“Hwalba knaze, it is a wonderful pleasure to welcome you to the Midnight’s Library once again!” Archcurator Star Vellum, with a bow deep enough to dispute his old age, greeted Twilight as she entered the stalagnate. His elderly voice had a note of courteous joy, with far less worry and stress than before.
“It is an honor to visit again, Archcurator,” Twilight eagerly and honestly replied, giving the venerable stallion a regal nod.
Though, despite her best intentions, her eyes were already darting all over the place.
However could she stop herself?
This Library, this wonderful and unique place was like a deep, hidden fantasy of hers – a space entirely devoted to learning, full of knowledge to uncover, information to gain and secrets to stumble upon. Organized with thought and, truly, towering elegance. And with an entire community of archivists, zealously dedicated to keeping all of the parchments and books in their best condition for current and future generations.
Twilight tried to hide a wide smile. Without any success. Nor real effort, actually.
The Archcurator couldn’t have missed it if he tried. “Forgive me that I allow myself those words, Honored Princess... but it makes the blood of an old archivist redden to see this spark of eagerness from entering a study.”
“I... think I grasp what you mean by this expression, Archcurator,” Twilight responded, still drinking from the monumentality. “And... I think there is a deep, innate understanding and mutual appreciation between all those that find their inspiration in studying and books, despite any and all possible differences.”
Trying to be as diplomatic and tactful as she could, Twilight still wished to show her mounting happiness. There was a sense of kinship between scholars, no matter such things as race or beliefs, and this Library could prove it all.
“I hope to see as much of the Midnight’s Library as possible... without breaking any rules, nor disrupting the institution’s work, of course!” she added gracefully.
“Fear not, Honored Princess, we are receiving entire hosts of visitors from not only our Mountain, but our kin of other Families who had been allowed access. We are always ready to organize ourselves to ac... to accommodate everypony,” Star Vellum assured, stammering a little. He lowered his head. “Please, forgive me if my Equestrian would fail me at times, Honored Princess. Other than for noble and necessary practice, we do not truly use it...”
“That is more than understandable, Archcurator. Besides, your skills must only be praised,” Twilight had to say. “I think I should be the one feeling... lacking, as my Noctraliyar is very, very basic.”
Star Vellum just smiled. “That might be, but it is quite achievable to master our tongue, Honored Princess, worry not. I am certain that even your entourage would gladly give you lessons in it.”
Midnight and Rowan Berry, both standing in proper distance from the conversation, nodded in unison.
“It would be our pleasure to aid you further, hwalba knaze...” the healer claimed, her coral eyes glinting with the Library’s candlelight. “You have already mastered some basics and you clearly have a talent.”
Twilight fought off a blush of praise. Well, she had a rather... specific motivation to attempt to possess that skill.
She focused. “Iae g-grate tue, lupule. Ale, iae ecuse, iae... ah... iae znate iz iae... uhm...” She tried to forge a sentence, but got stuck rather quickly. “I know I have a lot more studying before me.”
The Archcurator shook his head, his kind expression only growing. “Forta conate, hwalba knaze, a brave try. Your accent is feint but already most proper.”
“Thank you, Archcurator. I know I will brave this language barrier one day... or ‘night’, rather.”
“Bravery and dedication is exactly what one needs to tackle Noctraliyar,” Star Vellum pointed out. “I want to believe you have those aplenty, Honored Princess.”
“I think we could all vouch for that, after our Honored Lord’s latest declarations,” a familiar voice resounded from the side
Midnight Whisper, seemingly out of nowhere, made his way towards the gathered, giving his due, respectful bows to everypony. His loose, archivist’s robes rustled as he approached.
“Ah, Maednoc Sept, how beneficial of you to be around,” the Archcurator called towards Midnight’s father, his eyes lighting up. “You are exactly who I need.”
“Of course, Pzepatrunan Giwazde Wellin, I shall be happy to attend. What is required of me?”
“The Honored Princess has been allowed access to Maednoca Tabulre and its contents, restricted only by caste and tradition customs. I think she would like a tour around the most important, shared locations,” Archcurator explained, glancing Twilight’s way generously. “You would be a perfect pony to help her in this, Midnight Whisper, if your tasks are not pressing.”
“It shall be my honor and privilege to serve,” came a most polite answer. “Besides, I will try and grasp every opportunity to spend more time with my son too.”
