Obituaries
It is with a heavy heart that we must announce the passing of our beloved cousin and friend, the Right Honorable Lord Springheart, Baron of Sparoak, taken from us to the next world on the 19th day of Redleaf, in the 474th year of our reign. He follows his son, Colonel Sir Galeheart, Knight Commander of the Royal Guard Hussars, and daughter, Dame Softmane Surehoof, inventor of the hyperbolodial mirror, Fellow of the Royal Canterlot Academy of Sciences, and Senior Lecturer in the subjects of Astronomy and Optics at Canterlot University, into the Great Mystery. He is survived by his beloved Baroness Aurora Rubymane, onetime Vice-Regent of the Royal Library, translator of the Old Ponish epic "Euponemius" and author of "A History of the Ponish-Speaking Creatures," "The Economic Causes of the Dragon Wars," and more scholarly works, poems and pamphlets than would fit on this page. Our heart goes out to the Baroness in her time of deeply felt grief.
Lord Springheart was a noted sailor, navigator, and naturalist, who mapped the North Luna Ocean and discovered Stable Island. His books include "The Birds of Stable Island," "A Natural Atlas of the Lunarian Northwest," and the rousing adventure story, "Sea Spray and Cold Iron." He saw service in the Little Dragon War, taking part in the battles of Shadowgorge and Baking Plains, where he was mentioned twice in dispatches, and commanded the Third Mage Battalion in the costly and terrible final Ponish victory at Bloodhoof Pass, for which he received the Solar Cross with Comets for conspicuous gallantry and was raised to the peerage. But for all his skill at sea and at war, he was at heart a scholar and a family pony.
Ever dutiful and hooves-on, the Baron was directing a barn raising in the village of Fetlock, within his demesne. A winch hung from a great oak was being used to lift a beam into place. Spring rains had softened the ground, so that when a freak wind blew up, the tree uprooted. Lord Springheart was killed instantly and two of his tenants were seriously injured. We consider it a mercy that he did not suffer, and died performing the seignorial duties in which he took such joy and pride.
In a life such as ours, where so many ponies come and go, when nearly every soul we have known has already preceded us to the next world, we fear we might become indifferent to, or even careless of the lives of the individuals who make up our principality. The hammer blow felt at the news of Springheart's passing affirms our capacity to love, cherish and mourn, and for that, we are profoundly thankful.
Baroness Rubymane has requested that members of the public, friends, peers, anypony, respect her privacy and make no condolence calls, send no notes or gifts, and make no public expression of memorial until such time that she announces the end of her time of mourning. Donations in memoriam may be made to the Old Soldiers and Sailors Home Foundation. We ask, nay we command that her wishes be respected, and look forward to the day that we may call upon her to offer our own personal sympathies.
We furthermore announce that in light of her personal contributions to the realm and those of her family, we establish this day that Aurora Rubymane is henceforth Baroness of Sparoak in her own right, and that right and title to the Barony of Sparoak belongs to the heirs of her body and heart in perpetuam.
With love for all creatures of our realm, and under the Great Seal of Equestria,
Celestia Equestriana Princeps Regens
"Ya idjit!" Callie Flour clouted the one-eyed stallion with a heavy hoof, causing him to rock and shake his head. "Ya canna leave well enough alone! Oh no, old Sour'ops must 'ave 'is say! Well now look what ye done!" The assembled ponies grumbled in assent. "She was 'ere, she was 'elpin, she rooted out them buggers in the woods an' she was gonna give us a bloody ale for the first time in more'n a 'undred moons! She may 'ave enjoyed it! She may 'ave been 'appy!" Sourhops drew back as the hoof rose again, scowling, Clementine's anxiety tightening her throat. Occasional, and admittedly mild and deserved, spankings from Cookie were the only form of violence she had ever witnessed outside of an adventure novel. Now, two bodies lay cooling in the woods and it seemed a beating or a brawl was forthcoming.
