The mirror was relocated, that was for sure. Instead of finding themselves in the previous underground room in the Crystal Empire, Corvo and Serath observed, much to their surprise, an archetypal quality to the narrow room they appeared in. White pillars rose and arched above their heads to hold the ceiling; everything looked ponderously royal; a carpet filled the floor with purple pasture.
Serath cast a curious glance out the elongated window, where the moon's illumination struck. It was a particularly bright night.
"Canterlot?" muttered Serath, almost in an undertone. "Are we in Canterlot Castle?"
"Looks that way," said Corvo. He turned round and saw the magic mirror up against the wall; opposite to that, at the very end of the hall-like room, stood a double door sprawled open, leading to the rest of the castle.
"Hmm, well, makes sense they would move it here," remarked Serath. "Where else are they to receive us?"
"Better for us," said Corvo, smiling. "We ought to find someone, inform them of our early arrival."
"It is nearly midnight, Corvo. Ponies are probably asleep."
"Look there." Corvo strode over to the window, which provided them a grand view of the city. Several things grabbed his attention: banners, myriad crates, tables, a marble fountain sparkling below, balloons strapped together in countless groups spread across every block, colourful torches, and so on and so forth. "Preparations for the Gala are practically complete, they really decked out the place. All that's left is to clean up the crumbs, I suppose."
"Very pretty, but like I said, perhaps we should go back and come again in the morning."
"Nonsense, Serath, otherwise I dragged you here for nothing. Look, obviously they planned a room for us, intending we would stay the night. It is only polite to stay the night in an alternate world, no?"
"Ha, ha, that is the force which shall endure everything," replied Serath, this time with a smirk.
"What force?"
"Who knows. The force of the reluctant hero perhaps? You really are fond of Equestria."
"And you?"
"Likewise, of course."
"What the—! Corvo? Serath?" Twilight, who suddenly popped up from beyond the double door, exclaimed. She wandered in rather slowly, and she levitated with her a rolled-up scroll with many check marks scratched next to its lines of text. Her face was marked by a noticeable weariness.
"Ah, Twilight, how long it has been!" said Serath, his face becoming brighter.
"Seven months and counting," chuckled Corvo, crossing his arms.
"But—I mean, yes, it's been so long!" returned Twilight with a confused smile. "Princess Celestia took special care to make both of your arrivals as welcoming as possible. But, uh, why are you here in the middle of the night? You realize the Gala is tomorrow, right?"
"We had extra time to afford—apparently," said Serath, shrugging. "Largely Corvo's idea, but it could work."
"And I see you two have wrapped up your own gifts for the occasion," said Twilight, taking notice at once of what they were holding.
"Oh, we had to," said Corvo. "Each of us will be giving our presents to someone in particular, and have not revealed to whom just yet. Yes, we are early; will a day or two make any difference?"
"Well," Twilight began in a drawled out voice, scanning over the parchment she held, "I was just about to finish up the last items on my check list, which includes making sure I've checked off every other item. I took the liberty of reserving a room for you guys, just in case; it'd be best if I took you there myself, huh."
"Splendid idea," said Serath, "I could very well see what Canterlot has in the store for us."
Corvo and Serath began following close behind Twilight as they parted from the initial room and up a flight of stairs.
"The Gala officially begins at six o'clock sharp," Twilight was saying along the way. "I'll try to tell everypony you both are here early. Tomorrow morning I'll be a bit busy, tending to typical princess duties. You know how it goes. I guess in the meantime you two can explore the castle grounds, have a look around."
"You do not need my help with anything?" asked Corvo after what seemed like a significant silence from him.
"Not at all. You two are guests. Besides, in my mind contributing to the survival and recovery of Equestria is more than enough to wipe away any past bad blood. You stand on ceremony with Princess Celestia and Princess Luna."
"You too, Twilight," said Corvo importantly and with dignity, speaking rather rapidly.
"Me?" Twilight smirked.
"I owe it to you." Corvo heaved a sigh. "Both of you, in fact. Serath told me a great deal about your horror-struck accident down in the tunnels, the pain you endured, including all the western ideas he poured out to you ponies. Speaking of which, how's your back?"
"Ha, yeah, funny," rapped out Twilight with a deadpanned face. She immediately shot Serath an inquisitive gaze. "Looks like you didn't forget any of the details."
"Ha, ha!" laughed Corvo merrily. "And I thought I was the long-winded one."
"What else am I to do?" said Serath ruefully. "When you outlast a tragic event you will speak of it endlessly, in the most prideful light, you look at things differently. One would think that you had gotten a premonition, Corvo, you seemed so pleased in spite of the sorrow."
"I think everyone felt the same," said Corvo.
"My opinion is that these things bring us closer together," said Twilight, with boundless resolution forming her expression. "True friends share in each other's sorrows, and that's how we last, all of us."
"Makes sense in hindsight," said Corvo, smiling ironically.
"Come now, undoubtedly it makes sense," reproached Serath, casually yet attentively, as though trying to make out something which was not perfectly clear to him. "She is the Princess of Friendship after all. Must be wholly rewarding to study friendship in a place like Equestria, Twilight."
Corvo gave Serath a look. "You mean study behavioural psychology? Twilight, how does one go about studying friendship? Do you run experiments?"
"There was this one experiment involving Pinkie Pie's pinkie sense..." Twilight pondered; she scrunched her face. "Nah, you wouldn't want to hear about it. The whole 'magic of friendship' thing is something special. As it stands, it goes beyond science."
"So... a social science then?"
"Funny you should remark it as such, Corvo," said Serath, lowering an eyebrow.
"Ah, I jest!" replied Corvo, shaking his hands. "I have quite a lot of respect for the social sciences, behavioural psychology in particular, believe it or not. Nothing to get crocked up in deep glum about."
"Well, whatever you think friendship is," said Twilight, and a vague smirk glimmered on her lips, "you owe your victory to it."
"I owe my victories to a lot of things." Corvo paused. "Eh, but friendship is paramount, owe most to it, I think. We are social creatures, unsurprisingly."
"Very true, Corvo!" exclaimed Serath, his voice carrying an edge of sarcasm; "but you are a realist of the extreme type; perhaps you do not belong in Equestria, did not even realize it!"
Corvo stared hard at Serath. "And you expect me to take your jests seriously? Well, well, just imagine if, the moment Nightmare Moon returned from her thousand-year slumber to exact her revenge on Celestia, right when she succumbed to her errors and admitted defeat, just in that moment, she rattled out: 'It was all a jest!' and nothing more?"
Both Corvo and Serath broke out into an abrupt and, as it were, almost insolent bout of laughter; but, perceiving the half-hearted amusement which had inclined on Twilight's countenance, Serath was quickly overcome with embarrassment.
"Yes, I, uh—" he enunciated, but his throat tightened. "Ahem, I know about Nightmare Moon, the old stories of this land. Stellar job you and your friends did, with the—what was it again?—Elements of Harmony?"
A thin, silent little smile, not without cunning of a sort, appeared on Twilight's lips, but she made no reply at first, and it was all too clear that she remained silent from a sense of her own dignity.
"Elements of Harmony or not," remarked Corvo, eyeing Twilight curiously, "the power of friendship is concrete, concentrated magic, cultivated for centuries, and underneath nothing but the laws of thermodynamics!"
"So maybe it's just like Serath says: you don't even realize the latency of friendship magic, which is why you might not belong here," Twilight suddenly put in, unable to resist.
"So now you, too, are venturing into sarcasm, Twilight?" asked Corvo.
"No, no, I'm joking. I've got something different on my mind. But, forget it, we're here."
They stopped in front of a lavishly decorated door, relatively speaking, of course, making way into a perfectly sizable room, fit for special company of this very sort. Corvo took the initiative and walked in, followed by Serath.
"See you in the morning?" asked Twilight amiably.
"Of course," said Serath, with even greater amiability. They exchanged their farewells and then closed the door.
Incidentally, this was not a single room, but two rooms altogether (three if you count the bathroom), connected by a short, direct opening. They were, however, much larger and more comfortable than either Corvo or Serath were expecting. Two large mahogany beds, one in each room, chandeliers, extended sofas, windows with manual curtains, grandfather clocks, and so on and so forth. Without delving into too much detail, I will just say that they could not have asked for a better return to Equestria.
"Phew!" whistled Corvo, clearly impressed. "Something quite luxurious has transpired, and for the better!"
"Mhm, for the better," said Serath.
After that, both men began sorting out their belongings, folding their overcoats, accustoming themselves to the placement of furniture, and finally looking for a good spot to store away their gifts so that they would not be discovered easily—should anypony walk in unexpectedly.
For at least ten minutes they were dead silent; right now Corvo was closing the curtains for his window, and Serath sat upon his bed, hunched over, a peculiar expression plastered on his face. He looked to his side for a moment, studying the intricate wallpaper and its myriad shades of white and gold; over it several banners, displaying the symbolic illustrations of the Royal Sisters, had been unfurled.
"You seem very cheerful," said Serath at length, with a directionless tone, as though he were talking to no one specifically.
Corvo took a few seconds to finish flattening out his curtains, and, satisfied, wandered back to his own bed. "You could say so," he replied.
"I wonder what inspired the change. I mean, you seemed quite out of it in the rain, a mere half an hour ago. You're no longer pale, which is a good sign."
There was a pause.
"Yes, yes," Corvo said again, "I was experiencing a rather provoking little headache, must have been an effect of the case I completed today."
"Right, you mentioned that." After another pause, Serath looked askance at his friend. "So, it was you who first got up on this early Gala business, you urged it. I suppose that could explain why you seem to be so cheerful. Ah, I understand quite well. What is there to not like about Equestria?"
"Besides the world-ending threats?"
"Ha, ha, after that whole ordeal seven months ago, we needed the rest. And after that slog though the storm, we need another rest right now."
"Indeed. A drop of whiskey would be nice now," observed Corvo, not without a note of irony ringing in his voice.
"We shall have some, too, sooner or later. I think a hard drink can aid the senses when dealing with such gambles of life—world-ending threats, that is."
By now Corvo have removed his boots, and began shuffling himself under his bed sheets. It was only when his head hit the pillow that he came to realize the utter exhaustion his body betrayed him. The clock struck twelve-thirty.
"So the prospect of world-ending threats can be dulled, huh?" said Corvo dully. "Hmm, maybe so. I might stay up for another five minutes, or more. You can turn off the lights if you want."
"Ahh!" sighed Serath curtly. "Now that I think about it, one has every reason to be more cheerful when in Equestria—despite how Sombra nearly destroyed our own world."
"Despite it nearly happening?" put in Corvo, slowly and mysteriously; he pondered for a few seconds. "I say let the world come to an end, so long as I should always have my whiskey."
* * *
It was early in the morning when there came quick knocks at the door. Corvo instantly awoke, and, casting a glance at the door, stared vaguely at it for a whole ten seconds, as though he were still dreaming. He sensed within himself an inescapable fortitude of mind, that is, he involuntarily began to process his current position in Equestria, what he was to do, and how could he go about it. It was almost like one small error would end his life, and he needed to prod the future somehow; that was when he recalled Dunwall, and what could possibly be going on there.
Still gloomy at heart he rose from his bed, stretching his limbs; he lazily strode over to the door; four more knocks sounded.
"Greetings," said Corvo automatically as he opened the door, recollecting himself. And he was, indeed, greeted by Celestia herself.
