Loose dust and sand drifted with the breeze across the dunes, scattering among the half-buried buildings and obelisks.
Each structure had been carved out of obsidian, and etched into each were carvings, highlighted with bright metals. The carvings consisted either of runes, which spelled out long since unintelligible messages, or of pictures, visually relaying the stories of the ruins’ former inhabitants.
The buildings and obelisks had been fashioned specifically to unnerve all who beheld them: their geometry was simply… wrong.
Three ponies gazed at the ruins in silence. They stood in a row, from tallest to shortest.
“So, these are the ruins that you spoke of,” Princess Celestia stated.
“They are,” affirmed Princess Twilight Sparkle.
“We can but hope that investigating these ruins proves more fruitful than attempting to access the cave in which you found Shadow Grave’s effects,” Princess Luna said.
Twilight sighed, then twisted her lips. “You’re telling me,” she said with a wry smile. “I hadn’t realised just how bad the collapse was in the central gallery.”
“You were right to begin there, though,” Luna went on. “The cave, I suspect, was the source of Shadow Grave’s power. These ruins, fascinating and disturbing as they are, appear tangential.”
“Perhaps,” Celestia mused. “They must be connected to the cave, somehow. Perhaps by reviewing them we can divine its purpose.
“On a related matter, Twilight, have you made any progress examining Shadow Grave’s journal over the past few months?” she asked.
Twilight laughed mirthlessly. “I wish. She wrote it in a very elaborate cipher. I’ve been working on cracking it, but it hasn’t been that huge a priority. I’ve plenty of other duties to attend to, and when I have spare time, I haven’t wanted to spend that much of it giving myself a headache.”
It was Celestia’s turn to smile. “It is important to treasure such time we have that is free of royal obligation, isn’t it?”
“I do seem to recall Discord telling us of a weekend where you spent three whole days sorting books, though,” Luna teased. “Far be it for me to judge how you spend your time at leisure, of course.”
“Ha ha ha.”
Their levity lapsed into silence, and they all gazed towards the ruins.
Twilight broke the silence. “I heard the stillness of eternity; I saw the silence of infinity; I felt the unending vast,” she recited, her eyes momentarily distant.
“The Bard of Bridleton?” Luna asked.
Twilight smiled and nodded. “It’s nice to be around ponies who appreciate classic poetry,” she said.
There was another pause.
“I am curious at what architects would design these structures so that they all seem so… so unwelcoming,” Celestia mused. “Or, for that matter, what unicorns would want to live in such isolation here.”
“Since we came here the first time, I’ve been trying to find any evidence of a large sect of unicorns that might have split off from mainstream Equestrian society,” said Twilight. “No luck so far.”
“For my part, I cannot recall any such group during the early years of our reign,” Luna admitted.
“Whenever these were built,” Twilight said, “I’m starting to think it happened before the foundation of Equestria and the unification of the three tribes.”
They stood in silence for another moment, contemplating the task ahead.
“Shall we?” Celestia asked, gesturing towards the ruins.
The three princesses spent quite some time examining the ruins in detail, carefully examining each building - including inside, if they could get in - and each of the columns that occasionally rose out of the sand.
“The obelisks all seem to tell the same story,” Celestia said, as they met together near the foot of the ziggurat that dominated the ruins. “The unicorns building this place, and then…” her mouth curled down in disgust, “sacrificing other ponies in unspeakable rituals.”
“Indeed. A disturbing turn of events,” Luna remarked. “I cannot help but observe that the carvings of the… entity above the sacrifices were all very vague and indistinct. In fact, they were the only carvings that differed from obelisk to obelisk.”
“It was like they couldn’t – or wouldn’t – carve exactly what they saw. Or was that, hoped to see?” Celestia asked.
“What do you think, Twilight?” she added, turning to Twilight.
Twilight was gazing pensively up at the ziggurat.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “I think they were trying to conjure something – something terrible. But they must have failed, I think.”
“We can only hope so,” Celestia said. She followed Twilight’s gaze to the ziggurat.
“That’s the only building we haven’t examined,” she said. “Do you think it might contain any answers?”
Twilight sighed. “Not if we can’t decipher the runes.”
“I do not believe we have any more time today,” Luna said. “Sunset is only an hour away, and I must attend to my nightly duties. The nightmares of our little ponies can’t be delayed, unlike routine correspondence and holding court.”
“I suppose,” Twilight said regretfully. “Should we come back tomorrow? I had some plans, but I could put them off another day. It would wreak havoc on my scheduling, though.”
“I’m sorry, Twilight,” Celestia responded. “Cadance and Shining Armor travel to Manehattan tomorrow. They’ve arranged for two weeks to take Flurry Heart around parts of Equestria. I agreed to mind the affairs of the Crystal Empire in their absence.”
“Then perhaps we can arrange for an archaeological team to visit in the near future?” Luna asked.
“I suppose that’s for the best,” replied Twilight.
“Then it is resolved,” Celestia said. She looked up in the air, her horn glowing, and said clearly, “Discord!”
There was a flash. The misshapen draconequus appeared, a grumpy expression on his face. He wore a bright yellow flat cap with a shiny black brim in front.
“Oh, good evening, Princess,” he said with a theatrical bow. Under his breath, he grumbled, “Can’t believe I’m being reduced to a taxi service.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Nothing, nothing, happy to be of help!”
Celestia smiled sweetly. “Thank you, Discord. In that case, could you please bring us back to Ponyville? Luna and I have a chariot there that will return us to Canterlot.”
“Not a problem. Please keep forelegs, rear legs, manes and tails inside the vehicle at all times. Enjoy your ride with Chaotic Air!”
“What is he talking about?” Luna whispered to the other princesses right before they vanished.
All was still in the ruins at night: the wind had died down, and no small creatures scurried about. The obsidian ruins gleamed in the reflected light of the moon.
The silence and stillness were disturbed by a flash of purple light, followed by hoofsteps crunching on the sand.
A cloaked pony, sporting a hood brought up to conceal its features, walked through the ruins to the base of the ziggurat.
The pony looked up at the ziggurat’s thick terraces. Holding its head high caused the hood to slip back slightly, revealing the tip of a lavender horn.
The pony slowly ascended the terraces of the ziggurat, hoofs echoing across the cold, ancient stone.
Eventually, the pony reached the highest terrace. There, the top of the ziggurat was not a block of solid stone. There was a low opening into a chamber within.
The pony ducked down, crawling slightly to enter the chamber. A neatly trimmed deep blue tail came out from under the cloak. Narrow streaks of violet and rose highlighting the tail could be briefly seen before it pulled up beneath the cloak again as the pony rose, fully within the chamber.
The chamber was almost entirely dark: the only light was a sliver of moonlight and starlight creeping in from the entrance.
A raspberry glow appeared within the pony’s hood, and a flare of the same-coloured light floated out from the horn. It expanded and brightened, and the chamber lit up within its glow.
The walls and floor were coated in dust and sand, concealing runes and pictorial carvings. A massive obsidian altar sat in the centre of the chamber. The pony looked around, horn glowing again, and a wind whipped through the chamber, scouring the walls and the altar clean.
The carvings on the walls mostly depicted the same events as on the obelisks, with one important difference: there was a picture carved out directly behind the altar when faced from the entrance. At the bottom of the picture was a representation of the village and ziggurat. Hovering over it was an indistinct shape. The way it had been carved into the wall imparted a feeling of menace: whatever it was, it was nothing good. Above the shape, a starfield had been carved into the wall: most of the stars were tiny points, except for a specific formation of stars hanging over the ziggurat: these had been carved to be particularly prominent.
The pony took all the carvings in, then examined the altar. It was featureless. Unlike the carvings of the rituals, there were no bindings attached to it.
