store powerful, ancient texts. I’ve never been here, only heard of it before. They say it used to be the attic of the Canterlot Royal Library--which must be right beneath our hooves.”

Willow put a hoof to his chin. “Your people are strange,” he whispered.

“Why?”

“The texts in these rooms must be very valuable. Princess would have guarded them heavily, but we haven’t run into a single pony on our way up, and it doesn’t sound like there’s anyone around here, either. Anypony who wanted to could just walk in and take these.”

Roads shook his head. “Just because you can’t see any guards, doesn’t mean this corridor isn’t guarded. If anypony tried to gain unauthorized entry through one of those doors, the security enchantments inside would tear them to pieces.”

“Well,” Willow replied. “I sure wish there were a guard or two around here, it’d be nice if somepony could tell us where we’re supposed to be going.”

“I think the Mages’ Quarters are past the other end of this hallway, maybe one of them could help us,” Roads said.

“‘Mages’ Quarters’?” Willow asked as the pair made their way down the corridor.

“Canterlot Castle gives housing to a number of powerful, important unicorns who the Princess employs for arcane research, and for teaching at the School for Gifted Unicorns. They live close to the center of the Castle, near the Library and the School,” Roads explained.

“So much of a royal focus on education, research and learning...” Willow observed. “And all arranged to be right under the nose of your leader. Knowledge must be very important to her.”

Roads smiled. “You have no idea,” he replied. Reaching up, he knocked at the high door that stood at the end of the Hall of Hidden Tomes. For a moment, there was only silence.

Then the door creaked open. A bespectacled brown unicorn with a long, shaggy grey mane stuck his head through the crack.

“Who’s th--Roads?!” he exclaimed. “What are you doing here?” he asked. He gave a loud yawn. “And at this time of night, too.” He blinked twice and lifted a hoof to his face, raising his glasses and rubbing his eyes.

“Professor Sunburst?” Roads asked.

“In the flesh,” Sunburst replied. “And who is this?” he asked, gesturing to Roads’ companion.

“That’s Willow,” Roads said. “He’s, well... it’s hard to explain who he is. Kind of a long story.”

“I see,” Sunburst replied. “My, it’s been such a long time since we last met. Hasn’t been since, oh let’s see now--”

“Sorry, Professor,” Roads interrupted, cutting him off. “I’m afraid we don’t have time to chat. We’ve got urgent business with the Princess. Do you have any idea where she is?”

“At this hour, probably in her quarters, I’d imagine,” Sunburst said. He cocked an eyebrow. “What do you need the Princess for?”

Roads shook his head. “No time to explain. What’s the fastest way to get there from here?” he asked.

“Well...” Sunburst started.

He threw open the door, revealing a common area crowded with antique chairs and tables, all of which were covered in spell tomes and scattered magical reagents. He pointed to a staircase at the far end of the room.

“You could take those stairs. Or--” he said, levitating Roads as the pegasus tried to dash past him. For a moment, Roads hung in the air, flailing his legs as he tried to keep running. “You could be patient and listen to what I was going to say next. Do you remember that lecture I gave you on patience?” he asked.

“Yes, Professor,” Roads replied.

Beside him, Willow giggled. “I like this pony,” he whispered to Roads.

“I bet you say that about everyone,” Roads whispered back.

“Here,” Sunburst said, stretching out a foreleg. “Take my hoof. I can get us there in a jiffy.”

Willow giggled again. “Jiffy,” he said quietly. “That’s a funny word.”

Roads just rolled his eyes and grabbed Sunburst’s hoof, as did Willow. Sunburst closed his eyes, concentrating, then his horn gave a flash of light, nearly blinding Roads.

For a second, he felt extremely cold, and could neither see, nor hear anything. Willow and Sunburst were gone, but before he could look around to find them, there was another flash of light. He slammed into something cold and hard.

Opening his eyes, he found himself spread-eagle on the stone floor of the hallway outside Celestia’s quarters. Willow and Sunburst stared down at him, concerned looks on their faces.

“Sorry about that,” Sunburst said, as he helped Roads to his hooves. “I’m not sure what happened, but I lost you there for a second. You just sort of slipped... somewhere else. While we were... traveling.” He frowned for a moment, still concerned. “I’ve never had that happen before.” He glanced from Roads to Willow, bit his lip, then burst into a broad smile. “Ah, well, you came through alright. Nothing to worry about! The Princess should be just through these doors. Night, you two.”

And with that, and one more flash of light, he was gone.

“Huh,” Roads said. “That’s strange.”

“What do you mean?” Willow asked.

“He looked so concerned...”

“Why wouldn’t he be? He thought he’d lost you!”

Roads blinked. “But I was only a second or two behind you...”

Willow frowned. “Roads, you were gone for almost ten minutes... We thought we were going to have to get the Princess just to come help us find you.”

Roads’ jaw dropped. “What? It--it only felt like a moment!”

Willow shook his head. “Maybe it was wherever you were... but come on, Sunburst said it would be fine, and he seemed to know what he was talking about.”

“I guess...” Roads said, looking himself over. “I mean, I feel fine...”

“See? It’s nothing. Come on, Redbud needs us.”

Roads nodded. “You’re right. I’ll sort it out later.”

He looked up at the tall white door, emblazoned with the Princess’ cutie mark, below a crystalline mirror. The corners of his lips tightened as he locked eyes with his reflection in the mirror. Celestia had always said she had put it there instead of a window, “so that when ponies come looking for me, they find the one who can really help them.” He wondered if the saying still held true now. Somehow, he doubted it.

Lifting a hoof, he rapped on the door. Within a moment, a yawning Celestia emerged, blinking as she stepped into the light. Beside Roads, Willow’s jaw dropped.

“So that’s what a real Princess looks like?!” Willow cried, awestruck. “She’s... she’s so... what is she?!” he whispered excitedly to Roads.

“An alicorn,” Roads replied.

“She’s... gorgeous! Look at her mane!” he whispered back, jaw still hanging open.

Roads tried to stifle his laughter. When he looked back up at the Princess again, he saw she was doing the same.

“Hello, my little ponies. I’ll admit I didn’t expect to see you quite at this--Roads! What’s happened to you?” she exclaimed as she realized who she was looking at.

“The expedition was, uh, a bit rough,” he replied, unsure of where to start.

“I’d say that’s an understatement,” Willow observed quietly. Celestia’s gaze shifted to him.

“And who are you, little one?” Celestia said, extending a hoof. “I don’t recall ever seeing you before...”

Willow stared at her outstretched hoof, then up at her, breathtaken. “My name is Willow, your Majesty.” He glanced questioningly at Roads, then leaned forwards and kissed the tip of her hoof. Celestia looked down at him and chuckled.

“You’re only supposed to shake it, Willow,” Roads whispered to him.

“Oh,” he replied, blushing furiously.

“So, how did you get here?” Celestia asked him.

“On a balloon,” Willow replied simply.

“I see,” Celestia replied, a thin smile spreading around the edges of her mouth. By the time she had looked back over to Roads, though it was gone. “Roads, what exactly is going on? What are you doing here?”

“It’s a long story, Princess, and we don’t have a whole lot of time.”

“Why is that?”

“You’re needed at the medical center.”

Celestia’s eyes widened ever-so-slightly. “Who is it?”

“Equestria’s newest diplomat. Please, come with us Princess, I’ll explain on the way.”

_________________________________________________________

In the Curse Ward of the medical center at Canterlot Castle, Summer Dew stopped pacing, sat down next to Aspen, and sighed. She buried her face in her hooves, rubbing at her eyes, then shrugged and dropped them, just in time to see the door in front of them swing open. A unicorn stallion in a lab coat entered the stark-white treatment room Summer had been waiting in for the past twenty minutes.

She glared at him.

She really shouldn’t have been there. She felt fine, she could pass for fine, and none of the doctors would have known any better if one of the nurses hadn’t caught a glimpse of her lacerated sides when she was delivering Redbud to the healing wing. And, of course, when she was under physical examination by another nurse, she had made a flippant comment about her eye--great going, Summer Dew, nice one--and now here she was, stuck in the curse ward while she should have been making sure Redbud was getting treated properly.

She had discovered a whole island nation, after all, and the Aggregate owed her for that--she wasn’t about to let anything happen to their newest ambassador. Between him and the dynamic map stuffed into her saddlebag, she would be able to squeeze just enough out of the Aggregate to pay off her gambling debts. As long as nothing else went wrong.

Summer wasn’t crazy, of course, she knew that everything would most likely be fine--they were back in Equestria after all, and out of that Celestia-forsaken storm. But still... She liked being able to make sure, herself, and she certainly couldn’t do that trapped here in the damned Curse Ward.

“Summer Dew?” the doctor asked, breaking her train of thought. He extended a hoof. “I’m Doctor Fetlock, how are you?”

Summer glared up at the doctor. “Fine,” she said. “Good enough that I’m not entirely sure why I’m here, actually.”