"So you decided to drop in early," she remarked lightheartedly, the tone of which reflected placid disposition. "Twilight informed me, and..." she peeked in the room to spot Serath still lying there, tangled in his bed sheets.
"Long time since we have last seen each other," said Corvo wearily. The sight of her had caused him to forget Dunwall, if only temporarily.
"Perhaps my visit is ill-timed, Corvo. Should I—"
"Oh, please come in; I was going to get dressed actually, but maybe after."
Celestia looked round the room with a calm focus in her eyes. She smiled. "I hope my choice for your stay has pleased you?" she asked.
"An exceptional choice. Thank you."
"Ah, Celestia!" Serath, who was awoken by the conversation (he was a light sleeper), said excitedly. He practically fell out from his bed, fidgeting out of his sheets, all while maintaining the surprised pleasantry on his face.
"Good morning, Serath," said Celestia.
"So good to see you again. Say, Corvo got up before me. How long have you been here for?"
"Not long at all," replied Corvo. "She came in not even a minute ago."
"Nevertheless, how have you been?" asked Serath, not before giving her a short, courteous bow.
"Nothing that would interest you, I'm sure. Typical Equestrian politics and diplomacy. The memory of King Sombra's attack isn't going away, but this country is standing up much stronger now. Vanhoover in particular is still in the middle of repairs, but Canterlot has regained its status. The preparations for the Grand Galloping Gala are also complete."
"Awfully busy then," said Corvo.
"And what of you two? How are things in your world?"
"Eventful times for me recently," said Serath. "Not long ago I obtained my doctrine in medicine; I am discovering quite the plethora of experiences and advancements I have not known before. Now is a better time than any to learn."
"I'm thrilled to hear that. And you, Corvo?"
"Was it there to say?" said Corvo, and his lips twisted into a bemused smile. "Just yesterday, as part of my line of work, I took up a homicide case; not to boast, but a fairly lucrative one."
"Oh dear, you really do not wish to hear where this goes," put in Serath uneasily.
"I, uh, think I understand," said Celestia, staring at Corvo with an almost taciturn expression.
"I was not planning to delve into any details, but I finished my case rather pragmatically. Did what I could for the coin."
"Do you rely on expediency to keep yourself out of poverty, Corvo?" asked Celestia sarcastically.
"Ha, ha, yes—well, no. At times I do, other times I am struck by the generosity of others. But, anyway, I attended a certain party a few days ago, but I am eager to see what an Equestrian Gala has to offer."
"And I'm just as eager to see what others make of you. By now everypony, from the Crystal Empire to the trenches in Appleloosa, knows about you two and your heroic attempts to save Equestria," she ended that last part with a sort of dramatic picturesqueness, not to insult them, not at all, but more like an attempt to ensure to them that their visit was a welcomed one.
"Not heroic, just stupidly brave," remarked Corvo. A certain strangeness and impatience in his manner impressed the princess very forcibly.
"I'm sure you're glad to see Equestria safe and sound," said Celestia in quiet surprise.
"Of course. We even came a day early, had the time to spare and all."
"Well then, I believe that's enough catching up for now. You both ought to get dressed and familiarize yourselves with the castle grounds, ideally meet some important ponies along the way. I'll be in the throne room if you need anything."
Ending in this manner Celestia shot in a final smile and took off. In the next ten minutes Corvo and Serath rearranged their beds and slipped on their overcoats, making certain that everything was tidied up. Corvo told Serath to meet back in this very room at night, at the very end of the Gala, to collect their gifts.
"I say we give our presents at the end, for the sake of surprise," said Corvo.
"I agree, hedged assertions aside," said Serath.
No more needed to be said.
* * *
Precisely fourteen hours afterwards—about two hours into the night—the Gala was in full swing. There are far too many trifles to concern ourselves with, and I believe dealing in such trifles would only serve as a detriment to our story. For now I say we draw our attention to where were Corvo and Serath, or more precisely, to the fact that they were not together at all. As it stood, there was such a great many things to see and do in the Gala that, for the interest of time, both men decided to split up, to gather more insight, and whatever one didn't see the other would inform him on.
There was a dinner scheduled for ten o'clock, hosted by none other than Celestia, one to which Corvo and Serath were invited, obviously enough. That was the idea, you see: they would both split up, starting at eight o'clock, and meet back together in time for the scheduled dinner at ten o'clock. They were most anxious to make without delay on this plan.
For now you must know that Corvo and Serath were out in the streets of Canterlot; the former decidedly took off in the direction of the garden, to strike up some chatter with the locals; the latter was accompanied by Twilight and Cadence, as means to "show him the full extent of Canterlot," and their being together drew in quite a lot of looks from passers-by—after all, two princesses and an otherworldly being—what was there to not stare at?—it was to the point of finesse.
* * *
The intertwined edifice of Canterlot city shone its splendorous animation beneath the backdrop of the dead night sky, painted peculiarly with echelons of white twinkling stars, forming patterns resembling ancient clouds, swirling in and out the black horizons, as though tearing into reality itself; the bluish, almost narrowed light produced by the waxing crescent of the sickly coloured moon came down like a sob, producing an effect of swift rapture upon one's senses, representing as a whole the annihilation of the sun.
"The sky is beautiful," said Cadence, drawing out her words, as if in a reverent state.
"This must be Princess Luna's best work yet," said Twilight in a sort of half-reply, more to herself than anyone else. "I can't believe she put in so much effort for a single night, even by the Gala's standards."
"I once read in a foreign novel that beauty shall save the world," remarked Serath. He was staring fixedly at the sky, then resumed looking ahead in front of him.
"Hmm. What did this novel mean by that: 'beauty will save the world'?" asked Cadence, and suddenly added: "Sounds very poetic."
"If you want my interpretation," said Serath, "is that truth and beauty are the same. It is my conviction that one should never separate truth from good and beauty. To live in both truth and beauty—that is living."
"And what's your truth?" asked Twilight in terrible curiosity.
"Oh, I have no idea; existence is far too complex for me to know," said Serath. He tried to give the princesses a sincere smile, and it seemed to them as though in this smile of his something had broken, and that he could not mend it, try as he would.
"Right, well..." Twilight began looking ahead. "Hey, look, let's go to the bakery; I can't wait to try out the sweets the Gala has to offer this year."
"Good idea," added Cadence.
They went straight towards the aforementioned bakery, a quite large building settled along the town square of Canterlot. The glass windows were spotless, and before them showcased myriad delectable goods and treats in all sorts of shapes and sizes: cakes, cookie houses, wafers, cupcakes and sweet donuts mounted on top of one another, and bars of chocolate for sale.
"Your Majesties," declared a fashionably-dressed pony in a drawling, slightly honeyed lisp, presumably the waiter. He was tall, high cheek bones fought for dominance on his calm, even quite focused, countenance. He gave them a deep, sincere bow.
"No need for such formalities, my good stallion," said Cadence resolutely, smiling amicably.
"Right this way," said the waiter with the lisp; he extended a hoof towards a particularly large table, covered by a pink cloth, near a much longer table stacked with goods. His little eyes darted to Serath, taking up a second to survey him considerably.
"I can't wait!" said Twilight, with unconcealed joy and curiosity.
Serath and the two alicorns found themselves a seat at the assigned table. They all stared at the long table for a moment, and then retreated their attention back to one another, as though they all expected to converse first.
"Rarely do I partake in desserts after dinner," said Serath.
"How come?" asked Twilight. "Who could resist a chocolate-frosted cake on a night like this one? Not even the 'high and mighty' aristocrats can't help but get their snouts dirty in a place like this."
"Oh, my whole family tree has a habit of high blood sugar. Although I think I am starting to break that tradition."
"Hey look, it's him!" clamored a mare in an excited voice, immediately closing the distance between her and Serath; following her were two other mares, presumably friends. The initial mare met them with a passionate expression, which harmonized with her sparkling eyes. The two other mares shared equally in this reverence.
Serath blinked at them, stunned for a moment, taking some time to process what was going on.
"I can't believe it!" said the second mare in earnest animation; she appeared to be comically hanging on the shoulder of her friend next to her. "It's the first time I've ever seen him before."
"Is it all true?" inquired the third mare, tittering almost embarrassingly, as though holding back joyous giggles. "Serath, right? Did you really come from another world just to save Equestria from King Sombra's tyranny?"
"Just imagine when we meet Corvo!" chirped the first mare.
"Can we, uh, help you?" put in Twilight awkwardly, as though she were unsure of when to start speaking.
"And he hangs out with the princesses!" the second mare said almost in a rapture.
Serath's expression was decidedly a pleasant one for all this frenzy of excitement. A crowd was beginning to form round them due to the commotion, something they were not expecting.
"So you heard of me?" asked Serath, smiling obligingly.
"Heard of you?" the first mare was practically wheezing. "Everypony in Equestria must have heard the names 'Corvo' and 'Serath' by now."
"Oh, right, I forgot to mention!" chuckled Cadence. "Both you and Corvo have sort of become celebrities, so to speak—in Equestria. Princess Celestia and Princess Luna didn't leave out any of the credit."
"Oh, oh, you've gotta tell us all you know!" asked the third mare hurriedly.
"All I know?" Serath gave a start. "Well—ha, ha—what do you wish to know?"
"Princess Celestia spread the message to all her subjects: if it weren't for you, morale among Equestria's band of heroes would've failed, and Equestria would have fallen into the abyss."
"Morale? Without me?" Serath began to look incredulously round him for an instant. "Might you elaborate, perhaps jog my memory? I do not recall any 'morale boosting' on my part, except, incidentally, lending my medical expertise in certain times of crisis."
"Tell us about the hierarchies of evil!" the first mare managed to catch up. "Is it true betrayal is the worst possible act a pony can commit?"
"Where did you hear that?" asked Serath.
"Oh, oh, I really, really want to hear more about the 'ideology of redemption.' Oh, oh, and your conversations with the Royal Sisters!" burst out the third mare, renewing her excitement. "It's the hottest topic right now!"
"Ideology of redemption?" Cadence looked with discernible confusion at Serath. "I didn't know that was a hot topic."
"Ideology? What ideology?" exclaimed Serath readily, starting at the unexpected question. He pondered for a brief second, right about to produce an answer, but could only come up with disagreeable remarks, much to his dissatisfaction. "I have very little to say about ideologies, although I suppose context is important," said Serath again, shooting in the dark. "Redemption is true, however, as true and old as trees."
"Did you hear that? Redemption and trees!"
"I know! Tell us more about the trees!"
"N-no, the trees are just a comparison," Serath nearly sputtered. "Redemption is like a primordial calculator in our brains, raising our status of, you can say, respect, by mere virtue of forgiveness."
"Greetings, Mr. Serath," a stallion, suddenly appearing form the crowd, introduced himself. He wore a bow tie and thick-rimmed glasses, contrasting with his evident middle-age. He looked like a reporter of some sort, or at least an unofficial journalist. "I'm due to publish an article the day after the Gala concerning your influence on the ponies of Equestria," the "reporter" stallion spoke in a slightly pitched, well-reserved patter.
"Wait a minute," reproached Twilight dubiously, "how could Serath have an influence on the ponies of Equestria? The only ponies who really saw and talked to him up till now were the princesses and my friends."
