//------------------------------// // Script's Heartfelt Tale of Woe // Story: Return to Equestria: The Rise of Roam // by Daniel-Gleebits //------------------------------// Return to Equestria: The Rise of Roam Parchment Script   Among Parchment Script’s numerous talents, interests, and eccentricities, was a fondness for architecture. He was no Brunelleschi himself, but he had the natural interest in structure and art that came from being a serious study of culture, which was an integral part of magical study in Roam. As such, under normal circumstances he would have admired the grand parlour of the changeling castle. Its high ceiling and robust yet elegantly carved pillars of sculpted purple... stuff, told him much about the culture and values of its builders, filthy, disgusting bug abominations that they were. Unfortunately, he was not at all at liberty to admire it. He was, once again, forced to sit down, and explain to ponies who didn’t and wouldn’t understand, why it was necessary that he did what he did. “With all due respect, princess,” he said in a witheringly exasperated voice, “your ridiculous edict, even if it did serve a purpose at one time, is a moot point now.” “Do not try my patience, Parchment Script,” Luna intoned warningly. “You have yet to even adequately explain your actions regarding the release of Sonata Dusk, let alone this perfidious request.” Script resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. A difficult thing to do with hooves, but a talent he’d once spent several weeks working to perfect. “I’ve already fully explained my decision there.” “As if it was your decision to make.” And as if Princess Compensating-For-Something wasn’t bad enough, Script also had to deal with the grieving... widow? Ex? What does one call a none-wife bereft of their lover? Thoughts for another time. “It was the decision that needed to be made,” Script said in as patient a tone as he could muster. “Obviously no pony else would have even thought of it, so it was only my decision to make.” Sunset clearly had no response, and was consciously angry of it. The daggers she glared at him might have become tangible if she hadn’t reigned in the magic sparking from her horn. “By your actions,” Princess Luna began solemnly, “you have delivered a powerful entity into the hands of your people. A powerful entity who has recently singlehandedly been responsible for a number of deaths, again to your people. One whose magical power is despised and feared. By your people.” She arched her eyebrows slightly. “Need I explain why I’m having trouble understanding your decision? Especially when you claim that it is in the best interests of Sonata Dusk.” “If I suspect is who I think it is, then the headquarters is the safest place for her right now. The Princeps will be there soon, and they will not act under his watchful eye. The important thing is that she is far away from here or—“ He cleared his throat. “The point is that she’ll be safe. She can’t be killed. Loyal Stride will explain that she is an Equestrian weapon that needs to be studied—“ “A claim that will only escalate tensions!” Luna barked. “War is already coming!” Script snapped, stamping a hoof down. “The Princeps is personally leading several of Roam’s strongest armies to your shores. We are beyond escalating tensions. Within months at most, the armies of Roam are going to burn a path to Canterlot and claim your former land of sunshine and rainbows for the greater good of the Republic, or so they believe. Instead they’ll be walking Roam straight into a trap. A trap I might just remind you that Equestria will be caught up in as well. The Princeps will be on his guard with Sonata there, but if this all goes as our enemy has designed it to, then every major pony nation will be under the iron grip of a male ali—“ “A claim you have yet to prove to be true!” Luna boomed. “The secrets of male alicorns and their history is one of the most well kept secrets in Equestria’s history, one of the few secrets of the ancient past that has not and cannot return. I refuse to believe that anypony has learned of them after the steps my sister and I undertook to insure the annihilation of any and all such records.” Script fixed her with a beady look of his bright green eyes. “Given your track record, princess, I find that a little hard to believe. Twilight Sparkle alone uncovered and  dealt with most of your delayed or unsolved problems. Including you. Can you be so certain that this one secret is different from the rest?” Luna’s severe countenance cracked for the briefest moments. “No records reside within the land of Equestria. My sister and I committed the important aspects to memory. Even the entirety of your Roaman Empire cannot possibly have the descriptions you claim this mystery king-mover possesses. None but the most fleeting mentions can have survived the world over.” “Save for...” Script asked leadingly. “A place you did not have access to.” Luna bit her lower lip. “Hang on just a minute,” Sunset interjected heatedly. “I already explained that she’s safe,” Script said over her. “Strider will make sure she’s unhurt. He’s good friends with the gen—“   SMACK!   