Fetlock blinked. “What? You’re kidding! Your eye--”

“Feels fine, thanks. Now, if you’ll let me get out of here, I have an asset to protect.”

“Now, be serious,” Fetlock said. “Your eye is nowhere near fine.”

“Yeah, but it feels alright--which means I can come back here, later, when I’m sure that I haven’t just lost a whole bunch of money.”

“Ma’am, I assure you, whatever it is, it can wait. There is no way I’m letting you out of here before I’m finished,” Fetlock said.

Summer gritted her teeth. “Fine,” she said. There was a momentary pause as the two stared at each other. Aspen let out a nervous cough. “So? What’s wrong with it?”

The doctor fidgeted uncomfortably. “Well, after looking over the evaluation report the nurse gave me, I’m honestly a bit stumped.”

Summer cocked an eyebrow. “Isn’t this, you know, your job?”

Fetlock glared at her. “That’s part of my job. Now, if you’ll be quiet for a minute, ma’am, I’ll get to the other part.”

Summer tightened her mouth in a begrudging silence.

“That’s better,” Fetlock said. “Now, the chair you’re in reclines. I need you to lean back and close your eye.” He waited a moment, as Summer did as she was told, then continued, “Thank you. Now you’ll feel my hoof over your eye, and then a momentary intense tingling. Do not be alarmed, that’s just the perception magic doing it’s work. Do you understand?”

Summer nodded. Fetlock reached forward, horn glowing, and as he touched Summer’s cursed eye, his hoof began to give off a dark blue aura. The aura spread across her closed eyelid, then appeared to seep into the eye itself. Summer gave a small gasp as the magic washed over her and her eye began to burn and itch furiously. Teeth gritted, muscles clenched, she waited for a moment in silence as Fetlock finished his work. After what seemed like an eternity, Fetlock with drew his hoof.

Summer gave a sigh of relief.

“Alright?” Fetlock asked. “Didn’t hurt, did it?”

“Not in the least,” Summer replied. “I’m fine. So, what did you figure out?”

“Well nothing good, I’m afraid,” the doctor said slowly. “Basically, the curse has paralyzed the muscles around your eye, caused immediate cell generation over the pupil, and destroyed much of both the pigmentation and structure of the iris. In short, the eye has been rendered useless,” he explained.

“Gee, doc, hadn’t noticed, thanks.”

“I’m not finished yet,” Fetlock replied. “Now, normally in cases like this, we would just bring in a healer, who could use his magic to force your body to destroy the dysfunctional cells and regrow the normal ones, by energizing your ley lines in such a way as to spur a very certain type of cell development.

“Now, as I’m sure you know, while the body’s main ley lines run through only a small portion of your body, the minor lines are interwoven with your entire body on a fundamental level. It is due to this structure, and your ley lines’ positions that a healer is able to revert changes to your body via precise stimulation of your lines,” he continued.

“Dear Celestia, you’re almost as bad as Roads,” Summer interrupted. “Will you please get to the point sometime within the next half hour?”

“I’m almost there,” Fetlock replied. “See, the bad news for you, is that this healing procedure, which is really our only option, is out of the question for you. The curse was powerful enough to fundamentally alter the structure of your anatomical lines, meaning there is no way for our healers to revert the damage. In short, it seems there’s nothing we can do.”

The doctor settled into a solemn, respectful silence. Aspen turned to Summer, a concerned look on his face.

“Summer...” he said quietly.

Summer cocked an eyebrow. “Well, I guess that’s it then. Oh, well.”

Fetlock looked at her curiously. “You seem awfully nonchalant about this. You... you do understand what I’m saying, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Summer replied. “I heard. One of my eyes is now useless. And?”

“Well, it’s a bit uncommon to be completely unaffected, don’t you think?” Aspen asked gently.

Summer shrugged. “I was already used to it. I’ll be fine, so long as I’ve got the other one. I didn’t have much hope for you doctor types anyway--looks like I was right. So, can I go now?”

Fetlock swallowed. “Yes, I suppose. Did you fill out your medical records?”

“Yeah. I left ‘em on the table,” Summer said, brushing past Fetlock with Aspen in tow. “The nurses’ll handle it, right?” she said. The doctor opened his mouth to say something, but before he could say a word, Summer was already out into the hallway, with the door closed behind her.

“Which way is Redbud’s room, again?” Aspen asked, looking around at the monochromatic, tile-floored hallway. “Everything around here all just looks the same to me, I have no idea how you ponies find your way around.”

“This way,” Summer said, pointing down to a door at the end of the Curse Ward central corridor marked, “Hospital Lobby.”

“All of the hallways are perfectly perpendicular to one another,” he grumbled, “it’s ridiculous.”

“What?” Summer asked. “What are you talking about?”

“Every hallway intersects the others at perfect ninety degree angles,” Aspen explained. “So every single intersection looks completely identical.”

“Why wouldn’t they be?” Summer asked, pushing open the door and leading them into the Hospital Lobby.

“Well, where I’m from, you can always tell where you are in a dig-in by the angles the hallways intersect at. All the angles are a bit off in one way or another, it makes it easy to remember where you’ve been when you’re trying to retrace your steps. Even if the decorations in the rooms or halls change, or something, you can always tell where you are, just because of the way it’s all laid out,” Aspen said, looking around the wide central lobby, eyeing the various sick or injured ponies that rested on the rows of cushions spread across the middle of the room.

Summer just rolled her eyes. “You islanders are weird,” she replied. Turning away, she guided him through the lobby, past the coordinator’s desk with the half-asleep unicorn who ran it, through a pair of doors under a sign marked “Healing/Intensive Care Ward.”

The two found themselves inside a hallway nearly identical to the last, but here the lighting was dim, and the walls painted a dull yellow. There was much less noise in this ward fewer nurses around, fewer patients, fewer families and visitors. The doors into individual patients rooms were fewer and farther between, each room having to be far larger to suit the heightened needs of its inhabitants.

Summer looked to her left, at one of the doors. Its window was covered by a curtain, next to which was marked the number ‘117’. She frowned. They were a long way off. The doctors had said he would be in room 171.

The pair continued down the hallway, until they came to a fork in the corridor, the left side marked ‘136-163,’ and the right, ‘164-194.’ The two took the latter path, and, upon turning the corner, found themselves standing right behind Princess Celestia, Roads, and Willow. Upon seeing the Princess, Summer sank into a deep bow, horn nearly touching the floor.

“Willow!” Aspen called. The smaller pony turned around, face brightening, and walked swiftly down the hall to meet them, Princess Celestia and Roads in tow.

“Aspen, how are you? How is Redbud?” Willow asked, drawing Aspen into a tight embrace.

“I’m fine,” Aspen replied. “I don’t know about Redbud. He didn’t look so good when we dropped him off, but we haven’t seen him in a while.”

“What? How come? What happened?”

“Well, Summer here--” he turned to see Summer bowing and abruptly stopped speaking, staring at her curiously. “What are you--?”

“It’s the Princess, idiot,” Summer hissed at him, waving a forehoof in Celestia’s direction.

Aspen paled, and immediately sank to his knees, folding his forehooves before his head and resting his forehead upon them.

“My name is Aspen, of Tyu’doh Island,” he said.

Behind him, Summer mouthed the word “Tyu’doh?” to Roads. He shrugged in response.

“I am here as an aid to our ambassador to your nation, who lies injured just down this hallway,” Aspen continued. “Please forgive my earlier discourtesy, I was not aware of your position.”

Celestia blinked once, then regained her composure, now with a small smile.

“You may rise, Aspen,” she said softly. “I was, in fact, just on my way to check on your ambassador. Roads has already explained to me what happened on his expedition, and from what he has told me, it seems I may have to attend to this ‘Redbud’s’ healing personally.”

“Your attentions are appreciated, your Majesty,” Aspen replied, getting to his hooves.

“He talks like my sister,” Summer heard the Princess whisper to Roads. She managed to stifle a laugh.

“Why are you talking like that?” she asked Aspen quietly.

“This is how our Princess told us to talk to her,” he whispered. “Does yours not expect the same? Should I try something else?”

Summer shook her head, grinning. “Oh, no, definitely keep going. I think she likes it.”

Aspen nodded. “Thanks,” he told her.

“Summer Dew?” the Princess said, turning from Aspen to the unicorn.

“Ma’am?”

“Good to see you again,” Celestia said.

“Yes, ma’am. It’s been some time, I guess, hasn’t it?” Summer replied.

Celestia nodded. “Indeed. Not since your brother-in-law’s tribunal, I suppose?”

Summer felt her face begin to burn slightly. “Yes, ma’am.”

“So,” Roads cut in. “Now that we’ve all been properly introduced, can we get down to Redbud’s room? Time is kind of a factor here...”

Celestia nodded. “Come,” she said. “Follow me.”