Midnight did not fight a wide smile, though he still gave a proper, polite salute at being mentioned.
Star Vellum just shook his head, a breathy chuckle escaping him. “Far be it from me to stop familial relations... Speaking of which, I believe the Honored Princess would enjoy a visit to the Legatuum, she appeared most interested in the prospect before.”
“Oh, the genealogical records? I still am, Archcurator, without a doubt,” Twilight admitted, not minding showing her excitement anymore. She took a step forth, glancing all over the place again, at the scrolls and books, all embellished by candlelight. “To find such a great love for history and legacy, and such respect for knowledge... It fascinates me!”
“Then the Library is yours to explore, Honored Princess. May it be a testament to Rodine Maednoc,” the Archcurator replied, with satisfaction of a parent seeing their child’s desire to learn.
But then he shook his head, turning around. “Such a shame. Such a shame. Other Families caring more for the sharpness of their fangs than the sharpness of their minds. For the well-being of their bellies than that of their books... Neskaza Lunee...”
With a constant string of words, his gaze somewhat distant, the Archcurator trotted away in a steady pace, leaving Twilight somewhat confused.
And, well, hanging. What other Family-based stereotypes was he building his disappointment on?
Midnight Whisper, in the meantime, approached her, his trot almost soundless. “You will have to excuse the Pzepatrunan, Honored Princess.” He looked after Star Vellum. “His age is upon him heavily and he sometimes starts to... what is the word...”
“ ‘Grumble’, father,” Midnight provided aid with a stage whisper.
“Maednoc Wentr, be respectful,” came the quick admonishment, yet soon followed by a shrug. “But that is very accurate, yes.”
Twilight just hid a chuckle behind her hoof. “I think that can be somewhat understandable. And even though I... find this custom rather exceptional, I see that the Family stereotypes are being maintained.”
“Ah, so you know about those, Honored Princess.” Midnight Whisper smirked. “A force of habit and tradition, most definitely, one dating back pretty much since the birth of the Matrie.” His saffron eyes glanced towards Rowan Berry. “Besides, it is simply a fact. Neither Family Fang nor... Family Dusk pay much attention to the proper art of gathering knowledge, finding their focus... elsewhere.”
The healer stood motionless for a second, then inhaled deeply. “Allow me to debate that, arciwan Maednoc Sept. I want to believe House Mountrose is an exception. Even though we are a plebesu Dom, our medicinal knowledge is not a matter of instinct, but long and careful studies.”
“Mostly large amounts of oral tradition, typical of Family Dusk... or am I mistaken, Yazembe Acine?”
Rowan Berry did not reply, just looked aside, in an expression that was showing... vexation.
Twilight was listening to this exchange with the natural curiosity, but also an amount of worry. The presence of traditional rivalry in Noctraliya, between the Families, was still something... exotic to her. Hard to grasp. To see another pony as your kin and your adversary?
The colloquial term “frenemy” came to mind.
But there was something more to this custom, at least in what she had just seen. The way that Midnight Whisper put emphasis on the, she supposed inferior in Family Midnight’s eyes, way of passing knowledge... It was as if he schooled Rowan Berry about a fact which she should have been well aware of.
Twilight did not appreciate such a haughty approach. Especially from Midnight’s father, who so far had appeared far more kind and amiable... but such behavior did fit Family Midnight’s own stereotype.
Thankfully, Midnight Whisper abandoned the tone and nodded her way with a gentle smile. “I am at your service, Honored Princess, I shall gladly show you around this second home of mine. If it would be your wish to venture strait to the Legatuum, I will find the shortest path...”
Twilight raised her hoof, having banished the worries for the moment. There was a Library to familiarize herself with. “Actually, I was considering taking a... slower stroll, if that would be fine? This place reminds me of the Canterlot Archives, a place rather dear to me back in Equestria... and the Midnight’s Library is vastly bigger. I would not mind learning more about it on a longer trip.”
Midnight, stepping away from the disheartened Rowan Berry, spoke up. “No pony to better answer your questions about it than my father, Honored Princess. And I think you could enjoy the same routes that he used to take me through when I was little. The more splenic ones.”
In Twilight’s defense, she really tried to not burst into laughter. Really. With all of her Midnight-loving heart.
But the snort which escaped her was maybe even worse, almost causing her dearest to jump back.
The sound which escaped Midnight Whisper’s direction, instead, was that of a facehoof. “The Equestrian word, iau filiy, is ‘scenic’ and now I see I should have dragged you to the Tabulre far more often.”
