//------------------------------// // Ch.30: Taint and Truth // Story: Tapestry: A World Apart // by Star Scraper //------------------------------// Sunfeather and Brighteyes were huddled together in the back of their cell, where Brighteyes was shackled. The train's brakes had stopped, but the train hadn't. They could tell by the sounds of the clanking metal that it had slowed, but not stopped. The brakes had started again more gently before their guard came back in – this time, another set of hoofsteps followed his. They were now much slower and relaxed – menacing in the cool confidence in which they approached their cell. “...mere hours?” the new voice asked in disbelief. “Yessir. I believe it was – three hours before the attack. The orders for her arrest came from a messenger from the radio room.” “That's hardly noteworthy – she is the only domestic servant on-board from the governor's palace, but this is just moving her one car closer to the attack – though it did guarantee she wouldn't be in the governor's car during the attack, if she were called in there. As a domestic servant she would be a security threat – so I'll go ahead and take note of this. And the other one already has punitive marks, yes?” The hoofsteps stopped in front of their cell. “Notched into her ears and on record, yes.” As the guard mentioned Brighteyes' ear marks, they saw the peephole on their cell door slide open, letting in a flood of light. They could see the stallion wore an officer's cap. “What I'm most interested in is that you reported whispering. Could you make out any words from it?” He stepped closer and looked inside at the two slaves, noting the ear notches, himself. “'Governor', 'attack', 'cerulean' and 'save'. It sounded very menacing.” “Right. We should put in their records an advisement that they never receive gold earrings to invalidate their marks... But if the investigation finds anything, they'll be swinging by tomorrow night, anyways.” He closed the peephole, leaving them in darkness again. “Thank you for your reports, private Buckler, back to your post,” the officer finished before walking off at a more brisk pace. “Safe from the attack?” Brighteyes echoed in a whisper. “Do you think Spectrum is okay?” Sunfeather asked, her voice even lower. They heard a distant door open then close in the hallway, then the guard's hoofsteps storm over to their cell, slipping the peephole open again. “I got to have all the fun I wanted with Brighteyes before you ruined it – but now with all these charges against you, nopony will ever believe you – so cry and accuse all you want, I'll laugh to myself as they ignore you and cut off your screams with a noose! They stole the fun from me a few minutes ago, but I'll get the last laugh, you two!” he hissed at them. “Buckler! Remember the name of the pegasus who sent you to the gallows! I'll be there to cheer on as you kick!” He slammed the peephole closed. They both hugged eachother as he hissed his angry rant, then they heard his hoofsteps storm a few steps away. “C-can he not open the door without permission since I'm not shackled?” Sunfeather asked, her voice afraid. “I-I don't know... Do you think he'll do it? That they'll hang me to death this time?” for the first time since they met, Brighteyes asked a question. Sunfeather wasn't sure how to respond. “I – I...” she took a deep breath. “The governor saved me once... They were going to... to do this same thing to me because I couldn't work very hard because I was just so tired all the time – but she came and saved me! She didn't let them do it! And she won't let them do this, either!” “What if – what if she didn't survive the attack?” Brighteyes asked, her voice quaking. Sunfeather could feel her body shaking in her hooves. “I know she did. Nightgale would never fail to protect her.” “You may have defeated me now, Ironhide – driven off my cultists, broken my horn – ” Astilbe snarled at the pony next to her on the stage, her voice crescendoing into a cry “ – but my cult will live on!” The crowd of pegasi and earth ponies behind the tall, dark gray armored leader cowered behind him, but he stood strong. She stood upright on her hindlegs on a stool, her forelegs tied to her body over a thick cloak, and a noose around her neck, the rope leading up to a fake tree above her. She turned to face the audience. “but your descendants will never be safe! -” the crowd gasped at the direct address, then starting boo'ing her as she continued. Her voice raised to a desperate cry to be heard over their jeers, “the other unicorns will never cease this winter until the world is snuffed of life! They will all perish in endless winter! There is nothing-” “QUIET!” the leader shouted, and kicked the stool out from under her. The noose tightened a little, but it wasn't nearly enough to actually choke her. She felt herself hang from a