"Now, now, Princess Twilight, this is for the good of public life," returned the stallion hurriedly. "Mr. Serath, is it true that every now and then you would provide an analysis on the enemy, and perhaps that is the sole reason for your victory? The morale boost, or some such."
"I know very little of any 'victory' of mine," said Serath. "I never met King Sombra either. I could not have conducted any analysis on him."
"Why, who said anything about King Sombra? The 'enemy' is within all of us; you stated that the individual must integrate into their evilness to defeat the bad guy."
Serath cocked his head back, nearing the limits of his confusion. "I never said that. That is to say, I have mentioned the darkness we are all burdened by, the bad side, you can say, to our subconsciousness. And—"
"You must embrace that."
"True, true!" cried one of the other mares; who exactly it was no one bothered to track.
"Embrace it!" said yet another.
"No, no, I never believed that," said Serath. "I think the individual ought to integrate their negative subconscious into their character, the way in which they comport themselves into the world. Better to be a warrior in a garden than a gardener in a battlefield."
"What else can you comment about the garden?" inquired the stallion with a sort of instant persistence. "We must live like warriors in gardens?"
"Quite the segue into that!" chuckled Serath, although he was quite at a lost. "Look, no one who is harmless is moral; being harmless does not make you good, it just makes you harmless. To truly render oneself moral one must develop teeth, and then restrain from using those teeth."
"Teeth? You're a dentist, too!" an entirely new mare emerged from the fully-formed crowd, almost shouting.
"He's a philosopher, I tell you!"
"Is that a good or bad thing? He did help save Equestria, after all!"
"Good!"
"Bad!"
"Why does it matter?"
"Everything matters!"
"I know we just got here," Cadence managed to whisper into Serath's ear, "but the baked goods can wait. You want to go somewhere else?"
"Oh, it is quite alright," replied Serath, keeping with his friendly smile. "I think these ponies are curious about my contributions. First time they witness a human, I reckon; I am of a completely alien nature to them."
"But they're ignoring you," Twilight budged in, conflicted. "Is it really that necessary to answer questions about your conversations with Princess Celestia? I don't know. Seems really out of place." Twilight cast a glance onto the crowd, most of whom had fallen into ramblings and were waiting for Serath to say something. "Where did you ponies learn about all this?"
"Word of mouth, of course," replied the second mare.
"Tell us more!" pleaded the initial mare.
"Tell what more?" Serath smiled at her.
"Your poetry! Oh, you defeated King Sombra with your poetic words of wisdom."
"But I never defeated King Sombra."
"Don't be ridiculous now," interposed a second stallion, a shabbily-dressed one. "The Smoke of Death was spreading; the princesses saved us from it all, from the abyss; Serath here supplied his advice, from what we have heard."
"I don't recall any advice," said Twilight dubiously.
"Advice to the world, Princess Twilight. Taking place after Princess Celestia's questioning event—"
"Questioning event?" said Serath in surprise.
"That was what I meant by not leaving out any credit," put in Cadence. "Although I don't recall anything taking place after that."
"Taken aback, eh?" replied the stallion, with conviction in his voice. "Come now, the mares and colts of Canterlot must keep themselves entertained, you see. We speculated with the newly received facts."
"Speculated?" said Twilight instantly, who was beginning to get giddy.
The stallion stared at Serath excitedly, and with an impressive expression in his eyes, but said nothing.
"Perhaps you are onto something," said Serath, after a slight pause. "In those moments of critical despair I stated, probably beside myself or something along those lines, that the individual, in order to fulfill themselves in the experience of life, must detach themselves from their strings—like a puppet."
"To fulfill themselves by achieving great happiness?" asked the stallion.
"That's it, that's just it, the morale boost!" said one of the mares.
"And achieve happiness in the face of King Sombra!" exclaimed the first stallion; he started taking notes in a book.
"No, no—not that!" Serath interjected as quickly as he could. "Ha, ha—it sounds pleasant, right? No, no, not happiness. Pursue meaning, not happiness."
"And why not happiness?"
All eyes were on him for a very brief moment.
"Why?" Serath muttered, suddenly became aware of everypony. His eyes darted across the room. "Because it is true," he said impassively, but his eyes ablaze with conviction. "Sometimes to discover meaning you are forced to endure great suffering, but if that happens to be the reality, so be it. Tell the truth, I tell you—speak the truth in spite of your happiness. Never, ever lie. Do what you can to bring prosperity to the world. How should you act? Well, I... I mean, you should act so that things are good for you like they would be for someone you're taking care of, but they must be good for you in a why that is also good for your friends and family, as well as good for your society—if you can manage that. So, it happens to be balanced at all those levels; it ought to be good for you right now, and next week, and next month, and a year from now, and forever onwards. It is a harmonious balancing of multiple layers of your being simultaneously. Trust yourself. Your brain, even your nervous system, will inform you when you experience something truly meaningful. We are all adapted to orient ourselves towards meaning."
"And where can we find such meaning?" asked the initial stallion. The room became deadly silent.
"Well, your mind acts on the border between order and chaos. Order is when things are so rigid you can no longer exercise free will, and chaos is when things are so complex you cannot handle it. But in between that there is a place, a place that is meaningful, where you are partly stabilized and partly curious. You operate in a manner which increases your scope of knowledge. At the same time, you renew yourself, your family, and society. Now and forever. When you have an intimation of meaning, you will know you are there."
"Oh, oh, an example," said the second mare.
"I second that!"
"Me too!"
"An example?" Serath started. He heaved a sigh and leaned back on his seat, a ponderous look highlighting his expression. "Hmm... I can give you an existential demonstration of that. Imagine that each of these levels of existence—the way I laid them out—are like patterns: they are like patterns within patterns within patterns, within patterns within patterns"— he began stacking his hands on top of each other, building up the motion higher and higher —"and there is a way of making all that harmonious. This is what music models. That is why music is so meaningful. Take an orchestral piece for instance: each instrument is doing different things at different levels, but it all flows together harmoniously, and there you are, the individual, right in the middle of that as the listener. It fills you with a sense of awe. Music models the state of existence in which you ought to conduct yourself should you seek true meaning."
"Live like music, quite so, live like music!" exclaimed yet another mare who had not spoken before.
"That's just it!" said the first stallion. "Did you hear that, everypony? To aspire to the spirits of melodies is the way to conquer ourselves. Music defeated King Sombra! Ah, so poetic: 'music defeats evil.' Must be a headline!"
Exclamations arose from many ponies in the crowd. Obscure words and phrases were being thrown round, up in the air so anyone could catch it; the baked goods on the tables were beginning to get consumed, and everypony else was becoming more animated by the second. A party of sorts broke out.
The three mares began cheering again, but vaguely and without direction, so to whom they cheered was unknown.
Things like "Live like music!" or "Balance yourself with everything!" was ringing in the crowd. Soon after more ponies were lining up to to question Serath.
"Alright, alright!" said Twilight amid the jabber, at once getting up from her seat. "We've have fun here, and I think Cadence and I'll like to show you some other parts of Canterlot."
"Whatever works," remarked Cadence.
However, despite all this, Serath too rose from his seat and strode over to the long table, snatched a cupcake, and sat back in his original spot; this unexpected conclusion seemed to have a calming effect on even the most turbulent of ponies.
He smiled pleasantly at Twilight, and offered her the cupcake.
"The night is restless," he said. "Let us stay for a while longer, we have the time to spare. No need to get irritated now."
Twilight gazed at the cupcake, and at last drew a long, deep breath. She realized this was not quite over yet, they still had not tried out the sweets. Contemplating this, she even felt embarrassed at her own impatience; two hectic spots appeared on her cheeks, much to her annoyance.
"You're right," she sighed, allowing herself to smile back. "We can't rush things."
"Wh-at!" said Serath aloud, instinctively leaning in closer as both their voices began to drown in the rising noise of the room.
"I said we can't rush things!" repeated Twilight, matching his volume.
"Yep, this will be a long night indeed," chuckled Cadence to herself.
* * *
Corvo was vaguely conscious that he had already walked on this gravel path: up, down, and around Canterlot garden—from that large, dark tree to the bench at the other end—more or less two hundred meters altogether—at least ten times backwards and forwards.
As to recollecting what he had racing through his head, he could not. He caught himself, however, indulging in one thought which made him want to roar with laughter, though there was nothing really to laugh at in it; but he felt that he must laugh, and go on laughing.
It struck him that Apollinov, and whoever else, could not find him at the moment; in fact, it was quite probable that they had already searched his house, top to bottom, scouting every corner possible, and now a certain warrant was placed on his head. A glimmer of desolated doubt came to his mind, that is, there was a chance that all which had been taking place in Dunwall, all this sniffing and conspiring, was all exaggerated beyond convention by his own paranoia; that, in fact, perhaps Apollinov meant someone else when stating that the Wandering Stranger would be apprehended the previous night, and not Corvo at all. It was only a tiny shade of hope, to put it mildly.
"Nonsense!" he muttered in an undertone, struck by another thought, of a sudden. "Why, he was intensely surprised. Or was he? Fredric told me that only ignorant people can speak the truth—I did not rebut—and then claimed to catch the Wandering Stranger by his little tricks of psychology—that I objected to. Hell of an idea to think about. Was I wrong to think so?"
Currently Corvo had sat down on a white bench under a tree, one in where myriad birds flittered in and out by the minute.
"How strange it all is!" he muttered, melancholy enough now. In moments of great joy, he invariably felt a sensation of melancholy come over him—he could not tell why.
Around him there was almost a profound silence; the music in the ballroom could be heard dimly, even from this far. The garden seemed quite empty, though it was not, in reality, later than half-past eight. It was a warm, clear night.
This isn't to cast the light of an introvert onto Corvo; quite the opposite really. He had engaged in several lengthy discussions by now with the ponies here, most of whom took special interest in him. A human, from another world, who helped save Equestria, or so they were told—what else could attract such immense attention? Corvo was glad, if not by anything else, then by Celestia's omission of his previous two visits to Equestria. He expected her to do that, but even so he was touched by the gesture.
These conversations went on for nearly two hours. He revealed to the ponies a great deal: his relationship with the princesses, his magical powers, the way in which he perceived Equestria, and so on and so forth. There is much to describe, but very little time.
A stallion, whose face it was difficult to see in the gloom, approached the bench, and sat down besides him. Corvo slowly turned his head to peer into this newcomer's face. He was a unicorn. His coat was white like ivory, with a protruding chest, his blue mane neatly combed back, shining obnoxiously from what appeared to be an overuse of hair gel. He was fitted with a black and white suit, a purple bow tie, and a vintage-esque monocle.
"My good sir, pardon my intrusion, but might you be 'Corvo,' one of the two otherworldly beings our venerable Princess Celestia has informed us about?" asked the white stallion.
"I am," said Corvo. "How long have the ponies of Equestria been anticipating our arrival? Seven months is quite the chunk of time to ponder such information."
"Ah, dare I say it is. For at least a month after King Sombra's defeat you and the other fellow—'Serath' I think?—ah, yes, Serath. You two were the talk of the decade! And now interest has sparked up once more these last few weeks."
"Oh? How much did Celestia tell you all?"
"Hmm. The essentials, to be sure, although for a time she remained sufficiently silent on the matter. Oh, where are my manners? Do forgive me. My name is Fancy Pants."
"I assume you to be an important pony from high society?" said Corvo, for the sake of saying something.
