//------------------------------// // Cahpter Six - Silent Guardians // Story: All the Queen's Horses // by Bluespectre //------------------------------// CHAPTER SIX SILENT GUARDIANS Seagulls swept low over the great iron ship looking for anything that the cooks threw overboard to feast upon. Their shrills cries reminded Runcy of the tales he’d heard from the old seafaring folk who said that they carried the souls of those ponies who’d been lost at sea. Or was that albatrosses? He couldn’t remember – Goddesses, was he going senile already? He wasn’t a spry young stallion anymore that was for sure, but he was far from old. Apart from a few grey hairs in his mane, he considered himself to be a good distance away from the point where he’d feel the urge to dye the thing like some of the other nobles he knew did. Besides, what was wrong with growing old gracefully anyway? Was the thought of it so terrifying that you had to keep trying to disguise the fact with potions and powders? Bah! To hell with it all; he’d grow old and be as bloody loud and obnoxious as he damned well liked about it, and to Tartarus with the lot of them! He chuckled to himself and peered over the side as the ship’s engines sent a shudder through her hull. Gradually, the Queen of Waters eased up to the dock, the sailors shouting orders from the bridge to the dockside ponies who were preparing to make the vessel fast and run up the gangway. Or was that gangplank? Runcy wondered about that; he’d have to check his books when he got home and while he was at it, he would see about that order he’d put in for the steam launch from the engineering works. The boat builder had worked for his father and certainly knew his trade well, and what was more he worked with wood not iron and steel. There was something ‘earthy’ about wood that made him feel more connected with it that the cold emptiness of metal. He looked up; more ponies were coming out on deck now, their panniers and saddle bags packed ready for shore whilst their more bulky belongings would be hoisted up by cranes from the hold. Hooves appeared on the railing beside him, a familiar muzzle smiling wistfully beneath a chestnut mane and yellow eyes. “Good morning, Lord Spoon.” “Good morning, Lord Coalford” Runcy replied, “Sleep well?” “Eventually.” Trestle closed his eyes and breathed in expansively, “Wonderful morning isn’t it?” “It always is here.” Runcy smiled, watching the sun rising above the sprawling docks and the small paddle steamer that would be taking them the rest of the way to the very heart of Canterlot. “Do you have all your luggage sorted out?” The black stallion laughed quietly, “Well, after our ‘misunderstanding’ with the keys, yes. I feel I owe you an apology old fellow.” “My dear boy think nothing of it, these things happen you know.” Runcy chuckled, “Just do me the favour of collapsing in your own cabin on the way back, eh? I think poor Barbary is the one you should be apologising to.” Trestle groaned, “Believe me I did, repeatedly. I think she had a rather low opinion of me after that carry on.” “Ha! Don’t worry yourself about that!” Runcy snorted, “Barbary may be many things, but she is far from a prudish old mare that would judge a fellow for having one too many. Besides, she should bear some of the blame for feeding you those ludicrous things she was passing round the other night.” Trestle winced at the memory. They had tasted decidedly strange, true, but they were surprisingly moreish. Unfortunately they hadn’t quite agreed with his stomach on that point and had made a valiant, and successful, break for freedom. Thanks Celestia that Barbary had been able to find a bucket in time. Oh, and Runcy with the waste bin of course, but the less he thought about that the better. Some introduction to Veritas that had been. “I can’t imagine why she would want to eat things like that in the first place,” Trestle groaned, rubbing his stomach, “I mean, she had them there for anypony to eat so I couldn’t have been the only one.” Runcy shrugged, “That which doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” “I’m sorry?” “It’s an old saying” Runcy explained, “I don’t think it was meant to be taken literally, but the good lady of the ship likes to…experiment.” He sighed, “She’s one of those mares who’s always interested in the newest craze and will try anything once, or more so if she likes it or thinks it’s effective. Only a few years ago she decided to try out this ridiculous shampoo she’d picked up from a Llamalian bazaar that was apparently made with chimera scales and dragon fat, if you can believe that.” “Did it work?” Trestle asked. Runcy stretched his hind legs and grinned, “She was wearing a full length gown, hat and veil for several months afterwards.” He raised an eyebrow, “I’ll let you work out the rest.” Trestle thought about it for a moment and then chortled. Smiling, he tossed his mane and sighed as the fresh sea breeze caught it up. Out here on the water, the way the wind tickled your fur and ears as well as cooled your skin was one of the things he enjoyed most about travelling by ship. Best of all though, this magnificent vessel was powered by coal from his mines. He felt a warm feeling within his chest building and a shiver run down his back; he was a stallion who had achieved something, a stallion who had helped to build a better, more industrious Equestria. The future for him, his wonderful wife and the ponies of their home was bright indeed - if a little smoggy from all the coal smoke of course, but he’d work on that. Come to think of it, there was apparently an additive that he’d heard some unicorns had been working on that could actually ‘neutralise’ smoke and make coal effectively clean burning. Now, if he could beat them to the punch and patent it, then he could incorporate it into his business model and sales would probably soar even higher. Currently the only thing that hampered his sales was the fact that coal smoked when burned, and several prominent doctors and medical institutions across Equestria had released papers on the ‘potential harm from smoke inhalation’. This had in turn lead to the ‘Chimney’s Act’ which was another master stroke of Equestrian bureaucracy! Trestle paused; couldn’t he buy into that somehow? Couldn’t he redesign chimneys and incorporate the new regulations into- “Tres? Helloooo…” Trestle jumped, “Wha-?” Runcy chuckled, “Time to go my dear boy.” He pointed down to the dockside, “You see those pegasus chaps in the white and gold livery? They’re Royal Couriers from the palace, and as our bags will soon be on their way to the palace accommodation wing we’d better be there to meet them. You ready?” Trestle nodded, “As I’ll ever be.” “You’ve been to Canterlot before though, haven’t you?” Runcy asked in surprise at his friend’s nervous smile. “Well…not exactly” the black stallion mumbled. “But you’ve got offices here!” Runcy said animatedly, “Are you telling me you’ve never been to see them?” Trestle’s ears felt like they were burning with embarrassment, “Um…my, er, wife has.” To forestall Runcy’s next question, he raised a hoof, “She’s very good at organisational matters! Honestly!” “Yes, well, I’m glad to hear it” Runcy huffed, “Anyway, how you run your business is your business.” “Even if it is unorthodox” he added in a muttered whisper. Trestle shot him a look as they followed the crowds down the gangway and to dockside, all the while trying not to look over the side and the sheer drop to…he swallowed…how high up were they?! Goddesses, he hated heights! Depths he could handle, but heights? No, there was too much…air, and then the sudden meeting with the ground and… Ooh, it didn’t bear thinking about! The crowd and even the general feel of the dockside with its bustle of carts, workers and passengers, was like a carbon copy of where they’d taken ship in the first place. For a horrible second Trestle wondered whether the ship had done a complete circle and they’d ended up back there, before giving himself a surreptitious shake. Such silly thoughts were something he really ought to put to one side if he were to be taken seriously in court, although he was more inclined to take Runcy’s advice and keep his mouth shut and his eyes and ears open. Should Celestia wish to speak to him, he was to be polite, brief, bow to her and kiss her hoof to show his allegiance and respect. Illustria had briefed him repeatedly on this and he’d even begun to hope she’d come along with him on the trip, but then she’d had one of her ‘sudden changes of heart’ and decided to stay at home after all. Goddesses above, he just couldn’t work her out! One minute she was wanting to be off around Equestria and the other a stay at home recluse. As much as he loved her, she was one strange pony. If there was one thing that could be said for the docks though, it was certainly efficient. The royal couriers were already taking off with Trestle and Runcy’s luggage which would be in their rooms waiting for them when they arrived later on, after a short connecting journey by paddle steamer. The Queen of Waters had too deep a draft to be able to navigate the shallower waters from the port of Mulberry to Canterlot docks, so changing ship to the long wooden vessel was a necessity. Already berthed nearby, passengers were hurrying up the gangway to find a prime place to relax for the last leg of their trip. In just a few hours and they would be finally be there. Unfortunately the nearer they drew to the palace, the more nervous Trestle became. Even Runcy had noticed it, but decided to ignore it in case it only inflamed the poor young