The pony’s horn glowed again, and the altar lifted slowly off the ground, before sliding to the side. An opening within the floor became visible as the altar moved out of position. Stairs descended into darkness.
The raspberry flare floated down into the hidden chamber, and the pony followed it.
The steps wound down and down through the darkness of obsidian stone. Then the rock of the steps and of the wall changed: they were no longer carved into obsidian, but into the bedrock underneath.
After a couple more minutes of walking, the narrow staircase opened into a somewhat larger chamber.
Illuminated by the flare of magical light, the staircase emptied out onto a lower part of the chamber, which surrounded an oval dais on which sat another altar. At the ends of the dais sat thick metal braziers. Another brazier, coated with unpleasant stains, was on one side of the altar at the widest part of the oval.
This altar was obsidian, like the ziggurat above. It had eight indents cut into it: four at each outer corner, and four close to the centre. Within each indent was embedded a loop of thick stone and rusted buckles, as if the indents were meant to hold thick straps.
The pony walked up to the dais. In the centre of the altar was a long knife. From the base of the blade, near the cross-guard, the blade curved this way and then that, before straightening out again, until curving to one side at the tip to form a hook. Each edge was decorated with serrations. Despite its likely age, it showed no sign of corrosion or wear. The blade itself was black, as if absolute darkness could be distilled into metal, and stood out from the darkness of the chamber only by the way it reflected the light of the pony’s horn.
The pony looked around, as if to ensure nopony had followed, then slid down the hood.
Raising it into the air in her magic, Princess Twilight Sparkle gazed contemplatively at the knife with a slight smile.
The smell of frying potatoes wafted from the kitchens of the Castle of Friendship.
The magic that had built the castle, Spike thought, had quite sensibly built the kitchens at the correct scale for… well, for a castle - the kind of place that had guards, and staff, and streams of visitors, and had to keep all those ponies fed day in and day out.
Spike was looking forward to Twilight finally relenting and getting herself some of the perks of Princess-hood. Such as, say, ponies to take care of the castle and the grounds, instead of a single dragon who was, after all, technically still an infant.
“Some cleaning staff might be nice,” he muttered to himself, flipping pancakes. “And you don’t see Princess Celestia out trimming the hedges, do you?”
Here he was, preparing breakfast in a vast kitchen meant to be operated by a dozen ponies at least – all by himself.
The pleasant smell brought in one of the castle’s other residents: none other than Twilight Sparkle herself.
Spike turned with a smile, his grousing about Twilight almost completely forgotten at the sight of his oldest and dearest friend.
“Mornin’ Twiligh – whoa, you look like you got swatted by a manticore!”
Twilight’s mane was matted all around her head and neck. Her mouth hung slack-jawed, and bloodshot eyes with shrunken, glazed pupils gazed at Spike. Well, mostly at Spike.
“Gffzlmgh,” she managed.
“Uhhh, there’s tea in the pot,” Spike said. He turned back and scooped the pancakes off the griddle, setting them on a hotplate.
Twilight stepped slowly and deliberately around the island and over to the counter. There was a homey teapot covered in a jarring hand-knit cozy. (The cozy was, as Spike recalled, a gift from Sweetie Belle, as what passed for its craftsponyship showed. Twilight had kept it, replacing its store-bought predecessor because it had, as she had said, been “made with love”.)
“Uhh, are you up for levitating things this morning?” Spike asked. Most of the time, he would have been teasing when asking such a question. This morning, his tone of voice didn't suggest teasing.
Twilight shot him a flinty glance before pulling a mug down from the cupboards with her magic. A single spoonful of sugar floated over from the jar at the back of the counter, near the backsplash, and poured itself into the mug, before it was joined by steaming hot liquid.
The mug, which was off-white on the outside and tea-stained on the inside, had the words “#1 Princess” etched on it. It had been a Hearth’s Warming gift from Spike. (“Because it’s true!” Spike had said with considerable enthusiasm, much to Twilight’s embarrassment.)
A teaspoon stirred the tea and sugar together, before floating off to the sink. Twilight took a long swig of tea, then sighed contentedly with her eyes closed. When they opened, they were larger, brighter, and more awake-looking.
“Good morning, Spike!” she said. In contrast to her cheerier mood, she let out a big yawn.
“Did you stay up all night again?” Spike asked, sounding annoyed.
“No, no, I thought I had a full night’s sleep. It’s funny: I feel like I hardly slept at all.”
She looked around. “Is Starlight coming for – oh, she was getting up early to go help Fluttershy, wasn’t she?”
“Yep. Should be back soon, though. Fluttershy feeds her animals early.”
“Actually,” Twilight began, her voice taking on a didactic tone, “Fluttershy feeds her animal friends according to the dictates of their habitual diurnal, nocturnal, or alternate feeding patterns. Taking Harry, for example –”
“Okay, okay, I get it!” Spike interrupted.
Twilight floated a plate over from another cupboard, and Spike laid down some pancakes, apple slices, and potatoes on it. After pouring syrup on the pancakes, Twilight was soon tucking in.
Spike watched her. Although the tea had perked her up, Twilight was still slumping over in her seat. He narrowed his eyes and “hmmmm”-ed, tapping his chin with a claw. This wasn’t her first morning like this recently, was it? Spike would be the first to admit that he didn’t recall little details about things the way Twilight could, but there was something niggling him about it.
“Twilight,” he said at last. “If you’re waking up so tired after getting a good sleep, maybe you should be seeing somepony about it? Like a doctor?”
“Maybe,” Twilight confessed with a yawn. “Maybe it’s just cabin fever. Haven’t been sent out by the Cutie Map since the Wonderbolt flight school. That was ages ago!”
“Maybe,” Spike said, doubtfully.
His attempt to engage Twilight further on the subject of her health was cut off by the sound of other ponies approaching the kitchen.
“I hope you learned a little something about caring for animals,” came a soft voice.
Fluttershy and Starlight Glimmer entered from the far door.
“For starters, I don’t particularly care for watching the otters eat fish,” Starlight grumbled.
“Oh, but it’s perfectly natural and normal for them. They are predators, after all,” Fluttershy said indulgently.
“Fair enough,” Starlight said, “but I don’t have to like watch- oh, hi, Twilight! Morning, Spike!”
“Heya, Starlight,” Spike said. “How did feeding animals go?”
“Oh! Well, ummm, Starlight worked hard and, uh, was very helpful,” Fluttershy said bashfully.
Starlight smiled ruefully. “What Fluttershy didn’t say was that I probably shouldn’t give up my day job.”
“Oh, I’d never say anything like that,” Fluttershy said breathlessly.
Spike chortled, then stopped, looking thoughtful. He scratched the back of his head. “Come to think of it, Starlight, what is your day job?”
“Uhhhh…” Starlight said. Her pupils shrank. “I-don’t know? Majordomo for the Princess? No, that’s your job, Spike. Special… personal assistant? Princess’ apprentice?”
“Major what now?” Spike asked, perplexed.
“She means washing dishes, announcing visitors, and keeping Twilight fed,” Pinkie Pie whispered loudly.
There was a long, awkward pause.
“Uhhh… Pinkie Pie, what are you doing here?” Twilight Sparkle asked.
“Oh, don’t mind me, I’ll just show myself out!” Pinkie Pie exclaimed brightly. She backed out of the room with a big grin, Pinkie-squeed, and slammed the door shut.
There was another long, awkward pause.
“So… what makes you think caring for animals isn’t something you’d be interested in pursuing further?” Twilight asked, casting about for a way to resume the conversation.
Starlight blinked before responding. “Apart from finding otters tearing into fish revolting? Or apart from caring for animals being Fluttershy’s destiny? I guess… I just don’t really like animals that much. I mean, most of them are cute and all – well, the otters were before they got into the fish – but not cute enough to want to spend over an hour every day to help take care of them.”