harness hidden under her cloak. Before the play she'd made sure, herself, that the break points were weak enough that if the harness failed, the rope would break, not her neck. Both stood strong, but she thrashed and writhed, anyways, throwing in the occasional sputter and gag. She'd seen enough actual hangings to mimic the more theatrical ones well. She knew she was doing well when she felt little tugs on her actual noose by crew backstage making sure the line wasn't actually taut. The crowd cheered. And as she stopped struggling and rested limp, their cheers finally stopped as well. The armored pony stepped forward. He turned around to face both the audience and the crowd of his followers on the stage, dressed as medieval peasants. “We have silenced her lies for once and for all!” He had to pause to let the cheers from the audience die down. He put his right hoof to his breastplate, looking up to some point beyond the wall and roof of the theater. “As long as we stand united, together and strong, we will prevail! But the war isn't over, yet. Though we shall fight valiantly in all our days to root out and slay these scum like Lionhead -” he gestured towards Astilbe's dead character, “ - who would end all life on this world with their evil unicorn's winter – they are so many and so well hidden, it may take generations.” He sharply turned towards the audience as the flag of The Order of the Hatten Vanguard unfurled behind him against the backdrop. His dark gray wings spread in a proud display. “So it will be to our descendants to carry our torch of life on, against those who are corrupted by the evil of magic, to remain unified against the dark as we have, to do their duties, to stand strong and valiant against evil, to silence and drive evil's perverse lies off at every turn, that one day – one day they will end the winter and bring spring to Earth again!” The crowd gave a standing ovation with wild cheers. The curtains closed. Astilbe took a deep breath. “I'm sorry,” the actor in armor apologized quietly. “No, no, it's okay, I asked for this role,” she answered, wiggling a little to adjust herself in the hidden harness under her cloak. She played dead again as the curtains opened for curtain call. When the curtain call was finally over, and the curtains muffled the applause again, she felt herself lowered back to the ground as a pulley squeaked above her, letting her sit on the stage. The gray armored pegasus walked over and began to untie her, “well, you did such a good job they probably thought we used an actual prisoner for a stage execution.” “You can't give a prisoner lines and acting lessons, you know,” she remarked. “Well, you did such a good job they probably think we did. But, you know how they are with historical plays.” “Unicorns and their allies never take a bow...” she recited. “Yep. Because that part hasn't ended yet.” He finished untying her. “Fantastic job in the battle scene, too.” “Thanks.” She stood up in front of him, stretching her limbs and moving them around. “Yep. It's not over yet,” she said with a knowing smirk, making her way backstage with the crowd of peasant ponies. “Mares and Gentlecolts,” an announcer spoke to the audience. His voice was also muffled by the curtains, but loud enough to still easily make out from behind them. “In just an hour and a half, you can see the real war continued and won to this day at city square, where murderers and unicorn sympathizers are meeting Lionhead's same fate. And be sure to grab a complementary copy of Ironhide's journals -” he kept talking, but by that point she and him were further behind stage and had stopped listening. Her ears twitched, ever so slightly. She was glad she was so good at acting, because nopony could see the wave of sorrow that crashed over her at the announcer's words. The director's debrief and congratulations felt hollow. Her mind was elsewhere. No bows. It was one thing when she was just acting, and could return to her life after the play. But the ponies the announcer talked about wouldn't be acting. There would be no safety harness for them. As the director finished his short address, everypony headed off to change into normal clothes and began to make their way home for the night. But her and the gray pegasus remained. There was a friend in the basement she wanted to visit – even spend the night with. Nopony was left except herself and the gray stallion. They walked downstairs together, to the room their guest had taken residence in. “Couldn't the propaganda at least try not to be so cheesy?” Astilbe asked. The stallion laughed, shaking his head. “Well, you know how they are. When you think everything is so black and white... So, why did you take that role, anyways?” he asked. “I dunno – I think that once I started thinking about it, I just couldn't stop. I guess – I just believe I'll end up that way for real some day,” her ears wilted. She looked at him and continued as they walked downstairs, “the scary part isn't dying or choking – it's that everypony just lets it happen. They want it to happen. I just don't get that. Why would everypony be so mean? How can they hate other ponies so much?” “Oh,” his voice gained a quiet respect. “So, it's like a sort of a... 