fellow’s concerns. He’d been the same himself at that age, but he knew all too well that once you’d been there and come to realise it wasn’t quite the harrowing experience you’d expected, then future trips became increasingly routine to the point where some lords and ladies simply used it as an excuse to go shopping or sight seeing. Come to think of it, where was Filth? He hadn’t seen the jumped up little turd at all on this trip and he certainly hadn’t been at the meeting with the circle. Somehow it seemed rather typical; the showy equine was in all likely already in Canterlot waiting with a smarmy look on his face and that knowing smirk that he barely made any effort to conceal. Celestia’s arse, he couldn’t stand him. The two stallions boarded the ship and soon the great wheels of the white painted vessel began to turn as she pulled away from the dockside sending plumes of white smoke up into the powder blue sky. Runcy looked up and smiled to himself; it was always perfect here. The weather ponies kept the skies around the capital clear year round, except for regularly scheduled storms, downpours, snow and so forth. But other than that, Canterlot and those areas lucky enough to border it were blessed with an abundance of perfect days. Not every area was so lucky of course, but then it wasn’t as if Equestria had poor weather to begin with and the majority of ponies simply enjoyed a trip to Canterlot as a holiday as much as to visit the capital city. Runcy sat back in his chair on the rear deck, listening to the water splashing below; he certainly wasn’t a fan of modern Equestrian ‘progress’ as it kept being called, but he could live with this. The large red and white painted ferry was an older wooden ship, and the way the side wheels sent her through the water reminded him of a swan. He sighed and closed his eyes; it was quite majestic, in a smoky and rather crowded way. Still, ‘take pleasure where you can’ his father had told him, and never a truer word was spoken. Runcy took a pull on his pipe and rolled the smoke around his mouth before letting it drift away like the ferry’s smoke stack. He’d decided to stay up on deck while young Trestle had, a little cheekily perhaps, asked for a tour of the ship. Honestly, the lad was like an excitable foal sometimes! Runcy chuckled and took a sip of his gin and tonic: goddesses, this was the life! Clean air, a fresh breeze off the river, a good smoke and a refreshing drink; what more could a gentlecolt ask for? Most of the other nobles had taken sky chariots from the port to their various destinations in Canterlot, be it their private homes, hotels or the palace accommodation wing. As a fellow of more ‘modest’ means, Runcy had decided to enjoy the sedate pleasures of a river cruise, and avoid the teeth and buttock clenching experience of hurtling through the clouds in a chariot pulled by pegasus. Runcy shivered; there was something distinctly unnatural about pegasi, even more so than unicorns in his opinion, whereas earth ponies…now they were the real ponies of Equestria. As for the others? Well, they were tolerated of course, especially as the princess embodied all three races, but it just didn’t feel right somehow. All that horn waving and light flashing hocus-pocus was fine for dusting, cleaning, and cooking of course, but pegasi? He shrugged; useful for message delivery no doubt and Golden had certainly used them for harrying the enemy during the war, but even so, wasn’t there something decidedly weird about an equine with wings? What were they, a sort of extra leg that had mutated to become covered in feathers? Runcy chuckled quietly to himself and let his mind wander, drifting off to the world he imagined Golden had lived in and the way it had all looked back then. Of course, for a part of her life it had been a time of war and chaos, but there was a certain sense of adventure and chivalry about it all that made Runcy feel a little melancholy at the way Equestria had changed through the centuries. He supposed the modern royal guard, as much a ceremonial echo of their former past as they were now, would be like a candle in a hurricane should the events of a thousand years ago happen again. As for the Equestrian Army, they were pretty much a glorified police force who had little more to do with their time than snooze the day away on border posts that were more like ski resorts than the line where Equestrian homeland ended and barbarity began. Runcy put his pipe down and finished his drink, adjusted his back, and let out a voluminous yawn. Ponies passing would probably think him uncouth, but he didn’t care - not today. He groaned and let himself drift off into slumber, enjoying the cooling river breeze as it played across his fur. In his pocket, nestled in the darkness, the small red diary sat quietly. ********************** “For the Goddess’ sake, hold the line!” “We’re taking too many casualties, Colonel, the thestrals are breaking through Needle’s division.” “Where the hell are our reserves?” “They’re already committed Colonel, Dray sent them in to plug the gaps but they’re already exhausted.” “We’re all bloody well exhausted, Captain.” Golden Spoon closed her eyes and a took a breath as she flicked the gore from her blade. Her aide was watching her with the usual blue eyed gaze so typical of the royal guard, his white coat a mirror of her own. He was a good stallion, and one she trusted implicitly. Golden lay a hoof on his shoulder, “We’re going to have to hold on Chard, until these blasted monsters have lost their wind.” She gave him a wink, “I have faith our boys will give a good account of themselves, don’t you worry.” “Aye, that they will, Colonel.” Chard smiled. He wiped the sweat from his brow and replaced his helmet, “Your orders?” “Go tell Dray to respectfully pull his hoof out of his arse and-” A huge green flash lit the darkening sky, followed by a whoosh of hot air and blast of sound that made Golden’s ears pop. “Hell fire, they’ve brought their artillery up!” Chard exclaimed in alarm, turning towards the blast. “If they have, they’re falling short.” Golden shouted over the din and rearing to get a better view, “Hold still there Chard, there’s a good fellow.” She rested her hind legs on the stallions back and took out her telescope. Another flash left a bright after-image on her vision and she had to blink to clear it, “Damn…” “Colonel?” Golden shook her head, “That’s not artillery, it’s…” Overhead the galleon slipped through the gathering night, its sails rippling as it banked to allow its crew to roll another barrel over the side. Golden could see the ponies, earth ponies, on the deck of the impossible craft as they worked. She watched the barrel fall, only to disappear into the packed ranks of the Legion’s troops. She closed her eyes just in time. “Hell fire, that was a close one!” Chard snorted. “Well, I don’t know who they are, but I’m damned glad they’re on our side.” The Colonel grinned, “Give me the colours.” Chard nodded, a wry smile playing across his face, “Aye, Colonel.” In the cacophony of battle, the darkness of the night and the cries of the wounded, the sight of a gold and silver armour mare, tall and sleek with blue mane and tail flowing out behind her, drew every eye. Held in her mouth as she galloped, waving it as she charged towards the front lines, the red and golden banner of Equestria, the banner of Celestia, their goddess. Golden reared, throwing the great flag up into the sky and caught it in her forelegs, her sword glinting in the glow of the magical barrage overhead, “ONE MORE TIME, BOYS!” she called out, “ONE MORE TIME!” The words sent a thrill of excitement through the guard, spurring them on to greater deeds, to ever greater glories that awaited them, either in this life or the next. Golden passed the banner to the colour guard, “Well? What are you waiting for chaps, an invitation? For Equestria!” “FOR EQUESTRIA!” A great rolling wave of shouts, neighs, whinnies and bellows boomed out from the Celestian ranks as then, for the first time, the thestral line buckled and wavered. Dear goddesses, was it true? By Celestia they could do this! They could win! “RUNCY!” One more push, just one more and they would be able to send these evil scum back into their pit and take back their home. One more time, just one more- “Hey! Wake up will you?!” “Gah! Damn it!” Runcy sat up in alarm but had to quickly sit back down again as his head span, “Bloody hell, where, what…?” “Celestia’s ears, old fellow, are you alright?” Sunlight Aura leaned down towards his friend and lifted his chin as he peered into his eyes, “You look a bit peaky.” Runcy pushed him away and got to his hooves, “Sunny?” He took a deep breath and sighed it out as he leaned on the ships railing for support, “By Celestia’s backside, what a dream.” “Dreaming eh?” Sunny shook his head, “You were shouting ‘One more time’ or something like that.” He leaned closer again, “Are you sure you’re alright?” “Yes!” Runcy gave himself a shake, “Goddesses, Sunny, I’d been reading one of those diaries and I had this dream that was so real…” He lifted a hoof to his head and gave his forehead a rub, “I suppose that will teach me to take naps in the sunshine.” “Ha! You’ll never stop an Equestrian doing that, Runcy my boy” Sunny laughed, “As you get older you’ll find yourself doing it all the more too. Think of it as just a perk of age.” “Hmm.” Runcy picked up his panniers and secured them on his back, “Are we here?” The older stallion clucked his tongue, “Why do you think I was calling you? I was waiting for you on the dockside and one of the