Turning, she strode down the hall, the four smaller ponies in tow. Shortly, the group came to the door marked ‘171.’ Celestia pushed open the door and walked into the wide, brightly lit room, which was packed with nurses and healers. They were all crowded around a padded table, most of their horns glowing, channeling energy. Between them, she could just barely make out Redbud’s silhouette. Upon hearing the door open, one of the healers looked up, and, seeing the Princess, walked over to them.

“Princess Celestia,” he said with a quick bow.

“Healer Wormwood,” she replied.

“The unicorn told us this was a privileged patient, under your personal protection,” Wormwood said, gesturing to Summer. “We were skeptical at first, but I see we were correct to believe her.”

“In a way, yes,” the Princess replied. “How is he?”

The healer frowned. “His wounds are severe. Come, see for yourself,” he said curtly. He nudged a few of the healers out of the way and gestured the other ponies over to the large, circular table. Upon it, Redbud was laying flat on his back, unclothed, legs spread.

“He is injured severely in the lower right flank, near the gluteal muscle insertion, here,” Wormwood said, pointing to the gaping wound where Redbud had been stabbed by Riverberch. “There is also a puncture wound in his left foreleg, where an object pierced cleanly through one side of the leg to the other, just behind the metacarpal bone,” he continued, gesturing to the hole where Redbud had taken Wormwood’s spear.

“There is, as well, a large laceration midway up the back, which has in fact grazed the spine. All three of these major wounds have become grossly infected, and he appears to be rapidly approaching septic shock. When he was brought in he had a raging fever, though for the moment we have managed to abate that. There are also many cuts and scrapes across his body, many of which, though serious, are nowhere near as critical as these three wounds.

“For the most part, we have managed to seal those lacerations, as well as heal two broken bones and innumerable contusions. However, these main three injuries are far beyond our abilities. Our combined magic has only been enough to keep him stable pending your arrival, Princess,” the doctor said, finishing his explanation.

Celestia nodded gravely. She stepped forward, looking over the injured pony. One of his eyelids opened slightly, and a low gurgle echoed from his chest as he caught sight of the Princess.

“...ma’am...” he croaked.

Celestia’s eyes widened. “He’s awake!” she exclaimed, peering at Wormwood.

He nodded. “Yes, Princess. He should have been unconscious hours ago, but he just won’t let go.”

The Princess nodded and turned back to Redbud. “How are you doing, Redbud?” she asked him.

“Never... better...” he replied, a bit of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth as he talked. He gave a weak smile.

“Now, Redbud, I’m going to try to heal you, but I have to warn you, it won’t be pleasant. Some of the cells I’ll be regrowing will be nerve cells, and growing nerve cells can be intensely painful. I’ve been told it feels roughly like having one’s wounds re-inflicted. Many ponies go into shock, most end up unconscious. I’m not trying to scare you, of course, I just want you to be aware of what you’re about to experience. Now, are you sure you want to go through with this?” she asked.

Redbud coughed feebly. “Bring... it...”

Summer couldn’t help but smile at that. Beside her, the Princess nodded once, then lowered her horn, letting its tip hover gently touch Redbud’s chest. A dull golden glow enveloped it, then spread across his chest. It moved slowly over his body, like a liquid, pooling more thickly along his wounds. Redbud gave a gasp.

“Are you okay?” Willow asked.

“Fine...” he responded.

“Those are just the tracers,” Roads whispered to Summer, “to direct the healing magic that’s about to come. Watch carefully, it’s supposed to be one of the most complex spells known to pony-kind.”

“Thanks, egghead,” Summer replied flatly. She wasn’t exactly in the mood to listen to a narration at the moment.

Suddenly, there was a bright flash. Summer saw a second, much brighter aura forming around the Princess’ horn, enveloping the first. As soon as it had moved completely over her horn, a thin, circular beam shot from the tip of her horn, into Redbud’s chest, just above the heart. Redbud convulsed slightly, then lay still.

“There’s the stabilizer,” Roads whispered. “It helps keep him alive while the healing spells do their work.”

Finally, a third aura, still brighter than the first two began to cover Celestia’s horn. It reached the tip of her horn, then spread further still, down to Redbud. It wrapped around him, encasing him in a cocoon of magical energy. Celestia’s horn flared, and the cocoon began to glow brighter and brighter, then lifted Redbud off of the operating table and into the air.

“This is it,” Roads whispered. “The last part of the spell.”

The three auras around Celestia’s horn pulsed twice, rapidly. A burst of energy emanated from the cocoon, washing over the room. Inside the ball of energy, Redbud began to scream in agony. The walls of the cocoon began to writhe and bulge as Redbud thrashed around inside them, his screams growing louder. The cocoon gave another pulse, rocking in midair, then a third. Summer glanced over to see that the Princess was now covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

Finally, the glowing ball of energy stilled, then began to lower itself back onto the table. As soon as it touched the padding, the cocoon dissipated. A layer of steam rose into the air in its wake, swirling through the air as the light from Celestia’s horn faded. Summer swallowed and peered down at Redbud.

He was unconscious now, breathing shallowly. The gangrenous areas and gaping wounds were now healed, leaving only a few patches of scar tissue. Even the blood and dirt that had dried in his fur had been dissolved, leaving him clean and slightly steaming on the padded table. Summer gave a sigh of relief. It looked like she was going to earn her bonus after all.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Roads said beside her, wiping his brow. He looked up at Celestia. “Princess... that was amazing.”

“Thank you, Roads. It seems you may even get to experience something similar for yourself,” Celestia replied.

“Huh?”

“You told me your wing was broken and set in the field, without medical equipment, or extensively trained personnel...” Summer tried to hide a scowl. “...so I would like to take a look at it, myself. It may be that you need a powerful healer yourself, if you ever want to fly again,” Celestia explained.

“Are you sure?”

“I will have to check it first, but I think it’s certainly possible. In fact... Wormwood,” she said, turning to the healer. “If you and your peers can take it from here, I’d like a spare room to have a look at Roads.”

“I believe room one seventy-four is open, Princess,” Wormwood replied.

“Thank you. Willow and Aspen, if you would like, you may stay here with Redbud. I’m sure Wormwood can arrange for cushions to be brought in. Otherwise, I can arrange for quarters in the main body of the Castle a night early,” Celestia said.

“We’d prefer to stay here with Guard-Captain Redbud, ma’am,” Aspen replied.

“Very well,” Celestia replied. She glanced at Roads, then turned to leave. “Alright, come with me--”

“Wait up,” Summer cut in. “I’m going with him.” She gestured to Roads.

Celestia nodded, and Summer thought she saw one of the Princess’ eyebrows arch ever-so-slightly. “This way, then,” she replied, and led the two out of the room, and just down the hall to the door marked ‘174.’ Her horn glowed, and the door swung open. She ushered Roads and Summer into the room, then closed the door behind them.

“Please, sit down, Roads. This may be a bit uncomfortable,” she said. A golden glow grew around her horn, then moved in an almost fluid motion to flow through Roads’ wing. Roads let out a shrill gasp, wincing heavily.

“Are you okay?” Celestia asked, as the spell finished its work.

“Fine,” Roads replied, the glow around his wing fading. “How’s my wing?”

“Shattered,” Celestia replied. “And the bones don’t seem to be healing correctly.”

Summer winced. She wondered if that was her fault, or the inevitable result of trying to survive on that Celestia-forsaken island.

“I’ll have to heal it,” Celestia said. “But because you may be rendered unconscious, before I cast the spell I need to ask you something. I had hoped to have an opportunity to be a bit more tactful, but your wing leaves me no choice, and I need an answer soon.”

“Yes, Princess. Whatever you need to know.”

“Poppycock. I’ve received a report about his condition that I find a bit... disturbing...”

Roads swallowed. “Did he tell you that he was keeping me out of the castle, Princess?” he asked.

“After a bit of questioning, yes, he admitted to it.”

Roads sighed, brow furrowed. “Well, honestly, Princess, the moment I realized that I didn’t have a chance of talking my way in, I was forced to choose between his well-being and Redbud’s life. And honestly, I wanted to give up, but it simply wasn’t an option. I never would have been able to live with myself otherwise...”

Celestia cocked an eyebrow. Summer just stared at him. It was exactly the line of thought she would have had. Was Roads finally learning from her? Did she want that?

Does it matter if I want that or not? It’s what’s happened, regardless, she thought.

“Roads,” the Princess said. “You broke his nose. He’ll be in the hospital for a week.”

Roads paled. “He made it between him and Redbud. I had no other option.”

Celestia’s frown deepened. “Roads, you excel in analysis and persuasion. You know it, I have seen it. Do you think even a pony like Poppycock could not be won over by words? You must have very little faith in your peers,” she said, looking at Roads, a worried expression across her face.

Summer nearly cut in then, wanting to defend Roads. Why trust ponies you didn’t know? She would expect a less naive view from a monarch who had ruled for such a long time.

Still, she thought, it probably wouldn’t benefit me to directly contradict the Princess, not if I don’t have to.