"You stop that now Callie. You know I'm right. This 'as to end! She can mourn fer the rest o' 'er life if she wants, but she's makin' us all mourn with 'er. We 'ave colts and fillies who ain't never 'ad a cask of good ale cracked for 'em, never 'ad a proper feast, never been to the manner fer a 'arthswarmin'!" The mare paused, anger gleaming still in her gray eyes, but she stayed her strike. Sourhops continued soulfully, "Fetlock were a 'appy place, full a music, dancin', ponies chattin' and jokin', an' workin', 'ard, but always with 'is Lordship comin' ta see 'ow we was. You think I don't love that ol' stallion still? You think I don't 'urt? I'm the one what stood with 'im at Bloody Pass, and I'm the one what stood next to 'im when 'e died, and lost me eye when 'e did." His voice thickened. "She... shoulda come ta see Whinny off. Whinny loved 'er so." A tear glistened in his eye.
Callie sighed, lowering her hoof. "Ya great lummox. She'd 'ave come around, she just needed time ta come outta 'er shell, ya poxy-brained git. An' speaking of poxy-brained, what's to become of Pansy Pea now, eh?"
Clementine couldn't help herself, she felt she had to stand up for her Lady. "Lady Rubymane said she'd get a doctor. I'm sure she'll keep her promise."
The mare turned to face her. "Oh, yer sure, are ye miss? An' yer sure she won't just lock 'erself up in 'er liberry an' ferget about usn's fer a few more years? She's mad with grief, child." Callie walked towards Clementine and cupped the filly's chin in her broad hoof. "When ye love as deep as them two, the loss don't just break yer heart, it can break yer mind." She gently stroked Clementine's swollen cheek. "I love me stallion more 'an life itself, an' if I lost 'im, I donna wat I'd do, but I know my life'd go on. After they lost their colt an' filly, they 'ad nothin' but each other, and when she lost 'im, 'er life didna go on. It just stopped where it were. In that there liberry."
"She lost her children as well?" Clementine went cold with the realization. "She never mentions them. She never talks about her family at all, except her nephew, and she doesn't like him much."
"She never talks to nobody about nothin'. That's 'ow she deals with it; by not dealin'. Now come love, let's see to that welt before it bruises."
Clementine allowed herself to be swept along by Callie Flour into a nearby cottage, and waited patiently while the older mare reached for a pot set up on a shelf with a number of other pots, bottles and jugs. She inhaled the melange of scents from drying herbs hung from the ceiling. She must be the village Wise Mare! Callie brought it down to the crude table and opened it. Clementine wrinkled her nose at the strong, astringent smell wafted into the room. The mare chuckled. "Witch 'azel darlin'." She picked a clean cloth off a rack along the side of the table and dipped it into the clear solution. "Let's 'ave yer loverly face 'ere."
Clementine complied and winced as the cloth touched her injured cheek. It felt so cold on her soft coat of her face that it almost burned, but she braved the pain, a tear running down the uninjured cheek. As the mare dabbed the distillate of witch hazel bark and flowers on the swollen area, she could actually feel the skin tightening, the swelling and throbbing abate. "It's magic!" she exclaimed.
Callie grinned. "No love, 'azel ain't that kind o' witch. It's just old fashion village physickin' with a brew ye make up from that bush with the yeller flowers. We gots plenty of 'em around 'ere." She dabbed some more of the solution on, then rinsed the cloth in a bucket and wiped the rest of Clementine's face off. "Let's see that purty face wivout all that dirt an' tear tracks, eh? Give us a smile?"
Clementine smiled up shyly at the kind pony. "Thank you, ma'am." She curtsied neatly, causing the mare to guffaw.
"Aw, gawan!" she laughed. "Ain't nopony never curtsied ta me afore!" Callie Flour stopped chuckling and looked thoughtful for a moment. "Child, you need ta keep puttin' witch 'azel on that there cheek four times a day until all the swellin' be gone. 'Ere we are!" She took a small clay vial from a drawer and a ladle from where it hung on the wall and ladeled witch hazel from the pot into the vial, then stoppered it up with a bit of wax. "That'll be enough ta see ya through, child."