crew said he’d heard shouting on the aft deck.” He sighed, “Of all the ponies, Runcy, honestly…” “Well thank you so much for your faith in me, Lord Aura” Runcy grumbled, “I’ll endeavour not to cause such a scene again in future. “Oh hush up, Runcy, what are you, twelve?” Sunny clucked his tongue, “Anyway, we need to find the other miscreant before we...ah! Here the conquering hero comes!” Trestle, grinning from ear to ear, emerged from a door marked ‘Crew Only’, accompanied by a burly mare in a coal blackened uniform. “Amazing, simply amazing!” the black stallion exclaimed, “I just can’t believe how such a magnificent device can be powered by something so simple as fire and water.” He shook his head in disbelief as the smiling crewpony vanished back through the door leaving the eccentric stallion to his friends, “You’ve never seen anything like it, chaps. Honestly, to see the very heart of the beast moving, pumping, turning – its breathtaking! And the best part of it is, it’s all powered by coal from my mines.” “So I see” Sunny muttered. Trestle frowned and turned to his friend for help. “You’re covered in it” Runcy sighed, “It’s just as well you have a dark suit on, and you need to give thanks for your black coat too otherwise they wouldn’t let you set one hoof inside the palace looking like that.” “It’s not that bad…” Trestle began banging on his coat sleeves, “All you need to do is-” “Don’t do that here you blithering idiot, you’re covering us in bloody coal dust!” Sunny jumped out of the way of the clouds of black soot drifting towards him, “This is a Saddle Row suit you know, not some cheap blasted knock off, boy!” Trestle froze and bobbed his head apologetically, “My apologies Lord Aura.” “Yes and I should bloody well think so too.” The older stallion snorted and headed for the gangway, “Come on, we can catch the tram up to the palace.” Trestle flinched at the disapproving look Runcy shot him and kept a respectful yet safe distance between them as he hurried after his companions. Well, this was a good start to his visit, wasn’t it! Good goddesses, Aura didn’t have to tear a strip off him like that! And what about Runcy? Just because the old fart was his friend didn’t mean he had to look at him as if he’d stood in something that stank. He hung his head and sighed, making sure he was out of earshot first. Why, WHY had he agreed to do this?! All that secret society rubbish and funny hoof-shakes was pretty bizarre as it was without putting up with the snippy attitude of old stallions like that old sod Aura. Trestle was still fuming inwardly when they reached the tram stop. All around him, the mass of equines flowed here and there just like any city, only generally better dressed. Beautiful buildings in white, blue, gold and silver, lined the wide streets and gave the impression of unimaginable wealth, taste, and of course: power. As if this wasn’t enough to impress the first time visitor to the capital city, above it all, partly built on a rocky overhang with waterfalls that sparkled in the sunlight, stood the royal palace. It was a little way off from where he stood, but still…it was as beautiful as he imagined it would be, if not more. Towers of spiralling colour embodying the shades of night and day, sat atop the elegant and distinctly feminine architecture of the palace with its tall towers, lofty bridges and integrated battlements. Come to think of it, could architecture actually be feminine? Trestle scratched his chin; he wasn’t sure, but there was definitely a more delicate touch here than the old fortifications he’d visited as a colt with his father and Runcy. Their families had been friends for years, and there had even been a suggestion that he’d marry Runcy’s daughter one day, but young Silver wouldn’t be of marriageable age for many years yet, and fate, as always, had decided on another course for the young stallion. Best of all though, he was happy, and he wouldn’t give any of it up for all the gold in Equestria. A flash of blue magic made him look up. Coming towards them along the tracks was a blue, white and gold trimmed vehicle which was surprisingly quiet apart from the occasional metallic shriek as its train like wheels rubbed against the track. Trestle felt an instinctive urge to step back from the two storied thing as it approached, but gave himself a shake at his own trepidation. In the front of the open cab, the motorman, dressed in a blue and gold uniform, turned a large brass handle and the tram slowed to halt before them. “DOCKS!” the ticket mare bellowed from the back, “This stop for Canterlot docks!” Trestle waited until the passengers had disembarked before following his counterparts up to the top deck of the tram. Soon after they’d taken their seats a bell rang downstairs and, with a gently increasing hum, the extraordinary conveyance began rumbling off along the track up towards the palace. The young stallion marvelled at the flashes of magical energy from the long pole that protruded from the centre of the vehicle as it connected with the stretched overhead wires. It seemed the whole thing was like some enormous metal spiderweb across the street that the trams used to draw their energy. Living out in the country he’d never seen one before, but he’d heard about them. Oddly enough, he was told these were now considered to be ‘old hat’ and mostly kept as an attraction for tourists! To him though, seeing one for the first time, it was one of the most incredible things he’d ever seen; well, other than the ship and the engine room of course, but to think, if this was thought of as old, then what was new? He grinned inanely and leaned on the side rail to gaze at the buildings, shops and smartly dressed ponies as they passed by. Now this was the way to travel. “Tickets please gentlecolts.” “I’ll get these.” Sunny placed a hoof on Runcy’s shoulder and turned to the ticket collector, “Three to the palace please.” The uniformed mare nodded and pressed a lever on her ticket machine, “That’s thirty bits, please.” “Th…THIRTY bits?!” Trestle quickly received a dark look from Runcy and decided that the best course of action was to keep his big mouth shut. But honestly…thirty bits! Bloody hell, if that was how much it cost for the tram, how much would it cost to live here? Come to think of it, how much were his business rates in this place? Goddesses almighty, he’d be having a word or two with Illustria when he got home. Mind you, he could always just call in to his offices while he was here, couldn’t he? The only snag was, he had no idea where they were. Oh, Celestia, why had he agreed to come here?! Trestle felt like bellowing at his own stupidity; all he need now was for somepony to ask- “Trestle, don’t you have offices here?” “Oh Goddesses!” Runcy frowned, “I’m sorry?” Trestle sat bolt upright in alarm, “No! I mean, yes, they’re in…erm…” Oh no, oh goddesses, he couldn’t remember! His mind reeling, he caught sight of a street name plate as they passed it and nearly choked on his own words, “EMPIRE PLACE!” “Oh.” Runcy shook his head, “I always thought they were on the other side of the city for some reason.” He shrugged, “The old memory isn’t what it used to be, eh?” “Hah! Nothing wrong with your noggin, young fellow.” Sunny barked out a laugh and gave his friend a good natured shove, “Now when you get to my age then you will have something to complain about.” He gave Trestle a wink, “Came out one morning wearing my wife’s hat.” At Trestle’s confused smile he nodded, “Same coat rack you see. It was only when I was halfway to the town that I began to wonder what was tickling my mane. Blasted thing was a green spotted feather about two feet long sticking out of the back of this enormous red hat.” He chuckled to himself, “Ponies must have thought I was ready for the loony bin when they saw that!” The three ponies began to laugh. “Thanks for that” Runcy whispered. Sunny turned back with a smile, “Not a problem. The young lad needs to settle those nerves.” Runcy closed his eyes and nodded, “He’s a good one, Sunny” he said quietly, “there’s a lot of potential in him.” Lord Aura nodded, “I can see it. Don’t worry, Runcy, he’ll buck up given time.” Trestle yawned and continued watching the sights of Canterlot pass by while his two older colleagues conversed. Whatever they were rambling on about now was probably something interminably dull. He had no real interest in politics, particularly as all it ever seemed to involve was one group complaining that the other hadn’t done what they’d wanted. Equestrian politics, at the level of the royal court at least, was a little different however, and it wasn’t that surprising either considering that the one presiding over it all was a goddess, or as near to one as Equestria had. Some believed without question that Celestia, and Luna too, were living goddesses. Others weren’t so sure, but she – that is they – were at the very least highly respected. Damn it, he had to keep reminding himself that Princess Luna was back! He wasn’t the only one either; it hadn’t been that long since the mythical sister had suddenly reappeared in Equestria after being banished for a millennia as though she’d simply been away on holiday for a few days, and now everypony was expected to simply accept her as one of their rulers without so much as a by-your-leave! Great galloping alicorns, he could still remember his sense of incredulity when he’d read the newspaper article that treated the whole subject as if it were something that everypony should have be aware of already. In reality, most ponies he knew had taken it as some sort of prank, or