“And I’m sure it’s all right,” Fluttershy said graciously. “You were willing to try it once, and you did your very best.”
“Thanks, I guess,” Starlight said.
“Speaking of trying one’s very best,” Twilight said, “aren’t you taking a big step forward with singing in public today, Fluttershy?”
“Oh… I didn’t know many ponies knew about that,” Fluttershy said nervously.
“Come on, Fluttershy,” Spike said, “you agreed to sing with the Pony Tones at the schoolhouse. How could Rarity not gush about it to Twilight?”
Fluttershy shrank into herself. “But if she’s telling everypony, then everypony will want to come, and I’m not sure I could manage that.” She began to tremble.
“I’m sure it will be all right,” Twilight said confidently. “Rarity told me that you’d asked her not to make a big deal of it around town. She went on and on about it to me so she wouldn’t go on and on about it all over Ponyville. She’s proud of you, Fluttershy.” She got off her bench and came over to take the yellow pegasus in an embrace. “And so am I,” she added.
Fluttershy beamed, calming after Twilight’s reassurances. “Thank you very much, Twilight.”
After they separated, Twilight let out an enormous yawn.
“Wow, I thought I was the one who was up late last night,” Starlight said.
“Oh, dear,” said Fluttershy. “I didn’t think you’d been up late. Oh, I wouldn’t have asked you to meet me so early this morning if I’d known – ”
“It’s all right, Fluttershy,” Starlight said, giggling. “I’m used to it.”
“The thing is, I wasn’t up late,” Twilight said, breaking out of the yawn. “I got home from being out with the other Princesses, had dinner, and went straight to bed. Wouldn’t know it with how I feel this morning. What kept you up, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“That spell I whipped up – you know, the Time Stop spell. I’ve been trying to figure out a way to cut down on or even get rid of the nasty side effects. No luck so far, despite all the hours I’ve put into it. I didn’t try testing it last night, since I didn’t want to cancel on Fluttershy this morning. I think I’ll just stick with Acelero.”
“I know all about letting sleep fall by the wayside when you’re trying to polish up some some magic,” Twilight said, with a slightly guilty look, stepping back to the table and her food.
“Does she ever,” Spike added.
“Now, Starlight, I hope you take better care of yourself,” Fluttershy admonished. “It’s not good to go without a good night’s sleep for too long.”
“Oh, I know,” Starlight said. “I can’t help it someti – ”
“Help me.”
The kitchen fell silent again.
Fluttershy, Starlight, and Spike all shared sidelong glances in between staring at Twilight.
“Uhh, Twilight” Spike asked, “did you just say something?”
Twilight looked up at him, a forkful of pancake hovering in front of her mouth. “I’m sorry?”
Spike’s eyes darted to Starlight and Fluttershy. “I thought I heard you say something just now,” he said.
Twilight took a moment to gulp down the pancakes.
“Well,” she said after swallowing, “I didn’t, but since you’re bringing up me saying things, that reminds me: there is something I’ve been meaning to tell you and Starlight.”
“Should I be leaving then?” Fluttershy asked. “Is it something private?” She wilted.
“Not at all, Fluttershy,” Twilight said reassuringly. “I just had an idea for a research project. Spike and Starlight would probably be helping me with it. I mean, you could help too, if you wanted.”
“Maybe,” Fluttershy said, hesitating. “I might like to help, I guess.”
“Another research project?” Spike asked. “I thought you were still corresponding with Dusty about your friendship research!”
“Professor Tome is the lead researcher of that project, Spike. I’m barely involved in the day-to-day work anymore. That’s why he was the keynote speaker at my conference, remember?”
“I’ve been trying to forget,” Spike muttered darkly, rolling his eyes. “Besides,” he continued, louder, “you had to push off a bunch of Princess-work yesterday to go off with Princess Celestia and Princess Luna.”
“I’m not saying I won’t get that done,” Twilight said. “I just wanted to discuss my idea with you. Well, that, and I wanted to talk to the Cutie Mark Crusaders about getting Twilight Time started again.”
“Twilight Time?” Spike and Starlight asked simultaneously.
“I thought you didn’t have time for Twilight Time anymore,” said Spike.
“It’s related to my research idea. Remember that speech I gave at Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns? I mentioned the Cutie Mark Crusaders’ unique cutie marks. At the time I had thought to start looking into the magic of their cutie marks in a bit more detail, but we kind of got distracted.”
Starlight coughed awkwardly.
“Anyway, it occurred to me while I was out yesterday that I should relaunch that particular project. Spending some extra time with the Crusaders by getting Twilight Time going again would be a great way to start cutie mark research.”
“I’m sure the girls would love to spend time with you again, Twilight,” Fluttershy said.
“Well, okay,” Spike said doubtfully. “I don’t know how you’re going to fit it in with everything you put off yesterday, plus getting yourself ready to observe that astronomical conjunction you’ve been going on about, plus packing to go visit your family in Manehattan next week.”
Twilight gulped down the last of her food. She swung her dirty dishes over to the sink and smiled confidently down at Spike.
“Not to worry, Spike,” she said, “I’m sure it will all work out in the end. Now, did you make any more food? No? Well, I’m going to run out to pick up a few apples or something, because I’m still starving. See you back here soon! Oh, and in case you’re gone when I get back, have a great day, Fluttershy!”
And with that, she was gone.
Spike gazed at the door Twilight had stepped out of before looking back at Starlight and Fluttershy.
“Ooooo-kay,” he said. “Since when has Twilight ever said it would all work out and actually meant it?”
Starlight giggled. “You’re telling me! I was expecting her to be up to her eyeballs in checklists this morning.”
“She did seem to be awfully calm about it. That's not really like her,” Fluttershy added.
“Maybe she’s too tired to be obsessing over every single little detail of what she has to get done?” Starlight conjectured.
“Yeah, maybe,” Spike said. “Anyway, I better clean up here. Twilight will probably be worried sick about all her Princess-work by the time she gets home. I should probably get breakfast all cleaned up so I can help her sort it all out.”
“Yeah,” Starlight said, looking thoughtfully at the door through which Twilight had left. “Probably.”
Being a Princess, as Spike was happy to explain at length, was about more than just standing around, looking good in a crown, and occasionally dashing around Equestria to save the day.
There was work involved. It wasn’t just about spreading friendship, or going on Cutie Map missions, or taking a few days to go off to Canterlot to make up with your old friends because you feel guilty and that you have to live up to the title of “Princess of Friendship”.
The machinery of Equestrian government relied, ultimately, on the Princesses, even if they tended to insert themselves only infrequently and with great delicacy in routine matters. Nevertheless, it meant almost everything required the authority of a Princess behind it. A Princess had to sign off on regular reports of all kinds (Spike thought that reading the reports was optional; Twilight emphatically disagreed). A Princess had to approve changes to municipal codes (here again, Spike and Twilight had opposed views on how much reading was required beforehand). A Princess had to authorise capital expenditures on public works. A Princess even had to review changes to the railway timetables! Spike liked to refer to such paper-pushing as Princess-work.
Spike wasn’t sure how Princess Celestia had kept caught up on all the Princess-work during the long years when she was the sole governing Princess of Equestria, especially as the country had grown and expanded, on top of everything else she had to do. (He would never tell Twilight what he thought, for fear that her heart would stop with the shock of it, but he suspected Celestia just skimmed through all the documentation.)
Even now, with three Princesses in Equestria and one in the Crystal Empire, the Princess-work just seemed to grow to match the availability of Princesses to work on it.