Script reeled, clutching instinctively at his smarting cheek. He blinked rapidly at the intense look Sunset was giving him, and for once his tongue and lips could form no words in response. “I don’t give a damn about your assurances, you arrogant, unfeeling, selfish, secretive bastard!” she screamed at him. Script rubbed lightly at the red hot feeling spreading across his cheekbone, finding it hard to maintain eye contact. A defensive feeling rose up in his gut, something he’d not seriously felt in so long that it made him a little nauseous. “Well, you two were having issues anyway,” he muttered, a little too much shame in his tone for his liking. “You never know, maybe some time away will—“ “Don’t dare try to ad hoc this into a good thing!” she growled. “Don’t you even dare!” Without another word she stormed from the room. For a few moments after the doors slammed shut, the hall of two remained eerily quiet. Script felt like leaving the conversation where it had been thrown onto the floor and crushed underfoot, but he knew he had to get it up and out of the way now. “Perhaps we should continue this another time,” Luna murmured, evidently thinking along the same lines. “No,” Script said firmly. “Princess, I know you’re not fond of the idea—“ “Not fond of the idea,” Luna repeated, her lip curling. “Sometimes I think that you do not grasp the severity of what this knowledge could do. My sister and I lived those times, Parchment Script. Our brother alicorns were a force even the likes of Discord did not trifle with.” “But look at it from this perspective,” Script went on quickly. “I already know how male alicorns come to be. So there’s one exception to your edict already. And then there’s the old changeling kingdom in the Badlands. The remnants of their throne.” “Irrelevant!” Luna hissed. “ Script spread his hooves wide. “Then when it comes down to it, it becomes a question of whether or not you trust Sunset Shimmer to betray the secret. I need her help.” Luna’s gaze wondered to the floor. After a few moments she said “Twilight Sparkle trusts her implicitly,” she admitted somewhat grudgingly. “But that is hardly the point. It’s not a question of trust, it’s a matter of assurance. There’s always the chance that she could allow it to slip unintentionally. Impart the knowledge by accident in some way. That’s a chance my sister and I have striven long to avoid.” “A male alicorn is going to be created if we don’t stop it,” Script persisted. “Princess, you know what chaos would be unleashed should they be successful.” “Then provide me with proof that it is being done.” “I’ve told you—“ “Suspicions,” Luna said flatly. “This matter is far too important to leave to mere speculation. I. Need. Proof.” Script held her unwavering gaze. He knew ever since the first outburst during the dinner when he’d first explained the threat that it would probably come to this. But he still didn’t relish it. It felt... almost sacrilegious. He raised his horn, and with more of an effort than he would usually require, summoned an item from amongst the disappeared. The item fell with a crunch to the hard stone floor, sliding slightly across its smooth surface, and landing in the pool of light cast by the twin sconces on the royal dais. Luna regarded the item with some scrutiny, and then looked up at Script. “What is this?” “Proof,” Script said, nudging the rough-cut bag so that its glittering contents spilled a little over the floor. Luna’s eyes sharpened, and somepony with excellent hearing might have heard the faintest of quickly stifled gasps. Anypony might think that the princess was uncomfortable, Script thought with some grim satisfaction. “It used to be a bone,” he said bitterly.   Some years ago, when he and his sister had been foals, Script had chanced upon the great library of Roam, the Caesar Bibliotheca Imperialis, a place he was ostensibly not meant to be. His sister had tried to stop him, but they’d both been found, and through a bizarre series of misunderstandings involving an irascible guard captain, a partially blind and senile patrician mare, and a burned teddy bear, Pen Stroke spent three days living in a noble’s home. That was until the patrician lady finally accidentally noticed Pen Stroke’s horn, and subsequently remembered that her actual daughter was about thirty years old. The long and short of this event was that the tutor in the mare’s home (who had been incredibly surprised to be pulled out of retirement fifteen years after being released from service) had taken notice of Pen Stroke’s innate mathematical abilities, and recommended her to sympathetically minded colleagues, thus beginning Pen Stroke’s eventual career track into the sciences despite her and her family’s relative poverty. Script on the other hand was not afforded the same schooling. Like most Roaman foals, he attended a public class in a nearby market, taught by one of the sons of an elderly baker’s assistant. He genuinely had no animosity towards his sister for the way things had turned out, but the events had had their effect upon him. Young Script felt no particular affection for any of his peers, who in traditional Roaman fashion were all colts like himself; the fillies were taught separately by an extended relative of the baker’s assistant whose husband ran a patisserie, which was a shame really, since Script more often found the company of fillies to be more enjoyable than that of the rowdy colts that made up his class. Gifted like his sister, although in a different way, Script worked hard to attend magic school, and from there achieve a place in Roam’s central forum personnel, the Custodians, and from there, become chief librarian of the imperial library in the royal palace. Script had no particular goals beyond this at the time. He was happy with his duties, and derived a great deal of professional pleasure from adding to and categorising the font of knowledge available to Roam’s proud citizenry. Grumpy, irritable, short tempered, and impatient, most ponies could only grudgingly respect his efficiency and work ethic, even if he did sometimes flout authority and act independently. Almost no pony regarded an independent librarian as any sort of threat, however, and thus Script lived more-or-less as he always had. Alone, solitary, secretive, and unwilling to change any of it. Until the day that he gained an assistant.   