error on behalf of the news organisations. Other ponies thought it was a relative that had come to the capital from another land. Whatever ponies believed, it was only when the Princess of the Night had committed herself to an Equestria wide tour that they had finally realised who she really was. Unfortunately, Luna’s association with Nightmare Moon would come back to haunt her, even after a thousand years of isolation. Trestle shuddered; now that he thought about it, wouldn’t a thousand years of imprisonment on the moon have had some detrimental effect on her mental state? Goddesses, what a thought! The tram turned to head up a long stretch that, judging by the labouring engine note, was a lot steeper than it appeared. Leaning on the hand rail, Trestle felt like a child again as he gazed up at the tall white walls and the banners that hung at intervals from the battlements. It was a sight that Illustria would have loved to have seen: royal guards in gold and silver armour, armed with…something, he wasn’t sure, were patrolling in pairs while occasionally he saw soldiers in dark blue armour, and…wait…were they ponies? They had wings, like…like a dragon’s! He felt a shiver run through him; he’d heard of the bat-like ponies that Luna had employed to act as her personal guard, but he’d never seen one himself. Good grief, look at those teeth! One of the guards yawned and gazed up at the tram passing by, casually shifting a large curved sword on his back. If Trestle hadn’t known better he’d have sworn the creature smiled at him. He gave his mane a rub and turned to the others who were still talking between themselves quietly. It was obvious that he wasn’t involved in this conversation so the best thing he could do was just sit back and watch the sights. This time though, he would restrict his observations to that of inanimate objects. Runcy lifted an eyebrow as the tram glided past another group of armed ponies outside one of the gatehouses. “Nightguard” he said quietly. “You know of them?” Sunny asked, “Bat-ponies apparently.” “Yes…” The silver grey stallion stared at one of the creatures and rubbed his chin, “I’m sure they are.” “Well, whatever they are, they aren’t Equestrians I can tell you that” Sunny huffed. At his friends raised eyebrow, he sat back and stared up at the sky, “They appeared around the time Nightmare Moon reappeared,” he explained, “some think they were in exile with her on the moon while others suggested they came down from the frozen wastelands of the north.” “What do you believe?” Runcy asked levelly. Sunny smiled, “The same as you” he said quietly, “You don’t need to say it, but we suspected for quite some time that ‘things’ like these existed somewhere in the world.” “Hybrids aren’t unheard of” Runcy replied, “Look at Hippogriffs for example, or even Griffins for that matter.” Sunny shrugged, “There will always be ponies whose tastes are for the exotic.” He shrugged, “But you have to admit, it seems more than a little ‘coincidental’ don’t you think, that these creatures just happened to turn up when Luna reappeared?” “You think they were anticipating her return?” Runcy asked. “Why not?” Sunny replied, “One of those element girls remembered the prophecy about Nightmare Moon’s return, but as usual nopony was listening. The circle however, were.” “I didn’t know anything about this!” Runcy snorted, keeping his voice down, “Why wasn’t I informed?!” Sunny gave his companion a sidelong look, “Because the fewer who knew the better.” He raised an eyebrow questioningly, “Can you imagine what would have happened if word had got out amongst the general population, Runcy? Panic. Absolute chaos.” Sunny shook his head, “No. The circle had seen the signs, we knew about the prophecy, and steps were taken. That’s all you need to know.” Runcy shook his head and stared up at the sky, “Damn it, Sunny, I don’t like all this secrecy. I thought the whole idea of the circle was to work together to remember history and protect Equestria’s future. Now you’re telling me you’re hiding things from your own members?” “If only everything were so simple.” Sunny sat back and smiled sadly, “Primus made a decision, and we abided by it. As it transpired, the matter was resolved by our young bearers of the elements of harmony.” “And was that all part of the plan?” Runcy hissed, “To use children to defend us from the Goddess of the Night?” Sunny shook his head, “No. That was something Celestia herself had instigated. Oh, I’m sure she would claim otherwise, and that a group of innocent fillies had just ‘somehow’ managed to locate and use an ancient weapon capable of taking down a deity, but come on Runcy, who in their right mind would believe that?” “You believe Celestia had it all planned out?” Runcy asked. Sunny raised an eyebrow, “The princess is thousands of years old, my friend. Do you think she would have forgotten the prophecy or simply ignored it?” He smiled, “You don’t stay ruler of a nation for that long without learning a few tricks, and you know as well I do that Celestia is somepony you do not want to cross.” “I don’t doubt it, but why so many of these bat things?” Runcy asked, surreptitiously looking over the side of the tram, “There are a hell of lot more of them than last time we were here. There’s more royal guard too. I thought the changeling threat was over?” “It is, or at least, that’s what we’re being told” Lord Aura replied, “Perhaps the guard are just being cautious in case more of the things are around.” “And the Bureau?” Runcy asked “We all know about them and their behind-the-scenes sneaking about. They’ll be up to their fetlocks in this without a doubt.” “I’d be more surprised if they weren’t” Sunny said with a smirk, “What we know from our sources is that they’ve set up detectors around the capital and elsewhere around Equestria that can detect a changeling passing near to one. Not infallible of course, but certainly useful.” Runcy huffed his displeasure, “A little late in the day for such measures. You’d have thought the threat of emotional vampires walking amongst us would have been taken a little more seriously.” “Who can say” Aura said with a shrug, “Don’t forget they were little more than a myth not that long ago.” “Seems to me that a lot of ‘myths’ are reappearing lately” Runcy said, casting a quick glance at Trestle. The young lad was quietly watching the sights with all the fascination of a foal. He turned back to Sunny, “This isn’t good, Sunny. Nightmare Moon, changelings, what the hell is next?” The older stallion snorted, “Who knows. Let’s just hope this is the worst of it, eh?” He looked up, “This is our stop.” “CANTERLOT PALACE! This stop for Canterlot Palace.” The trio nodded to the ticket mare as they trooped down the tight stairs and onto the pavement beside the towering walls of the palace. Runcy closed his eyes and took a deep breath; the sense of history here was almost tangible, and it was invigorating to see something familiar too. He didn’t like change, he never had. Certainly, he accepted that sometimes it was ‘necessary’, and even inevitable in some ways, but ponies had a habit of forgetting things, especially ‘unpleasant’ things. He however, made a point of remembering, and had instilled that same appreciation of their ancestry and past into his daughter. Runcy nodded to himself; somepony had to remember. Speaking of which… “Sunny, Trestle, you two go ahead. I have somewhere I need to go first.” Trestle turned to reply but Lord Aura was there first, offering a guiding hoof to the young stallion, “This way, Lord Coalford! Permit me to show you the ancient majesty of the royal palace. Did you know this wonderful building was constructed shortly after the capital city was moved from its original location…” The sound of the green stallion’s voice faded away as Runcy’s two friends entered the gate house of the palace. For himself, he had a different destination in mind. Every year he would come here, royal court business or no. In some respects it was a routine he had developed over time, but unlike many things in life that are done only out of necessity, this was something that he wanted to do. In truth he didn’t so much look forward to it, but rather something he anticipated. It was, he felt, the right thing to do. The silver-grey stallion nodded to himself, following the familiar street, his hooves clopping on the neatly fitted cobbles curved at just the right angle and shaped for hooves to find good purchase whatever the weather. Runcy smiled to himself; who needed magic when you had good solid earth pony ingenuity? Golden had known this, she understood the quality of earth ponies, and it was from her that the Equestria they had today was truly born. Celestia, as powerful and stern as she may be today, had once been a painfully naïve and idealistic youth who had, from what the diaries had told him, been thrown down in the disastrous first battle of River Valley. His ancestor, Golden Spoon, Colonel of the Royal Guard, had saved the Equestrian Army that day with the help of her subordinates. It was she who was the real hero of Equestria, not some strip of a girl who had some fanciful magic tricks that had proved to be as effectual as a street conjuror’s act. What she would think of her home now though, he just didn’t know, but he could guess. Runcy passed under the wrought iron archway with its flanking carved statuary portraying two mares in long flowing gowns and holding lanterns. He paused and looked at them; the sight of the ‘twin sisters’ always made his heart skip a beat. Their faces were covered to the muzzle in cowls as