"Thank you so much, ma'am." Clementine stuck the vial into a pocket of her apron and curtsied again, another burst of chuckles bubbling up from Callie Flour in response. Is this not proper? she thought. Mrs. Flour is the mistress of this house, after all. "I must go though, ma'am, for her ladyship may need me and I must find her."
"Check 'er liberry then, child. That's where she'll be, I warrant. Tendin' to 'er ghosts, poor dear."
Clementine nodded, resisted the temptation to curtsey again, then turned to leave the sweet-smelling home. She trotted out, steadier on her feet, and glanced at the earth ponies as they milled about in small groups, discussing the extraordinary events of the day. Several nodded and put their hooves to their foremanes in a gesture of respect she knew she didn't deserve, but she didn't have time to discuss the issue, so she just nodded in response and lengthened her stride into a canter. Shortly, she came to Pansy Pea's house, a pall of smoke eddying up and away from the village from the smouldering embers of the fouled bedding in the field beyond. Bumblebee and the coachpony Hoofsteady watched her curiously as she dashed past them to the cottage.
She ducked her head in and saw Mouldboard dabbing Pansy Pea's forehead with the damp cloth. "Has Lady Rubymane come back, goodpony?"
"No miss," he said, sounding concerned. "What has happened?"
I don't have time to explain everything. "Somepony in the village mentioned Lord Springheart."
Mouldboard winced. "And it didn't go well?"
She shook her head. "She teleported away. Callie Flour said she's probably in her library."
"Reckon so, miss. You're going to have to be very careful around her. She loved her family like fire loves to burn. The only thing that came close was her love of books, and now that's all she has. The house'll be in a right state now. She'll sleep in the library, she won't eat, she probably won't even allow herself to be groomed. Bills'll go unpaid. Staff'll go unpaid. We won't have nothin' to do. Mr. Glass'll have to take charge again. Why, this is the first time we've taken her out on the wagon further than a trip around the lake since we lost his lordship. Poor old mare. This may finish her."
She stood up straight as a thought occurred to her. "Well, I'm her maid of the library, and I must attend her!"
"Maid of the library? Really? Well... I guess she can't rightly throw you out then. Be careful, even so. She'll be hurting something awful."
"But what of Pansey Pea? What of the doctor?"
"Doctor? What doctor?"
"Lady Rubymane said she'd send for a doctor to care for her. She said so to the village before, well, before the problem."
"Ah." Mouldboard nodded, his dark mane bobbing. "You'll have to explain it all to Mr. Glass. Somepony has to stay here with her," his eyes flicked to the softly moaning Pansy Pea, "until he sorts it. Probably need to send one of the cooks down here to care for her, keep her fed and clean." His face took a hard line. "Her ladyship gave charge of her to me, and I don't know that youngin' is in a fit state to care for his sister, not alone. And are you alright miss? You look like you've been ill-treated."
"It's nothing." She smiled, but it failed to reach her eyes. "I'll be fine, goodcolt, thank you. Now I must get back to the house!"
"Bumblebee and Hoofsteady are still with the wagon. Go tell Hoofy what I said and send Bumblebee back here. I can use him to run errands. There's a wisdom abouts..."
"Callie Flour!"
He nodded. "That's the name. I'll send him to fetch a bit of soup for her, and for me too, for that matter. But you'd best not tarry, miss."
"Yes! Thank you for being so... decisive."
He nodded brusquely before turning to dip and wring out the cloth in cold water, gently patting the moaning mare's forehead with it. She trotted out, straight to the waiting wagonette. Bumblebee looked at her with some trepidation; Hoofsteady munched some hay patiently.
"I'm so sorry, but there have been some... events. Lord Springheart was mentioned by somepony in the village." Bumblebee was nonplussed, but Hoofsteady grimached and smacked his hoof into his own face loud enough to make a clap. "Bumblebee, go into your cottage. Mouldboard will have some errands for you to run. He'll stay and help with Pansy until we can get somepony else from the manor. Goodcolt Hoofsteady?" The coachpony pulled his hoof down his face and opened his eyes. "Can you get me to the manor? I need to speak with Mr. Glass."