She held her tongue.

Roads just stared at the floor. “I have faith in ponies like Redbud and Summer,” he said hollowly. “For the rest, I believe in what they show me.” He looked up at Celestia. “Princess, I’m sorry, even so.” Summer saw genuine remorse in his face. “It’s my own fault for not having the capacity to get past him. I can’t defend myself, Princess, just my choices...” he said.

Celestia opened her mouth, then closed it again. She clenched her teeth and exhaled. “This is very troubling Roads, but I think it’s time you got some rest. Here, let me mend your wing.”

Roads extended his wing and winced.

“Don’t worry, Roads. This spell is a much lesser version of the one I cast on Redbud, it won’t be as painful,” Celestia said.

Her horn glowed, casting three golden auras over Roads’ wing in quick succession. The energy gave a flash, then wrapped itself around the wing. Roads gave a cry of pain as it wrenched quickly in two directions, then gave off a series of pulses. His entire body seemed to tense as the magic did its work, and towards the end of the spell, his limbs began to shake and quiver as his eyes rolled back into his head.

Finally, the spell ended and Roads fell back against the table, completely unconscious. Turning away from him, Celestia magically opened a drawer across the room, and picked up a blanket and a large pillow.

“Where will you be sleeping, Summer?” she asked, slipping the pillow under Roads’ head and covering him with the blanket.

“Here, I guess,” Summer said with a shrug. “I don’t really feel up to walking all the way home. Been a long day, you know?”

The Princess gave a quiet chuckle. “I certainly do, my little pony. I’ll have Wormwood bring you a cot, if you like.”

Summer glanced over her shoulder, looking at the table Roads was sleeping on. There was definitely room for two ponies there. And why not? They were back in Equestria, after all. She shook her head. “I’ll handle it Princess, thanks.”

“Very well. Good night, Summer Dew,” Celestia responded. Summer glanced away as Celestia was enveloped with light. By the time she looked up again, the Princess was gone.

With a yawn, she strode across the room, lifted up one edge of the blanket, and eased herself into bed beside Roads. She nudged him over a bit, and he gave a slight jerk, flopping one of his forelegs over her. Blowing a bit of stray mane out of her face, she closed her eyes and turned over. With another yawn, she buried her head into Roads chest as she fell asleep.

_________________________________________________________

“So, where exactly were you guys?”

Chief looked up from his inventory list to see that the blue-maned porter had set down his cargo crate, and was now staring curiously at him. Chief ignored the question.

“Is that the last one?” he asked, gesturing to the crate.

“The last I could see,” the porter replied. “Hey, what did you say your name was again? It was tough to hear earlier, out in the storm.” He gestured around at the small wooden shack that served as the Aggregate’s warehouse. “I mean, it’s a lot quieter in here...” he said.

“Chief,” he replied.

“‘Chief’? Huh. Funny name, don’t hear anything like that too often. What, issat a nickname?” he asked.

Chief just stared at him. The porter continued talking, unphased.

“Me, folks just call Klein,” he said. “Nice to meet you, I don’t think we got properly introduced out on the pier.” He stuck out a hoof. Chief didn’t respond, he was moving around the ‘warehouse,’ opening boxes and making marks on the inventory list.

Klein looked around at the cargo and whistled. “Lotsa stuff here. What’dja need it for?”

“Expedition,” Chief replied.

“Right, right, with the Aggregate. Yeah, work with ‘em all the time, they use the Skydocks a lot,” he said. He placed a hoof to his chin, thinking. “In fact, I think maybe I’ve even worked with you guys before. That unicorn mare, what was her name again?”

Chief looked up from his inventory list. “Does it matter?”

Klein shrugged. “Hey, I’m a curious kinda guy.”

Chief looked back down at his list without a word.

“Ya know, she’ll most likely come back through here, I’d like to be able to actually address her. And the pegasus guy, the scrawny little one, I’ve definitely worked with him before. He told me his name before, oh what was it, tip of the tongue...” Klein sat still for a moment, thinking. “Nope. Can’t remember. What was it, Chief?”

Chief looked at him, eyes narrowed. There was a brief pause. “You said you’d worked with him before?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” he, said with a dismissive wave of the hoof. “At least, I think so. I mean, I’m a busy guy, work with lotsa folks...”

Chief grunted. “Not every day I talk to someone who’s worked with Star Gazer before.”

“Oh!” Klein replied. “Star Gazer, that’s right, that’s what he said it was. Nice guy, how’d you meet him?”

“You ask too many questions,” Chief replied.

“Hey, just tryin’ to make conversation,” the porter replied with a shrug.

Chief didn’t respond.

“Like I said, you know, I’m a curious guy...”

“Go away,” Chief said bluntly.

Klein looked at him, flustered. “What?” he asked.

Chief held up the inventory list. “I’m done here. You can go.”

“Oh. A’right then, see ya around,” Klein replied, walking out of the warehouse, into the rain. Chief stared at him as he left.

I’ll need to keep an eye on that one, he thought. Something’s not right there...

Still, there was nothing to do about it now. Chief had bigger fish to fry. He walked over to the door, found a clipboard hanging beside it on a nail , and left his inventory list there. Tomorrow one of the Aggregate’s contracted porters would come take care of what was left of their cargo, and leave behind the personal items he had marked.

Throwing on a rain slicker somepony had left next to the door, Chief pushed the door open, and headed back outside. It was still raining, but it seemed the worst of the storm was over. There was no wind, no lightning, no thunder, just slow, heavy raindops. He gathered the slicker around him, and made his way across the Skydocks to a stairway cut into the side of the mountain.

After walking up the stairway, he found himself at the base of the Canterlot Castle wall. He glanced down both lengths of the wall. No guards. They neglected patrols just for a little weather? Chief frowned. The Guard was really going down hill these days. Sometimes it almost made him glad he had left. Almost.

He made his way along the wall, through the mud and the rain, until he came to a corner where the wall turned. Was it still here? It had been months since he had broken into the Castle grounds; he hoped nopony had found it yet. He ran his hooves over a patch of wall, feeling for the tiny grooves he had left in one of the stones.

He found what he was looking for, then pushed hard on the stone. It slipped out of the wall and fell to the ground on the other side. The rock below it, now exposed, was also grooved. Chief slid it away, too. There was now a gap in the wall almost three feet across. Chief wriggled through the hole, onto the Castle grounds. Turning, he replaced the stones behind him.

Chief sighed. As he walked over to the Castle, he wondered how long he would be able to get onto the grounds like this, how long it would take the guards to figure it out. Nothing like this would have ever gotten through on his watch, that was for sure. It was probably that damned Shining Armor’s fault. Naive little upstart. How long until his oversights cost somepony their life?

Grumbling, he slipped quietly into the Castle, into the same quiet, empty hallway Roads had found earlier. Chief, however, took the left stairwell, working his way up towards one of the Castle’s upper spires.. Soon, he reached the top of the staircase, which leveled off in a hall ending in a door marked “Blueblood,” through which Chief could just barely hear the sounds of high pitched moaning.

Is that the same Blueblood I once worked protection detail on? he wondered. For the sake of the mare in that room, he hoped not.

Chief walked quietly down the hallway and stopped just before the door. Rearing, he found a few inches of twine hanging from a hinged flap in the ceiling, only barely visible anyone who wasn’t looking for it. He pulled the twine, and the flap swung down towards him, a bar on its underside. Angling his head to the side, Chief could make out the shadows of more ladder rungs. The maintenance shaft to the attic of the spire.

Reaching up, Chief took the first bar, and used it to hoist himself into the shaft. He pulled himself, hoof over hoof, up several rungs and into the attic. He glanced around at his surroundings. The attic was small and cramped, filled with old furniture and soiled Celestian relics that had been locked away so as not to take up space when they weren’t needed on display. Chief reached down and pushed them out of his way, then crossed the room to one of the large skylights.

He pushed the window open and stepped out onto the slippery roof, moving carefully, trying not to lose his balance. One hoof grasping the windowsill, he peered over the edge of the roof and caught sight of a flying buttress connected to the spire he stood on. On the other side was a tower that rose parallel to Princess Luna’s quarters.

After letting go of the windowsill, he slipped off the roof, down onto the top of the buttress. He crawled along the length of the buttress, occasionally glancing at the long drop beneath him, until he came to the other wall. Just beneath the spot where the buttress met the other tower, there was a small outcropping that served as an awning for another window.

Clinging tightly to the hoofholds left in the side of the buttress by decorative engravings, Chief lowered himself down onto the outcropping, then reached down and used one hindleg to push open the window beneath it. He then grabbed the edge of the eaves and swung himself down into the tower.

Landing easily, he glanced around at the numerous stacks of quills and parchment around him, and at the desks that lined the room. On each one rested a mostly-used candle, an inkwell, and a prodigious amount of papers covered in tiny, flowing inscriptions. The corners of his lips tightened. Perfect. He was in the attic of the Hall of Records, in the room where the records themselves were actually created.