they hung their heads and half turned away as if unable to face the terrible reality of what they had seen beyond the archway. There was something poignant in that pose, that look, that flooded Runcy’s heart with a heavy, painful sadness that had on more than one occasion brought tears to his eyes. He gave himself a shake and forced his hooves to move against the wave of emotion that was already snaking its icy tendrils around him. It was always like this here…always. Runcy nodded to the gardener who gave a nod in return. The fellow was as much a part of this place as the statuary: he never changed, never spoke, and always kept a respectful distance from visitors. There were precious few here anyway. After all, who wanted to spend time in such a place as this when the rest of Canterlot was so full of colour and life? Here, only memories lingered, memories of a time long since passed that only the goddesses themselves could recall. He passed a statue of a warrior clad in heavy plate and leaning his forehooves on a long sword. The armoured stalwart stared out across the lawns, past the flower beds and hedges and the whispering leaves in the larches, out into eternity. Soldiers, ponies just like Runcy, had come together to protect all that they held dear and precious in life: their loved ones, their homes – Equestria itself. So many had fallen. So, so many… The large brass plaque, tastefully engraved and angled so a pony could see it easily read : Child of Equestria. Mother, father, sister, brother, son, daughter, read these words and stay a while. Breathe the air that we made free, for all our futures. Taste the sweetness of the grass, the lush fruit and bounty of the earth beneath your hooves. It is for this, and for you, that we gave our lives, that you may remember who we were and what was sacrificed for all our children. When you drink of the waters and eat of the food of this land, we live on through you. In life we asked for nothing but gave everything so that you may live free beneath the sun and moon of the goddesses. Vigilance is the price of freedom. “Vigilance is the price of freedom.” Runcy closed his eyes and nodded to himself; it was a true statement. Many ponies seemed to believe that because something had happened in the past then it negated the possibility of it ever happening again, as if it been a bump in the road of history that although unpleasant the time, had been a ‘one off’ incident that would certainly never reoccur. To the Equestrians of today, memories of the past were things that should stay there, hidden and forgotten – in some respects, like this very park. He walked on. The walls and hedgerows here blocked the noise of the city beyond, creating an oasis of calm and peace that held an otherworldly aura that played with your senses. Beneath the visitors hooves the green and vibrant grass was perfectly cut, the trees rustling in an unseen breeze were neatly pruned and even the delicately scented flowers were tasteful in both colour and placement, complimenting the history around them magnificently. The gardener had certainly excelled himself at his craft and had more than earned his cutie mark of a crossed rake and hoe. For a moment, Runcy frowned; he’d been coming here for more years than he cared to remember and yet he had never once asked the unicorn his name. Was he really that dismissive of common workers? Was he so bigoted that he couldn’t see beyond the unicorn stallion’s horn? Perhaps he was becoming bitter in his old age. Dismissing such thoughts, Runcy passed the statue of the pony carrying the war banner, the warrior staring forward as though forcing his way through a storm. The way the banner, depicted in gold and silver, flew out behind him, Runcy could very well have imagined the fellow holding fast in a hurricane - if it hadn’t been for the field of arrows surrounding him. There was an inscription here too, carved into the plinth in large letters inlaid in bronze: Trust Whether the statue was a depiction of a particular individual or simply a piece of poignant of statuary, he didn’t know. The park had many like this. Runcy walked on, past the echoes of past glories, tragedies, and reminders of those who had given so much for those ponies who today sat in their cosy homes completely oblivious to the trials and tribulations of their forebears and how much they had given so their descendants could simply…forget them. He would never forget, nor would Veritas, the circle of ponies who carried on the torch of memory and honour that would be a guiding light in the years ahead. The old may forget, the schools and colleges becoming wary of teaching such histories to the young for fear of causing worry and distrust as the world around them shrank, but through the children of the nobility, like young Trestle and even Silver, the past would never be completely forgotten. Runcy paused; he was here. The statue, cast in bronze, gold and silver, stood tall and proud in the calm and gentle breeze of the park. Runcy smiled and sat down on his haunches, gazing up at the tall mare as she looked out over the park, still vigilant after all these years. She was clad in her armour, carrying her sword and spear, flanked by two stallions similarly armoured and alert to danger. The sculptor had captured the essence of Golden Spoon perfectly, even down to the wry knowing smile she sported in the portrait of her which he had hanging in his study. Perhaps this statue was modelled on the very same painting? Who could say. The inscription below only held one word; Honour Honour…Runcy sighed, shaking his head. How many ponies even knew what that meant, let alone considered it to be a viable consideration these days. He himself believed he was honourable, as indeed did many of the circle. Whether he was in actuality remained to be seen, but he was certain of one thing: if he ever had to answer the call, regardless of his age, he would take up arms to defend his homeland. He would not be found wanting; the Spoon family would forever answer the call. Runcy sat on his haunches and took off his panniers before rummaging around inside for what he sought. The bottle of wine was first. Taking out a glass, he poured out a measure and placed it on the small shelf beneath the statue. It was, according to her diaries, her favourite: Viola Red, the wine produced in the south of Equestria and holding a rich, yet mellow well rounded flavour that hinted of summer skies and apple trees. He poured himself a glass and saluted, “To you, my Lady.” It was good wine. Runcy smiled to himself and leaned back, his eyes closed, “Another year, Golden.” He chuckled, “Time slips through my hooves quicker now with every grey hair I get in mane it seems. I remember father telling me that ‘a year older is a year wiser’. All I’ve found is more aches and pains that I never had before, and a need to find a toilet in the middle of the night!” He grinned, “Lark is doing well though, she’s still involved with those ‘friends’ as she calls them in that ‘knitting group’ of hers, or whatever it is they do when stallions aren’t around.” He took a sip of his wine, “Honestly, she has this obsession with always buying the latest fancy cloth and thread that would see us destitute if I didn’t rein her enthusiasm in at times. I know it’s her hobby, but honestly, what purpose does it serve? Shiny bits of bloody cloth, I ask you!” Runcy shook his head and sighed, “Goddesses, I think I really am getting old. Was I always such a misery? Ha! Perhaps I was!” Runcy took a sweet roll from his pack and placed it next to Golden’s wine and took one for himself. Mrs Cream had made a fresh batch and he’d had her use as old a recipe as she could find. Golden would appreciate it, he was sure. He took a bite of his own, savouring the sweetness of honey, the crunch of walnuts and the yeasty flavour that filled his mouth. Delicious. “Silver is doing well” he said, licking away a crumb, “I’m a little concerned about the company she’s keeping lately, but at least she has somepony to call a friend. I tried to have her home tutored recently too, but you know what Lark’s like, she always has to have her way.” Runcy sighed, “One of these days, she may actually pay attention to me…” He shrugged, “but I doubt it. Stubborn creature.” The leaves rustled in the trees, producing a sound that was almost like the whisper of the dead trying to speak through the veil between the worlds. In his mind, and even in his heart, Golden was here with him, listening, understanding him and in her own way, guiding his family with her love. It was superstitious, yes, but it helped… “Silver had another of her…faints” he said quietly, “I had to give her one of those damned ‘tear’ things again. I just…I just wish I didn’t have to. I know what they’re called, and I understand what you said about them, but they can’t really be from one of those things can they? After all, they haven’t been around for over a thousand years. But if they are, then…then what am I doing to her? Am I tainting her with their evil?” He felt a shiver run down his spine, “Not that it really matters if it’s...if it’s the only thing that will help her.” A thought suddenly struck him and he reached into his pocket and took out the bottle, holding it up to the light. The tiny silver tear drop shaped crystals inside looked the same as the ones he had at home. There were enough here to last her years, but…but what then? And what had really been playing on his mind was how the faints had become more frequent of late too. Last year he’d dared to dream that she would grow out of this, as