Spike sometimes wondered if that was really the case, or if Twilight just made Princess-work a more time-consuming and difficult process because she was always so thorough about it. Where Spike imagined Celestia or Luna might skim over, say, this year’s Annual Economic Outlook of Agri-business and Related Retail Sectors, Celestial Seaboard Region, Twilight would insist on reading the entire thing, cover to cover, and then making certain she understood the report’s every intricacy, along with any relevant contextual information. Sometimes, she might even look up references, and read them all through, too, or, worse yet, start corresponding with the ponies who had written it.
Her other flaw, as Spike saw it, was that she wasn’t always the best at prioritising. It was a bad habit from her days as Celestia’s student, he had decided, when every single reading and research assignment was automatically The. Most. Important. Thing. Ever. But Spike thought that a request for funds to repave roads in Manehattan before the winter set in would reasonably be worth looking over in preference to the umpteenth statistical survey on crime determining that, yet again, Equestria had no ponicides (“only within the bounds of statistical certainty,” he imagined Twilight saying). Twilight, regrettably (according to Spike), ploughed through everything in more or less the order in which she had received it, and every single document that crossed her desk was The. Most. Important. Ever. while she was reviewing it.
The bottom line was that when Twilight wasn’t saving Equestria from certain doom, resolving somepony’s friendship problems, reading or writing dense academic prose, or just spending time with her friends, she was responsible for helping keep the wheels of Equestrian bureaucracy spinning smoothly. The problem was, when potential disaster struck, when monsters attacked Ponyville, or when Cutie Map missions came calling, all that Princess-work tended to pile up.
It wouldn’t be a problem, Spike often reflected, if Twilight was, well, just a bit lazier about the whole thing. But she wasn’t, and so, as the amount of paper to be pushed crept ever higher, so did her stress levels.
It was for this reason that Spike was unhappily anticipating Twilight’s return from her trip to get food from the Ponyville markets. He was sitting in the library, idly holding a comic book that he had been unable to read for the past twenty minutes, and bringing to mind the burgeoning stack in her “In” tray on the desk of her personal study.
The castle doors swung open. Spike cringed, expecting to hear Twilight bolting in in a panic. He wasn’t sure whether he ought to be pleasantly or unpleasantly surprised when he heard her humming contentedly.
“Spike, I’m home!” she called cheerfully. “Can you meet me in the kitchen?”
“The kitchen? It’s not even lunchtime yet,” Spike said to himself. He nevertheless dutifully got out of his seat and jogged to the kitchen.
Twilight was there. She had picked up more than a few apples: there was plenty of food.
“I guess I should have remembered not to go out shopping hungry,” Twilight said. “I miiiiiight have picked up some extra snacks. But don’t worry, I got you something, too.”
“Really?” Spike asked greedily.
“Really!” She tossed him a gem-coated pastry. “Mr Cake made it to order,” she explained.
All thoughts of Princess-work were banished from Spike’s mind as he wolfed down half of the pastry in a single gulp.
“It’s not a bad idea to have a little something now,” Twilight said in between eating an apple. “We’ve got to get to work today.”
Spike groaned. Visions of helping Twilight file through an unending pile of Princess-work once again flashed through his mind.
“I know, I know, but those consent forms aren’t going to write themselves.”
“Consent forms. You know, for the cutie mark research? Any magical research involving anypony who’s not legally of age can only be done with the consent of their legally designated guardians – usually parents, but we know ponies for whom that’s not the case. Apple Bloom, for instance.”
“Ooookay, consent forms,” Spike said. He thought back to the “In” tray. “But what about – ”
“I’m sure whatever it is can wait for a bit. I put this project off for so long already – I really want to get it started while it’s still fresh in my mind. We’ll get through some of our other work once I’ve had a chance to drop the forms off this afternoon.”
“You want to have them done by this after – wait, ‘whatever it is can wait for a bit’?” Spike asked, incredulous.
He peered at Twilight suspiciously. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right, Twilight?”
Twilight giggled, then yawned loudly. “Still pretty sleepy,” she admitted. “But I can’t let that bother me just now.
“Anyway, finish up your pastry. Lots to do before lunch!” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.
Spike shoved the rest of the pastry in his mouth. It wasn’t the paper-pushing he was expecting, but it was paper-pushing all the same.
“I can’t wait,” he muttered.
At least the pastry had been delicious.
-
“Consarn it, what’d I do with that box of receipts!”
Her trademark rodeo hat traded in for a set of green eyeshades, Applejack pawed irritably through the piles of paper with the sweep of a hoof.
Hearing the outburst from the kitchen downstairs, Apple Bloom looked anxiously at Granny Smith.
“Don’t you worry none, sugar pie,” Granny said reassuringly, patting her on the flank. “You know how Applejack gits when she’s trying to do taxes.”
Granny eyed the doorway leading into the hall. If things were going about normal, she reckoned Applejack would soon get to talking up a blue streak once she’d realised she’d forgotten about a bunch of – deed suction thingamajigs, whatever she called ‘em. Probably best if Apple Bloom wasn’t here for all that.
“I knows ye’ve bin helpin’ me makin’ pies, but why dontcha take a break and go find yer friends?”
“Really?” Apple Bloom brightened up. “Thanks, Granny!” She bolted out of the kitchen for the outside.
Granny went back to her baking, listening to the pacing upstairs slowly turn into stomping. Apple Bloom had been a big help with the pies, but she weren’t no invalid just yet, and if she had to whip up a pie or two on her own so Apple Bloom could be spared the experience of her big sister realising she had messed up adding up… what did Applejack call it? Quarts of revenue? As Granny recalled, revenue was a fancy word for “bits you got from other ponies”. She certainly didn’t recall storing bits in quart-size measuring cups. Maybe they did that at the bank? Or maybe it was quartz revenue? But they weren’t in the quarrying business, why in tarnation would ponies be giving them bits for quartz? Why were there so many different high-falutin’ words for “bits you got from other ponies”, anyway?
Granny Smith paused. “What’d I been thinkin’ ‘bout? Somethin’ to do with Apple Bloom?” she asked herself aloud. She thought in silence for a moment, before saying, “Eh, it’ll come back to me.”
Upstairs, Applejack fumed. The receipts were nowhere to be found.
“Why oh why do I keep doin’ this to myself?” she demanded. “Every year, it’s always the same. I keep telling myself I’ll start early so this don’t happen, and then things keep comin’ up, and here I am, tearin’ my mane out again.”
It hadn’t been this bad before, Applejack recalled. The first year after Granny had relinquished tax duties – following an audit where somepony had realised that the Apples had massively overpaid taxes for the previous three years – Big Mac had taken up the task. One desk and one expensive calculating machine both smashed to pieces later, Applejack had taken over. Back then, though, taxes had been rather simpler, owing to the farm’s relatively modest income.
Grunting in frustration as she hunted for the box of receipts, Applejack could no longer fault Big Mac’s temperamental lack of enthusiasm. Since Twilight had become a Princess, and since it had become well known that Sweet Apple Acres was her favourite apple farm, business had been on the up-and-up. They’d finagled a higher percentage from Mr Rich for their zap apple products. But more bits made taxes more complicated, and it was already frustrating enough when you – when you…
Applejack looked down at the accusingly blank “Deductions to be Filed for an Eligible Dependent” document and swore loudly. “When you forget a whole steamin’ pile of deductible expenses!” she shouted.
Downstairs, Granny poked into a pie with a fork and said to herself, “Knew that was a-comin’.”
Applejack inhaled and exhaled loudly, trying to calm herself. Her head was throbbing.
“Maybe it’s time for a break. Get some water and something for my head,” she said aloud.
Her head shot up with surprise when she heard a loud, insistent knocking at the door.
“Apple Bloom, can you get that?” she shouted.
Granny Smith’s voice filtered up from below. “I sent her off, and these pies are in a tight spot. You mind?”
Applejack scrunched up her face in frustration, and resisted the urge to cuss at Granny.
