//------------------------------//
// Chapter Eight: Perturbations 
// Story: Shadows and Watchers 
// by -SBRS 
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The archives were, for the most part, a most grand set of buildings, marble archways spanning across the roads like harbingers of learning. Though quite close to the palace, the Moon District, home of Canterlot’s grandest libraries and archives, was a quiet place, and few ponies roamed the cobbled streets.
 
That detail was, in fact, rather fortunate for me—I did not wish to meet many ponies, who would most assuredly balk at the sight of a creature such as I. Luna had urged me to encounter as few ponies as possible, for the pure sake of preventing the incitement of potential panic and, perhaps, the burgeoning of questions among Equestria’s citizenry and nobility. It was clear that the princesses’ wish was to keep myself secret, until I could be introduced to their nation in as smooth a manner as possible.
 
I had, however, received permission from Luna to visit the Canterlot Archives—I sought knowledge, of Equestria and the world. She had given me a token, a small emblem of a crescent moon. Luna had assured me that, if shown to the archivists, they would grant me access to some, but not all, of the archives.
 
Our previous night had lasted into the cool dews of morning, and I had departed with the steady rise of the sun. I enjoyed sharing the stories of my land, it had been clear to me that Luna, likewise, greatly enjoyed the tales themselves. Such legends of heroes of yore had clearly left a mark upon her, and though there had not been nearly enough time to share all the tales I knew, I had made sure to regale Luna with the best of the best.
 
Luna had been particularly enamored with such tales of one of the Legion’s two founders. She had taken to Artorias with some delight, yet Luna was much more interested in the other. It was as if she had found some connection, however remote, with the Hornet, their propensities to striking from the shadows a most clear relation indeed. I found it most curious.
 
I pulled myself from my thoughts as I wandered into a rather large, ornate building, marble statues of various ponies lining the walls. Inside, I was met with the rather strong smell of old parchment and books, and for good reason—shelves upon shelves of books and scrolls sat in rows before me, their wooden details reaching far above.
 
Some meters to my front, a long desk sat perpendicular to the entrance. A unicorn sat behind it, seemingly absorbed in some manner of book. I approached who I could only assume to be the librarian, archivist, or whatever other parallel the pony was. My steps echoed throughout the archives, and the pony looked up at me. She was a wizened old mare, a thick pair of glasses balanced upon her nose and her grey mane wrapped in a bun. It was a rather puzzling notion, that the ponies of Equestria could fashion their manes in such ways that would be quite impossible for the likes of the horses I was accustomed to.
 
“Welcome to the Canterlot Archives. May I…” she stopped, touching her glasses with a wrinkled hoof. The old mare leaned closer, before shock took her. “By Celestia, what are you?”
 
I feared that the mare could have been frail of heart, so I raised my hands before me, in as placating a manner as possible. “Easy there, madam. It’s quite alright, I’m here on the Princess’ blessing.”
 
In an effort to demonstrate the truth of my words, I held up Luna’s badge, showing her marked insignia. A cool, tingling sensation took my hands, and I watched as the emblem floated out of my grip, towards the elderly pony.
 
She held it close to her eyes, examining the badge. After a moment, she smiled – a rather uneasy, nervous grin that I was sure only served to calm herself. “Oh, yes, you’re right. Princess Luna did send word that somepony would come from the palace, I just…” She trailed off, her eyes wandering over my figure. “Well, I didn’t expect… something like you. My apologies, dear sir.”
 
I was a little miffed, but I understood her words. “No need to apologize, ma’am. Though, I would appreciate some help,” I explained, walking closer to her desk. “You are an archivist, yes? A scholar, maybe?”
 
She began to calm down, though I could still sense a bit of fear in her eyes, a modicum of anxiety. “Yes, yes. I am a Royal Archivist and a scholar, you are correct. Swirling Psalm, at your service. How may I help you, dear?”
 
“I seek a few texts. Equestrian history, perhaps. Culture. Anything that could help me understand this land,” I said, gesturing with a hand. “And, importantly, any books, or scrolls, on magic, and its nature.”
 
Psalm nodded, rising from her seat. “We have many of those. I can lead you to a few.” She squinted at me, an inquisitive glare upon her. “Though, I must tell you that you are restricted from accessing the Starswirl and Clover wings. All others, you may browse to your heart’s content.”
 
Psalm’s horn lit alight with a pale shade of green, and before me appeared a viridian path along the floor, leading far away into the depths of the archives. “Just follow the green path, and you’ll find the sections and wings you need. And don’t try to steal anything.”
 
Appreciative, and also a tad bit intimidated by the aged mare, I followed her path through the archives. It was a rather short journey, all things considered, and I soon found myself at its end, some short distance into the large archives.
 
Much to my chagrin, however, there were… quite a lot of books, and I had no way to guide myself through the endless rows of texts. With a low sigh, I turned to my left, beginning to pick my way through the first of many books.
 