He walked over to the exit, and tested the door’s handle. Unlocked. Chief cocked an eyebrow. After all this time, they still didn’t lock this door? They still hadn’t figured how he was always getting in here? He pushed the door gently, then stopped.

After all his break-ins, there was no way the Guardsponies would be so careless. He looked carefully up and down the frame, and noticed an infinitesimally thin shadow across the top of the door. Chief glanced over at the hinges. They were on his side of the door.

Chief chuckled quietly. Nice try, Star Chaser. Maybe next time. Rearing, he reached up and touched the wire gently, following it across the door, and finding the spot where it was attached to something hidden behind a bookshelf. Chief slid the shelf away easily, and nearly burst out laughing.

Nearly.

It appeared the tripwire was attached to a mere kitchen timer. Chief realized Star must have been working on his own dime to catch him.

He must still be keeping his mouth shut, Chief thought, or the Guard would’ve funded more... daunting traps.

He disabled the kitchen-timer-trap easily, then opened the door and walked out into the stairwell it opened onto. Glancing around to make sure Star Chaser wasn’t lurking around the stairs anywhere, he made his way down to a doorway at the base of the stairs. After checking it for booby traps--and finding none--he pushed it open and walked through.

The familiar scent of aged parchment met his nostrils, and he looked around at the Hall of Records. It was roughly the size of an athletics field, and filled with overstuffed bookshelves, so close to each other that Chief would have been only just barely able to squeeze between them. The shelves extended from one wall to another in a path unbroken save for a narrow opening the designers had left open for ponies to make their way through the Hall.

He glanced up at the label on the shelf nearest him. “‘Zu’-‘Zy’--167-3,” it read. Chief frowned. He still didn’t know the names of the ponies in question, let alone with name the documents he was looking for would be filed under.

I could probably figure it out just by checking Roads’ guardian transfer records, he thought. Though it would be a lot easier to just use the crime ledgers.

Chief sighed. The crime ledgers, which contained a detailed list of all crime reports and their locations in the hall, crosslisted by both date and crime in question, were stored under the attendant’s desk at the forefront of the Hall. Which was precisely where he expected Star Chaser to be.

Still, though, he might get lucky. Star might be out patrolling the corridor that lead into the Hall, or off prowling around the bookshelves. And if he had to go through Roads’ personal records, it would take him ages to find what he was looking for--and the longer he was here, the higher the chance he might run into Star Chaser. Chief set off towards the attendant’s desk.

He didn’t make it far.

“Excuse me, but the Hall of Records is closed. I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” he heard as he breezed past a row of shelves marked “‘Ta’-‘Tu’--110-1.” He turned around to see an athletic looking pegasus emerge from between two bookshelves, spouting a tousled, brick-red mane. Chief hadn’t noticed him; his navy blue coat blended seamlessly into the shadows of the bookshelves.

“Sorry, but--” he realized who he was talking to. “Oh, you son of a--”

“Hello, Star Chaser. Been a while,” Chief said.

“Like hell it has,” Star Chaser said. “It’s been almost six months since you last broke in!”

“Been laying low.”

“Aw, don’t tell me you’ve given up on the cult cases!” Star Chaser said, dismayed. “You know they don’t got a single pony workin’ on those? Not one.”

“There’s me.”

Star smiled. “Yeah, there’s you. That what you’re here for tonight?”

“No.”

“Aw, come on, Chief.”

Chief just shrugged.

“How’d you even get past my booby traps?”

“‘Traps?’ I only saw the one.”

“Which one?” Star asked.

“Had a kitchen timer on it,” Chief said.

“So, you came in through the attic? I had tons of traps up there, how did you not... Aw, come on!” he stamped a hoof. “The damn scribes must’ve thrown them out again. You know they think I’m crazy for even setting them up?”

Chief cocked an eyebrow.

“Yeah!” Star continued. “‘Why set up traps if nopony’s broken in for years?’ They ask me. Huh, if only they knew.”

“Still haven’t told anyone?”

“I’m offended you even asked, Chief,” Star said, crossing a foreleg over his chest. “You know I’m good to my word. Speaking of which, come on, let’s get out into the hall. You know the drill. Don’t wanna mess up any of the records.”

Chief nodded, and turned to walk out towards the hall. Every time he had broken in, he had gotten caught by Star Chaser. And every time, they had ended up fighting it out in the hall, until Chief inevitably won. They had first run into each other several years ago, when Chief started breaking into the Hall on a regular basis to check the records of ponies he suspected of being involved in surreptitious cult activity.

He would have come in the daytime, of course, but he had been banned from the Hall ever since he became a suspect in the killings of ponies with cult backgrounds, and subsequently discharged from the Guard. Shortly after his discharge, Star Chaser, a fresh faced rookie at the time, had replaced the previous Guard, an ancient unicorn named, oddly enough, Star Hunter, as Keeper of the Hall of Records.

Chief had met Star the first time he broke in. He had intended to kill--or at least severely wound--the pegasus, until he found out the Keeper not only knew of him, but actually supported his vendetta against the cultists. As it turned out, Star had a cousin who had been butchered by the Church of the New Dawn, the very same deathcult that had attacked Chief and his daughter.

Star had ended up informing him that it was his sworn oath to protect the Hall against all intruders until he could no longer fight, but that it was at his discretion to tell the rest of the Guard whether or not there were any intruders in the first place.

“If you can prevent me from being physically able to stop you,” he had said, “then go ahead and take what you need. I’ll have fulfilled my oath--and gotten what I actually want. I won’t report your break in, if you don’t let anyone know about our deal.”

“And if I lose?” Chief had asked.

“Well, if I’m strong enough to take you, I’m strong enough to leave the Guard and hunt the cultists myself. Perhaps even with your help.”

And that agreement had stood for years. Each and every time Chief broke in, he would fight Star, and each time, he found Star was a slightly better fighter than before. He had sometimes been tempted to let Star win, so that Star would come and help him personally, but he had never given in to the temptation. It seemed to him like a betrayal, some kind of physical lie. And besides, Star had been learning the ways of the pegasi Guardsponies so quickly, and testing his skills of Chief so often, that Chief knew there would eventually come a day when Star would win.

Was that day today? He glanced over at Star Chaser.

The other pony was rippling with muscle as he walked, and he carried himself with the sort of confidence and poise of a seasoned Guardspony. From what Chief knew of him, he was one of the most promising recruits of his year, and it was for his skills alone that he had become the sole Keeper of a Hall at such a young age. Normally, fresh Keepers came in pairs. In this case, it had just been Star.

“You know, Chief,” Star said as they made their way out of the Hall. “I think you might be in serious trouble this time.”

“Oh?” Chief asked. Inwardly, he smiled. Star Chaser had said that every time they met, ever since their second encounter.

“Yup. It’s been six months since you’ve last seen me. I managed to master Partial Weightlessness in that time.”

Chief cocked an eyebrow. If Star had really gotten that technique down, he might actually have a shot. Partial Weightlessness was the next-to-last step in becoming a master of the Way of the Pegasus, the fighting style developed over thousands of years specifically for Pegasi.

It was the style of martial arts taught to all of the pegasi in the Guard, to some extent, during their first year of training, and those who showed promise--Star Chaser, for example--were further instructed over the course of their career. The Way was focused on improving the speed and body control of the pegasi in question, with the goal of enabling them to perform rapid, precise strikes on their targets, while at the same time keeping out of the other pony’s striking distance.

This goal was achieved through various ways of utilizing the innate abilities of pegasi to change their body weight by activation of their ley lines. The first practitioners of the Way had discovered that the ability of a pegasus to change his weight to enable flight didn’t end simply at rendering the entire body nearly weightless.

Instead, they found that, through concentration and training, they could use their natural abilities to change their body weight at will. Those who were exceptionally skilled could reduce their weight to virtually nothing. The pegasi, a somewhat straightforward group of ponies, called it Directed Weightlessness. The pegasi used it to enhance their speed and agility, finding that, if used correctly, these abilities would enable them to run at higher speeds than usual--as their muscles had less to propel--and use dazzling acrobatics in combat to defend against a range of attacks.

Their descendants had grown even more dangerous, upon discovering that with even further mastery of their ley abilities, they could also add weight to their bodies. This would enable them to use combinations of lesser and greater amounts of body weights to ram or dive bomb their opponents at impossibly high speeds. They called it Total Weight Control.

These martial artists also discovered that their advantage in reflexes and perception over other races were not, in fact, anatomical, as previous generations had presumed. Instead, they found that they could use direction of their ley energies to sharpen these gifts, giving them nigh-superpony skills in perceiving and avoiding enemy attacks. This skill they dubbed Perceptive Enhancement.

It was the students of these descendants who first learned that they could not only make their entire bodies weightless, but, through extreme focus and direction of the ley energies coursing through them, diminish the weights of specific parts of their bodies. With these abilities, they could perform stunning feats of balance and co-ordination, and more importantly, move more rapidly.