“Hah, well, archivist, uhm,” Twilight faltered out, wiping away a tear, “that could have resulted in me never having a Nightguardian such as Midnight Wind as my sentinel.”
Midnight, his muzzle trying to get rid of the embarrassed red, gave her a rapid, affectionate glance.
“I’ll take it as my consolation prize...” Midnight Whisper agreed, then turned to his son. “Repeat after me – ‘con-so-la-tion’.”
“Tat!”
Twilight ended up snorting again.
After such a one of a kind start, she soon found herself again engrossed completely in the Library’s beauty. Following the archivist through spiral staircases of dark wood and sprawling passages filled with candlelight, she was subjected to numerous and vast chambers of the Library, surrounding the central, hollowed shaft that worked as a wonderful waypoint.
Those spacious and stacked rooms were reminding her of the Archives back home, with heavy cabinets marked diligently and countless scrolls reaching the high ceiling. Yet, in comparison to the Midnight’s Library, with its magnitude and organization, with its annals and parchments galore, with its splendor of silver-labeled cases, the Canterlot Archives looked like a wanting collection of an upstart snob.
Even as enchanted and overwhelmed by the sights as she was, Twilight nevertheless paid great attention to Midnight Whisper’s words.
“It is natural thing for us, noctrali, to gather and save knowledge, and every Iug in our lands has its own treasury like this, vital and protected... but Maednoca Taublre is righteously considered the greatest of them all. Our Family’s Library houses more than four hundred thousand scrolls and books. More than a quarter of those are dating back to the times even before the sorrowful Atrlunee.”
“Millennium-old, at least... That is hard to believe,” Twilight replied, stopping for a moment to examine one of the near-countless bookcases, marked with the batpony alphabet. The scrolls on the shelves were of absolutely stellar condition, if her own experience could tell her anything. “We, of course, have ancient treaties in Equestria, dating before the time of Nightmare Moon... or ‘Impora Maroce’, but not in such great numbers.”
Midnight stepped right next to her, himself looking rather interested in the collection. “I might be a wampir and not an arciwan, Honored Princess, but it is a universal truth. Our entire Family values wisdom that comes from history a great deal. Our sign is the open tome, the basis of our faith and loyalty to the Immaculate Moon...”
“My son is right,” the archivist immediately agreed. “We all look to the future with our past as our foundation.”
“That is one of our maksyimi, actually,” Midnight further added.
“Oh? Mak... Maksyimi? What are those?”
Rowan Berry, staying rather silent since the start of the trip, spoke from behind Twilight. “Proverbs and mottos, more or less official, connected to a Dom or an entire Rodine, hwalba knaze...”
“Indeed,” Midnight Whisper affirmed. “And the one I mean is... Z pratemps gdye postemps. I think the best translation would be... ‘From the past unto the future,’ ” he clarified, earning an approving nod from Twilight.
“I understand and that’s an ideal I can stand behind, wholeheartedly,” she agreed, looking at her companions. “Only when we face the past and learn from it can we move on, avoiding repetition of our mistakes.”
“Very, very well said, Honored Princess,” the archivist praised her, his smile fanged and sincere. And the approval, in the face of the recent events, blatant. “This Library, this great place, is our testimony to this principle, from its very bottom to the very top.”
Midnight bowed his head solemnly at this declaration, whilst Rowan Berry remained somewhat brooding, though that was quite justified. She could not feel too comfortable in a famed place of a Family that saw her own House as inferior.
... kind of like Twilight, herself, had felt, back during the summit with the Covenant. It was nothing pleasant to be judged and patronized.
Turning her attention back to the one cabinet they stopped next to, Twilight narrowed her eyes. “If all of the collections are kept in a remarkable condition similar to those scrolls before me... that’s another achievement on its own. What is done to preserve the works here, if I might ask?”
“Archivists of our Mountain have specific ways that, I am afraid, I cannot reveal the details of to those unaffiliated with our Tabulre,” Midnight Whisper replied solemnly.
“Caste rules. That’s quite alright, I understand,” Twilight agreed, though not without a little inner twinge of disappointment.
The archivist must have taken note of it. “However, I can safely reveal that the process is rather time-consuming and to preserve everything takes most of our time here. The works safeguarded here are checked regularly and parchments that show any signs of... what would be the word... ‘degradation’?”