"Yes, quite," said Fancy Pants in a brisk tone. "Well, that's what my entourage tends to tell me. More precisely, I shoulder the responsibility of leading all current trends of fashion in Canterlot; if I say something is charmingly rustic, then it will be all the rage everywhere."
Corvo smiled, but he remained silent.
"You see, Corvo," Fancy Pants continued, "I was practically trapped in with the jumble of journalists and high-achieving clothes designers only a little while ago. My compatriots will be catching up with me soon; that said, I feel nothing but intrigue when looking at you. When I first learned of your existence I immediately knew I would like you, and I was not mistaken."
"I consider that a reassuring thought," said Corvo in reply, "and, really, what else could I have imagined? You seem like a reasonable pony, Fancy Pants." What an odd name, even by Equestrian norms!
"Canterlot is where I reside, my good Corvo; I live and breathe the business here, the markets, maybe even all the technical work, like the finances. I must ask: do you know anything about managing a business, even a small one, or a partnership, a sole proprietorship, anything?"
"Huh? Why ask me for all this?" asked Corvo, giving Fancy Pants a strange look. "Do you seek advice for your business?"
"Partly. Not quite. It simply came to me, among all this palaver of newly received 'humans' and King Sombra's defeat, that your lot must possess some sort of hereditary insight into the world, quite unlike us ponies—and vice versa. We both come from equally different sensate environments, we have started off from different bases of knowledge. And, I've then deduced, surely a being as fascinating as you must hold your own perspectives of social fields us ponies have not even begun to conceptualize yet."
"Humans and ponies, both sentient, are extraordinarily complex creatures. What you say makes a good deal of sense. Although, not meaning to discourage you, but I have had more than my fair share of interactions with ponies, especially the princesses—and I say there is very little difference between humans and ponies in the way of psychological and cultural behaviour. We are remarkably similar, you and I."
"Why, is that so?" Fancy Pants immediately cast an expression of two minds, deep in thought. "I should have given that idea more thought than I initially presumed it to deserve. Do tell, for the sake of it: what are businesses like in your world? In addition, how would you go about running your own industry?"
"Well..." Corvo paused. "That is an extremely loaded question, all things considered. Eh... to say nothing of triviality, that is, businesses are businesses. I doubt our definitions for them are different. They exist to supply a demographic. To tell you the truth, the business world is slowly decaying from where I come. More and more power is being transferred to legislative control, increasing the likelihood for monopolistic dominance. I can still go out and purchase a commodity, but the gap between the poor and the rich is growing steadily—unfairly growing."
"What a horrid thing to hear! Our beloved princesses may rule all of Equestria, but they have been unbelievably generous with the free market's flexibility."
"All the better. I remember a good time a number of years ago, it was better then for me, better for everyone else, too. Fancy Pants, hold onto that capitalism of yours, and help the world through it."
"Yes, indeed. It must be evolution, not revolution, that equates to progress. Core substance is vital. Why, we have quite lot in common!" Fancy Pants suddenly remarked, looking curiously and attentively at Corvo.
"Ha, ha, economically we do." Corvo gazed out towards the garden hedge, the one which separated the greenery from the castle proper. He began to smile once more. "Good to see some things are still worth discussing in life. Nice meeting you, Fancy Pants."
"Oh, my word, Corvo, I could never end such a conversation so early. There is still so much to get through, so much to unpack; you and me here, the possibilities are end—"
"Say, is that your so-called entourage?" Corvo cut in, pointing ahead of some trees to a mass of ponies advancing, all of them displaying a diverse collection of dresses, suits, and colours; a cacophony of chattering voices followed along with this group.
"Oh, blasted conformity!" said Fancy Pants, with a kind of nervous hurry, a strange and worrisome expression covering his face. He glanced round him, as if he were afraid of being caught in wrong-doing. "My good Corvo, pleasant as I anticipated talking with you, but the necessities of life calls upon me! Take care!"
"Likewise. Farewell."
Corvo watched the ivory unicorn slip away into a cut-open hedge some meters off from the bench, taking off into an adjacent street and down the front of the castle.
Ten seconds later and the crowd of onlookers started to sweep by. A good number of them lagged behind to notice Corvo on the bench, a few of whom had yet to meet him. They exchanged remarks and greetings for another fifteen minutes, but at last everypony was reminded of the time and went on their way, once more leaving Corvo alone.
In all honesty, not even Corvo was sure if these extravagantly dressed ponies were searching for Fancy Pants in particular, or they were merely perusing and, without noticing it, grew in size along the streets of Canterlot. Some of them evidently weren't, judging by their time spent with Corvo.
But Corvo was glad to be by himself, under most circumstances at least. The muffled noise round him came back, meaning more and more ponies were nearby and in the ballroom; and the flock of birds shot out from the tree branches above him.
I cannot let the dinner scheduled for ten o'clock slip my mind, he thought, relaxed. I wonder who will show up. Celestia is organizing the event, so obviously Luna shall be there. Serath and I. Twilight. Fancy Pants even? Many more famous ponies, I wager.
A medium-sized rubber ball—looked to be for kids, judging by the colour patterns—suddenly flicked itself out from a large bush and bounced up and down towards him, coming to a halt near his feet.
"Ah got it!" cried out young, somewhat slanted, voice.
What jumped from behind the bush, following the trail of the rubber ball, was that southern filly Corvo now recalled. We know who Apple Bloom is, that was her; however, her name remained fixed on the tip of Corvo's tongue.
She was running, seemingly excitedly, but got closer and slowed her gait at once. She made her way in front of Corvo, gazing intently, but timidly, for a few seconds.
"Oh, uh, hello there," said Apple Bloom, almost in a strange whisper, as if she vaguely recognized him.
"Hmm, I think I know you," said Corvo curiously, as though discerning something about her face. He bent down and picked up the ball. "Does this belong to you? Here you go. Here... Well now, what is with that look? Lost your head?"
Apple Bloom took the hint and grabbed the ball with her mouth, then placed it on her back.
"You happen to be Corvo, ain't that right?" asked Apple Bloom with some familiarity, feeling more at ease in proportion to how long she kept looking at him.
"Yes, Corvo, that is me," replied Corvo, now with no apparent confusion. "What are you doing here exactly?"
"Ah'm on a school trip with Miss Cheerilee an' the others, Cheerilee bein' our teacher. She's been takin' us 'round the Gala an' explainin' all its history an' whatnot. Right now we're in free time, so me an' mah friends're playin' ball. See!"
Corvo nodded and stared out to the bush where Apple Bloom had emerged from.
"I suppose you know your way back?" he asked, not turning his head.
"Oh, Ah do!" she affirmed. "Uh, nice seein' you." She began heading out, but then she, as though bereft from her goal, turned round, and looked as if to regard Corvo with a piercing, and slightly sorrowful, gaze.
"What is it?" asked Corvo.
"You lent yer help to defeat that nasty King Sombra, jus' like Princess Celestia told all us, right?"
"Why yes, I did," replied Corvo, a smile flashing on his lips.
"Geez, no kiddin'!" said Apple Bloom solidly, and in accents of joy and relief, she exclaimed, seemingly recalling something: "Yeah, Ah remember the first one! That makes two times you saved Equestria."
Corvo didn't lose his posture, but the smile on his lips weakened instantly. He slowly nodded, as though with some effort, but said nothing else.
"Like Ah said, nice seein' you, Corvo," she chirped, and ran back to the edge of the garden, then finally out to supposedly meet up with her class. More young voices, supposedly her filly friends, could be heard.
"Farewell," said Corvo, although she obviously didn't hear him. He sighed very strongly and pressed his back to the bench once more. He checked the time on his pocket watch. "A little past nine. Eh, what the hell. Maybe I should get up and head for the castle now, strike up some early banter at that."
Corvo started to rise, but, thinking better of it, staggered back down.
Perhaps another ten minutes here, he contemplated. I quite like this garden, the trees especially. Not many ponies seem to come here. Sure is a pity nothing like this is back at home. Last garden I remember was in Dunwall Castle, but they cut it down. Never should have, it made for a pleasant atmosphere. Damn, since when have I been such an environmentalist?
The crunch of quiet steps on the gravel path suddenly caused him to raise his head. A figure approached him, and Corvo recognized the livid features of Princess Luna.
"Luna?" Corvo exclaimed instantly.
"I knew you'd be somewhere close to the castle. I didn't have to look for you very long," muttered Luna between her teeth.
They hadn't seen each other that day, meaning it was the first time they had met since their last encounter seven months prior. Surprised by Luna's sudden appearance, Corvo was for a moment unable to gather his thoughts, and a shuddering sensation rose up in his heart. Luna was evidently aware of the effect she was producing; but although she too was disconcerted at first, she spoke as though with an air of studied familiarity. However, Corvo had the impression that there was nothing studied about it; if there was a certain awkwardness in her gestures and conversation, it was merely external; deep down Corvo knew she could never change.
"So you were—looking for me in particular?" Corvo inquired, in order to say something.
"I heard from some other ponies that you had gone to the garden; well, I thought, so that's the way it is."
"What do you mean by that: 'the way it is'?" Corvo, with an edge of unease, picked up on the phrase that had slipped out.
Luna smiled wryly, but gave no immediate explanation.
"You should have been there when Canterlot was fully recovered," said Luna. "It happened soon after you and Serath went back to your world. My sister held a panel of sorts, explained just about every single detail of our journey, and about you and Serath. This information spread quickly. Our subjects were completely ecstatic to meet these supposedly never-before-seen intelligent creatures."
"In that case, I would have preferred to not be present," said Corvo, smiling caustically. "All that has passed. So, do you need me for anything?"
"I wanted to know if you really will show up for the dinner."
"Of course I will. Celestia personally invited me."
"And what will happen right after that? When the Gala draws to a close, will you stay any longer, or do you intend to leave soon?"
"I will very well leave soon, tomorrow morning at the latest. Serath and I are expected back before Monday." Corvo narrowed his eyes. "You are here for another reason, that much I can say."
"You are amazing in your own way, Corvo, one can't help marvelling at you."
"Ha!—depends on what you mean by 'amazing' in such a context. You wanted to find me, so here I am. Do you wish to talk? I can talk for a long time, you know."
"I just need to—" Luna paused, and a sudden change flashed in her eyes. "I need to know if this is the last time we shall see each other."
"Say again?" Corvo raised an eyebrow. "Are you not coming to the dinner?"
"No, I will not come."
"Really? I never expected such a response from you. Will your sister not be disappointed at your decision? Or, maybe, does she already know you will be absent?"
Having listened to Corvo, Luna began to laugh.
"But I say, Corvo, haven't you ended up in something of that sort yourself? If what I have heard about you is true?"
"What could you have heard?" asked Corvo with an intense focus in his face, not quite understanding Luna.
Luna went on laughing. She had listened to Corvo not without interest and, perhaps, not without enjoyment, either, for reasons she could not quite articulate; Corvo's nonchalant enthusiasm struck her and even cheered her.
"Well, even if I didn't hear it," Luna went on, bemused, "I can see for myself that now it's true. When have you spoken as you did just now? It's as if someone else is talking, not you. You're right, Corvo, I did come to this garden, to you in particular, for another reason altogether."
"I do not understand you at all, Luna. Where is this coming from?"