“All right,” she shouted back down, probably sounding more aggrieved than she intended. She trotted down to the door. She was quite surprised to see who it was.
“Twilight? Pardon my sounding so surprised, but what’re you doin’ here?”
“Applejack!” Twilight said enthusiastically. She had started to reach out to initiate a hug, but stopped upon examining Applejack more closely.
“You don’t look too good there, AJ,” she said. Her eyes flickered up and took in the green eyeshades. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”
Applejack sighed, relieved at the offered opening. “’Fraid so, sugarcube, maybe I could catch you later?”
Unfortunately, if there was a pony who sometimes couldn’t take a hint, it was Twilight. “Oooh!” she said with obvious excitement. “Did you finally get around to registering as a corporation like I suggested? You know that could improve your refunds from – ”
“Sorry, Twilight, but we’ve been over this. Sweet Apple Acres is a family-owned business, through and through. Sweet Apple Acres Inc.ain’t, even if us Apples were the only… whaddya call ‘em, ‘shareholders’. Plus there’s all that extra paperwork that I sure as Shamrock apple crumble do not want to be workin’ on when I could be outside doin’ what I love.”
“Of course, but you know I’d be happy to – ”
“We’ve been over that, too, Twi. An Apple has filed Sweet Apple Acres taxes for as long as we’ve lived here, and I ain’t gonna be the one that stops. I'm sure you could do as good a job or better, but it's a point o' pride - fer me at least.”
"Of course," Twilight said pleasantly. "I understand."
“So, if you’ll excuse me,” Applejack said, trying to get back to things before she lost her train of thought, but Twilight stopped her.
“Wait! I know you must be busy, but I wanted to give you something. It’s about Apple Bloom.”
“Apple Bloom?”
Twilight produced three thick file folders from her saddlebags. Applejack stared at them.
“What. Are. Those?!” she finally gasped out.
“Oh, these? They’re consent forms. You have to fill them out in triplicate.”
“… In triplicate.”
“Yep! One for you, and one for me, and then one more for the IRB!” Twilight seemed immensely proud of herself for the attempt at metred rhyme.
“Uhh.. IRB?”
“You know – Institutional Review Boa – maybe you haven’t heard of those. Oh, of course!” Twilight gave herself a light facehoof. “Here I am getting ahead of myself. Remember how Apple Bloom got her cutie mark at the same time as her friends? I was meaning to start some serious research on it, but then the whole Starlight Glimmer time travel thing happened, and I forgot. Anyway, I want to get started on it now, so here we are!”
She placed the folders neatly at Applejack’s feet. Applejack stared at them with a pained expression.
“Uh, I hope you don’t need these done too soon, Twilight.”
“Well, I was hoping that maybe Apple Bloom could bring two signed copies for me when I see her for Twilight Time tomorrow.”
“T-t-Twilight Time? Signed copies? Tomorrow?”
“Silly me! I also wanted to get that started again. I figured we could work something out when she was done her chores for the day. Of course, I have to talk to her and her friends about it first. I was going to swing by their clubhouse after dropping off forms at Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo’s parents.
“But if you’re busy with taxes, don’t worry too much about it! I’ve still got to get the grant application in and approved before anything starts in earnest. That’ll be a moon or two, I’m sure.
“Anyway, sorry to keep you so long, but I’ve gotta fly. These forms won’t deliver themselves, you know. See you some – help me – time soon, Applejack!”
Applejack reared her head back, startled, but Twilight had waved goodbye and taken off before she’d quite finished processing what she’d heard.
She stood in the doorway for another minute, gazing at Twilight’s retreating form.
“Did I hear what I thought I heard?” she asked herself.
She stared out at the sky for a moment longer, then looked down at the file folders.
“Well, as long as it’s not taxes,” she said. “Maybe I need a break.”
Her stomach rumbled as she smelled the scent of baking.
“Hear ye, hear ye! This meeting of the Cutie Mark Crusaders is now adjourned!”
Apple Bloom stepped off the crate.
“Another really short meeting where we don’t figure out how to help other ponies with cutie mark problems. Productive as always,” Sweetie Belle complained.
“Aww, c’mon, Sweetie Belle, you know we’re just goin’ through a dry spell,” Apple Bloom said. “Besides, we had lots of fun before comin’ here!”
“Well, yeah, of course,” Scootaloo said. “But you have to admit it’s not so much fun coming to the clubhouse to talk about helping ponies with cutie mark problems when there’s nopony to help.”
“I guess,” Apple Bloom said. “It’s just… being the Crusaders is important to us – I mean, it’s what we got our own cutie marks for an’ all – an’ it ain’t always goin’ to be fun an’ games.”
“I guess not,” Scootaloo said, unconvinced.
“Maybe we can bring extra some stuff to do here so that the only things happening here at the clubhouse aren’t us getting frustrated because we don’t have any cutie mark problems to solve right now, and Scootaloo hosting Rainbow Dash Fan Club meetings,” Sweetie Belle suggested.
Apple Bloom smiled. “Great idea, Sweetie Belle!” She didn’t want to say it out loud, but over the summer break, they’d all been growing less enthusiastic about meeting at the clubhouse as the dearth of cutie mark problems went on.
“That’s Official Rainbow Dash Fan Club meetings,” Scootaloo muttered with a frown. Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes in reply.
“Anyway,” Scootaloo said, “now that we’re done with our meeting, what do you wanna do now? It’ll be hours before I get called home for supper.”
“Me too,” Apple Bloom said.
“We could go see if Diamond Tiara is busy. Maybe she’ll want to hang out?” Sweetie Belle asked.
“Maybe,” Scootaloo said, looking doubtful.
Diamond Tiara had, without question, turned over a new leaf since standing up to her mother over her associating with the Crusaders. It had taken some work, but she was a different, and far better, pony. All the same, while none of the Cutie Mark Crusaders would ever have called themselves poor (and Sweetie Belle in particular was benefiting from Rarity’s business success), Diamond Tiara belonged to a fabulously wealthy family. It didn’t happen every time, but often enough, when they spent time with her and Silver Spoon, the differences in their upbringings made being together awkward.
“Come on, I bet we can convince her to go to Sugarcube Corner so we’re not sitting around in her or Silver Spoon’s giant houses,” Sweetie Belle said.
“I guess,” Apple Bloom replied reluctantly. “Don’t get me wrong, I really do like the new and improved Diamond Tiara, but sometimes it’s hard to bond with somepony when you’ve had such a different life growin’ up.”
“What if we convince her to complain about her mom?” Sweetie Belle said slyly. “And besides, didn’t we end up getting together today because of your big sister?”
“Well, yeah. If she weren’t such a grumpy-pants filin’ taxes, I’d still be helpin’ Granny Smith! I don’t like the way Applejack gets when she’s doin’ our taxes. And don’t get me started on – ” Apple Bloom paused. “Maybe I’ll save it for Sugarcube Corner,” she said, blushing slightly.
There was a knock on the clubhouse door. The Crusaders looked at each other in momentary confusion before Scootaloo, who was closest, stepped over and opened it up.
“Princess Twilight!” Apple Bloom exclaimed.
“Now, girls, I think we know each other well enough that you don’t need to be so formal,” Twilight said with a smile.
Once the surprise of seeing her passed, the three fillies ran up to Twilight and embraced her.
“What’re you doing here, Twilight?” Sweetie Belle asked.
“I was hoping to speak with you fillies about a couple of things,” replied Twilight.
“What about?” Scootaloo asked.
“I’ve spoken with your parents and Applejack today, and given them some forms to fill out. I’ve been meaning to start research into the magic of your cutie marks, specifically, for some time, but I haven’t had the chance to get started on it until now.”
“Really?” Apple Bloom asked excitedly.