“Yes, that’s the term.”
“Parchments showing signs of degradation are immediately taken to be restored, or carefully copied, down to their traditional markings and illustrations, if they have those.”
Twilight, upon hearing that, felt a sudden and unstoppable surge of interest course through her. “Your manuscripts have illuminations?!”
From behind the countless bookcases a chorus of hushes and hisses echoed, causing her to cheep. “Iae ecuse,” she meekly told the invisible crowd.
Midnight Whisper just chuckled. He reached out for one of the scrolls. “Let me show you, if you please, Honored Princess. Follow me.”
With the chosen work in his foreleg, he lead the group towards the center of the cavern. There, surrounded by walls of written knowledge, desks were placed, some of them occupied by stallions and mares carefully reading the documents, or taking quick notes in the light of small, iron lamps.
Midnight Whisper, nodding left and right in greetings, finally stopped by one of those desks and placed the parchment on the dark wood. He waited for Twilight, who was trying to placate the present batponies for her previous transgression with nodding and smiling apologetically. When she came close enough, the archivist unrolled the scroll with a steady, but delicate motion, allowing her to witness the contents.
And she was bewitched by the sight before her. This time, unlike with the Testimony, her excitement allowed her to fully engross herself in what she was beholding.
First to grab her attention were, of course, the graceful, spiraling letters of the batpony alphabet, here written in a stoic cursive. They were dancing upon the parchment with elegance, so different from Equestrian script. The spirals and circles, and sometimes even triangles, were luring her with their unknown meaning, hiding their precious secrets right in before her eyes. She tried to find any sign that would mean anything to her, but even a letter vaguely resembling a capital “e” was not only curved and pointed in the other direction, but had four bars total.
Not finding anything to decipher, nor any inkblots at all, which only spoke of the dedication of the archivists, Twilight let her eyes wander above the text, towards the tempting colors.
She was rather familiar with the way that Old Equestrian writers would often embellish their works. Strange, impossible but colorful creatures, scenes from everyday, pony life, even peculiar, almost satirical depictions of the Royal Guard fighting snails, for example.
But batpony archivists appeared more diligent than allowing themselves to just scribble and doodle. House sigils, depictions of mountain peaks, highland flowers, vines and roots, the parchments were an incredible collage of motifs that made Twilight almost want to touch them, to check if they felt as lovely as they looked. And the batpony attention to details in their art was blatant, down to veins shown on the painted leaves.
“That is... truly something.”
“Very glad you find it praiseworthy, Honored Princess,” Midnight Whisper responded, smiling widely. “This particular work is ‘Ingenyi Sem Iugi’. ‘The Great Seven Mountains’. It treats about Noctraliya as a country and place, a general description, I would say. That is why we have a lot of plants and peaks presented here.”
“Oh, so illustrations match the topic of the particular work! That reminds me of some almanacs back home,” Twilight replied eagerly, still examining the work before her. “Is this a... local style, or a general tradition, present around the Mountains?”
“There are local differences between works, depending on the Family,” Midnight chimed in, looking over her shoulder. “But the same can be said about things like architecture. Still, the common basis remains the same.”
“How is it in the Dusk Family’s case, Rowan Berry?” Twilight asked the healer, who had been patiently standing to the side, seemingly uninterested.
“Well...” She pondered for a while. “The works that my House has... whilst less numerous,” she added, glancing Midnight Whisper’s way, “must be very precise when it comes to matters of plant life. Herbalism is about being able to identify the kwiati with care, and use those in particular doses in various mixtures. So the depictions have to be, in the same way, accurate.”
“Very true,” the archivist replied. “Illustrations are tools, as much as embellishments. It is a principle you might find about a lot, Honored Princess. We are not shunning elegance, no, but for its sake we must never lose sight of practicality.”
“I can tell, easily! Like, this pair of silver hoofshoes I’ve—”
Midnight shifted his balance, putting down one of his hooves with a metallic clang.
And Twilight, having fallen victim to the enthralling work before her, only thanks to that realized that the one example that she was about to share with everypony was about her silver hoofshoes indeed. The one from Avalanche.
With a hidden blade in them.
Definitely not something to just bring up to the discussion. Even if those fit both it and her.
“You were saying, hwalba knaze,” Rowan Berry encouraged her, leaning forth a little.
“A-actually... that was not really a good example that just came to me, never mind,” Twilight lied rather quickly. “Thank you for showing me this scroll, archivist, it’s... it’s a work of art.”