'facing your fears' kinda thing?” he asked. “Yeah, maybe...” she looked down at the floor as they reached the bottom of the stairs. Her ears folded all of the way down, and she faced him again. “How can ponies be like that, Steelwing? How can they hate each other that much?” “Well, they honestly think unicorns are that evil. With all they've been told every day of their lives they have every reason to think that. And who doesn't want to be the hero crusading against evil?” He started walking down the hall. She followed, glanced at him, then bowed her head again and kept talking, “it really makes me wonder about Clover's journal, though. Is it even true that ponies can end the winter through kindness?” She faced him again, sounding desperate for an answer, “They can't even forgive an actress for playing a role in a play! How are they gonna all forgive each other over this whole winter, and all the terrible things everypony has done to everypony?” she asked. “Well, it's not that they don't forgive you – you didn't do anything wrong playing the role, it's just – you know, the message it'd send if you took a bow after playing it...” “But that's not the point!” she enthusiastically objected, “How can they forgive eachother when they're like this? When they do things like go and cheer on at real executions?” The energy in her voice faded. “I – I don't honestly know,” he answered, shaking his head. “But we've got to believe it. Maybe it won't even be this generation or the next that really ends the winter, but ponies are... I think it's possible for them to be better than even they realize.” “You think?” she sincerely asked. “Yeah.” He nodded. “I think they have the potential to make a wonderful world – they just don't realize it.” They stopped as they reached the locked door to the science equipment room. “Well, I'm not so sure. I – I thought I understood ponies. But I'm not so sure I do, anymore. I - ” she curled her lip in a grimace as she put a hoof to her neck, remembering the rope and the jeering ponies. Then she felt a hoof on her shoulder, blinked, and faced him. “I think you should probably start playing a different role...” he gently suggested. “Maybe you're right...” She sighed and sat down as he took his hoof off. “Well, you know... me and the others were thinking, and... we can send you to Bastion,” he whispered. Her ears perked up, “R-really!?” He nodded. “Me and the manager have considered it. We really care about you. And honestly, well - … we're not sure you're so cut out for this kind of thing. What you did with the whole Twilight incident, and with a new agent of Icewind learning your identity...” “I said I was sorry about Twilight!” she answered pleadingly. “It – it's not about being sorry. It's about – we have to depend on each other to each be – well... more careful.” “I know I was reckless! I won't be reckless like that again!” she begged. “Astilbe.” He got much closer to her, put a hoof on her cheek and looked straight into her eyes. “It's not about you being a bad pony or anything like that. It's about letting you go somewhere safe, far away from all these games of life and death. We don't want you to get hurt. I'm worried about recent events, and especially worried that you think you'll get executed someday.” “B-but, I want to be here! I want to help ponies -” “But that's not what this is about. This is about helping sometimes, yes, but killing a lot of times, too – doing nefarious and dark things to undermine The Order. It helps in the long run, yes, but we don't help by helping, we help by hurting The Order, and I'm not sure you quite get that.” She was left speechless. He continued, “You'll be able to help in your own ways, all from the safety of Bastion, no less.” She hesitantly, shakily nodded. “O-okay...” her voice began to break as she bowed to face the floorboards again. “I – Astilbe? I thought you would be happy...” his voice was sympathetic. “Wh-what do you mean? I am happy,” she quietly answered, looking back up at him with a weak smile. He pulled her into a hug, his wings spreading around her. “Oh, Astilbe. We can talk about this, okay? Just... promise me you won't do anything rash, okay? We're all on your side, here.” “I – I do want to...” she wasn't even sure why she was crying, herself. “It's okay,” he consoled her with a pat on the back, rocking her slightly. “We all want to be a part of something great, here. I'll tell the manager you really want to contribute. We'll see if there's