Script found Sunset not far away in the main foyer, the eerie purple statues all around staring down as though in frozen conclave. Upon seeing him, she adjourned swiftly into a nearby corridor. “Oh, please don’t make this a thing,” Script called, half pleadingly, half exasperated. “I don’t want to have to follow you half way around the castle trying to speak to you.” “Then don’t speak to me,” Sunset said severely. “Problem solved.” She let out a sound of scorn as he appeared before her in a flash of blue light. “We need to talk.” “I have nothing to say to you.” “Good, then listen.” Sunset put her nose right up to his. “You want a matching hoof print on your other cheek?” “I want you to be reasonable,” Script said scathingly. “With the princess’ blessing,” he said with arrant distaste, and then lowering his volume as Sunset pushed passed him, “I can tell you the full story.” Sunset whirled on him. “When are you going to cut this nonsense?” she hissed. “You could have told me everything a long time ago. You could tell me anything in secret, away from Luna. Away from this castle. You could have told me you were sending Sonata away. The fact is that you didn’t. That you just. Don’t. Think.” When Script said nothing to this, she moved away, her eyes burning. She probably imagined that he was done, but to her chagrin, he once again teleported in front of her. “You already know my reasons,” he began. “I’m secretive. I didn’t know whether to trust you at first. I wanted to see if you could be useful. All that junk, sure, I thought those things. And it’s true, maybe if I was more forthcoming we could have avoided a lot of this nonsense. But think what’s at stake.” He locked eyes with her. He had no idea whether he seemed more sincere or not, but he said the plain truth anyway. He did at least recognise the blunder that had been his keeping his knowledge to himself in a plan that required cooperation. Sunset tapped him hard in the chest. “I could forgive all of that,” she said, her voice low. “I can understand that you felt the need to keep what you knew a secret. But did you really think that you could do anything you wanted? I cannot understand you. You. You think I’m angry just because you didn’t consult me, or because you sent away the pony I love.” She shook her head. “It shocks me how little you understand. It almost terrifies me how sociopathic you must be, how out of touch with other pony’s feelings you have to be to think that what you’ve done is the least bit acceptable, however necessary you thought it was.” She fixed him with a look that bit down deep into his memory. One he remembered seeing a few times by the kindest, most useless ponies back home when he was a small colt. “I could at least pity you if I thought you had the capacity to understand,” she said in little more than a whisper. She was practically around the corner by the time he spoke up, and even then he wasn’t sure that it was the right thing to do, whether he might not regret it later. But he recognised as a consequence of his actions, and he needed to try. He needed Sunset to go along with his plan. He needed her to cure this cursed amnesia. And more. “When I worked at the imperial library,” he said, feeling a slight something in his throat. “I had an assistant.” “Paper Weight,” Sunset said, frowning. “You mentioned. He was the one you noticed had gone missing.” “Yes, well,” Script murmured, his eyes fixed on the floor. “It was true that he was my assistant, but on the day that it happened... well, he hadn’t been working that day.” Sunset hesitated, and then trotted slowly back to him. “Then what was he doing there?” “That’s not the only half truth I told,” Script went on. “It wasn’t I who informed the guards of the discovery. After I found him, I ran from the building, I... well, I wasn’t quite right at the time. I went home. I told my sister, and she raised the alarm as it were. Unfortunately she told the truth of what happened, or more accurately what she knew. That’s mainly why I attracted so much blame; they assumed I fled the scene because I was guilty of the crime.” Sunset’s face darkened. “Why are you telling me this? What was the point in lying?” Script didn’t look at her. “I find it hard to tell ponies about my feelings. I didn’t want to say... but it’s important you know now.” “That I know what?” Script tried to wait for his mouth to stop being dry, but it was no good. All of the moisture seemed to have gone to his eyes instead. “Paper Weight wasn’t at the palace for work. He was there for... for me.” He chanced a glance at Sunset. “He was... always really sweet like that. Bringing me dinner and stuff, although he was a complete dolt of a cook, and knew he shouldn’t bring it to the library. Burned what shouldn’t be burnable, and left raw might well have poisoned us.” He cleared his throat, brushing his hoof against his nose. “But, you know, I tolerated him. Annoying, nosey, over-attentive little chicken that he was.” Sunset stared at the