“Our pleasure, Honored Princess.”
Twilight grinned bashfully, quickly glancing at Midnight. She hoped her gaze would be enough of a ‘thank you’ for the moment.
Despite the vast size of the Midnight’s Library, the route they took finally led them towards a cavern accessible directly from the main shaft. The entrance was marked by the sigil of Midnight Family, with markings akin to veins descending down the two columns framing the passage. And, before they ventured forth, Midnight Whisper turned to Rowan Berry with a stern gaze.
“You know what lies here, lupule, and that you must remain outside.”
The mare just nodded her head, diligently staying behind. “I am aware, archivist Midnight Whisper. Honored Princess, I shall remain here until you exit the Legatuum.”
Twilight glanced back, a bit surprised. “The Family records stored here are restricted?”
“Yes, Honored Princess,” Midnight told her, taking his place a bit closer. “Rowan Berry, being of Family Dusk, could only access the bloodline chronicles if she were given permission from our Honored Lord, Eye of Family Midnight. And among us, such permissions are really only granted when noctrali from different Mountains are to be married, to learn about the lines of ver that shall be now flowing as one.”
Twilight squinted. “May I ask... this knowledge does not seem like it could be in any way... misused by other Families, so why exactly is this a regulation?”
“A matter of tradition,” Midnight Whisper responded with the kindest of smiles.
This short answer did not really clarify anything for Twilight. And neither did the smile. On the contrary, it only made her wonder if something else was, perhaps, the true explanation for this policy...
She was not going to press the topic here, though.
“If that is what tradition demands, far be it from me to tarnish it.”
“Your respect is much appreciated, Honored Princess,” the archivist thanked her, this time transparently. “Rowan Berry shall remain here, but you have been allowed to witness the place, by the will of the hwalbu haspadr. Please...”
The inside of this “Legatuum” was, definitely, more ornate than the rest of the Library. However, here the decorations were not in the silver labels and oaken wood, no. Instead, Twilight saw dark, chiseled walls and imposing carvings. Mostly – of the various crests and coats of arms of the Houses that constituted the Midnight Family. She could recognize some of them already. The three, descending stars of House Starfall. The mountain of House Pinnacle. House Rockslide, with the hoof crushing sheer stone . Their symbols were placed, done in marble, over wide niches containing a substantial amount of scrolls.
And if each scroll meant a single branch, or an important line...
“Welcome to the Legatuum u Rodine Maednoc, Honored Princess,” Midnight Whisper greeted her officially, when they stood in the center of the cavern, surrounded by the vast records. “Here, since the earliest sources we possess, the blood of Family Midnight can be traced back through the ages.”
“That... that is a... a most remarkable sight,” Twilight agreed, looking about with excitement and awe that began rising even more than before. “Those scrolls... it’s... it’s an entire civilization looking at me.”
Midnight chuckled lightly, seeing her reaction, but his tone was soft and solemn. “Well, the one civilization that lived here, in the Iug u Maednoc, but... yes, these are the chronicles of all of our ancestors.”
Twilight, knowing her eyes must have been bulging with curiosity, soon found the main sigil of the Midnight Family, but, in addition to the entirely filled niches, she also spotted passageways leading deeper into the rock.
“If I might guess, the main lineage in the Family will have much greater records, due to sheer population? Hence the further corridors?”
Midnight Whisper beamed. “Well deduced, Honored Princess. The main bloodline of a Rodine usually has numerous veins, or as you say in Ekwestriya ‘branches’. Those are being, also, paid a lot of attention to. Not a drop of our blood is unfamiliar to us.”
“Also, since our veins often meet,” Midnight added in reverence, “it is most necessary. We have rather strict rules when it comes to marrying both into our line and among it. There must be enough of a... gap, I think the word can be?”
“Ah, yes, of course. That is vital, for many reasons.”
There weren’t many batponies about, just a couple of robed arcemandri, discussing something over one of the spread scrolls, pointing to its different parts. From this distance Twilight had no chance of discerning what it could have been about, but the hushed voices seemed to be most serious.
It came as no surprise to her. This entire place resonated with dignity and majesty. And importance. It was one thing to know your ancestry a couple generations behind. Another – to keep track of it since the conception of your country, if not race.
It was a matter of identity for the batponies.
“Archivist Midnight Whisper?”
“Yes, Honored Princess?”