anything you can do.” “I... I d-don't think it's that... I think... I want to stay with Pinkie Pie. Can you send us together? And promise me one day you'll come back to Bastion, too?” she added. “We'll see what we can do,” was all he could say. She knew it didn't mean a lot – it wasn't very likely. But it meant a lot to her. After a few more minutes, she finally broke the hug, and he spoke, “well, compartmentalization and all. Can't let Pinkie see my face, still. For both our good.” She nodded understandingly. “See you tomorrow.” “See you tomorrow.” He turned around and began to walk away. She sighed. I think... I think the reason I'm so sad is because he's right. I'd miss him at Bastion, but... Ponies aren't going to stop doing terrible things, are they? Is it really hopeless to just hope I can tell them – or show them what's wrong and they'll be nicer? Can't I just tell them that there's no evil group of ponies making the world this way? He's right and I'm only now realizing it. Ponies are terrible. I'm just incredibly nice – no, naïve and young and stupid. They're not creatures that will all just suddenly forgive and forget and drop their grudges... “Her name was Lionheart, not Lionhead,” came a condescending, confident female voice from behind her. Astilbe shot around to see a pony with deep purple fur, and an even darker purple mane. Most of her body was hidden under a navy blue cloak. The fringes of the cloak and hood had elegant and intricate violet and lavender patterns that had an enchanting primordial wonder to them, and on her forehead, was a horn. “T-Twilight?” she asked in disbelief. The unicorn chuckled, shaking her head. “No. Do you want to see how it really happened, little pony? Almost a thousand years ago?” Astilbe's eyes were wide, she was suddenly alert and on edge – trying not to be hostile, but she couldn't hide her surprise or fear. “Who – who are you? I know unicorns aren't actually evil, but...” “If I wanted to harm you, you would be dead where you stand. Rest assured, I will do you no harm,” she said. “As for who I am, I am nothing more than a forgotten child, from a forgotten era, forsaken by the Dear Mother of my kin.” “Then – why? Are you from Bastion?” she asked, calming down, but only slightly, and remaining on edge. “I am not from Bastion, and my reasons are my own. But if you need them to agree, then I may provide a few,” she patiently, yet guardedly explained. “I – so you're not one of our contacts? If not I'd like to know why you want to show me... what that play was based off of?...” “Yes, those are the events of which I speak. And no, I am not one of your 'contacts',” she replied levelly again, “I want to show you because though your mind is as lacking as any other, your heart has a familiar tear – an injury I know of in another whom I care deeply about. For you, that was no mere act, but a projection of the anguish of your heart. If you wish to learn the true story of Lionheart, then I will hold a candle to the honors and respect she deserves by showing you her story. Those who seek the truth shall find, if it is not some story to vindicate their bloodlust, but truly the tragedy of the truth that they seek to know. You deserve the truth not because you are intelligent, wise, or significant to this pathetic world, but because you refine yourself against the truth, rather than twist the truth to some lie you desire it to be. “You should consider yourself fortunate you happen to be so near to events I have taken an interest in, Astilbe, and thus you have come under my watch, so that I may discover your heart and its injury, and this leads me to show you the truth shrouded behind and underneath almost a thousand years of lies and ice, and yet more glorious than it all.” “I – I...” she hesitated, cowering. “You will find the answer to the question you ask. You wish to know the depths of the injustice your kind can carry out? If you truly wish to know, I will show you, along with the valor and determination of the spirit of my beloved elder, and the honor and tenacity of my kin.” She sighed, steeling herself. “Okay. I still don't know who you are, or what you want – but you said my heart has a tear you care about. I – I can believe that.” As she looked in the unicorn's amethyst eyes, there was something about them that she trusted. “Good,” she simply said, no malice nor dark enthusiasm in her voice, “then let us go, and you shall see.” The floorboards melted away under them, the walls and roof dissolving in an invisible wind, and a grassy hillside covered in a patchwork of snow came into view under a twilight sky. A sharp, cold wind welcomed them to a forgotten world. Ever since the adrenaline rush had worn off, Twilight’s mind had descended into confusing, tired depths. But she had to keep going, Nightmare Moon wasn't far behind. Nightmare Moon? No, I don't