"I must ask something of you. You see, there's been this little thought trapped in my head ever since King Sombra's defeat. I didn't want to ask Serath, I meant to ask you."
"Ask me what?" said Corvo, listening very carefully to Luna's words.
"Where do you suppose evil comes from?" asked Luna directly, without the slightest shift in tone.
Corvo blinked hard at Luna, unsure of what to say initially.
"You expect me to answer a question of that nature, just like that?" he said, creasing his brow. "I have some ideas."
"Do you even believe in evil?"
"How does one go about disbelieving in evil? You may as well deny the existence of gravity."
"I am dead serious about this, Corvo." Luna sighed from the bottom of her heart and took a seat next to Corvo. She gazed up at the night sky, closely and with consideration, as though she were dissatisfied with her own work. "What do we deserve? Can you at least tell me that?"
"Once again, I do not understand you. How do you mean: what we deserve? Deserve what?"
"Punishment, perhaps."
"Punishment for what? And who would punish us?"
"We punish ourselves, don't we?"
With solemn surprise Corvo observed that the look of agitation, the bitter, caustic smile, had still not altogether left Luna's face. At moments it showed itself all too plainly. And at last she turned her head to stare Corvo straight into his grey eyes.
"Ha, ha, why the cold look?" said Corvo. "And punish ourselves? You know, Serath once told me that the line dividing good and evil cuts through all our hearts. Evil does not derive itself from class struggles, nor from tribalistic identities, or any of those excuses; it comes from the sheer ordinariness of our conscious."
"To be clear, that is what Serath believes?"
"That is what he argues."
"And do you agree with him?"
Corvo's whole countenance seemed to have grown slightly paler, although his preserved dignity, however inconsistent with the look of him, remained markedly intact. But there was no facial inclination of the nervous kind on his part.
"No, I disagree with Serath," he said. "Ordinary folk are more than capable of evil deeds, maybe even capable of enjoying it. But I am an existentialist at heart. I believe that we can create our own values, craft and perfect them, and act on those values to whatever degree we desire, and by extension reduce our overwhelming capacity for evil to something more tolerable. All it takes is insurmountable will power."
"How can you be so sure we can create our own values?" Luna pressed on.
"What is this, an interview all of a sudden?" Corvo cast a sharp, dubious glance on her. He thought for another second. "Look, I cannot simplify any of this without divorcing the most vital of details, which incidentally happens to be almost all of them," he said again. "I could argue that we, by our nature, function on patterns, that is, we seek patterns to set our perception of the world in order. From those patterns—be they material substrates or political hierarchies—we seek utility. It seems only fair to say that what is useful is true, and moreover, what is useful also happens to last through time. This is how mathematics and the sciences are formed: the useful theories are brought into rigorous study, and by extension laid out as a lens to observe the world, while the theories which lack purpose are quickly discarded. The same process of elimination occurs in the languages we speak. The same with, say, modes of etiquette. I argue for useful values—and those are certainly constructible."
"Even if we can create our own values, do we deserve it? Have we earned it? It seems like a gloomy fallacy to me." There was some level of awkward, even forced, persistence present on Luna's face, although she seemed unconscious of it; she dropped her eyes, quite unconscious that Corvo was observing her with confusion.
"Are you sad, or what?" asked Corvo bluntly. "I am not a psychoanalyst. What do you want to tell me? I mean, do you agree with what I said, or not so?"
"I should not be surprised by what you said. No, I don't agree with the prospect that we have either the capacity or the willingness to craft our own values from nothing. We are nothing, in a word."
Corvo suppressed a shudder in his shoulders. He gazed at Luna in wonderment; it was difficult for him to realize that she was a royal princess.
"We ponies do a very poor job of taking care of ourselves," Luna muttered seriously enough. Her lips formed into a weak smile. "I imagine the same rings true for your kind."
Her usually thoughtful, dark face, which all this while had been so little in harmony with the dry jests and stoicism which she had seemed to put on for these occasions, was now evidently agitated by new feelings, though she tried to conceal the fact and to look as though she were as ready as ever for jesting and irony.
"Are you never ashamed of yourself, Corvo? Ashamed to represent yourself?"
Corvo looked surprised, and smiled, but evidently concealed something beneath his smile, and with a glance back he leaned on the bench.
"I am very troubled," he said, in tones of what felt like reproach. "No, no, wrong way to put it—at times I get intimations of disturbance. But that makes me troubled." There was a pause. "Look, what do you mean when saying that we do not take care of ourselves?"
"I mean that we take an awfully dim view of the world, and that view is applicable to others, as much as to the self," she said, with feeling. "You know quite a lot about yourself, your own endeavours and your most secret contemplations, much more than anypony—or anyone—else does. Have you ever lived with your own torments, dreamt them? No one is more familiar than you with all the manners in which your mind and body are flawed. No one has more significant reason to hold you in contempt, to see you as pathetic, than yourself. Maybe—I think—I believe that, by harming yourself, or by withholding something that might serve you some good, you can punish yourself for all your failings."
"It seems clear to me, Luna, that what you describe is self-consciousness. Heh," a distant thought surfaced in Corvo's mind, and he chuckled. "Something about what you said ushers forth an echo of influence. You spoke well, and I will add: animals are conscious, but not self-conscious, quite unlike us. They are capable of tragedy, but we are capable of evil."
"Self-consciousness is what inspires torment. We are all too aware of our own defenceless morality. Just ask my sister. We both have felt pain, and disgust—self-disgust—and shame, and horror, and we know where it hurts. We know and understand what makes us suffer. We know how to inflict such horror on others. It is most terrifying, in my eyes, when you make a conscious effort to hurt others, especially if you hurt them for their faults, and faults we understand perfectly. Humans and ponies cannot hurt each other simply—we invent racks, and burning alters, and iron-spiked cages. These contraptions are now banned, but many thousands of years ago they stood as the norm. But I refuse—above all else, upon my role as Princess of Equestria—I refuse to believe you would inflict such suffering for the sake of suffering."
Luna's lips were trembling; her face gave evidence of suffering; but she was not in the least disconcerted about this. Corvo was considerably amazed, and did not reply at once, preferring to listen.
"But I also think we all hold a spark of divinity inside us, even if it's almost nothing. To take care of ourselves properly we must first respect ourselves—but we cannot commit to such things, because we are—not least in our own eyes—pathetic, spiteful creatures. If you lie, Corvo, a time comes to pass that you can never tell the difference between a truth and a lie, even among your loved ones, and that torments you. Something inside you has to exist, it has to, that spark of good, to ameliorate all evil. And... something else... but I'm getting lightheaded. All manner of things shall be well when the fire and the rose are one."
Luna, with these words, turned her back to Corvo, and heaved a great sigh.
"Here is a problem I see," said Corvo, pointing to Luna. "What need have you to preach this supposed spark of virtuousness when you reject self-reinforced values? Self-consciousness will only torment your mind if you become your own tyrant, so do not let that happen. There is no good to whining all day about suffering which is beyond your control. Be a better pony, so that when a tragedy occurs you can stand solidly by the ponies who can rely on you.
"Look," Corvo continued while getting up from the bench, and uncrossing his arms, "in my own periods of darkness I find myself frequently overcome by the ability individuals have to befriend each other. That is a fact which ought to amaze even the coldest of cold monsters. I encourage folks to credit themselves, and to do so fairly. And... well, I have said my piece. Nothing else to say that would not be a drag."
With some more pondering and a glance he left the spot they had been sitting on, and went over to the garden entrance.
"I hope to see you at the dinner," he called out. "It would be foolish to not come. Time is running short. It should be starting soon."
Luna said nothing, that is, she too left the bench, but went off in a completely separate direction, as though Corvo was never there to begin with.
* * *
Corvo's pocket watch struck ten. The events were approaching their climax. The streets of Canterlot were still filled with ponies from every corner of Equestria, but fewer and fewer poured in. Some even began to leave, judging for themselves the lateness of the night.
The ballroom was mostly empty; and much of the food was gone. The orchestra was halfway through its final song. Tables were swept away, waiters came in and out, and retreated back to their posts, and whatever else way have been occurring at the juncture. For the time being we shall focus on the dinner room.
It was in times like these where even the most overt controversies and ill-tempered relations were set aside for any and all good intentions the ponies could bring to the table. Corvo and Serath—this being their very first Grand Galloping Gala—took heed of these good intentions, which were furthered strengthened in sense alone when they entered Celestia's dining room.
There was no dining room, incidentally, because this entire section of the castle in fact consisted of two large rooms, though indeed far more spacious and fit for royal dining than any other place in Canterlot. But the furnishings of the rooms were not more distinguished by any special comfort: textile-covered furniture, white and gold, in what was apparently old fashioned; the floors were shining marble and painted. Everything was bright and clean, there were many costly plants displayed on the main luxury at the moment: the luxuriously laid table—once again, relatively speaking, by the way: a clean table cloth, sparkling dishes, perfectly baked bread of at least seven kinds, two dozen bottles of wine, two special bottles of Equestrian mead, famous throughout the castle. The dinner consisted of five courses: a sturgeon soup with little fish pies; then boiled vegetables atop potato salads; then hay cakes; ice cream and fruit compote; and finally the custards resembling blancmange.
It was a large table, much larger than expected. Roughly forty ponies were seated—significant and well recognized ponies, to be sure. Everyone there sniffed the food out, many almost unable to restrain themselves.
Twilight and her friends (including Spike) were bundled together over on one side of the table; Cadence and Shining Armor close by. At the very end of the table, right up against the head, was Celestia, to her right Corvo and Serath, and her left an empty chair.
Let me say that, right now, Celestia was in a state of two minds. When the dinner kicked off a sort of sensitive process quickly transpired in her, something quite genuine: she felt ashamed and, most of all, nervous at Luna's absence. It all came off as highly inappropriate for one of the Royal Sisters to be missing. She could not, however, abandon her subjects on such short notice, since it was her total obligation to host this dinner.
But the ponies began talking among themselves at this strange scene, and whispered even more. Celestia was briefly put in situations where she had to answer for her sister's strange absence, either stating that she would be showing up any minute now, or perhaps something of incredible importance came up, but the guests always had very dissatisfied faces at the solemn and reserved tone of these responses.
"Where could she be?" asked Celestia to Corvo, two minutes before anything official began. She was forced to smile and wave at any pony giving the empty seat a confused look.
"I talked to her just now," said Corvo in reply. "She did not mean to show up."
"What? How could that be?" asked Celestia, almost beside herself in perplexity.
"Look," he said, shrugging, "Luna came looking round the garden to find me, she seemed very down in the dumps, if you get my saying. I cannot say what she is thinking now. She is your sister, after all. What do you think caused this?"
"Luna has always been a pony of delicate dignity, but she's certainly courteous. The fact that she decided to avoid the scheduled dinner, knowing full well of the time in advance, puts the two of us in a scrutinizing light."
"She could very well be bothered by something," said Serath, inserting his own opinion. "She was mind-controlled by Sombra. Did you ever talk to her about that?"
"No... I didn't," Celestia enunciated slowly, and she fell silent for a few seconds. "I mean, I never thought it would do much good. All the evidence pointed to her forgetting these memories of ever helping King Sombra."
"If the mind-control theory is true, then I doubt Sombra is what torments her," said Corvo. "It would have ushered forth greater emotional damage long ago, and that would be impossible to miss."