It had been some hours later when I felt a slight pain in my eyes. A dry feeling that, while quite bothersome, was useful in that I realized the amount of time that had passed. A collection of books and scrolls were sat upon a table before me, and I had taken the pleasure of relaxing within the arms of a large, restful cushion.
 
I had, fortunately enough, learned quite a bit during my time within the archives. I did not think of the possibility that Equestria would use a different script than that of my homeland, yet in a miracle that I had only come to realize during the excavation of a particularly lengthy scroll, I realized that the very alphabet, and more so the language itself, was incredibly similar.
 
As I had suspected, magic itself was a key part of Equestrian history and nature, yet it was entirely unlike the crystalline sorceries I was accustomed to or, even, the faiths and pyromancies that one would most definitely have had encountered within the likes of Carim or Carthus.
 
Carthus… a name that I had heard long before. It was, after all, only the latest of kingdoms that the Undead Legion had buried. Its regiments of accursed warriors had been buried deep under the mountains that overlooked Farron, so that we might keep a closer eye upon the Abyss within them all.
 
I shook my head, relieving myself of such troublesome thoughts. With a low groan I rose from my seat, tenderly closing the covers of my last book. I had enjoyed such inquiries of knowledge, yet I found myself to be quite bored. Books of fact and learning, while interesting enough, did not hold my attention as a tale of heroism might, and my limbs were just itching for something to do.
 
And what, perhaps, did warriors do when bored?
 



 
Some hours later I found myself, curiously enough, standing in the middle of a large, outdoor pavilion, somewhere deep within the recesses of the palace. The sun had begun to fall some minutes before, and the cool touch of night would soon arrive. I gripped my sword in my favored hand, and in my left sat my keen wedged dagger.
 
Straw-filled mannequins were scattered across the pavilion. I had brought the mannequins myself from the closest armory, having found that the pavilion was rather abandoned. The flooring in the courtyard was of some sort of tiled stone.
 
All warriors, all knights, would eventually come to fight. Whether in war or in peace, those who bore the sword would live by it. It was, therefore, a keen circumstance that they would necessitate training – what good was an ill-prepared knight, his shield arm weak in the face of a dragon? What purpose did a footman serve, if he knew not how to parry a blow?
 
I smiled to myself, knowing that, though within an entirely different world, some things would always remain the same. The Undead Legion, the Abyss Watchers – we were, first and foremost, soldiers and knights, with the most dire of duties. Training, practice – it was all of the most important requirement, and I embraced it with passion.
 
With an elated heart, I focused my eyes upon a particular mannequin, imagining that its beady eyes bore within them the heart of the Abyss. I gave a low snarl, matching that of the most ferocious of wolves, before I stomped forwards, digging my right heel into the stone floor. I held the position and, a moment later, I launched myself towards the mannequin, my sword lunging forwards. With a metallic screech, the floor below my knee split violently, and with a sickly crunch, my blade sank deep into the straw monstrosity. It bore no resistance.
 
Full marks. Now, Form Two.
 
I whipped around, glaring at a clump of mannequins gathered together. This time, I crouched low, my sword lashing around behind me, before I dove dagger-first towards my targets. I had cleared many meters before digging my wedge into the stone, and with yet another snarl I whirled myself around my dagger. A few mannequins around me were cloven in half, straw flying everywhere, yet I was not finished. Grunting in exertion, I jumped high in the air, twirling around in a somersault, before bringing my sword down upon the mannequins. I crushed the straw beneath the weight of the blade.
 
Maugrim’s Form, next on the list.
 
There was yet one figure that survived, glaring at me with its monstrous eyes. I rushed towards it, and when within a suitable range I stabbed forwards with my blade. A downwards cut with the dagger was followed by an upwards slash with both weapons, and the mannequin stumbled backwards, in a most lively manner. Finally, with a loud, lupine growl I launched my sword in a sky-bound uppercut. The blade sundered the tiled stone beneath me, before disemboweling the mannequin altogether. Dust and rock spired before me, blocking my sight, and when it had all cleared, nothing remained of the straw mannequin.
 
Suddenly, I heard the sound of broken glass somewhere behind me, and I whipped around, an expression of fury upon my face. I found only a guard, a red plume upon his helmet. A warm, brown liquid pooled in front of him, shattered glass scattered about it, and I could vaguely smell a hint of cocoa and chocolate wafting towards me. My eyes regained their focus, the world no longer a blur of rouge.
 
Captain Steelhooves stared at me, a most confounded countenance upon him. We remained in silence for a few moments, before the stark-white guard trotted towards me.
 
“By Celestia, what was that?!” Silver Steelhooves cried out, ignoring the shattered glass below his hooves.
 