think it's Nightmare Moon that's chasing us... Why are we walking again? “Rarity-” She felt a hoof on her shoulder as she blinked her eyes open. Looking up, she saw nurse Redheart standing over her – she was the pony who had a smaller one on her back. She quickly noticed wing-sleeves on her outfit, though. Not nurse Redheart? Twilight was laying on her side on the ice. It took her a few moments to realize that Redheart's lookalike wasn't the one helping prop her up. Looking around, she saw Rarity standing next to her. The pony asked something in a language she didn't understand. “Medic Gratitude asked if you're alright,” Rarity relayed. “I – I can be in speaking Delphinian,” Gratitude said to Rarity, then turned to Twilight. “Are you in understanding my speech?” Again, it was the accent she didn't recognize. Both sets of concerned eyes were on her. “Yes, I can understand you... mostly.” “Mostly is good,” the medic seemed relieved, “Can you stay in walking?” Twilight's head pounded. Her thoughts swam in a nebulous fog. “I... I don't know.” The medic leaned in, raising Twilight's hood slightly to look at the bandages on her forehead. She bit her lip, a deep look of both worry and pity coming over her at what she saw. While she inspected Twilight, Rarity huffed, took a necklace off and offered it to Gratitude. “Just put it on her,” she said. Gratitude turned to her, paused for a moment, thanked her, put it on Twilight, then turned towards the front of the convoy. When she spoke, Twilight noticed it sounded strange – she heard the words in their original language, but somehow understood them fully. “Seargent, if we can, I advise we stop given Twilight's condition. How far have we gone? Fifteen, twenty miles? She needs rest.” She turned back to Twilight; “How long ago did this happen? This looks... badly infected.” “Uhm... I don't know... Is it?” A fresh wave of worry poured over the Nurse's face as she took a boot off and felt Twilight's forehead. “Can you try to remember? Do you trust the governor to tell the truth on how long it's been?” “No... Well – yes!... Uhm... I trust the governor... Rainbow Dash? No... I don't remember how long it's been. At least a day or two?” The nurse bit her lip, then turned back to the sergeant. “She's not going to be able to keep going much longer. She's in worse shape than just the crash.” He looked over the team, eyes darting from one to another as they all faced him, waiting for his call. Rarity sat down next to Twilight the moment they'd stopped, her injured hoof lifted slightly. The sergeant's own back was over-encumbered with gear. “Can she walk another step?” The nurse turned back to the alicorn. “Uh... Yeah. I can... just a little,” she croaked. “Then we keep going,” he answered decisively. “It's not much further.” Gratitude paused for a moment, looking back at Twilight. Rarity helped Twilight back onto her hooves, and they all began walking again. With no method to keep time, and her mind in a confused delirium, it was impossible to tell how long they had walked when the Sergeant finally ordered a stop, and had them begin setting up their tent at the base of some icy cliffside. Everything seemed to move in a confused blur. They waited outside the tent while Gratitude and the little pony went inside, but she didn't understand why. In the distance, the sergeant and the pegasus stallion worked some radio. Then Gratitude finally let them in the tent. There were warm coats and blankets over her, and she was lying down. The nurse stood over her and said some nice, soothing things. Rarity sat over her looking concerned. They hugged. She finally laid down and slept. That was all she could remember before shooting awake again, finding herself alone in the tent with Sweetie Belle, who laid next to her in some warm, drab clothes, also under a thick layer of blankets, and wearing Rarity's fire ruby peytral. “S-Sweetie Belle?!” she exclaimed. The younger pony sighed, and spoke again in the language she didn't understand. “{You recognize me as} 'Sweetie Belle', {too?!}” Twilight sighed back, then paused for a moment. “Or... maybe you're just another one of these weird copies... At least the others spoke Equestrian. Why are you wearing Rarity's fire ruby, anyways? It's a bit big for you. She gave it to you, right?” Sweetie Belle kept lying down – just moving a forelimb enough to tap herself, “{Snowglade},” and again, “Dawglees.” “Douglas?... Well, Douglas... Dawglees, I guess you can't tell me where everypony went if you don't speak Equestrian...” She looked around the empty tent. “Or maybe... Rarity? Where's Rarity?” she asked, looking around the empty tent some more. Although she didn't understand what 'Dawglees' said, she could understand her sad tone. “Rarity? {I honestly don't know where they went. I just hope they get back soon... and without fighting too much}.”