Of course, Celestia had sent out a total of five guards to find her sister, but so far they had not returned. And in the middle of the dinner one came by, discretely, to inform the princess that Luna was nowhere to be found.
"I'll have to deal with this after the dinner," sighed Celestia, assuming a look of internal defeat. "Right now I must be a proper host."
* * *
If I may give my opinion, I would like to say that Luna was by far the most practical of the four alicorn princesses. In the world of negotiations and extraversion there are very few practical individuals. There are many politicians, many business managers, civil servants, even some monarchs of the impassive sort; but practicality? That stands to be the most underrated virtue of our time. I would consider timidity and a most complete lack of personal initiative as the principal and best indicators of the practical individual—and Luna upholds these qualities almost without recognition for them. You may object, and argue that many folk are indeed practical. So be it. But, I say, let them be practical in their own preconditions, but a combination of practicality and originality is unimaginably rare.
Ever since her redemption from the dreaded form of Nightmare Moon—and before then, that is, before she let the pangs of jealousy sob in her heart—Luna was and continues to be a pony of extraordinary practicality and originality. Most folk, forever wrapped in their own intellectualism, would consider geniuses and inventors in society to be not much more than fools—that is, a really most routine observation, all too familiar. This style of thinking can be attributed to most intellectuals, precisely in part because intellectuals are always attempting to sell their own brand of intellectualism, and as a counter-measure against any competition, they shall devolve into calculated ridicule, to ensure that everyone believes them, and not the mightier of two minds right next door.
I think Luna was an intellectual, but to be fair, so was Celestia, and Twilight, and many other ponies, such as Star Swirl the Bearded. Corvo and Serath were intellectuals in their own right, although perhaps either one of them would have rejected such claims, preferring to preserve their "originality," comically dramatic as that may sound. By an attempt to be original you cast the admission of being unoriginal. After all, it is best to show, not tell. In that case, not even Corvo and Serath—maybe even combined—were as original in their thinking as Luna. Many would expect others to act with decency and decorum, and by extension would return the favour. Luna is unfairly judged. She acted in decency and decorum, to the best of her knowledge, and her flaw was not consciously expecting any in return—or not immediately, at least. If decorous boldness and a sense of personal originality is key, then I suppose that would constitute a weakness to intellectualism.
You may question Luna's strange behaviour up until this point, question the practicality of her actions. As you will find out, it was precisely her practicality which conflicted with her actions. Some actions, in the most extreme circumstances, require the calculated tricks of a learned politician, but Luna would make a terrible politician. Therefore, because she was the most practical, original, and impassive of the four alicorns, it would only make sense for her not to attend the dinner party. She had her reasons, believe me. We all have reasons to do unreasonable things.
But there's a chance none of this is making any sense for you, the reader. If it is, then I congratulate you on having the patience to put up with my verbiage. If not, and you say, "Well, I'm just wasting my time reading this," then I cannot fault you. At least not now. We ought to continue the story, right when the dinner came to a close, and everyone had their fill.
* * *
"I wish to thank you all for coming," announced Celestia across the entire table. "I think it's safe to say that this night's dinner has been the most interesting one thus far," she said, visibly acknowledging Corvo and Serath by her side; many of the guests nodded in approval. "But the Gala draws to a close. For now I will let our companions, Corvo Attano and Serath Hemsoworth, add in a few words about their experience in this magnificent night."
"Here, here!" exclaimed one of the finely dressed stallions. His mustache covered his lips, so when he spoke it alone shook slightly.
"I dare say these two fine allies of ours are worthy to give out speeches," remarked Fancy Pants, and the ponies round him hummed their admiration.
"Speech, speech!" Rainbow Dash cheered forth.
"Come on, girls," said Twilight, smiling, "give them some room."
The rest was as followed:
"Yes, let's, this ought to prove rather interesting, hmm?"
"Darling, no oogle-eyeing now!"
"To the Princesses of Equestria!"
"Cheers!"
"Cheers, my confidant!"
And so on.
Corvo took the initiative and rose from his seat. He closed up one of the loose buttons on his greatcoat, doing so habitually and in sync with him getting up. The headaches were gone. He felt much livelier now, like he truly appreciated all tenets of life once more.
"Words might have escaped me, if it were not for such stupendous company," he said with perfect readiness. "Mares and gentlegolts, you have all so diligently questioned my friend and I on our endeavours, on the facts of our lives—let it be known that nothing is forgotten. Ha, ha! Well, so let it stand. A final word, I suppose, and we may chat afterwards for a bit, but only a bit; we are quite obligated to return to our world.
"There are times, especially in the faithless recessions of your lives—of the type that is true and perfectly rendered, the eternal type—where it can become difficult to rightly express your anguishes. In times of sorrow things may seem abstract. Take my word for it, hunting down King Sombra with death standing at your door is no relaxing holiday. But these recessions are not exclusive to the extremes, but, quite the opposite, present themselves most lavishly in the daily aspects of your world, which can all the worse become deceitfully resentful. There is a yearning for nature, a grudge against high society, aspirations for all, lamentations for a truth that you have lost somewhere, and you can by no means find it. In this blindness you may suffer, even suffer sincerely. But I do believe one who is patient and fantastic will seek salvation above all external phenomena. To suggest the idea of truth—a moral truth, let us decide—implies that which transcends our domains of knowledge. A moral truth is real, more real than you can imagine. So I say to you, all ponies here, and this rings true for those who are not here: in times of suffering do not grieve, or if you must grieve, do not let it restrict what you know. As an individual from high society myself, I speak from experience: do not devolve into arrogance and complacency. To commit such deeds is to refuse the existence of truth, because truth transcends you, and me, and all of us. There is no better time to seek happiness than in sorrow. Live well; live and let live. Never let opportunities of value slip up. Do what it takes to fulfill yourself. No pony is perfect, not even the princesses.
"To end it all, let me say that plain truth is real. Also, pain is real, perhaps more real than you think. If you believe there is no meaning to life, subject yourself to pain, and in that moment life will once again have meaning. It should come to reason that whatever relieves you from the pain, that which ameliorates your suffering, is more real than the pain itself. Seek that sort of redemption, I would say. Well, in all in all, thank you."
He sat back down. In response, the scattered, polite clapping of hooves resonated across the room. The guests obviously wished to be much louder, to commend Corvo, or seriously question him, but they restrained from such eccentricity. Besides, Serath immediately rose for his turn, and delved into his speech very quickly, perhaps even more readily than Corvo's entrance:
"Ah—I just have to marvel at such wonderful ponies. Everypony here has been wonderful to us, we are forever grateful. It fills me with hope, you know—the hope of both worlds. I have always been an optimist, I admit it in full. There are realists out there, of the most extraordinary character, who will inevitably refuse to submit to even the slightest plausibility of hope in favour of doubt. But I would hope none of us here are spiteful doubters.
"Well, again I go off. I have nothing prepared, so did my friend Corvo have nothing prepared, although he possesses far greater skill in the art of speech. I am no wordsmith, but I shall see what I can deliver.
"To jump off of what Corvo said, let us correct ourselves from the falsity of complacent satisfaction most of all. But even that thought can be twisted, be disfigured, beyond its significance. These things are constants—it is only a matter of time—the suffering through which we endure, big or small. What happens if one has not yet begun to be disturbed, while another has already come up against a bolted door and violently beaten their head against it? The same fate awaits all creatures, ponies and humans alike, in their turn unless they walk in the saving road of humility. Oh, 'humility' is certainly not a cliché, not even in this context; humility is what endures the harshest of actions. But suppose that this fate does not await them all. Let ‘the chosen’ suffice, let only a tenth part be disturbed lest the vast majority remaining should find no rest through them. Still, better to go wrong in one's own way than to go right in someone else's. That is to say, learn from your actions, be a good person—or a good pony—help others in need. Balance yourself, your orientation, towards that of society's.
"Let me say that proper behaviour is predominant. Some may call it 'the Good.' An acolyte of genuine virtue is not trying to formulate accurate descriptions of the superficially objective; instead, they will strive to be a 'good person,' and pony, of course. But to be good one must be obedient. There is a dogmatic element in virtue. To the more cynical crowd 'good' means nothing but 'obedient'—even blindly obedient. Obedience alone is not enough, but as a start it's everything. You cannot aim yourself at anything if you are completely undisciplined and untutored. You choose what you look at, you act out your beliefs, so aim nobly. Aim your sights, and therefore your actions, with meaning. There must be vision, of course, beyond discipline. You ought to act like a tool for purpose, so seek meaning. Pay as much attention to yourself as you can muster; watch yourself everyday; when you say or do something that makes you feel weak, retract, and reposition. Align your actions with what you believe to be right. You can only find out what you actually believe (rather than what you think you believe) by watching how you act. You are too complex to understand yourself. I... have spoken for long enough. Apologies. In short, like Corvo said: live well. But also live meaningfully. Thank you."
Serath gave a quick bow, quite unlike him if I might add, and sat back down.
Some of the guests were exchanging curious whispers among themselves, others stared impressively at Corvo and Serath, and the rest displayed shades of ponderous consideration, looking at them with serious, searching stares.
Celestia could observe the reactions for herself. Their speeches were most unusual, their tone and contents completely out-of-place for the Gala. That said, it was impressive enough to draw in new thoughts; however, as some later remarked, some of what they said felt a tad undercooked and confused.
"Why speak of suffering so soon?"
"I agree, it was rather depressing."
"No pony here understands this like I do. It was a breath of fresh air!"
But everypony agreed it was a far cry from boring. These top-class ponies, upon later reflection, very much enjoyed their conversations with Corvo and Serath, despite any strange and objectionable attitudes—you can boil that down to culture shock.
* * *
About fifteen minutes later, and the waiters were busy sorting away the leftovers and silverware. The guests returned to the first room, although by now most had already left. Celestia, having given it much thought, went to her throne room for some peace and quiet.
She was sitting there, not quite doing anything, merely looking out a window. In that moment Celestia was carried away by a recollection of memories she and her sister shared thousands of years ago, when they were but foals. She evidently forgot everything else in that same moment.
Her sister's absence was worrisome, but nothing to overreact about. Luna was only gone for a few hours. Perhaps an entire day and that could warrant a search investigation, but bound by the untold rules of discipline she was forced to sit and wait for all the guests to leave. Her time in the ballroom was fun: she met up with Twilight and Cadence, got to witness Discord's shenanigans first-hoof, and even the comedy stand-ups improved. The dinner was the most attention-grabbing, for better or for worse, but nevertheless memorably captivating. The ponies had reacted to Corvo and Serath extremely well. Talk of their personalities and accomplishments were quickly spreading.
Celestia didn't know why she chose a window to focus her sight on. But her focus was interrupted by the sound of heavy foot-steps.
"Time is fleeting, huh," said Corvo, somewhat absent-mindedly. He had decided to go to the throne room, and now he approached Celestia. To Celestia's surprise, there were vague changes in Corvo's face, last she saw him, even fifteen minutes ago.
"Interesting choice of words you gave," she said, after a slight pause. "I could almost mistaken you for a philosopher."
"Philosopher or not, I am happy to have come. So then, do you have any idea why Luna decided to leave her seat empty?"
"I might end up sleeping on it. If she's still missing by tomorrow morning, then I'll give myself permission to worry."
"Are you not worried now?"