He looked at the wagonette. "Miss, this thing ain't rigged for a single pull and I ain't got a change of tack. But we can leave it here and I'll head up there with you so you won't be alone."
"That will do very nicely, thank you." Bumblebee was still staring, confused. "I don't have time to explain. Just go inside and do what Mouldboard tells you. You can trust him."
Hoofsteady nodded and pushed the colt towards the door. "Go on, lad! We have to leave! You'll be fine." Bumblebee nodded shakily and walked into the cottage.
"Thank you, goodcolt. I'm afraid I won't be able to run as fast as you." The both turned up the path and broke into a canter, a three-beat gait faster than a trot but short of a full gallop. Hoofsteady shortened his stride to a medium canter while Clementine extended hers so they could match both gait and speed as they hastened back to the manor.
They ran in silence, Clementine's breathing the only sound aside from their three-part synchronized hoofbeats. The ran out of the village, through the wooded verge and past the distressed fields. She noticed that the trip from the manorhouse had been down a gentle slope, and this return trip was uphill. After five minutes her breathing grew labored, and Hoofsteady slowed to a trot.
"Woah, miss! Running yourself sick won't help nopony."
Anypony! she thought, but she was too busy taking in lungfuls of air to speak. And he is an adult, after all. She slowed down to a trot as well, grateful that Hoofsteady had noticed her distress. She looked about and saw the ruined barn they had passed earlier. About halfway then. "I guess... I need... to get... in shape!" Heroines never run out of breath in the stories!
Hoofsteady snorted. "You're a maid of the manor, and a youngster too, not a messenger pony. We'll get there quick enough." After a minute, they trotted past another clearing in the woods, and the roof of the manor was visible above the trees. Clementine had her breath back. She glanced at Hoofsteady, who nodded, and she broke out into a canter again. He kept pace and in two minutes they were at the front gate, open for the day. She was breathing hard, but not out of breath. I need to practice running! The world is not all books.
The gatepony recognized them and waved them through, a curious look on his face but not wishing to question the Lady's maid on what appeared to be an urgent errand. The front door beckoned, but being servants, they detoured to the rear of the house, slowing to a trot so as not to knock anypony down who might be coming around the corner.
As they stopped at the door to the lumber room, Clementine paused to collect her composure and her thoughts. She glanced at her reflection in the glass of the door; her mane, uncapped, was by now a wild mousy mop, and her cheek was still swollen and red, despite the application of the witch hazel. She was lathered from her run and her once neat uniform was stained with sweat and dust, the collar torn where Shivershanks had grabbed her to force his kiss upon her. For that to be my first kiss! Anger and sadness burned in her heart as she spat onto the ground in front of the door.
"Miss?" Clementine turned and looked at the patiently waiting Hoofsteady. Thank Celestia for good, kind stallions! Then she thought for a moment.
"No, the kitchen door, I think, goodcolt Hoofsteady. I am not ready to be seen upstairs, not in this state." He nodded and they turned left, went down a gentle slope, around to the back of the house, past the sweet smelling rosemary garden. "You must be hungry; I shall ask Cookie to see to you. Then please wait until I speak with Mr. Glass. You may be needed to lead somepony back down to the cottage."
Thistlewhistle opened the door and started at seeing them standing there. "Clementine! And Hoofy!" She blushed as the coachpony smiled at her. "I mean Goodcolt Hoofsteady!"
"'Hello, This!" Hoofsteady pronounced the name with the soft theta, in a familiar tone. "Good to see you again." Thistlewhistle's orange cheeks flushed umber.
"Yes, er, quite." The undercook looked at the ground, kicked some dust and seemed to gather herself.
Well, this is interesting! thought Clementine. She cleared her throat.
"Oh, yes, Clem... goodness! What happened to you!" Concern flared in Thistlewhistle's eyes. She may be silly and superstitious about curses, or not so silly, but she cares.
"It's a long story. Is her Ladyship in the library?"
"The library? Why would she be there? She went riding with you!"