“But only if the three of you really want to participate, of course.”
“Sounds cool!” said Scootaloo.
“I like it,” seconded Sweetie Belle.
“After all the help you’ve given us, Twilight, I’d be happy to!” added Apple Bloom.
“Great! I also wanted to know if you three wanted to start up Twilight Time again. I know it’s been a long time, and now you have your cutie marks you don’t need the help determining your talents, but –” her eyes gleamed “– learning is a lifelong pleasure. If you’re up for it, we could start tomorrow afternoon.”
“Yeah!” the three fillies exclaimed.
Twilight smiled down at them. “Fantastic. I’ll see you at the castle about mid-afternoon - say, three o'clock? We can decide then if you want to work on the same things you were doing when we left off last time, or start new projects.”
“Awesome!” said Scootaloo.
“This is going to be great!” added Sweetie Belle.
“You’re the best, Twilight!” said Apple Bloom. “Although - what made you want to start up Twilight Time again? We thought you were too busy.”
“Oh, I guess the stars were right,” Twilight said. “I’m happy to see you all so excited.”
“You bet!” exclaimed Scootaloo.
“Please help me.”
There was a long, awkward pause.
The Crusaders sat still for a moment, staring at Twilight.
“Uh… what was that, Twilight?” asked Apple Bloom.
“I’m sorry?” Twilight said. Her expression was as pleased as ever.
“It’s just… I could have sworn we heard you ask for help,” elaborated Sweetie Belle.
“I did ask for help, Sweetie Belle,” Twilight said with a chuckle. “Help with research!”
“No, uh.. after that,” Scootaloo said, scratching the back of her head.
“You must be imagining things,” Twilight said. “Now, I have to be going. Spike’s probably missing me, and we have to get at least some paperwork done today. See you tomorrow!”
With that, she turned, trotted down the clubhouse ramp, and took off.
The Cutie Mark Crusaders remained sitting in front of the door, sharing sidelong glances.
“You both heard that, right?” asked Scootaloo.
“I-I think so,” Sweetie Belle said, scratching her own head.
The purple liquid in the cauldron bubbled merrily as it boiled.
Zecora carefully watched the twisted mélange of twigs, grass, and pine needles woven like a loose cocoon around a chicken egg that hung suspended from the ceiling over the cauldron. The cocoon spun gently in the vapour from the cauldron.
After a few minutes, the egg began to tremble violently, despite being far up enough in the air that the heat from the cauldron and its boiling contents could not hope to cook it. The trembling lasted for only a few seconds: the egg burst open with a puff of acrid smoke, and the woven assemblage of plants fell apart. Most of it fell into the cauldron, which hissed and popped. The remnants clung sadly to the wire, looking surprisingly charred.
“Hmmmm,” Zecora vocalised. She looked up at the sound of knocking on the door.
Zecora trotted over and opened it. There was Starlight Glimmer. Zecora smiled and beckoned her inside.
“Starlight Glimmer, I’m glad you’re well!” she exclaimed, going on as she gestured towards the cauldron in the centre of the room and the shriveled wisps of grass hanging on the wire overhead. “I’m sorry to say I have bad news to tell.”
Starlight stepped in. “I’m here like you asked, Zecora. I’m sorry to hear you have bad news.” She surveyed the scene. “Was that a shamble?” she asked, furrowing her brow.
“That was a shamble, yes indeed. I craft them when I feel the need.”
“I wasn’t aware that shambles were any good at divination,” Starlight remarked. “But if you’re using them to any good effect – ”
Zecora interrupted with a smile, saying, “You’re right: the future, they cannot tell; for the here and now, though, they do serve well, almost like a unicorn’s spell.”
“What sort of spell?”
“When exposed to the right brew, a shamble can reveal what’s true. It feels the magic close by, you see, and tells you of its quality.”
“What happened to this one?”
“When exposed to this brew’s ferment, the egg exploded: an ill portent. Sinister magic is close at hand: ‘twas more than the shamble could withstand.”
Zecora closed the door behind Starlight. Starlight couldn’t help but notice that she locked it.
“But this shamble is not the only clue that evil haunts these woods anew. Lately, I have come to see that creatures are fleeing the Everfree.”
“What do you mean?”
“An hour away lies a timberwolf lair: today I found that it was bare. A manticore and cockatrice lived nearby: now, both are gone, and I know not why.”
“Nopony’s reported sightings of anything leaving the bounds of the Everfree,” Starlight said, looking confused. “I’d think it would have come to Twilight’s attention if – ”
“If elsewhere in these woods they fled, it does not bely what I have said,” Zecora countered. “It was ‘round here these beasts did roam, yet now they have all left their home.”
Starlight looked once more at the twisted remains on the wire, and the sizzling twigs and grass floating in the cauldron.
“I’m sure you’re right,” she said. “But why tell me? Why not Twilight?”
“I have only confirmed my suspicions today, but when I went to the castle, she was away.”
“Would you like to come with me back to the castle? Twilight should be home this evening.”
“Perhaps, but even now, nightfall draws near, and it’s no longer safe out at nighttime, I fear.”
“No longer… safe?” Starlight drew into herself and looked around nervously.
Zecora smiled comfortingly. “I mean in these woods, and not Ponyville. Within the town’s limits, it should be safe, still.”
“Well, if you think there’s something especially dangerous in the woods,” Starlight said, “I’ll tell Twilight straight away. I guess I should get going. Will you be okay out here?”
Zecora smiled. “There is no need for any alarm: within my home, I will come to no harm.”
“If you’re sure,” Starlight said with a smile of her own. “I’ll come by tomorrow and let you know what Twilight plans to do to investigate.”
Zecora unlatched the door, and opened it. She and Starlight waved at each other as Starlight stepped out.
With Zecora’s warning of danger rattling through her mind, as soon as she was out of sight of the cottage, Starlight picked up the pace and cantered all the way back into town.
Spike was adding herbs to a mixing bowl when he heard Twilight’s voice calling from the halls.
“Spike! Spiiiiiike! I’m home!”
“Kitchen!” he shouted in reply, starting to stir the bowl’s contents.
It wasn’t long before Twilight showed up. She paused in the entrance, raising her head and inhaling deeply through her nose.
“Mmm-mmm, Spike, that smells good! What’s in the oven?”
“Lasagna! Remember that recipe Sunset Shimmer sent you? I’m finally trying it out. This,” he said proudly, pointing at the bowl, “is the garnish that goes on top. I put it on, then five minutes more in the oven, and it’s all done!”
“If it tastes as good as it smells, I’m sure it’ll be wonderful,” Twilight said. “How much longer will it be?”
“That’s the annoying thing about lasagna: it takes a lot of time to make. It’s fifteen minutes longer ‘till it’s ready for the garnish.”
“Perfect!” Twilight said. “While you’re waiting, do you mind helping me with something? It should only be about ten minutes. Hop on!” she said, floating Spike onto her back.
“Uh, help with what?”
“My portable telescope. It needs some cleaning and adjusting, and I don’t remember where we put it. I think it was in the closet in the study? Anyway, I need your help looking for it.”
“Your portable telescope? The one you got from your mom and dad for Hearth’s Warming?”
“That’s the one!”
“What do you want it for?”
“For observing the conjunction, remember? It’s the day after tomorrow.”
Spike scratched his head, confused, as they entered Twilight’s study. Twilight’s horn glowed, and several sconces in the wall lit up. “Weren’t you planning on going to the observatory in Canterlot?”
“I was, but I’ve thought of a better place to go watch it all happen.”
“A… better place?”
Twilight opened the door to the closet. “You bet!” she said happily.
They rummaged through the dim closet for a while until Spike found the telescope, still in its box.
“Fantastic!” Twilight said, reaching for the box with her magic. She ruffled her wings with excitement.