The subsequent generation discovered that, after mastering these abilities, a select, gifted few of them could also use the ability to add weight to individual parts of their bodies. By using the former, “Partial Weight Control” as well as latter, “Partial Weighlessness,” they could manipulate the momentum of their strikes at will, rendering them as devastating as a blow from the far stronger earth ponies. They neglected to name this skill, instead merely referring to its acquisition as a “Mastery of the Way.”

Chief personally found the pomp and absurd nomenclature of the Way of the Pegasi almost as irritating as the arrogance of so many of those who mastered it, but even he couldn’t denigrate its deadly effectiveness. As such, when he heard how Star Chaser had advanced, his pulse quickened slightly. If Star was telling the truth, this was going to be interesting.

He stretched his neck and shoulders as he and Star approached the entrance to the Hall, grimacing at the pops and cracks that rose from his joints as he moved. He hoped he wasn’t too fatigued from the expedition to keep up with Star.

Not only did he desperately want access to the Hall of Records, to settle a nagging memory that had been tugging at him ever since he met Roads, but he also found the prospect of losing to Star Chaser a bit embarrassing. Regardless of how much his skill and athleticism grew over time, Chief still couldn’t help but think of Star as the overeager rookie he had met so many years ago.

The overeager rookie in question dug a key from somewhere in his Keeper’s armor and slid it into the lock of the main Hall doors, then pushed them open. Somewhere to their left, an alarm began to buzz. Star trotted over and silenced it, then walked back to Chief, an abashed grin on his face.

“Don’t mind that,” he said with a chuckle.

When he spoke, there was an eager tenor in his voice, and Chief could swear he seemed almost giddy. Chief wondered how long Star had been waiting for him to come back, setting traps and training for when his next challenge would arise. Work as a Keeper must have been boring for him.

Of course, it was a prestigious and important job--for without him, anypony could alter any record they wanted. Corporate and government credit logs, personal criminal histories, birth and death records, property transfers, and a whole lot more all stayed reliable because of Star Chaser’s constant vigil. Without Star, somepony might be able to do massive damage to the Equestrian state.

But still, while Chief was sure Star was well aware of all this, Chief was willing to bet Star would have been happier working out in the field somewhere.

Perhaps if he ever does leave the Guard, he can come work with me and Summer. I’d bet he’d love it.

“Ready, Chief?” Star Chaser asked, breaking Chief’s line of thought. The pegasus pointed out through the open double doors to the wide, tall, and nearly empty corridor that lead into the Hall of Records.

Chief nodded, and walked into the corridor. Star followed him out, and closed the doors behind them.

“Still remember the rules?” Chief asked as he walked to the center of the corridor.

“No weapons, no intentional fatalities, stop if somepony taps. And, of course, no telling the Guard,” Star said. “Oh, and try to keep from bleeding on the carpet, if you can. The cleaning staff keeps asking questions.”

Chief grinned, his heart rate increasing, pulse pounding as he readied himself for a fight. Somehow, in these situations, he always found himself smiling. Nerves on fire, adrenaline pounding through his system, staring down somepony who wanted nothing more to beat him into a bloody pulp, this was the feeling of being alive.

“Ready?” Star asked, sinking into a fighting stance.

Chief reared, lifting his forelegs. He found that when fighting professionals, he tended to do his best fighting on two legs. For some ponies, a two legged stance evoked balance issues, but for him, it had never been a problem. The doctors said he had an unusually simian bone structure. Chief just liked being able to punch with his forehooves.

Taking a deep breath, he looked at Star and gave him an affirmative grunt.

Star nodded.

And then there was stillness. It was a deadly calm, silence descending over the room as the two combatants stared each other down, waiting for the first move to be made. They were perhaps fifteen yards apart, though each knew the other could close that distance in no time. And so, they sat in a meditative stalemate.

Then Chief blinked.

Star was on him in a heartbeat, flaring his wings, and charging at him with the type of speed only a pegasus was capable of. In an instant, he had closed the distance, and, spinning on one forehoof, threw a kick at Chief with one of his rear legs. But it was a feint, and Chief knew it. He didn’t even bother blocking as the hoof missed his nose by inches, and, with a flex of his foreleg, Star sent himself flying into the air above Chief.

As soon as he did, Chief leapt forward and spun around, just in time to Star land just behind where he had been standing--for Star had bounced off the ceiling--and charge him again. Star was fast enough that Chief barely had time to get his hooves up before the blow glanced across them, and by the time he lowered them again, Star was no longer in front of him.

Chief realized what had happened, and in the split second he knew he still had, braced for impact, just as a tremendous force slammed into him from his left. It seemed Star had used his attack, a hearty left hook, to send himself flying off into the wall next to Chief. Chief guessed, as he tumbled through the air, now nearly parallel to the floor and almost a foot off the ground, that Star had rebounded off the wall and body-slammed him.

It was a solid blow, but nothing Chief couldn’t recover from. The earth pony planted a forehoof in the carpet and cartwheeled back on to his forelegs, just as Star’s momentum carried him into another wall. Star planted his rear legs in the wall and send himself flying towards Chief once more.

This time, though, the earth pony was prepared. As Star bore down on him, he readied a devastating strike, and, anticipating where Star would be, threw a massive forehoof. However, Star saw the attack coming, planted his rear hooves in the floor and stopped on a dime.

Damn momentum control, Chief thought as his forehoof met only air. He raised his other hoof to deflect Star’s counter attack, but none came.

Uh oh, he thought, just before Star Chaser slammed down on him from above, leading with a forehoof that sent sparks of pain trailing down Chief’s neck and shoulder. He crumbled to the ground, Star on top of him. Chief flipped over as fast as he could, hoping to catch the other pony by a leg, and draw him into a grappling hold, but to no avail. Star had recovered faster than him, and already retreated beyond Chief’s range.

Chief got to his hooves, panting. He was moving way too slowly to keep up with Star. This expedition had really taken it out of him.

That or he’s just way faster than before.

He supposed that was possible. Either way, he was in serious trouble. Even with his stamina, he couldn’t take this kind of beating forever, and as hard as Star had hit him, any other pony might have already been on their last legs.

He gritted his teeth. He wasn’t any other pony. He still had plenty of fight left in him.

Chief looked up, and by the time he did, Star was upon him again. Chief didn’t even know where he had come from, and barely had time to defend himself, as the pegasus unleashed a flurry of blows on him. They came as fast as he could block, a few even faster. Chief felt a hoof collide with his head, then his stomach.

He tried to counter-attack, but suddenly, Star was gone, then upon him again, now from a different angle, resorting to his wall-bounding technique again. Chief blocked the blow, but then another came from a different place, and another, and another. Finally, Star found his way around Chief’s guard and delivered a devastating kick to the chest that sent Chief flying away from him.

Great, he thought, rolling back onto his hooves. He’s deadly at long range, and I can barely keep up with him at short range, too. Come on, focus Chief. He’s too fast to deal with when he’s striking, but nopony can out-grapple me, especially not a pegasus. Get him on the floor, and you win.

The question, though, was how. Chief wondered if he could use his stamina to his advantage--he could take a punch, perhaps well enough to catch a hoof afterwards. It wasn’t a great plan, but it was worth a shot.

It wouldn’t work if Star saw it coming, though. If Chief stayed on the defensive, he might get suspicious. He dropped to all fours and advanced towards the other pony, who backed away defensively, trying to keep enough ground between him and Chief to take to the air if necessary.

Finally, though, Chief closed enough ground and Star took the bait, darting towards him, feinting left, then whirling left with no loss of balance for a roundhouse kick. Rearing, Chief saw the blow coming, and didn’t bother to dodge.

As the strike connected, Chief tightened his neck as much as possible and tensed his entire body to pull against the blow. It hurt like hell. Chief was effectively increasing the force of the strike, to the point that he felt he might lose consciousness, but it worked. Star’s hind leg stayed in contact with Chief’s head, not able to travel all the way across him.

Chief twisted his leg and lifted his foreleg, trapping Star’s hind leg against his body before the pegasus could jerk it away. Star pulled away from him, and nearly slipped free, but Chief had slowed him enough with his right foreleg to grab him with his left.

Gotcha, Chief thought, clutching Star’s calf to his chest and thrusting himself forwards, so that as Star’s free leg caught against the ground, he bent at the knee, leaving his entire body essentially perpendicular to Chief. The earth pony was just about to bring him to the ground, when suddenly he felt the weight in his forelegs slacken.

That can’t be good, he thought.

Suddenly, Star snapped upright, pulling his entire body weight with his left hamstring, and leveraging himself against Chief’s grasp on his calf. From this position, he was able to aim a kick at Chief’s head. The strike sent Chief stumbling backwards, and broke his hold on the pegasus.