“I know you said that I am permitted to see the Legatuum as a whole... but... could I examine at least one of those scrolls as well?” Twilight asked with the most respectful tone she could muster.
As Midnight Whisper’s brow knitted, she regretted her audacity. But, being so close to such treasures like these chronicles, she could not just stop herself.
“I am aware of the vital importance of these records. I wish to show this collection all the respect that it rightfully deserves, but, I simply cannot lie – I am most interested in the contents, as a scholar.”
“The scrolls here are, to also tell the truth, reserved for the noctrali of our blood, or wishing to join theirs with ours...” Midnight Whisper let her know, his expression not softening.
But when Twilight was about to relent, Midnight came to her aid. “Padr, I am too visiting the Legatuum. I can safely request access to the records of my own ancestry.”
“That is true, iau filiy,” the archivist agreed, though a shade passed through his muzzle.
“The Honored Princess will be but an observer then, witnessing the greatness of our blood as an academic, nothing more.”
“That I am aware of, yet...” Midnight Whisper glanced at Twilight, before he suddenly switched to the native tongue. “Iau filiy, tu adium hwalba knaze, to bid waznu, ale... bid tu certu? Dosit certu...? Ia memn tuu zal i... tua marite bid—”
Midnight took a deep breath and hissed quietly, which silenced his father. “Ia znat, tat, I znat. Ale ia bid certu. Ia mozn i ia musyi robit to. Ia musyi perwigr oba pratemps i zal. Tantem.”
Twilight did not have to try and understand the exact words. Her beloved’s feelings and Midnight Whisper’s blatant worry were clear enough. And when Midnight turned to her, she saw it in his stare...
If he were to see his own Family record... then Dusk Stream surely would be in it.
“I... don’t have to see anything, Midnight Wind, especially at your expense.”
His answer was strangely calm. “Please, Honored Princess. I shall be fine. And I want for you to have an opportunity of learning.”
“I will never require anything like this of you. If you do not wish to be reminded—”
Midnight glanced at his father, before his gaze again joined with hers. “Honored Princess, it is thanks to you that I can even consider this, that I am coming to terms with the past.” He lowered his voice. “This shall be my repayment for your kindness.”
“Then,” Twilight tried to stop her words from shaking with emotions, “I accept it. I have given and now I have taken...”
He was not enduring this choice for something as trivial as her curiosity, after all. It was another step in his closure.
Closure of a love lost... for a love gained.
Midnight Whisper said nothing at their exchange. But, when his gaze crossed Twilight’s again, she saw the same respect that Garnet Hoof shared with her. That of a parent most thankful.
As it happened, the rather thick scroll in question was present in the main section of the Family Midnight’s niches, second one from the bottom. Twilight remained silent, to show respect, especially since Midnight’s eyes did lose a lot of their usual keenness, despite his declarations.
She could not show her gratitude for Midnight’s decision that openly, but, when his father was taking care to prepare the document, she sent him a most tender smile. Full of affection.
The little nod of his head sufficed for the moment.
After a while, Midnight Whisper placed the record vertically on the closest, stone table, embellished with the same vein markings as the columns by the entrance.
“Wind of Family Midnight, you face your kindred. Approach,” the archivist declared with veneration, meaning these words for both of them. When Twilight too came close, he prudently unrolled the scroll.
It was, indeed, a detailed and elegant family tree of the main line of Family Midnight, sprawling and numerous. Twilight was again at the mercy of the batpony alphabet, yes... but also at the mercy of the aforementioned kindred.
Many of them. All looking directly at her, unflinching.
Forever preserved in colorful inks.
“Those... those are portraits,” she uttered, her eyes darting left and right.
“Yes, Honored Princess,” Midnight Whisper confirmed, spreading the document even further. More and more faces appeared before Twilight. Majestic, smirking, melancholic and casual. A multitude of characters, all tied together with drawn lines, truly like veins, of their familial relationship.
The archivist continued, pointing at the various ancestors of Family Midnight. “It is customary and obligatory to include each noctralu likeness in such a record. For all generations to know and remember it. The notes underneath each of our progniti show their name, caste that they belonged to and their talent, with the accurate portrayal of their ‘cutie mark’, as you say it. Also their date of birth and the moment of passing into the Argentee. And whether they have been, at any point, a haspadr or a hrabiy. Here you have the main line of our Family, with Honored Lord Eye of Family Midnight. His likeness on top of a spread cloak and crowned by the circlet, the signs of his position, like his father before him.”