though it were no more than some phase she was going through. But then, just a few short days ago, it had happened again and Runcy’s dream had shattered. He looked at the wine glass on the altar – “Like glass…” He sighed, “Well, enough of my prattle, I’d better go and pay my respects to the goddesses or they’ll be getting jealous of our time together.” Runcy bowed to the statue, “Until next time, my Lady.” Rising to his hooves the grey stallion stretched and rolled his shoulders, grimacing as the familiar aches reminded him that they were never quite going to go away, but instead would lie in wait to come back to haunt him – probably later tonight too. He never slept well in unfamiliar beds, regardless of how grand they were. Walking to the centre of the park he approached the immaculately kept shrine of the goddesses and gazed up at the stylized image of the sun and moon, held in the hooves of two mares: Celestia and Luna, or so some thought at any rate. The old stories told of different things, of older creatures, the ones who had created the universe and the world itself. They were Celestia and Luna’s parents; her mother and father. Some, Veritas most notably, made a point of remembering the ‘old ones’ and venerated the father above all. Whether ‘he’ had a name or not, nopony really knew, or at least it hadn’t been recorded to the best of Runcy’s investigations. They were simply ‘the gods’. Runcy closed his eyes and bowed low, kissing the altar and took out the incense from his pannier. Slowly, carefully, he lit the long pungent sticks before placing them into one of the holders. “All father, all mother.” Runcy sat back on his haunches and clopped his forehooves together, “Bringers of light and darkness, bearers of live and death, carriers of the eternal river and guardians of the herd. Hear my prayer…” And here, once again, he prayed. Did they listen? Did they even exist, or were they a figment of overactive imaginations? Goddesses, did it even matter? Runcy kissed the shrine twice more before backing away and taking a breath. Nopony could help her – only the gods, goddesses, or whatever they were meant to be. He wasn’t a huge believer in the divine, but his daughter, his beloved daughter… “Oh, Silver, my beautiful foal…” Runcy squeezed his eyes shut as tears began to well unbidden and roll down his cheeks. “Damn it…” he muttered, and wiped them away. He nearly walked right into the lady standing right next to him, “Pardon me, madam.” The mare bobbed her head to him, “It’s quite alright, My Lord. I shouldn’t have intruded upon your ruminations.” Runcy smiled sadly, keeping his face turned away so she couldn’t see his damp cheeks, “No, no, it’s quite alright madam, I’m finished now.” He bowed, “Good day to you.” He was several steps away before she spoke again, “You come here every year, do you not?” Runcy froze, “Yes. Yes I do, every year.” He turned to face her, “Forgive me, Madam, you appear to have me at a disadvantage.” The golden coated mare peered at him with her piercing ice blue eyes and gave him a smile that sent a shiver down his spine. The mare’s floor white dress flowed over her like a shimmering river of ice, while around her head she wore a wreath of silver-white leaves intertwined with small red berries and blue flowers that contrasted with her midnight blue mane. She seemed to almost…glow. “My apologies, Lord Spoon. You may call me Eunha.” She gave him a curtsy that had his fur tingling and an overwhelming and inexplicable urge to throw himself at her hooves. What the hell was wrong with him?! Runcy instead forced himself into a respectful bow, “My Lady Eunha, Lord Runcible Spoon at your service.” “My, you are a gentlecolt,” the mare replied gently, “such a rarity these days.” She turned to the shrine and lifted her muzzle as she closed her eyes, “Jasmine and boxwood. Such an interesting combination: gentleness and strength combined.” Runcy said nothing. Eunha looked up at the statue, “Do they ever answer you?” she asked. “Hmm?” Runcy murmured uncertainly. “The gods” the mare replied, turning her gaze upon him, “Do they answer your prayers?” Her words were so gentle, so kind, yet her eyes were like a wash of pure water from the mountains, waking his senses and demanding a reply. He couldn’t think of anything else, nothing other than answering her and emptying his heart before this magnificent creature, “I…” he swallowed, “In their own way, I believe they have.” “Really?” The golden mare raised an eyebrow curiously, “So few truly believe the Gods affect the mortal realm, and yet you do. Pardon me for being so forward, My Lord, but may I ask why?” Runcy turned his gaze away to look upon the shrine, and away from the magnificent creature standing before him. He didn’t speak of these things to anypony, and yet here, speaking to Eunha, it felt as natural as drawing breath, “My wife and I have one daughter, a young filly no taller than my shoulder.” He smiled sadly, “She was born with a rare affliction, but one that has afflicted my family for generations. My wife and I prayed for a miracle, we prayed that she may be spared the curse that has plagued our line for a thousand years.” He gave an ironic laugh, “But even the gods couldn’t help us.” “And yet you still believe they answered your prayers?” the golden mare asked. “We were blessed with a daughter who has brought so much joy and love into our lives, it makes my own life feel…worthwhile.” Runcy closed his eyes and nodded, “If that is not a blessing, I don’t know what is.” “You still pray for her?” Runcy shrugged, “What parent wouldn’t pray for the health of their child?” The mare smiled demurely, “What parent indeed.” She looked up at the shrine, an inscrutable expression on her face, “We can guide them, we can give them our love, but their fate, their path in life, is one they must travel on their own.” “You have children of your own?” Runcy asked. “Two” the mare replied, “And twice the trouble!” Runcy laughed, joining the beautiful mare in her humour. He found himself smiling for some reason, his heart suddenly as light as a feather and feeling…young again. “You intrigue me, Lord Spoon. Very much so.” The mare fixed him with her ice blue eyes, “You are here for the royal court are you not?” Runcy swallowed, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. She found him…intriguing? He blinked and tried to reply as politely as possible, “Yes, Lady Eunha, I am here with my friends for that very reason. May I ask, shall you be joining us?” Eunha shook her head, “Alas, no. I fear I must return home shortly. My husband frets so when I am away.” Runcy’s heart sank. Despite being happily married and with a wonderful daughter, this mare seemed to pull at his emotions like a magnet to iron. Did she know she had this effect on stallions? Great Celestia’s backside, he had to get a grip of himself or he would be all but grovelling at this creatures hooves! “Runcy?” “My Lady?” The mare suddenly walked towards him. Her legs moved smoothly beneath her dress, her mane flowing like wine and her eyes as deep as mountain pools. Runcy could feel himself being drawn in, and by the goddesses, he would be happy to just…let go. Her hoof touched him and he jumped in surprise, “Dear Runcy, never forget how much you are loved.” Eunha traced her hoof down his chest and turned away, peering back at him over her shoulder, “Just because we cannot see, does not mean we are blind.” Runcy frowned; he hated riddles, but this time…this time he had a strange feeling he knew what she meant. “Destiny flows around you, Lord Runcy.” Eunha lifted her hoof, a string of white light flowing around it and disappearing off into…nothing. “It winds around us like a Labyrinth Tree: with one root, many branches, yet always the same destination. One only needs to follow their heart and trust in themselves to stay on the right path.” She smiled and turned her eyes to the heavens, “Nopony, no matter how much they may have convinced themselves to the contrary, is ever truly alone.” Following the mare’s gaze, the silver-grey stallion stared up into the vast blue sky. It was a perfect day: pure and clear, warm and gentle...like her voice. He took a breath and turned back to her. She’d already left. Runcy shook his head and gave himself a shake. What a strange mare, and what was all that about destiny again? He sighed; probably just another nut case. Equestria had its fair share of loonies, those who’d ‘caught religion’ or some other sort of fanaticism that was more often than not centred around magic, the princesses or… “Oh, sod it!” Runcy snorted and with a toss of his mane, headed back to the exit. He’d had enough of magic, strange unicorns and weird females to last a bloody lifetime already. And speaking of weird, It was bad enough having to put up with being stuck on the same ship as Barbary Nights without more of the blasted creatures sneaking up on him during moment of reflection spouting their hocus-pocus mumbo jumbo rubbish. ‘Nopony is ever alone’! What bunkum! He had his wife and his daughter, so how in Equestria could he possibly be alone? Runcy groaned to himself, trying to push the peculiar mare’s words from his mind, but the damnable things kept hovering there and tantalising him like fireflies over a river. Still, he supposed she had been quite attractive, in a ‘unicorny’ way. Come to think of it, if he’d been single and she were too of course, then…would he? He grinned wolfishly; oh, she may be a unicorn, but she had curves in all the right places and eyes that he could have fallen in love with so, so easily. Father wouldn’t have