Chief sank to his knees, bleeding profusely from his face. Huh, some detached part of his brain noted, I got blood on the carpet after all. He looked up at Star Chaser, his head ringing as he wiped the blood away from his face.

“You tap?” Star asked.

Chief got to his hooves, trying not to waver. “Just getting started,” he said.

Star Chaser smiled. Smiled, and charged again.

This time, though, he was cocky. He didn’t even bother feinting, and Chief was able to track his strike long before it landed. Dodging, he counterattacked, forcing Star to block. He attacked again while Star was occupied, but his hoof met only air, as Star leapt, sending himself flying into the air.

Chief looked up and saw him land on the ceiling a split second before he rebounded, and, from the way he moved, managed to predict where Star was headed.

Left, he thought, turning and raising his guard as Star, lighting quick, bounced from the wall next to Chief and into Chief himself, once again leading with a forehoof. This time, Chief was able to deflect the attack, and counter with his own, which, though glancing, sent Star spinning off away from him.

It was then that Chief realized what he needed to do. He closed his eyes and concentrated, trying to feel the energy flowing through his lines. After a brief moment, he did, and began to focus it down, into his hooves. The moment his energy became properly channeled, he suddenly felt an intense sensation of connection between him and the floor and walls around him. He felt the things touching them as though they were touching an extension of himself, he sensed the building blocks below them, in intimate detail, he could even feel the faint draft leading out into the corridor floor from the door behind him.

He also felt something big push off the floor ahead of him.

Come on, Star. Attacking while I had my eyes closed?

He felt a second, rapid series of sensations. Star’s hoofsteps. Chief didn’t bother opening his eyes, afraid it might distract him from his focus. He waited as the steps closed in on him, then felt one apply force a bit differently, angled a bit to his left. Star’s body weight disappeared from his detection, and Chief turned right, quickly as he could. He felt Star reappear just before him, then, kick off with both legs.

Chief ducked, and felt a stream of air pass just over his mane. He felt Star touch down behind him, now slightly off-kilter, and whirled, charging toward where he sensed the pegasus. The other pony’s weight left the ground and reappeared on the ceiling above him. He felt Star Chaser begin to push off, aiming for him, and he rolled to his left.

Star crashed to the floor beside him, and Chief felt him begin to recover. As Chief felt Star nearly regain his balance, he opened his eyes to see Star before him, attempting to raise his left foreleg. Chief struck him with his own left foreleg, connecting heartily with Star’s stomach and sending him flying away from Chief. He felt the pegasus’s hollow ribs crack under the blow.

He closed his eyes and felt Star recover, much more slowly this time. Chief smiled inwardly. The damage was done. Star was hurt, too badly to risk coming in close range again. He would have to try more wall bounding. And now, even though he would still be too fast for Chief to track him with his eyes, Chief would be able to see him coming.

One more strike, that would be all it would take. Chief knew it. Star probably knew it too. Chief closed his eyes again, and felt Star take off, hit the ceiling, and push again. He was angled to land just behind where Chief was standing, and Chief whipped around as soon as he sensed it. He opened his eyes to see Star already before him, surprised Chief was already turned around.

Chief feinted, pretending to throw a hoof at Star’s stomach. Overcompensating out of fear of another blow to the ribs, Star left himself open for Chief’s next forehoof strike. The blow connected solidly with Star’s head. The pegasus crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

The pegasus was out for a full thirty seconds before he came to, only to find Chief standing over him.

“Aw, dammit Chief,” he said, turning to spit a bit of blood on the carpet beside him. “I thought I had you for sure that time. You were on the ropes. What changed?”

“I’m an earth pony, remember?”

“Yeah, so?”

Chief frowned. Star should have been able to figure this out. “What’s the only ley skill an earth pony’s got?” he asked.

Star Chaser’s eyes widened. “Ground Sensation? I didn’t know you could do that, Chief! You’ve never used it against me before.”

“Didn’t need to,” Chief replied. He shrugged. “Can’t do it long, but it got the job done.”

“But it’s just a farmer’s trick,” Star pointed out. “I mean, even in the Guard, they only teach it to earth ponies so they can find any nearby hidden enemies. In fighting rings, it’s supposed to be nearly useless!”

“I used it to anticipate your attacks. Negated your speed advantage. Not very useless.”

Star Chaser stared at him, open mouthed.

“I’ve got some reading to do,” Chief said, and, turning away, walked back
towards the entrance to the Hall of Records.

“Good fight, Chief,” Star Chaser called weakly from behind him.

“You too.”

And with that, Chief walked into the Hall, chuckling to himself. Ground Sensation. Who knew it would come in handy in a fight? But then, Chief didn’t often fight ponies who were too fast to see coming. And last time he had, he hadn’t thought to try it.

It was, after all, mostly just a farmer’s trick. The only reason the Guard even knew about it was because of a report by an uppity unicorn who had gone around trying to figure out why earth ponies’ farms were always so much more productive than those of the other races.

What the unicorn had found was that, due to their ley structure, earth ponies were passively magical, just like pegasi. Of course, their only ley skill was the ability to, after becoming familiar with the land beneath them, get a sense of what was going on beneath their hooves, out of sight.

As it turned out, the farmers themselves didn’t even know they were performing any sort of magic, but instead simply found that they had gut hunches about their crops. Somehow, they “just knew” about which plants needed more water, or less water, or which plants were being attacked at the root by weeds or parasites, as well as the moisture levels in specific patches of ground, and so on.

The unicorn had found that these gut hunches were actually the result of the famers channeling tiny amounts of ley energy through the ley lines of their hooves. These ley lines were automatically structured in such a way as to cause something like a very weak Sensation spell to be spread along beneath them.

Naturally, when the Guard found out about this report, their first instinct was to attempt to weaponize this newfound ability. What they found was that through training and discipline, some earth ponies eventually managed to hone their innate skill into the ability to sense, in great detail, nearly anything touching the ground around them. In many cases, this sensation would even spread to immobile structures touching the ground, such as buildings or trees, or even ponies, if they sat perfectly still for long enough.

However, this talent proved ultimately useless for combat, as being able to sense an opponent’s hoofsteps coming at them wasn’t particularly useful, as they could just as easily gather the same amount of information visually. Thus it was relegated to a more situational role, in detecting enemy combatants in hiding, and, in some cases, ground faults or underground tunnels.

There was also the fact that the ability required massive amounts of ley energy, at least relative to earth ponies’ ley capacities (which were, of course, far lower than that of the other two races). The average guardspony, even after intensive training, could only manage to hold a complete Ground Sensation for 40 to 60 seconds, at best. Chief could do it for two minutes on a very good day, and, based on how woozy he now felt, he guessed that today was not a good day.

Still, useless as it normally is, it sure came through for me this time, Chief thought as he trudged over to the attendant’s desk and pulled out the crime ledger.
He opened it up and set it atop the desk.

Let’s see, he thought. Should be under ‘F.’

He skimmed through the ledger until the label “Forgery” caught his eye. He flipped back a few pages. “Fraud.” Too far. He turned the page.

“Foal Abuse.” Here it is. So few cases in Equestria, and even fewer reported... the whole list only spans a few columns. Let’s see, it would have been about ten years ago...

Chief checked the section labeled “992,” and checked the listings.

“Foal abuse--Fillydelphia--Perp: Sunny Acres--Accuser: Emerald Wheat. Crime report at 78-2.90, upper shelf.”

That wasn’t it. He checked the next listing.

“Foal abuse--Canterlot--Perp: Flurry Spirit--Accuser: Cloudy Skies. Crime report at 30-1.21, middle shelf.”

That wasn’t it either. He kept reading.

“Foal abuse--Clousdale--Perp: Fire Burst--Accuser: Princess Celestia. Crime report at 29-3.86, middle shelf.”

That was the one. Chief fished a quill and parchment out of the desk, and jotted down the location of the crime report. After closing the ledger and stuffing it back under the desk, he set off down the path between the bookshelves, looking for the one marked ‘29-3.’

It didn’t take him long to find it. Turning and squeezing between it and its neighbor, he walked carefully down to section 86, and rifled through the parchments stored there. After searching for a few minutes, he finally found what he was looking for. He flipped it open, read for a moment, then quietly put it back on the shelves.

Chief sat down between the shelves, closed his eyes, and covered his face with a hoof.

So I was right after all. This whole time, Roads has been carrying around something like that. He never even hinted at it.

Chief sighed. He had personally escorted Celestia to pick up Roads and his father, and he still hadn’t realized for so long that the terrified little pegasus from ten years ago was the very same one he was working with now. He could still remember the child--scrawny, trembling, clutching his broken foreleg as he peered from Princess Celestia to his father. And that was Roads? This whole time?

Chief frowned. How had he not put it together? He was supposed to be smarter than that.

And, Chief? What now? Are you going to talk to him? I doubt he even remembers you were there. Is there even anything you could say?