“I don’t get it, Twilight.” Spike said, turning to face her. “Where’s a better spot for stargazing than the Ca-eeeyaaagggh!” He recoiled, putting his arms up as if to shield himself.
In the half-light in the closet, illuminated by the glow of Twilight’s magic, her excited smile seemed threatening instead, her bared teeth seemingly fang-like. The shadowy apparition cast by her horn light stretched across the opposite wall of the closet. Her partly-unfurled wings appeared on the wall as fierce claws, and the shadows of her ears, tail, and the end of her mane looked like twisting tentacles.
Twilight moved her head, looking concerned, and suddenly, her shadow was her own.
“Is something wrong, Spike?”
Spike blinked.
“I just… thought I saw…”
“Saw what?”
Spike stared at the wall behind Twilight for a few seconds longer. He lowered his arms.
“Nothing. Must have been a trick of the light.”
“Hmm,” Twilight said. “Well, thanks for your help, Spike! I guess we should get back down to the kitchen. I’m really looking forward to that lasagna.” She trotted off after laying the telescope on her desk.
Spike stepped out of the closet. He scratched his head, looking back into the closet before looking at the door out into the hall.
On his way out, he paused upon noticing something amiss: several letters on Twilight’s desk were unopened.
“Huh,” he said, narrowing his eyes at the sight.
“Better get down here before your lasagna burns!” Twilight’s voice floated from down the hall.
Spike took one last look at the desk, then hustled out the door.
Luna stood on a balcony in one of the high towers of the palace in Canterlot, watching the rising sun.
She smiled, contented with her sister’s work. Her smile faded as she contemplated the previous night, then stood watchfully for a few minutes more, as if surveying the lands below, before heading inside.
The chambers atop this tower comprised Luna’s personal suite. She walked through the spacious bedchamber and into an adjoining study.
There, she set herself down at a desk, and took paper and quill up in her magic.
Dearest Sister,
I trust that you are well attending to the affairs of the Crystal Empire during Cadance and Shining Armor’s absence.
I must inform you that this past night, I felt uneasy. There is a darkness that has taken root in Equestria. I can feel it in the realm of dreams, which suggests it can be found in one of our little ponies. As of yet, however, I cannot pinpoint its source.
I shall continue my investigations and let you know forthwith.
Yours,
L
She rolled up and sealed the letter, then trotted into an antechamber where she waited patiently.
Before long, a seneschal arrived, accompanied by a pony delivering a light breakfast. Always somewhat of a night owl, Luna and the palace staff had agreed upon a routine during Celestia’s absence: she would rise early to deal with pressing matters in the morning before resting, then she would holding court and deal with other Crown business in the afternoon.
“Your Highness,” the seneschal, a red dun earth pony with beige mane and tail, and a cutie mark of a partly-rolled scroll with writing, said with a bow.
“Ink Blot,” Luna said in acknowledgement. “Have you anything requiring my immediate attention this morning?”
“In a manner of speaking, Your Highness,” Ink Blot replied. “As you are, doubtless, aware, there is a mayoral assembly here in Canterlot today. The mayor of Fillydelphia wishes to speak with you. She doesn’t arrive until mid-morning: what requires your attention at present is not meeting with her as such, but rather whether to agree to see her today, and if so, at what time during court.”
“And why should such a decision require my attention?”
“Begging your pardon, your Highness, I was not clear: her letter, which I have here for your perusal, advised there were some two million bits worth of public works contracts at risk of significant delay. She was rather circumspect about the matter - I believe she does not wish to reveal what is concerning her until she speaks with you.”
Ink Blot took a scroll from saddlebags the porter was wearing. Luna levitated and unrolled the scroll in her magic. She read the letter, one of her eyebrows arching as she finished.
“Curious. Very well. See to it that her appointment is first this afternoon. I am willing to see her while dining, if need be. A private audience, if you will, given her request for discretion.”
“Of course, Your Highness,” replied Ink Blot.
The porter set down the tray of food.
“Ah, Ink Blot, before you leave,” said Luna, “I have here a letter for my sister. Please send it via priority pegasus courier. I should like for her to receive this message today, if at all possible.”
“But of course, Your Highness. Anything else?”
“No, thank you.”
“Very well. I am but a bell ring away should you find your meal is not to your satisfaction. Dine well, Your Highness.”
“Ahhhhh… this is the life. Thanks for inviting me along for your spa time with Applejack, Rarity,” said Spike. He was reclining in one of the long lounge chairs at the Ponyville spa, cucumbers in his eyes.
“Think nothing of it, darling. I knew you had the afternoon off, and haven’t been out in a while.”
“Eeyup, it’s a pleasure,” added Applejack. She and Rarity were ensconced on massage tables, clad in bathrobes and sporting similar facial treatments.
“It sure beats hanging around the castle, at least over the last couple of days,” Spike muttered.
“Really?” Rarity asked politely. “How so?”
“I dunno,” Spike said with a sigh. “It’s Twilight. She’s been acting kind of funny the last couple of days. Maybe longer? I’m not sure. All I know is, there’s a pile of unopened mail on her desk, and a pile of letters and paperwork she hasn’t finished.”
“Really? Twilight Sparkle, neglecting paperwork? I never thought I’d see the day,” Rarity exclaimed dramatically.
“For once, Rarity’s bang on with the melodrama,” said Applejack wryly. “Is Twilight not feelin’ well?”
“That’s not all. She was supposed to be going to Manehattan today to join her family. But just about all she’s been talking about since yesterday morning has been working with the Cutie Mark Crusaders. You both probably know all about that.”
“Eeyup,” Applejack acknowledged. “Didn’t think she was lettin’ other stuff slide because of it, though. That don’t sound like Twilight Sparkle.”
“Well, any time I try to bring up anything else, she brushes it off, saying she’ll sort it out after this astronomical thingamajig coming up tomorrow night. Which is just about the only other thing she’s been talking about recently.”
“I can’t say I’ve heard of much of this business with the Crusaders,” Rarity admitted, “although Sweetie Belle did stop by on her way home last evening to tell me how excited she was to be re-starting Twilight Time today. I was delighted for her, as you might well imagine, but I didn’t think much about it otherwise.”
“I guess she hasn’t been completely disorganised,” Spike said after a pause. “Starlight met up with Zecora yesterday, said she’d been given a warning about something menacing in the Everfree Forest. Twilight decided to check it out this morning.”
“That sounds positively dreadful. Was she going all on her own?”
“Yeah, but she said she would be fine – alicorn magic and all that.”
“I dunno. The Everfree’s no place for ponies on their own, alicorns or no,” Applejack said. “Still, Twi’s probably gonna be all right.”
“I daresay she could use some time here at the spa,” ventured Rarity. “Perhaps she’s feeling burned out? A day of relaxation might be just the thing to get her back on track.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Spike said thoughtfully.
“Boy howdy, if you want a good reason to need a day of relaxation,” Applejack said, “let me tell you about gettin’ Apple family taxes done yesterday…”
“Well, I for one feel fit as a fiddle after that. I’m mighty glad we figured out how I was wastin’ so much time on farm work,” Applejack said as they left the Spa.
“You’re telling me,” Rarity said. “It’s been a delight to have regular afternoons at the spa with you, dar-.”
“Applejack, Spike, Rarity!” Starlight Glimmer exclaimed as she trotted up. She panted, and her coat had a light sheen of sweat.
“You’re looking a mite winded there,” Applejack said. “Everything all right?”
“I’ve been looking all over town for Twilight. Have you seen her?”
“She didn’t stop by the spa, I’m sorry to say,” Rarity answered. “I’d have invited her to stay if she had.”
“Is she not back from the Forest?” Spike asked, his voice rising in pitch and volume.