I shrugged sheepishly, unsure of how to answer. “Training. Warriors do require practice, after all,” I explained, gesturing around me. I was, quite frankly, more than a bit disconcerted, having had someone walk in on my training.
 
“I don’t mean that,” Steelhooves answered, coming to a stop a few meters before me. “Do… do all humans, undead, whatever – do you all fight like that?”
 
With a frown I shook my head. “No. Only a few of us. It takes years, maybe even decades, of learning. It’s a matter of some ceremony.”
 
The guard captain looked to be a bit relieved, though I was unsure why. “That makes me feel a little bit better,” he muttered to himself, looking away. “Though, you did give quite the show.”
 
Though a tad red-faced, I smiled at Steelhooves. “I am glad, though my intention was not to—” Suddenly, I was interrupted by a loud, indignant screech.
 
“What have you done?!”

Both Steelhooves and I turned around, finding a familiar face before us. Her pale blue coat was wrought with shock, her green and pink mane wildly undone. A strike of fear took my heart, and I made to back away from the incensed mare.
 
“Y-yes, Miss Pad?” I tried, watching as she stomped towards me. “Is… is there a problem?”
 
The consternation upon her face became contorted with incredulity, and Lily Pad crossed the distance between us in seconds. Reaching up, she grasped my face, forcing me to look around.
 
“A problem? Is there a problem? Look!”
 
I did, though I could not choose otherwise anyways. My eyes wandered across the pavilion, and I understood Lily Pad’s source of appall. The stone ground, once masterfully tiled like artful mosaics, was now quite ruined – an understatement, in and of itself. Portions of the stone were riven apart, and chunks of flooring were missing altogether. The square tiling where I had dug with my dagger was now a haphazard spiral of pebbles, and finally, like the frosting upon a name-day cake, straw littered the entirety of the courtyard.
 
“I… did not realize I would cause this much damage,” I said carefully, wincing as Lily tightened her grip upon my cheeks in response. I had no idea ponies could grasp things so well with their forehooves.
 
“By Celestia,” she muttered, letting go of my face. Lily rubbed her own in turn with a hoof, most evidently frustrated. “Roland, do you have any idea how long this would take to repair and clean up? This wasn’t just some regular old flooring.”
 
I looked for any sign of the guard captain, seeing him standing on the opposite side of the courtyard. I could not blame him. “I’m… sorry? I asked one of the groundskeepers if I could use the pavilion - he bore no trouble with it.”
 
“He probably didn’t think you’d do this much damage either,” Lily groaned. I knew now that she was correct. “You thought this pavilion was just abandoned? Left alone? Was useless?”
 
Slowly, I nodded my head. “Well… yes. I did. Is that not the case?”
 
Lily shook her head despondently, and I could see the last refuges of rage leave her body. “It… you’re right, it is. But we still maintain it. The maids clean it, and the groundskeepers make it look nice,” she explained, turning around. “Just more work for us, I guess.”
 
I watched Lily Pad leave, the mare looking quite tired. I debated whether or not to follow her, but I found that Steelhooves was beside my side again, shaking his head.
 
“I didn’t realize I’d do this much,” I assured him, very much confused. “I may have overdone it, in my... want, I suppose, for battle. Will she be alright?”
 
Though he gave me a wary glance, Steelhooves shrugged, his mood a tad sunken. “That was Lily Pad, right? Princess Luna’s aide?” I nodded. “She may have overreacted. I think she’s just… very stressed out. Frustrated, maybe. This used to be a training grounds for the Palace Guards, anyhow. Nopony has used it in decades.”

“Frustrated? For what reason?” I was puzzled, to be frank. Lily, whom I had begun to consider a friend since our meeting in the Gardens, had not appeared to be as rattled and worried at all before, and I expressed this worry to my companion. Where had her rage come from?

Steelhooves sighed – he appeared reluctant to answer. “We’ve all had some stressful times in Canterlot, right now,” he explained. “There have been some troubles recently – Canterlot was even attacked, only a couple of months ago. I think Miss Pad was at the center of it all, during the wedding.”

“Wedding?” I queried, unaware of such an event. “An attack during a wedding?”
 
Steelhooves did not answer, instead making his way out the ruined courtyard. Yet, his words piqued my curiosity – that Equestria, and Canterlot, had come under attack, was by itself a matter to be investigated. Though I had never attended one myself, I had always known that weddings were, in and of themselves, quite important matters, and an attack during a palace wedding only signaled of crucial, perhaps even threatening, affairs.

Perhaps I would ask Luna, either in private or during her court. Equestria was, after all, my home for the time being, its princess my friend. I feared that dangerous circumstances were set to make their mark, and thus, I feared for the life of whatever purpose I had found in this new home of mine. I did not realize that Equestria would behoove such complex travesties.

Yet, deep down, beneath my flesh, I felt a profoundly perturbing sensation, festering and stirring like a cold, slowly fading ember. I was unsure what it was.