Indeed, the Midnights’ haspadr was present close to the center of the immortalized company. His face was as imperious as in real life and the art style did not have to add to the fierceness of his visage. Same with his wife, Midnight Iris, a stoic, unfaltering matron. Countess Bright Midnight, on the other hoof, somewhat escaped that particular, menacing look of her parents, her portrait resting amongst folds of a lying cape, in preparation for her future role. Other than the slight sharpness of her features, it was an exact image of the smiling young mare, including the milky cataracts in her eyes.
“Very, very impressive work,” Twilight concluded, genuinely impressed.
“Updated and redone regularly, actually, every decade or so, depending on the need. This one is from about two years ago, Honored Princess.”
Twilight continued her exploration.
Midnight Iris, instead of her ancestor, had an elegant annotation above her head, possibly a referral to another scroll and another branch of the Midnight Family. But Midnight Eye’s father was there, a venerable stallion of long, wavy mane falling on both sides of his head like a curtain. He wore a high collar variation of the elegant, local attire. And his expression was even more authoritarian than that of his son, which spoke volumes.
“And very... dignifying.”
“Yes... and no, Honored Princess,” Midnight Whisper told her, leaning over the scroll a bit to see where her gaze ventured. “Honored Lord Sight of Family Midnight was a haspadr of great charisma and dedication, even if it was backed by... copious amounts of pride, it has to be said. The way of portrayal in Family records is meant to be as close to reality as possible, though, at the latest, noctrali are shown in their middle-age. Yet that is why we redo those collections that often and why, for example, Midnight Gale, my padr, trala ip w Argentee, is still missing his eye in here.”
Following Midnight Whisper’s hoof, Twilight indeed stumbled upon a portrait of a rather brawny, despite his seniority, stallion of cobalt mane and a piercing, golden stare. Of, indeed, one eye, for the other was covered by a dark cloth band. Two, vertical scars ran down the stallion’s muzzle, but he seemed quite proud of them.
And, at least, Twilight knew from whom had Midnight inherited this piercing stare of his.
She glanced at her beloved. He was motionlessly standing right next to her, his expression inscrutable.
She knew where he was looking. The question was... did she dare to do so too?
She met with Midnight Gale again and continued downwards. Midnight Whisper’s exact likeness met her gaze, alongside Garnet Hoof right nearby, shown with a caring smile of a gentle mare that she was.
Then came Midnight, his eyes, even if just on the parchment, boring into Twilight’s own in the most amazing of ways.
And finally... Dusk Stream.
Twilight... didn’t know how to feel at first. To see the image of your love’s previous affection was... peculiar. But she could not really name this sensation at first. It was not envy... or jealousy, or anything of the sort. Nor was this a notion of inferiority from not being Midnight’s... first choice, so to speak.
It was something else. Something complex. Something convoluted.
But, if those images in the scroll were meant to be as close to authenticity as possible, then it had to be said – Dusk Stream was a most alluring mare. There was tenderness in her gaze and warmth in her visage. But also something fleeting in her expression. Mysterious. Like the first colors of the night, as Midnight himself had stated once. Her mane was dark, amaranth, and her stare marigold. Almost shy.
The shuffling of armor and a long exhale resounded right next to Twilight. “Neskaza Lunee... risunae ad tue wiecn, Waesper Strumiene...” Midnight uttered, his eyes closed.
His father simply nodded, with an expression of empathy. “Ab Bogine, iau filiy, edn noc tu znayda klaze amat znuw.”
Midnight said nothing. Twilight just felt him moving a little closer.
She spoke up, keeping her tone soft. “I am, again, so sorry for your loss, Midnight Wind. She was truly beautiful...”
“She was that and everything else,” he admitted, a nostalgic smile dancing on his lips. “But now she is with the Goddess... and she would not want me stuck on the past forever... no matter what.” He shook his head and sniffed once. “I have successfully faced my life’s story, finally... but please, Honored Princess, I do not wish to interrupt you. Do continue.”
She wouldn’t mind not doing that. She wouldn’t mind just leaving the Legatuum behind right then, Family records be damned, and finding a secluded spot with Midnight to hold onto him and tell him that she understood him and that she loved him all the more.
There would be time for that.