“I don’t think so.”
“Was she supposed to be back by now?” Rarity asked with a hint of concern.
“She was expecting to be,” Starlight said, glancing towards the clock tower. “She’s hosting the Cutie Mark Crusaders this evening. Something’s come up back at the castle that she needs to see. It’s the Cutie Map.”
“That sounds like trouble for all of us,” said Applejack.
“I was planning on fitting in a fitting before supper, but for official friendship business, I’m sure it can wait,” Rarity said.
“I’ll be sorry to dump my chores on Big Mac and Apple Bloom, but nothin’ doin’.”
Spike hopped from one foot to the other. “I hope Twilight’s all right.”
“I’ll find Rainbow Dash and she and I can go look for her,” Starlight volunteered.
“After I see my client to reschedule the fitting, I’ll retrieve Pinkie Pie.”
“An’ I’ll go get Fluttershy after I’ve stopped back home.”
The three ponies dashed off.
Spike stood in front of the spa, twiddling his claws nervously. Then he sighed. He started trudging dispiritedly down the road, kicking at a small stone lying on the ground.
“I guess I should just go back to the castle.”
“Your Highness, presenting Madam Rocky Balloon, mayor of Fillydelphia,” Ink Blot announced.
Does that pony ever sleep? Or eat? Luna wondered. The seneschal always seemed to be close enough to come when called, any time of day or night. She was starting to worry about Ink Blot.
A thickset mare stepped forward and bowed.
“Rise, good mayor,” Luna said formally. “We were told you wished to speak with us about a delay in allocating considerable funds for public works.”
“That’s right, yer Highness,” Rocky Balloon replied. “We’d sent in the funding plan for final authorisation by a Princess – when ye’re talkin’ millions o’ bits, gotta have a Princess sign off on it, see. Once we got it back, we were gonna discuss it in the Public Works Committee and then in the whole city council. But we ain – I mean, haven’t got it back with a signature yet.”
“I see. Is the funding plan overdue for return?”
Rocky hummed nervously before scratching her head. “Well, technic’ly, there’s no 'overdue' for a Princess. But we were expectin’ to get the papers back at least a week ago, before I came to Canterlot, and the committee was goin’ to meet while I was away, so everypony had a chance to review any royal comments or alterations. Now we prob’ly have to push everything back. It’ll be a big mess for the planning team in Public Works, and for all the contractors who’ll want to bid on the projects.”
“I see.” Luna racked her brain. She had to admit that she was not always the best at keeping up with the paperwork that crossed her desk. But she couldn’t recall receiving anything from Fillydelphia – could she?
“In the event that I am responsible for the delay, let me please offer my humble apologies,” Luna said, getting up from her throne with the intent of bowing herself.
“Oh, no, your Highness, ‘t’weren’t you what’s holding things up.”
“I am relieved to hear that.”
“It’s Princess Twilight, see.”
Luna frowned. “Surely you could bring this matter up with Princess Twilight herself, could you not?” she asked, with a touch of asperity in her voice.
Mayor Rocky flattened.
“Begging your pardon, yer Highness. We tried to reach her, really, we did. Sent her a letter. Didn’t hear back. Sent a messenger, who got to Ponyville day before yesterday. Princess Twilight wasn’t in town. The messenger left a note, but we haven’t heard back, and Princess Twilight don’t wait two days to respond to a message - leastways not until now.”
The day before yesterday? That had been when she, Twilight, and Celestia had been at the ancient ruins. Luna couldn’t recall Twilight complaining then, or anytime over the last moon or so, of having been overburdened with other work. In fact, had not exploring the ruins together been Twilight’s suggestion?
“I see. I take it you are approaching me, then, in the hopes that I can more easily reach Princess Twilight?”
“Yes, yer Highness.”
“I believe I can be of assistance, then,” Luna announced. “When court concludes, I shall send Princess Twilight a letter reminding her of Fillydelphia’s requirements. Although I cannot promise results, I can at least assure you that it will reach her almost instantly.”
Mayor Rocky almost sagged with relief. “Thank you, yer Highness.”
“If that is all, then?” Luna asked.
“That’s the whole kit and caboodle,” Mayor Rocky replied. Luna did not feel the need to announce her dismissal, simply nodding. The mayor wordlessly followed a guard out of the hall.
“Ink Blot, a moment, please, before the next petitioner,” Luna said.
“Of course, Your Highness.”
“’Tis my understanding that Princess Twilight is habitually very punctual with her work. Is that not the case?”
“Most assuredly, Your Highness,” replied Ink Blot. “Until quite recently, I’ve never known the Princess to fall behind on even the most routine or unimportant correspondence.”
“‘Quite recently’? Am I correct in guessing, based on the way that you have phrased your response, that this Fillydelphia business is not unique?”
“I would have to confirm with our records ponies to be completely certain, Your Highness, but I have been led to believe that there are now several items which were issued to Princess Twilight for review or approval which are now past their suggested return dates.”
“Suggested return dates? Surely you mean deadlines?”
“If I may be so bold as to say so, Your Highness, but to elaborate further on a point hinted at by Mayor Balloon, Princesses issue deadlines: they themselves are not subject to them.
“Even so, city councils and the ministries of the Crown rely upon Your Highnesses being reasonably attendant to these not-quite-deadlines in order to properly conduct the business of governing – you have seen an illustration of what happens otherwise with this Fillydelphia matter. Excluding crises such as Tirek’s attack or the recent business with the changelings, Princess Twilight has been extremely reliable with respect to her correspondence.”
Luna sat for a moment, rubbing her jaw with a hoof.
“That will do for now,” she eventually said. “Bring in the next petitioner, if you will.”
“Twilight!”
“Twilight, are you there?”
Rainbow Dash flitted around, diving briefly below the canopy here and there. Starlight stayed above the treeline, holding herself in her magic and scanning every break in the foliage.
“Can you hear us, Twilight?”
Rainbow Dash flew back to Starlight, and they shared a glance.
“We’ve checked the area round Zecora’s cottage,” Rainbow Dash said. “We’ve been lucky: haven’t had any wild Everfree weather sweep through yet.”
She sighed. “It’s been almost an hour. If she hasn’t heard us or seen us, she’s not going to.”
“What do you think we should do?” Starlight asked.
“I’m going to go check around the old castle ruins,” Rainbow Dash said. She rubbed the back of her head. “If Twilight doesn’t make it back before nightfall? Huh. Guess we’ll have to come back tomorrow with a search party or something. Wait for me here, I won’t be long!”
With that, Rainbow Dash flew off in a rush for the centre of the forest.
It wasn’t long before Rainbow Dash reached the Castle of the Two Sisters and the gorge it overlooked.
Before heading into the castle, she glanced around at the skies above the forest, and felt the wind whistling through her feathers.
“Hmph.” She frowned. The wind didn’t feel good: it portended of wild and wet weather. She didn’t have time to go into the ruins.
Rainbow turned, about to head back to Starlight, when a glint from below caught her eye.
“What the hay is that?” she asked herself, zipping lower to get a closer look.
At the entrance to the cave containing the Tree of Harmony, somepony had drawn a large circle, rimmed with symbols Rainbow Dash didn’t recognise, but which looked like they might be magical.
“Huh.”
Another gust of wind whipped through the gorge. Rainbow Dash looked up and around. Already, banks of wild Everfree clouds were building up ominously.
“Outta time,” she said to herself. She lifted off into the air and back out over the forest, bearing for Starlight and Ponyville.
For a moment, the grotto was still but for the rising winds. Then there was a purple shimmering at the entrance of the cave. A pony slowly became visible as the magic spread from horn to tail.
Holding a half-eaten apple in her hoof, Twilight Sparkle looked up with an angry glare at the sky where Rainbow Dash had been seconds ago.