"There's a good chance she left Canterlot momentarily. This isn't the first time she's done this."
"Leave Canterlot? Whatever for? Actually, no need to answer that. We all have our reasons to do strange things. Listen, I came by to tell you something," Corvo continued to speak with a sort of assumed deliberation, and while he spoke he gave the impression of wishing to say something else.
"What is it, Corvo?"
"I have a surprise for you, to congratulate you—nothing unfathomably important, but not nothing either. Can you drop by our room in, say, the next hour?"
"I thought you were leaving soon," said Celestia, getting up from her throne and meeting Corvo on the same ground level.
"I was. That is, sooner or later. Twelve, is it?" He checked his watch. "Little past twelve. I slept well enough anyway, I will be going at one-thirty, two at the latest."
"Glad to see you prioritizing some things over others," Celestia suddenly said with renewed sincerity, or at least that's what Corvo observed when she grinned and showed her teeth.
Corvo blinked, as if taken aback by some small force. "Wait a minute"— he lifted his hands —"is that sarcasm I detect?"
"Very perceptive of you," Celestia chuckled lightly, wandering her eyes to the window once more, then back on Corvo. "I think—in my opinion, at least—you and Serath have together contributed more to Equestrian culture than you think."
"Bold words. How do you figure?"
"Every aspect of our culture is rooted in something tiny, something humble that no pony expects. King Sombra's return should go down in history, I've no doubt about it. Ponies will be talking about you, and Serath, for a very long time. I've ruled Equestria for over a thousand years, and certain things repeat more often than others."
"I mean, to speak on the level of culture—you must have forgotten..." Corvo broke off, even without meaning to; a look of extraordinary resoluteness highlighted his face.
"Hmm? What did I forget?" asked Celestia, looking at Corvo in confusion.
"That some aspects of culture come from the undesired. Look at the history of Nightmare Moon, or the Windigos, or whatever else." Then Corvo, to confuse Celestia even more, assumed a decidedly grave face. "Celestia, I came up with a little thought experiment some time back, even seven months ago, really. I would like you to hear it, and give me your opinion."
Celestia opened her moth to say something, stopped to ponder, and then said at length: "I suppose I could. But I think what you said is worth discussing, about undesired culture. It's interesting you bring it up. Do you have the time now, as in, right now?"
"No, no, I just need you to listen for a minute. Then meet me in my room an hour from now."
"Very well then. Let's hear it."
"Assume, let us say, that the known states of magic residing within Equestria have been invariably reversed. Say, your magic is dark magic, and Sombra's magic is the light, or good, or truly Equestrian, magic," Corvo began talking with what looked like assumed ease and freedom, strangely enough.
"Very odd scenario," said Celestia with a thoughtful look. "Odd and, I think, even scary. Can you elaborate?"
"Assume that the historians have gotten the translations mixed up. The dark magic you see in books is, in reality, the magic with which you and Luna use to manipulate the sun and moon. Odd, correct? But what would that entail?—to learn that dark magic is a force for good, and the magic intrinsic to ponies is 'evil,' in a word?"
"I... don't know?"
"This was part of a dream I had," said Corvo admittedly. "Or a whole dream. Dreams are terribly consequential in their own domain."
"Yes, dreams may reveal a great deal about you. So that's where you got that thought experiment? Is it an idea worth entertaining, you believe?"
"Well, novels are worth entertaining, and they are all fiction. But, look, dark magic this or dark magic that, does it ever bother you knowing that what you have construed round your lifestyle might be more ominous than initially presumed? Let us say that you do indeed use dark magic—would that reveal something about you, or society, or society and history in one?"
"I believe we would have quite a lot of new material on our hooves," said Celestia, displaying even a kind of sympathetic reserve, as though she understood Corvo inside and out. "Terminology could very likely change. The science behind magic is much more complex than that, however; it goes beyond the binary. There are sections pertaining to dark magic which overlap with our own. But it's a dangerous game."
"Ah, I see. Well then... that was that," said Corvo disappointingly, evidently meaning to drop the subject. He could not fathom why he brought it up in the first place. "I better get going. I will see you then—in an hour, or what have you. Farewell." He turned and started heading off.
"If that's that, then take care, Corvo," replied Celestia, smiling.
* * *
Serath, it looked like, was the only soul still wandering about in this area of Canterlot. He had parted with Corvo and Celestia early and headed out for a much needed walk. On the way he met Pinkie Pie by chance, exchanged a total of five or six words, until she took off in some sort of haste, claiming she was needed elsewhere.
Is it something on me, or what I said? thought Serath, looking to see if any stains were on his frock coat. These ponies can be peculiarly charming at times.
At the present Serath was heading back to his room. It was not much more than one-third of a kilometer to the castle. Serath walked quickly along the road, at that hour deserted. The sky was pitch black, with barely any stars in sight, and too dark to see anything clearly at thirty paces ahead. There were cross-roads half-way. A figure came into sight under a solitary lantern post at the cross-roads. As soon as Serath reached the cross-roads the figure moved out and rushed at him, shouting in a wild voice:
"Your life ends here!"
"Ah! Corvo! So it's you?" cried Serath, badly startled.
"Ha, ha! Did you expect me? You happen to be heading to the castle, is that right? I was going there, too, figured you to be here somewhere, and I was right."
"Well, I... phew! Right, right, onwards."
Corvo joined Serath at his side, and both men began walking at a quicker pace.
"Hell of a speech you gave," said Corvo, smirking with satisfaction. "You never told me that, as far as I recall. We will have to debate it some other time."
"A debate? Ha, ha—some other time, rightfully said. You know, I am actually relieved to have gotten here a day in advance. I was thinking on this for a while, and it hit me: typically on my free time, my wife will almost always insist I join her and her friends at the market. With nothing better to do, I could never, and often would never, refuse. So, commendable initiative on your end, I say."
"Where were you the whole night, by the way?"
"Nothing unordinary. I met up with Twilight and Cadence, and by that fact alone we drew in quite the amount of attention. Some ponies were dead-set on bolstering me up, they were singing and asking questions and everything. This was during and after my visit to the local bakery down that path. But enough of that. How about we start with you?"
"Eh, what did I do again?" Corvo gave a low sigh. "There was some waiting round in the garden, I remember. Very many ponies wished to speak with me. Obviously I obliged. And listen, I failed to mention this, but when I met Luna she seemed very strange to me—that is, what she said was very strange. Posed the question if whether or not we ought to punish ourselves."
"And what?"
"Nothing, that's what. She went off raving, as it were, with a list of reasons we can fault ourselves for. It felt all too hopeless for me, although perhaps my interpretation is mistaken."
"Dear me, are we rubbing off our influence?" Serath asked this with an obvious tone of humour.
Corvo laughed. "Maybe, maybe! I see the echoes of influence. In fact, I said just that—'echo of influence'—in the garden! But it could very well be that we are over-thinking the situation, prodding the moment too closely. Remember that we are in Equestria, a land of pony mythology. And—here we are. Door to the first hallway should be right round that corner, by the pillar."
"By the way, Corvo, look here, where my hand is," said Serath, and a gleam of excitement produced a most anticipating effect on his dark eyes. Corvo took heed of this and inspected his friend more closely.
Right then and there Serath withdrew a slightly tinged glass bottle of aged whiskey. It was just the bottle, no label to be seen.
"Serath, you devil!" laughed Corvo. "Wherever did you get that?"
"A particularly sketchy store, embedded within a dark alleyway, struck my attention," replied Serath. "Dubious fellow, the owner was, I scanned the place and found the very last whiskey bottle. He sold it to me at half price! Cadence was generous enough to lend me some of this country's currency beforehand."
"Eh, dark alleyway? Sketchy? Are you positive this whiskey isn't poisoned, or..." Corvo dropped his eyes on the glass bottle, feeling partially apprehended.
"I, uh, think it is good to drink. Cadence even confirmed its genuineness for me."
"How does that work?"
"No spell, merely an inspection. She is surprisingly knowledgable on alchemy. Never expected that from a Princess of Love."
"Ah! Look, look, the library is nearby. There is the door. Look, we should take a break here, ten minutes at most."
Serath agreed. The library was right there, this was true. They slipped in and found the scenery of shelved books ghostly silent. Perfect scene for a drink.
The entrance to this library, to add, was an arched double door, quite fancy for only a library. The setting itself was spacious and dully lit. Corvo ignited his Mark to light several candles on top of a long wooden table. Piles and piles of books and tombs and scrolls created unorganized rows all around; it seemed like only seventy-five percent of the total amount of books were actually stored away. The library was charmingly in disarray.
Having processed all this, Corvo and Serath sat across each other, exchanging some extra words before popping the cork off. The whiskey was still cool—not cold, but it still retained that disgustingly pleasant smell every man from the nineteenth century convinced themselves to love.
They took turns drinking.
* * *
"Okay... okay..." Corvo drawled out, exaggerating his hand gestures. "Never have I ever: jumped out of a lover's window."
Serath, with sluggish movement, picked up the mostly-empty bottle and sipped down a bit more whiskey.
"Serath! You? Re-ally?" Corvo suddenly put his hands together, stayed like that for five seconds, and for some reason felt fearfully ashamed of himself.
"Away with that look!" exclaimed in Serath in a disproportionally upbeat voice. "Did I not tell you? Every saint has a past. Ha, ha!"
"Since when in hell have you been a saint?" Corvo was taken aback by the ingenuity of Serath's tone.
"Under the covers?"
"Well, well! Under the covers is precisely where one will not find a saint. Okay, enough of that drivel. Your turn."
"Never have I... um..." Serath put his palm up against his forehead, as if checking for an unnatural temperature. The features on his face looked to be utterly confused with one another.
"Serath! Come now, bring me down, crush me like a cockroach!"
"Rightfully said! Um... never did I ever... I mean... never have I ever: burned a book."
"Really? That is the best you can do?"
"Well, h-have you?"
Corvo noticed that he was staring long and curiously at the bottle, seemed soon to have left off thinking of it. Corvo noticed this with some uneasy embarrassment; his face became even redder than before. He hesitantly picked up the bottle and took a sip.
"Corvo, my friend of friends, how could you ever burn a book?" Serath asked in unbelievable surprise, his eyes nearly bulging out.
"I was cold," said Corvo, becoming all too aware of the sound of his own voice. "Cut me some slack, Serath. The snow demanded retribution! And it was a book I quite disliked, and there was a second copy back at home."
"Sure, forget about it," muttered Serath, suddenly changing his attention. He leaned on an elbow, staring absent-mindedly into the ceiling. He could not say exactly why, but this ceiling interested him more than anything else in the room.
"Serath," said Corvo, slowly, as though his tongue weighed his mouth down, "something is off."
"Off of what?"
"No, no, something is off."
"What is off?"
"The air, perhaps? Look, look, the air, it moves!"
"A true physicist, you are," tittered Serath, finally taking his eyes off the ceiling.
Strange to say, but Corvo had not felt this kind of flustering sensation in a long time, yet to articulate this was sufficiently difficult. He tried to think of other, less relevant things, as though they were absorbing interest to him at that moment.
"Serath, this is of capital importance," said Corvo again in a weary voice. "Are we—eh—drunk?"
"Dr-unk!" Serath's eyes widened at the notion, although he too could not think of anything but vague, incoherent regret. "Whatever for? Wait, how does one deduce one's own drunk... ness?—drunk-en-ness?"