Maybe she just doesn't know. Or maybe she's not there either, I'll have to find out from Mr. Glass. "I'm sorry, but I'll need to wash up and go upstairs as quickly as possible. I won't have time to launder and mend my uniform. Do you think you could get a spare from Gooseberry and pin up a hem for me, please? It's important!"
"Well, you're the lady's maid now, not a scullion, so you don't answer to me. I don't answer to you though, just so we understand each other. This here is a favor. Besides, if Cookie wasn't at market she'd just tell me to do it for you anyway." She grinned and then chanced a look at Hoofsteady. "Any odds, it will be a chance to upset that stuck up Gooseberry. Maybe you could leave a few pins in when you give it back." The stallion looked away as if suddenly interested in the rosemary.
OK, one love triangle. Check. "A no doubt very unfortunate oversight. But I must go. And could you get something for poor goodcolt Hoofsteady? He must be famished after our run."
She left the two speaking quietly and trotted to the room she shared with Cookie. The market, another place I've never been to. Stablesboro was a small town in the other direction from Fetlock, a good two hour trip. The town wasn't in the demesne, that is the personal lands, of Lady Rubymane; it held an independent charter.
Sparoak boasted but four villages, Fetlock being the closest, their associated farmland, and considerable forests, which provided the prized live oaks and white pines the county was named for, supplying the shipbuilders of Baltimare with pine spars for masts and booms and timbers for hulls. But for every lumberpony, ten farmers had to work to feed everypony who ultimately supported the estate. Clementine wondered what a logging camp would be like as she entered the small room she still shared with Cookie and closed the door. At speed, she shucked off her dirty, sweaty uniform, poured cold water from a pitcher into a basin, soaked a washcloth in it, took a bar of soap and got the cloth sudsy, then scrubbed her hooves and face. After she had scrubbed off the grime, she tossed the water out the small window after checking for passers by, then rinsed out the cloth and wet down the suds.
Water had pooled on the floor, so after she towled herself dry, she mopped up the water with it and hung it over the bar at the foot of her bed along with the washcloth. Then she looked at the small steel mirror that hung above the washbasin and shook her head, looking at the disgrace of her mane. She took the bone comb the cook had given her for a Hearthswarming present last year and went to work, attacking the worst of the snarl and corralling it into a bun that she stuck in place with a short piece of dowel. Then she looked at her tail.
Amputation would be the better option. She delved the dusty depths of the kinked and matted mess and had just started to restore some order when there was a knock at the door. "Come in please!"
Thistlewhistle, no fashion plate herself, rolled her eyes when she came in bearing an old but clean uniform and a prickly red pincushion. "My pa used to set fire to the underbrush when it got that bad."
"I considered it, but my experience with fire is not the best." The undercook grunted in amusement, then set the uniform aside and took the comb.
"Allow me, your ladyship." Sarcasm aside, Thistlewhistle being able to use two hooves gave her significantly more leverage, and she made short work of the mess. "Considering how pretty your mane and tail are, I'd think you'd take better care of them. I sure would. I'd have that lug eating out of my hoof. Oh, but what did happen to your face?"
Clementine had had enough. "My mane and tail are the color of last year's straw and kinkier than the stuff at the bottom of the bin. My coat resembles that of a week-dead mouse I once found in the kitchen and my eyes are like mud puddles, but you're the third pony today to say that I'm pretty. I appreciate the kindness, but let's be realistic. And it's not like being pretty would help me be a better maid. Like Mr. Glass said, it's best for a maid not to be noticeable." She exhaled in frustration as she shimmied in to the uniform and started tying the cap under her chin. "Thank you for trying to build up my spirits, but I really do have to go upstairs on a matter of urgency. Please hem me up."
Thistlewhistle stared at her strangely. "I don't know why..." She blinked several times shook her head. "What other ponies said you were pretty today and why would that be unusual?"
"It's unusual because I'm plain as a doorknob and the other two were Callie Flour, who was just being nice to me because I was hurt, and Shivershanks, who is the pony who game me this!" She gestured at her swollen cheek, now starting to yellow with a bruise.