approved of course, and there was always the distinct possibility she was as mad as a box of frogs. ‘Never put your stallionhood in crazy’ his father had warned, and unicorns had a rather unnerving tendency to fall into that category – at least as far as his family were concerned. Even so... Approaching the entrance, the sound from the city grew from silence to a whisper that felt almost sacrilegious in such a place of peace. It was a reminder of joy, of energy, vibrancy and of life to those who had given theirs up so that their descendants, in their blissful ignorance, could enjoy a time of peace and plenty. How many of the ponies out there, the ones contributing to that whispered song of life, even bothered to visit this place and pay their respects? Runcy sighed; he knew the answer all too well. It was, as much as he hated to admit it, the way of the world now. He walked past the gardener who was tending to one of the bushes of low blue and white flowers that put him in mind of the golden mare. For a moment, for a change, he stopped and turned to the burgundy coloured unicorn stallion with the rich yellow mane and green eyes. He looked like any other stallion he’d ever seen. The gardener looked up at him with an expression of absolute calm, making Runcy’s fur twitch. His eyes, as green as the grass and his face as peaceful as the park itself – it was as if the fellow were an extension, no, a part of the very garden he tended. Runcy suddenly felt a twinge of jealousy before asking, “Have you been working here long?” The gardener watched him for a few seconds before nodding, “Forty years, My Lord.” Forty years… Runcy looked across the park, “You’ve done an excellent job, sir. My compliments to you.” The gardener shrugged. “Forgive me, I’ve never introduced myself” Runcy said politely, holding out his hoof, “Runcy.” The burgundy stallion looked down at the proffered hoof and seemed genuinely surprised by the gesture. Quickly though, he wiped his own with a cloth hanging from his belt and offered his own, “Green Shoes” he replied, “But just ‘Shoes’ will do.” Unexpectedly, a peculiar sense of relief ran through Runcy’s body making him feel as if some sort of metaphorical door had opened, letting in ‘something’ that, whatever it was, had him smiling broadly for the first time in as long as he could remember. He bobbed his head, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Shoes. Officially of course.” Shoes smiled slightly, “Likewise...Runcy.” “May I ask, do you have a labyrinth tree in the park?” The gardener frowned, “A labyrinth tree?” He chuckled, “I wish we did, but I’m afraid that would be quite impossible.” “Why so?” Runcy asked, “They’re also known as the ‘royal tree’, aren’t they?” Shoes shrugged, “Aye, but they’re not real, they don’t actually exist y’see – least not in a physical sense anyways. They’re more of a, erm… ‘metaphore’ for life, see?” He smiled, “Well, that’s what I’ve been told anyway.” The gardener’s strange accent was a little difficult to understand, particularly the way he half mumbled his words and Runcy began to wonder if the poor fellow had spent so long on his own here he’d forgotten how to speak to other ponies. He’d heard how long periods of isolation could affect the mind, and yet there was a simplistic honesty to Shoes, like his work itself, that warmed the heart. Runcy looked down at the old yet well maintained watering can by Shoe’s hooves, the lush bush with it’s flowers that were so pure and full of colour it pulled at his emotions. He gave himself a shake and rolled his shoulders, “Yes…I suppose it is. A pity, I always wondered whether they were real.” Shoes said nothing. Runcy bobbed his head, “Well, I must be on my way.” He tipped his hat, “Good day, Shoes.” “Good day, Runcy.” In short order, Runcy reached the familiar square outline of the white stone gatehouse. Other than the guards it looks the same as it always had. High above him the banners fluttered in the breeze beneath a perfect azure blue sky, and hanging there above it all, the symbol of the princess herself – the sun. A shiver ran through Runcy’s spine, but not due to any emotional quirk brought on by his surroundings – no, this was something altogether stranger and almost…intrusive. He looked up and straight away noticed the brass and bejewelled archway that hummed with magical energy. So, that was one of those ‘changeling detectors’ was it? Ingenious, but not that much use if your foe could fly was it? Runcy instinctively looked up and saw creatures flying overhead: pegasi, and several more ‘flights’ of them too. So much for peace talks, Runcy wondered to himself sarcastically. Apparently somepony, despite Celestia’s alleged involvement with the changelings, wasn’t taking any chances. By the number of Night Guard around the palace too, he suspected Luna’s involvement. It was surprisingly astute of her; perhaps there was hope for the girl after all. Around the grey stallion the manicured lawns and trees put him in mind of the park of remembrance, with its own statues, fountains, and magnificently styled topiary. It was here that the princesses walked - the alicorns of Equestria who were, to some anyway, the land’s very own living gods. Runcy sniffed; perhaps they were – who could say? To his knowledge Celestia and Luna had never confirmed nor denied they were goddesses and nopony would have the courage to ask in any case. Besides, when it came down to it, did it really matter? They’d all heard the stories and legends about these two and how they’d all but turned Equestria into a charnel house before the demon possessed younger sister had been banished to the moon. Now it was all happy families again, wasn’t it? All was forgiven, all of it forgotten, as if the past had simply never happened or was little more than a minor irritation that they could just put behind them now and play princess dress up. Good goddesses, it made his blood boil just thinking about it! Runcy passed into the grand foyer and walked up to the tall pony sitting behind a desk flanked by two, rather bored looking royal guards. “Can I help you?” the desk pony asked. Runcy bobbed his head, “Lord Runcible Spoon of the House of Spoon” he said clearly, “I believe my colleagues have arrived ahead of me: Lord Trestle and Lord Aura.” The desk pony flicked through his register, “Yes, they arrived not long ago.” He narrowed his eyes at the last entry and nodded to himself before turning the large book to face the latest guest, “You have the Riverwood Suite, Lord Spoon. The porter will show you the way.” He leaned across the desk and pressed a bell which rang out through the hall, echoing in the emptiness and- “This way, please.” Runcy started at the near silent approach of the porter who was now standing only a few feet behind him with a face that could sour cream. But what was worse, other than having to try and settle his racing heart rate of course, was the slight twitch on the desk pony’s mouth. The lousy little rat had known he’d do something like this and had been waiting to see Runcy leap out of his skin! Oh, what a hoot! Damn bloody desk jockeys… Runcy followed the white uniformed unicorn through a side door and up a crimson carpeted staircase that had the most beautifully carved banister he’d ever seen. It was, like so much of the palace, made in the very finest marble and decorated with gold and silver leaf. Legend had it that it was the Spoons who had supplied this very marble, back when Equestria was recovering from the years of war with Nightmare Moon and the Legion. It was the same marble that appeared in places in his own home of Spoon Manor, so it certainly seemed plausible. Golden may have been a colonel and commander of the royal guard, but the fortune amassed by the Spoons hadn’t been by sword alone – no, this was generation after generation of work and no small amount of damned good luck that had allowed their family to live very comfortably indeed. At least until one of their more imbecilic relatives had nearly made them all destitute, the damned fool. Runcy had worked all his life to try and regain the prestige the family name once held in Equestria. It had been no mean feat either; many other families had smelled blood and like sharks homing in on a wounded victim, they were circling him, waiting to see what they could scavenge from the corpse of his family should his house fall. He would be damned if he ever saw that happen in his lifetime. At the top of the stairs, the corridor stretched off into the distance, lined with paintings, bowls of sweet spicy scented potpourri, tapestries and banners. It was all exquisitely tasteful and showed a level of sophistication that had Celestia’s hoof prints all over it. If there was one thing Runcy knew about the princess though, it was that she had excellent taste in art. “Your room, my lord.” Runcy nodded his thanks and slipped some bits to the porter who bowed his thanks, leaving the grey stallion to get settled into his temporary abode. Runcy shook his head in amazement; it was, as always, the very best of everything all in one magnificent room. Like a cake, crafted with love and attention, the interior of room was simply delectable. From the deep blue curtains to the white and silver of the décor, everything blended perfectly to instil in the guest the sense of being in a place that was as near to the goddesses as you were ever going to be – at least in this life. Paintings of the night sky, of snow covered fields and other scenes of Equestria in the wintertime drew the eye, especially the way they seemed to twinkle in the light