"Something, something—brain inhibitors, they decrease. Heh," Corvo's lips involuntarily contorted into a pale smile. "Damn it all! Damn the world!" He shot up, accidentally tipping the bottle over and spilling what little left of whiskey remained. Both men stared dumbly at the bottle. "Ah, hell," Corvo sighed roughly, and he sat back down with a grunt. "Sorry. My last tear is for you."
"This does not add up, however," said Serath in a slurred voice. "If being in a drunken state impairs your cognitive abilities, or what have you, then you cannot think rationally, but the only way to know you are drunk is through rational deduction, or induction—whatever the difference is."
"Wh-at?"
"I mean, how can we know if we are drunk, if we cannot know that we know?"
"But are we drunk, verily?"
"You know, you always slip into archaic language when drunk."
"Do I? Wait, wait, if I did do that, then it must infer our drunkenness, correct?"
"B-but that is a deduction, and therefore if you are capable of that, it infers soberness."
Corvo and Serath stayed that way for a while, staring between themselves and the tipped-over bottle. Suddenly both men began laughing with a strange gravity.
"I say we are not drunk!" exclaimed Serath. "It is impossible, or possible. I choose impossibility!" He himself was almost delirious, feeling that his happiness was at hand. "Can we do that? Can we choose reality?"
"S-Serath," Corvo managed to get out, feeling his senses come back to him, "what in the absolute hell was in that whiskey?"
"Water, I suppose, mixed in with the fermentation process. Or is that wine?"
"Well, so be it; strongest whiskey in my whole life."
Having uttered these words, Corvo's face crashed into the table, completely passed out.
Serath was smiling at himself, only at first, then he frowned for some reason. He poked Corvo a few times, and then a cold chill shook him violently. He decided to rest his eyes, thinking: He ought to be fine. I know. I am a doctor, after all. And shutting his eyelids he fell into an uncomfortable and painfully short sleep.
* * *
It was some time past two. Corvo lifted his head, wincing as it throbbed in response. A line of drool stretched from his mouth to the table. He moved as if in slow motion, tightly gripping his seat and rising on his wobbling legs.
"What... time..." he breathed uneasily. He tried to blink away the stinging in his eyes, but to no avail. He rummaged his hand into his pocket, feeling for the cold metal of his watch. "Here."
Corvo yanked the pocket watch out, but it was as though he was using all his strength to keep it from slipping in between his fingers. He flipped the top off and stared into the glass surface. He processed the information for a second, at odds with himself; then, Corvo voluntarily gave up all of his energy, slumping back down on the table and dropping the watch on the floor.
"H-hey. You're awake, or what?" he heard Serath ask, who had walked out from behind a bookshelf with a mild limp in his side. He was caring a rather large, grey book in both hands.
Corvo willed himself up and to sit straight in the chair. Both men had the appearances of wasted peasants who stole fashionable attire. Their faces were gloomy and visibly wrinkled, the skin under their eyes unattractively darkened.
They could hear the clock in the room ticking. The sound buzzed in their ears. It was unstoppable.
"I told Celestia to meet me in our room at one o'clock, I wanted to give her my present," Corvo began in a low, palpably irritated voice. "Heh, what foolishness. Why did I ask? You know, I had this feeling that something was bound to go amiss. I was thinking to myself: 'Goodness, we won't really see each other again, will we? Something will stand in the way.' So here we are. What tragedies realism inflicts on people."
"Hardly a sad tale, let alone a tragedy," said Serath, speaking quite wearily and weakly, and yet he quickly sat down and placed the book he was carrying onto the table, as though some hidden force was urging him on. "Hangovers are very bad for your health. But the trade off, for poor health, was something you told me, something I remembered just now. Look at this. Does the description match?"
This entire time Corvo was consumed in his own thoughts, sensing the roots of them, as well as his feelings, take precedence over the material world. He had already forgotten about his pocket watch on the floor.
That said, the very instance he looked at the book he nearly gave a start. It was a grey book, dusty and old-fashioned, and a black, numerical "one" etched right on the cover.
"Where did you find this?" asked Corvo instantly, grabbing the book, but realizing this was not needed he retracting his arms. Blood seemed to rush into his face, replacing the cold feeling with something more attentive.
"Back in the locomotive," Serath began, much more serious now, "do you recall? You said that when Sombra trapped you and the princesses in his illusion a 'grey book with a black numerical' stuck out in your memory. You placed much emphasis on this fact. I think you said Celestia was reading it. Is that specifically was stuck out?"
"Serath, how long have you been up for?"
"Half an hour, I think. Gah! My brain was on fire."
"You did not think to wake me?"
"I very well tried. You were practically dead, Corvo, your body needed rest for your metabolism to operate at its limit. I shook you, and in unison my head was swinging back and forth, sharp pain and dull pain, sharp and dull. Ahh..." Serath rubbed the sweat which was starting to come off his temples. "But then, while being carried away I suppose, I remembered, amid the pain, of the book. That is, I scoured this library, and behold, I stumbled on it, sheer coincidence."
Corvo stared hard at the grey book before him, picturing the fatal moment when he first glanced at the book, contemplating its reality. But he was very much in two minds.
"This book was part of the illusion," he said solemnly.
"Clearly it wasn't," said Serath with a sigh.
"I had not definitely considered what I would do when and how I might see this thing again. Or did I? Damn it!" He sank his face into his open hands, feeling the headache return to him, and the pain in his limbs. Everything seemed to become tiny and insignificant.
"This might be nothing," Serath assured.
"Or everything. We better not take our chances. Open it."
Serath flipped open the cover. First page was blank. Second and third also.
"Hmm, nothing so far," muttered Serath, partly to himself. "Blank, blank, blank, ah, here! A few lines of text?"
"What does it say?" asked Corvo, feeling himself unable to think too much.
"'Confirm please. There's no forcing you on my part. Will you strive to go through with it?'" Serath began reading. "'Yes.' 'You've made my day. This will open up your eyes, like I promise. You should feel renewed by the end, integrated into your very own Nightmare Moon.' Then: 'Excellent show you put on the rooftop. I'll be back in Ponyville.' 'I've thought about this, and I fully accept the responsibility. Equestria is mine.' Then: 'Celestia is retreating to the Crystal Empire. Bringing Twilight Sparkle and Corvo.' 'Good, good, I'm here in Ponyville actually. Wait for the letter.' 'They've arrived.' Dear me." Serath stopped reading, seizing the moment to study Corvo's reaction.
"This is exactly how Sombra described it to me," muttered Corvo. "Two-way communication via these magic books. These must be the messages sent between Sombra and Luna during the attack."
"You were right, right all along," said Serath, his face visibly pale. "I mean, I do not know why this should come as such a shock. I think I refused to believe it, or I wanted to refuse to believe."
"Celestia might say just that. Look, we better bring this to her. Eh. Keep reading."
Serath flipped through an extra page. "'Plans to split up. My sister shall be going to Ponyville, Corvo is injured, he is holding up in the Crystal Empire.' 'Fantastic! Tell me when they leave.' 'Of course.'" A few more pages were flipped through. "'Another human, much like Corvo, has appeared without premeditation.' 'Interesting, keep an eye on them.' 'His name is Serath.' 'I need you to keep your distance for now, my sweet Luna.' There is certainly a design here. 'My sister has returned, your plan was successful. Corvo is recovering, they will meet up soon to discuss further plans.' 'Good, when can I activate my spy?' 'Within the hour.' 'Good.' I think it to be very strange, this mind-control theory, that is."
"Why is that?"
"Back on the first page, the wording is strange. Look: 'Confirm please. There's no forcing you on my part.' It implies that Sombra was giving Luna a choice. You don't think—?"
"No, I do not think that. Even Sombra confessed to manipulating Luna with his illusionary tricks. He could have been lying, to throw me off, but perhaps this text is a lie as well, manipulated for the sake of it."
"Do you suppose Sombra ever considered the prospect of his enemies discovering this book?"
"It seems likely."
Serath was deep in thought. He at last reached a point in the book where every page was blank, and the conversation came to an end, right when Corvo had reached Sombra back in the rock farm. Serath was quite nervous at the sight of these pages; not to the point of fright, but largely a controlled apprehension.
"I see, they exchanged information the entire journey through. Her description of the townsponies is especially devious. Well, that was the whole of it? Anything left?" asked Corvo, finally feeling himself regain some of his strength.
"No, just pages and pages—on second thought, no," said Serath quickly, narrowing his eyes. "There is more text in the back, the last five, six, seven... eh, seven pages." His eyes quickly scanned these last pages. "This is not good, oh dear, not good at all," the words seemed to drop from him. Something of a revolting change came into his face.
Corvo raised his head. "What was that?" he asked hastily.
"Read here: 'Luna, everything has gone wrong. Everything, everything. I'm back in my human form.' Then: 'Answer me, you stupid pony!' 'I never wanted this.' 'I did.' 'But I didn't. Is there anything I can do? Perhaps it is not too late?' 'No, everything is ruined. Luna? Answer me. Answer! Answer! My human body will surely decay, it wasn't meant to last this long.' 'Corvo is returning to Canterlot.' 'What! Is he? Are you sure?' 'Please forget what I wrote, I happened to have been mistaken.' 'Luna! Answer!' 'Leave me be. I will burn this book! You have tormented me. I can't handle anything!' 'Luna, answer! Corvo won't return, you hear, you wench? I'll ruin his life. I don't care. I don't—' It breaks off here into something quite incomprehensible. After that, it goes on for longer, he was plotting for quite some time, at least a number of months."
"How is that possible?" said Corvo with a start. He gripped the edges of the book, staring so closely at the text that his nose was nearly touching the page. Some cold-feeling astonishment made him draw back. He was sweating even more now.
"This is stupid, all too stupid," he said again, notes of anger ringing in his voice. "We assumed Luna's memories were wiped along with Sombra's smoke. This back-and-forth takes place after that. How is it—? I mean, no! Damn it!" he roared, and slammed his fist on the table. And then he began at once speaking with loud, nervous haste, gesticulating, and in a positive frenzy:
"What, am I to bow down like this? To hell with it all! Serath, this book proves it. Sombra was there, watching me, for so long, two years, and more. What am I to make of this?" he almost demanded with flashing eyes.
"What can I say? This all went south," said Serath sadly, dropping his eyes in pity.
"It was him! All this time! The scoundrel, writing everything down, everything was note-worthy, eh? But, no, no, wait a moment... this proves nothing. It could be that Sombra fabricated that final conversation. Yes, that is possibly true. A curve-ball at our feet!"
"Hmm, that could make some sense, true, should he have anticipated we would find his book. There is much to assume. But, anyway, enough gesturing, Corvo. We need to show this to Celestia. Many things will hinge on this book."
"You will do no such thing," a particularly powerful voice responded.
Corvo and Serath turned round in unison, aghast expressions on their face. Standing there, by the library door, towering like a sentinel, was Luna. Her eyes were seemingly aglow, mysterious and unnerving. But some other detail was in the wrong place, something about Luna which made their spines tingle. There appeared a sense, even a want, of hysteria in her piercing eyes, her pedantic posture, as though her entire body were acting compulsively in relation to her deadly determinant countenance. This pony looked like Luna, but the mood given off was that of a self-possessed demon.
Her horn flashed, and the door closed. She approached both of them.