"A pony hit you? On purpose? Why? Where is he? What happened? What was done about it!?" Thistlewhistle was outraged.
"It doesn't matter! Pin me up, I must go!"
"Of course it matters! Why wouldn't it matter?"
"BECAUSE HE'S DEAD!" The silence in the room after the shout was almost visible, and Clementine's eyes were bright with unshed tears. "Now please, please pin me up."
The undercook just stared for a moment, then unspeaking, barely breathing, pinned the hem of the skirt of the uniform up to an appropriate height.
"Thank you," Clementine said quietly. "I apologize for raising my voice."
Thistlewhistle nodded, shocked beyond words as the filly turned and left the room. Then she looked down at the comb in her hooves, the tangle of hair caught between its teeth resembling nothing so much as a fine golden necklace.
Outside the room, Clementine fought to regain her composure. It was surely not her fault her abductors had fought over her. A fine prize indeed, she though glumly, as she chanced to see her reflection in some of the silver plate which was arranged on a buffet in the kitchen as she walked through it to the stairway leading to the main floor. Why should I feel guilt then? She thrust the feeling into the back of her mind as she prepared herself for her encounter with Mr. Glass.
She entered the butler's pantry, a small room between the landing atop the kitchen stair and the main dining room in one direction, and a short hall leading to Mr. Glass' office and a stairway leading down to the wine cellar. One of the hoofponies was polishing the silver flatware in the dining room and took no notice of her, his magic holding up a white cloth with which he was vigorously rubbing a tarnished knife. She peered through the dining room to the main hall and saw no sign of the butler, so she turned and went down the hall. She swallowed hard, and knocked.
"Enter!" Mr. Glass' baritone rang out and she leaned into the heavy door, pushing it open. "What? This is some urgent matter, I take it?"
"Yes, Mr. Glass. Tell me, has Lady Rubymane returned from the village?"
His eyebrows rose slightly. "Certainly not! What do you mean, coming into my office like this with a silly question? Why, I should..." he blinked, looked around as if confused, then returned to his papers, ignoring her completely.
"Mr Glass!"
He stood up, surprised. "Don't you even knock? Where do you think you are, silly child, the maid's quarters? I'll have a word with Lady..." he paused, looked around, scratched his head, perplexed, then sat down again, returning to his sums.
The glamour! Now what do I do? She thought for a minute, then walked quietly back to the butler's pantry, where she had seen a small knife that Mr. Glass used to remove the wax seals from wine bottles before uncorking them. She reached back, grasped a lock of her tail and pulled it taught, cutting with a single motion of the sharp knife. She put it back in place, then wound the hairs into a crude yarn, knotting them at both ends. I hope this works.
She snuck back in, Mr. Glass entirely absorbed with his work, crept under his chair. She looped the lock of hair around his leg and knotted it.
"Eh, what's this?!" Mr Glass looked down under his chair, eyes bulging with outrage, then jumped up in surprise. "What! How did you... my door, open? What... where..." He stared at her, dumbfounded.
"I am so sorry, Mr. Glass, but this concerns her Ladyship's safety. Please trust me." Clementine looked up at and he stared down at her as though seeing her for the first time.
"What in Equestria is happening? Lady Rubymane is in danger?" All other concerns quickly fled from him.
"I do not know, Mr. Glass, but she teleported away while we were in the village and I have not seen her since." The alarm on his normally imperturbable face would be quite satisfying if the situation were less serious. "Somepony in the village mentioned her late husband's name, and she looked fit to blast him into the next world, right there. Then she vanished."
Mr. Glass closed his eyes, sat back heavily on his hindquarters, placed one hoof on his head and sighed. "Oh, by the sacred central sulcus of Celestia's left forehoof, please tell me this is some kind of horrible joke."
Clementine was faintly shocked by the nearly sacrilegious profanity, both due to the source and the subtlety, but she managed to answer, "I wish it were, Mr. Glass. Could she have teleported all the way from the village to the library?"