Giving Dusk Stream one more glance, she moved away, examining the rest of the Family Midnight’s genealogical tree. She lacked the information provided by the descriptions, but even without those, she could tell that the sprawling lineage had ponies of all walks of life in it, if their clothing and cutie marks were of any indication.
“Two, crossed pickaxes... A miner?”
Midnight Whisper attended her. “Oh? Ah, yes, indeed. Ash Midnight, my relative that...” He blinked. “That I have no idea how to call in your language, Honored Princess, forgive me. ‘Third cousin’ but somehow... ‘removed’ once?”
“That works, yes, but don’t worry about this kind of precision, archivist, it’s hard enough for us, back in Equestria!”
Despite the name and the occupation, this Ash Midnight’s portrait was as exquisite as all others. It, actually, warmed Twilight’s heart that, no matter the role and caste and position, everypony had such flawless—
... what was that?
Right on the edge of the parchment, just below its still rolled part and almost hidden from her view, Twilight took note of a mark that definitely did not belong among the pictures, nor the annotations. It looked like some... brown dirt that, somehow, got into the scroll!
Which was unthinkable.
Reacting on a whim, she reached out for the roller and moved it upwards.
“Hwalba kn—” was as much as Midnight Whisper managed to blurt out, not quick enough to stop her.
Twilight could feel her eyes widening.
It was not dirt.
There was surely a portrait there once, belonging to Ash Midnight’s father, if the line was to be considered. However, instead of it, a brown and black blotch ruined the, otherwise perfect, record! Big enough to cover all the information about that particular pony!
It was like a scorch mark, even! Inconceivable!
“What happened here?” Twilight asked outright, perturbed by the sight.
But nopony answered her.
She glanced to her sides. Midnight was staring at the scroll... startled by the blemish. And Midnight Whisper’s gaze could, by itself, burn with its sheer intensity.
Yet his tone was cold. Unnaturally cold. “Nothing happened, Honored Princess.”
She blinked and frowned, not grasping such an answer. “But... but this looks like a burn, or—”
“Honored Princess, it is nothing.”
“B—”
“Nothing,” Midnight Whisper insisted, grabbing the roller of the document and pulling it down. Even so, Twilight could see the mark even on the other side, its darker, burnt hue quite obvious now that she was paying attention to it.
She turned to Midnight, who did not meet her gaze, falsely focused on the distant wall. “... what does this mean?”
He took a deep breath. “Nothing, Honored Princess. There is nothing there.”
... this was getting strange. And troubling.
And somehow aggravating.
“There is supposed to be a portrait there, no? And all the information.”
Midnight glanced back at her. In his eyes she could see... angst. “Well—”
“Maednoc Wentr!” Midnight Whisper warned, a dangerous note in his usually so collected voice.
“... there was never a portrait there. No information,” Midnight corrected himself, then, again, looked away.
Twilight took a step back from the scroll and the stallions. Her eyes were darting between them, in absolute bewilderment. They were not only lying – they were denying the obvious and the logical.
“But... but Ash Midnight came from someplace, he must have had—”
“Please, Honored Princess, there is nothing there. Nopony was ever portrayed there,” Midnight told her again and his tone, at this point, was that of... pleading.
Twilight cared, but... just couldn’t comprehend it! In such a wonderful record, suddenly a terrible mark?! And equally sudden persistence of her companions on there not being even—
Midnight Whisper abruptly rolled the document close and sealed it. He took it in his forelegs. “Nothing was to see there, for nothing nor nopony were ever there, Honored Princess,” he spoke, his tone composed and yet obviously disturbed. “Please, we can see other parts of the Tabulre now.”
Enough was enough for Twilight’s sensibility and reason!
“And whatever happened to Ash Midnight’s father?”
... she should have, for once, been more unreasonable.
The busy group of arcemandri on the other side of the Legatuum, upon hearing the question which echoed all over the vast chamber, suddenly froze, all glaring her way. A selection of most fierce eyes focused on her and her alone. And before she could comprehend what all of this meant, one of them hissed at her in a most vicious, batpony way.
“Leave,” she heard not a request, but an order, the accent thick and the tone steadfast. “Leave, now.”
Twilight wanted to react, but Midnight stepped between her and the group, shielding her with his own wings, stretched wide. “Twilight, we need to go. Come, please,” he whispered quickly.
He begged her.
She felt a burn mark in her mind. No lesser than the one in the Midnight Family’s chronicle.
... if this was really “nothing”... why did it matter so much...?