floor too now. Anypony coming along the corridor might have assumed there was something wrong with the foundations of the castle, or that something was frozen into the purple material that formed the structure, and that Script and Sunset were trying to identify it. “What I mean to say,” Script said a little hoarsely, clearing his throat again. Sunset nodded almost imperceptively. “I’m not even saying I’m not a complete sociopath,” Script shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve always left that up to other ponies to decide. It’s not really been my place to say—“ “Script,” Sunset interrupted. Script’s lips tightened involuntarily, and it took a long moment for him to unpucker them. “I just thought it important for you to know... I didn’t send Sonata away without considering how you’d react. I know what it’s like to lose somepony you, err... think a great, um... that you care about.” He paused, wondering if she would say something. “I realise that I shouldn’t—“ “Script, just—“ Sunset took a breath, and then said in a low whisper. “Lets get that amnesia spell off you. What you remember had better be important.” “Oh, it is,” Script said, and then frowned. “At least, I’m fairly certain it is. But not whilst we’re in the castle. I’m pretty sure that the princess will sense it. And I don’t want to do anything right now that’ll change her mind.” Sunset scowled. “What? Then where? Outside?” “No,” Script said, his usual manners returning rapidly. “I’ve gotten what I need from this castle. I thought perhaps Luna might keep the information I need close to her, but true to form, she’s destroyed even records that she personally keeps. What we need isn’t here.” “What?!” Sunset cried in outrage. “After all it took to get us here?” “Don’t worry,” Script said breezily. “The next location is actually fairly easy to get to, since Princess Twilight is good buddies with the seneschal.” “Seneschal?” Sunset asked, puzzled. “What place in Equestria requires a seneschal? Where is it?” “Oh, you’ll see.” He reached the doors back to the entrance hall, when Sunset’s voice came to him from behind. “Script.” She passed him, but looked back with an earnest glint in her eye. “Thank you for telling me that. Knowing you, and judging by the word salad tumbling out of your mouth, I know it can’t have been easy.” Script managed a curt nod. “He’s my motivation, you might say,” he muttered. “Call it revenge if you like, but it’s more than that. Paper Weight wanted me to be happy, and I can’t be as long as I know that bastard is out there planning – of all the clichéd things – world domination.” Script made a distasteful sound with his tongue, as though he’d swallowed something bitter. “Vesta’s virgin flank, I’m already sick of this. If you’ll excuse me I need to go be an ass to somepony before I break out in hives.” As he made a hasty exit to the upper floors, he had a brief look at Sunset’s face. It seemed to him that she was resisting the urge to roll her eyes, which made him feel a bit more sanguine than it strictly should have done. Whilst he could admit that baring his shrivelled little grey heart for the world to see hadn’t been as wretched an experience as he’d imagined, he was glad to be back behind his well worn walls once again. He supposed there should be a lesson here, but for the life of him he couldn’t imagine what it should be.   Sunset Shimmer regarded the conversation with a less whimsical perspective. She was no fool, and understood that it was entirely possible that Script had attempted to manipulate her emotions. It was even possible that he was good enough an actor to pretend the repressed pain and burning emotion she’d seen in his eyes, although she thought it unlikely. On the whole, as she retreated to her own quarters within the castle to think, she believed that he had been more-or-less truthful. What disturbed her however, was that if any part of the experience had been a lie, or only a partial truth, the most likely part would have been the story itself. The deceased Paper Weight. If he had existed, was it possible that Script was simply using the dead pony’s memory to manipulate her?   Script smiled to himself as this scenario flashed through his brain. Surveying his own quarters, he wondered just how true his little fantasy was in regards to Sunset. “So many distractions, Script old-boy. How do you get anything done?” The answer was simple really. He had nothing else to do. He told other ponies and even himself sometimes that the reason for his departure from the military camp, his desertion, was so that he could get closer to the source of all this, to avoid the mastermind until the time was right. And whilst there was some truth to this, it wasn’t the real reason. Looking up, he saw the tall mirror hanging on the wall. There again his overactive imagination began weaving itself into distractions and beguiling ideas. His sister, and Strider, and their baby. Roam as a harmonious society like Equestria, its ever-present wrath turned for once to the pursuit of destroying the real enemy. His expression hardened. Blinking hard, he glanced over to the side table, where the bag of dark blue shards lay, their dullness filled with the radiance of the moon. One might have been forgiven for mistaking them for common gems, but the disturbing truth was horrific enough to let that fantasy remain. “I know you can’t hear me anymore,” Script breathed, a cold hardness coming over his eyes. “But don’t worry. It won’t be long now.”   - To be Continued