Chief got to his hooves and turned to walk out from between the bookcases. There was nothing he could say, nothing he needed to say. He would let the past lie, for now. There were some things worth leaving unsaid, he of all ponies knew that.

He rounded the corner of the shelves, back into the path between them, and caught sight of a clock fixed to a high wall above the shelves. One fourty-eight. It seemed he was running a little late.

Chief broke into an easy trot. There was still something he needed to do, before the medical center’s visitation hours closed. He made his way out of the hall, then through the corridor where he had fought Star Chaser--who was now absent, probably already at the medical center himself--and out into the main hall of the castle. At this hour, it was almost empty, save for a handful of guardsponies, who barely batted an eye as he trotted past.

Hoping to make it before two in the morning, he picked up the pace slightly, making his way through the castle, to the stairwell that connected it to the medical center. He pushed open the door and made his way down the stairs, into the center of the mountain. The medical center had been built there during the early days of the Equestrian state so that the wounded would always be protected from enemy attack. There was, after all, only the one way in.

Within moments, he had reached the medical center, just before visitation hours ended. He breezed through the swinging glass doors, into the lobby, and approached the receptionist’s desk.

“Can I help you?” the unicorn behind the counter asked.

“Redbud. Is he here?”

“Let me check,” he replied. He glanced down at the large stack of papers on his desk. “Do you know when he arrived here?” he asked.

“Tonight.”

“Okay, let’s see...” his voice trailed off as he skimmed over a few pages of paper. “Oh, there we go,” he piped up after a moment. “Found him.” He looked happily up at Chief, expecting a thanks.

Chief looked at him silently. There was a brief pause.

“Healing ward. Room 171.”

Chief nodded and turned away. He walked over to the entrance to the Healing Ward, pushed through the doorway, and made his way down the hall. A few minutes later, he was standing outside of Redbud’s room.

Craning his neck, he peered through the window. Most of the lights in the room were off, and he could just barely make out the sleeping forms of Redbud, Willow, and Aspen. He reached forward, planting a hoof on the door.

“You a friend of Redbud’s?” a voice beside him said.

He turned to his right to see a unicorn healer standing beside him.

“Something like that,” Chief grunted.

“Well, nice to meet you--I just got done helping the Princess treat his wounds. I’m Healer Wormwood,” he said, sticking out a foreleg.

Chief shook his hoof. “Chief,” he replied. “So, how is he?”

Wormwood shrugged. “He’ll be fine. He’s been through a lot, and he might be out cold for a while, but he’ll be alright in the end. Might’ve shaved a few years off his life, though,” he said.

Chief looked at the healer, perplexed. “Why is that?”

The healer chuckled. “Don’t know much about healing magic, huh?”

Chief shook his head. He’d frequented the healing ward ever since he had joined the guard, but most healers were usually too busy to stop and chat about their craft. Normally, they just healed him, or whomever he had escorted, and sent him on his way. Nopony had ever mentioned anything like this.

“Well, as far as the arcane arts go, healing’s one of the newer branches. As such, it hasn’t really been studied as much as a lot of the other types of magic, so I can’t tell you exactly how or why it happens, but a few decades ago, healers started noticing some... disturbing trends,” the healer said.

Chief cocked an eyebrow.

“It seemed patients who underwent magical healing practices repeatedly, especially the particularly intense ones, seemed to always die younger than expected. In some cases, by up to thirty or forty years. Eventually, we started doing studies and follow-ups with healing patients, collecting data. What we found was that something about the healing process severely diminishes a pony’s life span.”

Chief paled.

“The trend was so consistent, we’ve managed to even figure out exact numbers--this surgery takes off five years, this one nine, that one three, that sort of thing. Our current research is showing that it has something to do with cell growth. For whatever reason, growing back new tissues through magic severely reduces how long the body can sustain its natural cellular regeneration.

“We figure the body can only produce so many cells so many times, and artificially generating them really lowers that number. The weird thing is, though, that it isn’t local to the wounds we heal--it affects the whole body. Nopony really knows why. It’s scary to think about, but hey, healing’s better than dying, right?”

Chief swallowed. “So...” he said quietly. “I have a question, then.”

“Shoot.”

“If somepony’s body were to be damaged and healed continuously over a period of time... how bad would the effects be?” Chief asked.

“Depends,” Wormwood replied. “How long’s the period of time?”

“Hypothetically speaking?”

“Of course.”

Chief struggled to remember. How long had he been in the nexus? It had felt like forever, but surely it couldn’t have been too long...

“Let’s say about eight minutes.”

“Eight minutes, huh? And how bad’s the damage?”

“Full body immolation,” Chief replied.

The healer cocked an eyebrow. “How strong was the healing?”

“‘Was’?”

Wormwood rolled his eyes. “How strong is the hypothetical healing?”

“Only enough to keep up with the flames.”

“Any tranquilization magic?”

Chief thought back to the intense pain he had experienced in the nexus. “Definitely not.”

“Well...” The healer thought for a moment. “I guess I’d say, if something like that happened to a pony, they could probably expect to begin feeling the first signs of advanced aging within two months or so.”

“And then?”

“They would rapidly age. Their body would deteriorate within a period of about a year. And then...”

“Death?”

Wormwood nodded. “I hope this hasn’t happened to anypony you know...”

“It’s a hypothetical.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

“Of course.”

Turning, Chief walked away from him. He made his way down the hall, through the lobby, and out of the medical center. Walking slowly, he trekked through the castle. He had time.

Eventually, he exited the castle, trudging out into the rain once more. He crossed the castle grounds, and left through one of the gates. Before long, he had made his way to Canterlot city proper.

Even at this hour, the city was alive with noise. The streets were crowded with ponies, working, carousing, traveling, loud and rowdy under Luna’s moon. The buildings here were tall and well kept, most coated with marble and cleaned to a shine. Here and there, small, privately owned shops, tiny but well built, stuck out amongst the buildings. Most had put out colorful umbrellas to protect their patrons from the rain. Due to their position on the mountain, they didn’t have to worry as much about the wind.

Pushing past slower pedestrians, eyeing ponies sitting outside of coffee parlors and restaurants, Chief got on Manechester Avenue, the main road headed into the western end of the city. Slowly, the buildings began to seem older, darker, a bit more worn. It became quieter, more reserved. There were no more colorful umbrellas.

Turning off of the main street, Chief made his way down a side road, dimly lit by a few aging lanterns. Towards the end of the street was a Guard outpost, just past that, a bar. He walked past the outpost and stood across the street from the bar, staring at the faded sign reading “Redflank Tavern.”

His eyes traveled down to the double doors between the sign, and lingered there, as he stood, still and quiet under the rush of the rain. He took a step forward, into the street. An earth pony pulling a passing carriage peered at him. Chief didn’t make eye contact.

Slowly, he walked across the street. He pushed open one of the doors, and took a calm, steady breath.

Then, eyes dull and unfocused, Chief stepped into the dimly lit bar.

Author's Note:

Thanks for reading, and special thanks to my editor, Secondaryspine, for his work on this latest chapter, as well as on my comma usage.

Thanks, for, that, Pip.

,,,,,

Comments

[TheStratovarian]

Oh wow. And ouch, A life lived, for the chief. A history paid, and little lines, that run through so many connected...

[Semicolon]

It updated!

A bit of info dumping going on though (extending the way magic works in this universe) and setting up the new storyline (what's our mysterious dock worker up to?).

All in all, FUCK YEAH!

[Blue Streak]

can't wait for the next chapter

[bananagram]

This is ecellent.

I think Chief is making false assumption, and that somehow the magic worked differently than regular healing magic. It kept Princess alive, after all.

[Pegasus Assistant]

2962862
Still, Princess probably never dealt with full body immolation.
Maybe your right and the healing magic was more complete and managed to undo the side effects to healing for her as well?

[bananagram]

2966603 Maybe it's the constant contact with the nexus that keeps her from rapidly aging. That has a hole in it though, since from what the the healer explained the recipient of the healing would lose cell regeneration, and once that's gone aging sets in. Healing wouldn't do anything if your body's out of growth capacity.

Chief would be wrong about his future if the nexus's power is different in some way and avoids that, but the more I think about it the more similar the nexus's healing is to unicorn healing.

[Rosencranz]

2966603
2962862

One of you two is correct, but I'm not going to tell you who it is.

[Rosencranz]

All this time and no one told me that one of the lines in Chapter X read "I’m not a Goddess, Dogwood. I’m just pony."

Dammit, Pip.

[websterhamster]

“I believe room one-forty-seven is open, Princess,” Wormwood replied.

“This way, then,” she replied, and led the two out of the room, and just down the hall to the door marked ‘174.’

The correct way to write out a number is: one hundred forty-seven.

Just picking the nits, got nothing better to do right now.

Man, the whole "magic healing shortens your life" thing is a tough pill to take. I expect it has something to do with ley lines, if I'm understanding this story at all...

[Rosencranz]

3790586

If you don't pick them, someone else will. Good catch.