He nodded. "She could have when she was younger. By the supple flanks of..." he stopped, looking at the maid, who was listening intently. "...um, never you mind, child. She could be in there, and hurt. Or worse." His face took on an ashen tone. "That would have been a long distance twenty years ago. Now? Come on." He stood, slowly, dusted himself off and gathered his dignity. He looked down, annoyed at the hair knot, and reached towards it.
"Please leave that on Mr. Glass!"
"Whatever for? And why did you tie it to my leg?" He was puzzled, not angry now.
"I cannot say, only beg you to leave it on, for our Lady's sake!"
Something of the earnestness in her voice must have convinced him. "I shall have to find something with which to cover it, then. It is most irregular. But that can wait." He hurried off down the hall, through the dining room, past the astonished footpony, into the main hall and then to the library. The door to the library was closed, so he knocked. "My Lady? Are you within?"
No sound issued, so he turned the knob and entered, Clementine right behind. They both gasped. Lady Rubymane was lying curled up in her easy chair, her face gray, her eyes bloodshot, staring out the window at nothing. "Leave me. Nopony is to disturb me for any reason." She was shaking, clearly unwell, her voice a thin reed. She turned at them. "Did you not hear me?"
Mr. Glass swallowed. "My lady, I fear you are not yourself. You must rest and take nourishment. You teleported a great distance. I shall fetch a doctor at once."
"No doctor. No attendants. Begone from me." A weak coronal flame showed upon her horn and the remnants of great power glowed in her red-rimmed eyes. "Don't think I won't, Glass."
"My Lady! Please!" Clementine dashed forward to interpose herself. "This is all my fault. If I hadn't let myself be taken, none of this would have happened!"
Rubymane stopped glaring at the butler, her expression softening. "No, no child, this is not your fault. This is Lord Springheart's fault for leaving me. And when I see him, I'll give him a piece of my mind. But until that time... " She paused, thoughtful. "Glass, you are my witness. Upon my passing, my nephew will inherit this estate, but for the grants within my will. In addition, I grant Clementine the sum of one thousand bits, and all the books of my library, on the condition that she enter the Royal Academy when she is of age, and pursue her scholastic ambitions." She looked into the filly's eyes with love. "She is the grand daughter of my heart. Such is my desire and will. Do you bear witness to this, Glass?"
"Yes, my Lady, but surely..."
"Now, both of you, go! And none are to enter, on pain of my displeasure, until the undertaker comes for me. This life has finished with me."
"Lady Rubymane!" The tears flowed freely down Clementine's cheeks. "I love you! Please don't do this!"
Rubymane closed her eyes, causing the tears to flow down her own cheeks. "I'm sorry child, that I cannot keep my promise to you. Please, don't give me a reason to stay here, I can bear it no longer." With that, the nimbus glowed on her horn and on the lock of hair on her fetlock. The bracelet fell away, and Rubymane opened her eyes, looking into Clementine's own. Then, they slid away, blankly staring out the window. "Why are you still here, Glass? Is not my will clear? Begone, and do not come back, my friend."
Glass swallowed, and thickly spoke, "Yes, my dearest lady." He looked down at Clementine, confused at the sudden lack of regard that Rubymane had for her, then saw the wristlet of hair. His mouth opened in astonishment and Clementine could almost see the idea forming behind his eyes as the facts fell into place. His horn glowed and the lock of hair floated towards him as he backed away from the door, silently beckoning Clementine, who miserably dragged herself away from the elderly unicorn. Glass closed the door quietly, then leaned close in to Clementine.
He held up the hair. "Cookie doesn't need one of these, does she?" The maid shook her head, curiosity starting to peek out from under the deep anguish that blanketed her mind. "Unicorns don't notice you, do they?" She shook her head again, starting to speak, but he shushed her. "I don't need to know why. Plainly, Lady Rubymane doesn't want anypony else knowing about this." Again, she shook her head. Mr. Glass plainly was planning something. A ghost of a smile appeared on his muzzle.
"I need you, Clementine, to save Lady Rubymane's life."