//------------------------------//
// The Oasis 
// Story: The Olden World 
// by Czar_Yoshi 
//------------------------------//

Gerardo blinked heavily in the sudden influx of daylight. Wasn't it evening, with heavy cloud cover, and weren't they three stories beneath the ground?

The door swung wider, and he pressed through it, intensely curious. Staring upward as he walked, he took in broad, rectangular metal walls that stretched upward before fading into a haze of blueness, exactly the same shade as the summer sky. Shadows of pipes and ventilation ducts were faintly visible through the fog, like an illusion that didn't want to be dispelled, and a chartreuse point-source hung in the middle, mimicking the sun.

He felt something press against his chest and stopped, neck still craned to the sky. "Is that... an enchanted ceiling?" he murmured, trying to make out the true extent of the heights.

"Sure is," Egil gloated from the side. "Something tells me you don't really need me to tell you who done it. But if you like that, maybe you'll want to have a look around at the rest of the place?"

With some effort, Gerardo managed to look down. The object he had bumped against was a guard rail, belonging to a catwalk which ran halfway around the edge of the room, about a meter off the floor. Said floor was clean and tidy, sporting a selection of well-populated round tables with a staffed counter at one end and a raised speaking platform at the other. The sounds of stallion laughter filled the air, though it was beginning to die down as more and more ponies noticed the newcomers' presence.

Gerardo snapped his talons. "I knew this sounded like a bar."

"We didn't say it wasn't!" Bardal shrugged with a grin. "It's just also Shinespark's office. Granted, it's also one of the cleanest, safest, most professional bars in Ironridge, so once you've finished whatever your business is, stay as long as you like!"

"That's... very nice," Gerardo answered. "I can't say I'm the world's biggest drinker, but I have been known to indulge in a celebratory glass every now and then. However, now is most definitely not the time for that. Might I see Shinespark immediately?"

He stopped and blinked, brain catching up with his words. "Also, do you mean to say that Shinespark, renowned across much of Ironridge for whatever the reason, is... headquartered in an underground bar? What could possibly possess a pony to choose a base of operations so odd?"

"One question at a time, bud!" Egil interrupted. "Sloooow. She's around here... More specifically, this is around her because she likes being accessible and near us all the time! What better thing to do with your place than make it welcoming?"

Gerardo nodded. "Fair enough, but when might I-?"

He was interrupted in turn as the room's crowd finally got around to speaking for themselves... with varying degrees of eloquence. "Dude!" A younger stallion pointed a hoof. "You're a griffon!"

"Yes. I am, in fact, a griffon." Gerardo blinked back. "Now-"

The crowd instantly cut him off, multiple ponies getting up and walking to the balcony, eyes shining with interest. "Are you-?" one began, only to be silenced by three others.

"Who-?" another cut in, before being interrupted himself.

"I cannot hear you all over this din!" Gerardo bellowed, failing to halt the crowd's noise. Sharpie covered her ears with her wings and Egil belched thunderously, and neither had much of an effect.

Then, from the middle of the room, someone cleared their throat... and everyone fell silent.

"It's not very hospitable to bombard your guests like so," came a feminine voice from a lone, hooded pony with her own cup, own table and own circle of space that none of the others seemed to violate. "If you attack anyone who walks through your door, whether with attention or spears, it won't make them want to come back."

The rest of the room didn't make a sound. Making the most of the silence, the hooded pony looked up at Gerardo with deep, orange eyes, and said, "Please forgive them for acting like children. They do mean the best, I assure you."

"Err..." Gerardo clicked his beak. "No offense taken. However, might I speak to Shinespark as soon as possible? I came here because I have something of very great import to discuss."

"We have something important to discuss," Sharpie corrected, some of the ponies below seemingly noticing her for the first time.

"She isn't here right now," the cloaked mare responded, not taking her eyes off Gerardo. "I can call her back, if it matters, and anything suitable for her ears is also fit for mine."

Judging from the other ponies' reaction to her, Gerardo presumed she wasn't lying about her importance. "That would be greatly appreciated," he said, bowing from on top of the catwalk. "Is it possible we might go somewhere more private to talk, however? This is... not suitable for most ponies."

Wordlessly, the mare rose, her figure tall beneath her robe, and seemingly glided across the ground to a door in the far wall. When she noticed Gerardo wasn't following, she turned over her shoulder and called, "This way."

"O-Of course!" Quickly, Gerardo stepped down a small staircase to the floor, Sharpie close behind him. As he waded through the sea of tables, the eyes of the ponies around him bored in eagerly, wanting very badly for him to stay or talk or do anything but leave. Bardal and Egil followed hesitantly, but soon fell behind, seeming to detect that if they were meant to be a part of the following conversation, someone would have said something first. Then, the door closed behind him, and save for Sharpie and the hooded mare, he was alone.

They were in a tunnel, tubular in shape, with wooden wall paneling and soft, natural-colored lights placed in knots all around them. The floor was a series of rugs, and looked like it would have been carpet were that not annoyingly difficult to clean. It wound its way around and upward out of sight, and a gentle ventilated breeze moved by, keeping the air from growing stale.

The mare shrugged her hood off, gray with purple stripes, and revealed an elegant square muzzle in front of a snow-white coat and long orange mane. She sized them up for a moment in the privacy of the tunnel, before nodding. "Let us get to my daughter's office to talk. It's much more comfortable than standing around here."

"Your daughter?" Sharpie stiffened, as if remembering she was supposed to bow. "Then you're Matryona?"

That earned a smile in return, though it was tarnished with a wistfulness that seemed embodied in her cloak. "I'm not nearly as famous as Shinespark, but it is good to know ponies remember me, sometimes. Depending on what I'm remembered for..." She turned away with a swish of fabric. "Come."