streaming through the crystal clear windows. From up here the view of Equestria was superb. Once, this incredible palace had sat on its own with little more than a few homes and businesses to keep it company above the then small town of Paddock. But of course the relentless glacial march of time picks up and swallows all in its path, changing the present into the past and bringing the future with it, whether it is wanted or not. Canterlot, the home of millionaires, the aristocracy and wealthy businessponies, became the place to be and of course, the place to be seen. The proximity of the palace was like a magnet to those with enough coin, and the city of marble burst outwards like a carnivorous bloom, devouring Paddock and replacing it with the ever expanding swathe of civilisation that was the capital city of Canterlot. On one of his earlier visits, Runcy had gone looking for the ‘old quarter’ as it was known, looking for something, some sign of the old town that had somehow managed to survive, but of that ancient place built to house those whose families had been torn apart by the cruelty of war, there was nothing, only the statue of the two princesses in what had once been a modest market place. How the statue had survived, was probably more down to Celestia’s magic than anything the population did; most ponies didn’t know that the town had even existed, let alone that it had been called Paddock, and the statue was simply another one of the dozens, if not hundreds, that littered Canterlot. Apparently Celestia had a fondness for the things, and if the truth be known, so did Runcy himself. Art, true art, not this bunkum that was spewed out nowadays was, in his mind at least, an outpouring of the heart and soul, rendered in the medium preferred by the artist and crafted for the enjoyment of others. ‘Modern Art’ as some called the gilded turds that were being proffered to the mindless masses was nothing short of an affront to common sense, let alone decency. Great goddesses, he still cringed at the memories he had of some of what he’d seen the last time he went to what had been deceptively advertised as an ‘art exhibit’! At Lark’s insistence, Runcy had taken the whole family to one of the regular travelling exhibitions in Ponyville last summer. It had seemed perfectly innocent enough at the time; Lark had arranged for their tickets to the ‘art exhibition’ that had been set up in the town hall and naturally, as the leading local family, the Spoons were obliged to attend and show their faces – especially when Lark was in one of ‘those’ moods. Runcy sighed; he could remember the look on Silver’s face when she spotted the first of the ‘exhibits’ - a toilet roll nailed to a block of wood with the title ‘THOUGHT’. ‘Thought’ for Celestia’s sake! What the hell had the ‘artist’ been thinking? The imbecile hadn’t stopped there though, had he? Oh, no! There was even a price tag on it…for fifty thousand bits!!! Runcy shuddered; the best had been yet to come too. Against his better judgement, and his concern for upsetting Lark, he’d allowed her to badger him into seeing the ‘grand unveiling’ of the artist’s latest ‘piece’. When the curtain had been drawn back, the crowd had gasped. Probably because of the smell. Runcy leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. He could still see it clearly even now, even though it must have been at least two years ago. In some ways he supposed it was funny, but what was even more ridiculous was the guide’s description of the event: ‘Chisel Point brings to life the emptiness and fragility of existence into the modern sphere of the now. Heart and soul, balanced in universal struggle, have been crafted by the master craftspony, the bringer of light into the void of non-being that defines the viewers incomprehension to the comprehended. Movement, stillness, motion – the ethereal tenets of the maestro, sending his seeds of life’s very essence into the universal truth for the resurrection of the very purest form of artistry.’ “Looks like somepony’s taken a shit on the floor to me” one of the patrons observed. Silver had stared up at her father, her big round purple eyes wide with wonder, “Papa? Why’s there a pile of poo on the floor?” Runcy had felt like screaming. Better yet, kicking seven bells out of the imbecilic moron who had thought this…this…atrocity up in the first place! What the hell had they been thinking?! Thirty ponies, with more waiting in the queue behind them, were staring into an empty space at a not unsubstantial dump that the ‘Master craftspony’ had apparently thought was worthy of exhibiting in the middle of the bloody town hall! Runcy had known what to do of course: “Dear, we’re leaving.” And that was that. What a bloody day that had turned out to be! Runcy had complained of course, but all that had generated was a letter containing tickets to the next affront to common decency, this time halfway across the country in Manehattan. Whether it was done as a joke or as a genuine effort to placate him was hard to say, but he had his doubts. In a fit of pique, he’d returned the tickets together with a toilet roll upon which he’d written in black marker the words ‘REFLECTION, 50,000 bits’. Unbelievably, a letter had come back a few days later asking if he would take less. LESS! Bloody, damned, stupid…imbeciles! Runcy took off his suit jacket and waistcoat, hanging them on the back of the chair. No doubt there would be proper hangers in the wardrobe, but to hell with propriety. All he wanted now was a bath and quick nap. Come to think of it, he seemed be having a lot more of those nowadays than he could remember. He snorted to himself; oh yes, the ‘privilege of getting older’ wasn’t it? Pah! Runcy turned on the shower and adjusted the taps until the flow was just right before stripping off the rest of his clothes. Fortunately the porters had, as expected, already delivered his luggage and a fresh set of clothes awaited him for the morning, but in the palace of the princess, everything had already been thought of. Inside the bathroom hung a selection of bath robes, all in the royal livery of white and gold with the intertwined ‘E.Q’ in old Equestrian. Even the soap dispensers, flannel and towels were ‘just so’. In fact everything was clean, facing the right way and, well…perfect. Runcy sighed; in reality he found this sort of perfection a little excessive even for his tastes, but then he supposed that many ponies found this helpful when it came to their stay at the palace. After all, most travelled relatively light and having everything ready for you meant you spent less time in your rooms and more time concentrating on what you were there for in the first place. Runcy chuckled to himself; perhaps on some level it was almost like ordering the guest to hurry up and get out. He didn’t mind, and in all fairness neither would most of the others. Home was most definitely where the heart was and as much as he would never admit it openly, he missed Lark and Silver already. Time for a shower. Hot water sluiced over the silver-grey stallions back, soaking his mane and sending waves of warmth through his body and his sore shoulder. Bloody thing, it never seemed to ever quite go away these day, did it? Sartorius had dismissed it as ‘age related’ and told him to take painkillers when it bothered him too much. Of course, it was easy to say that when you weren’t the poor bugger having to live with it. But oh…how wonderful the hot shower felt! He reached for the shampoo and squeezed out a measure, lathering it into his mane. He’d have to get it cut soon, and if he remembered correctly, wasn’t there a barber here at the palace? He’d ask one of the staff in the morning. “Runcy? Are there old boy?” Sunny’s voice called out from the room beyond, his deep voice booming and clear. “You in the shower?” “Just having a clean up, Sunny” Runcy called back, “Everything alright?” Sunny’s voice called back, “Wouldn’t expect it not to be, Runcy, my dear fellow. No, young Trestle and I are going down to the bar shortly and wondered if you fancied one before dinner.” The thought of a nice brandy, warming and mellow with a pipe of his favourite tobacco before dinner sounded wonderful. “I’ll be down as soon as I can” he replied, “Usual place?” “Already reserved old boy!” Sunny called, “Helps to think ahead you know. See you down there.” Runcy heard the door click and smiled happily to himself. Sunny always did like to plan for the future, and prebooking his favourite seat by the window overlooking the waterfall would be just the sort of thing he’d do. Runcy checked the container beside him and found the complimentary grooming accessories that proved most efficacious in getting the inevitable knots out of his hair. ‘Short and army length’ his father had always reminded him, ‘the mark of a real stallion’. Theoretically at least, the more masculine he looked, the more he would appeal to the ladies – not that he’d even had a choice in the matter; Lark had been all but forced on him. No, that wasn’t exactly true – she had been forced on him! Thank the goddesses that the mare had actually liked him, and he her, or it would have been little more than a lifetime of loveless ‘partnership’ to look forward to. Of course, they’d only managed to have the one foal, but one was enough. Whatever the future brought, Silver would be able to decide her destiny for herself. He and Lark had already decided that arranged marriages were out of the question, regardless of his love of tradition. Some things were simply more important, and their daughter’s happiness was definitely one.