//------------------------------// // Awareness // Story: The King of Swing // by The Sonic Mage //------------------------------// Within the walls of The Crystal Palace, a unicorn Doctor with an off-white coat and graying black mane and beard stood in a room with all the curtains drawn and most of the lights turned off. It was a bedroom, one built with luxury and Royalty in mind. The doctor pushed up his glasses as a complex machine whirred and clicked, printing equally complex medical data. The doctor poured over the printouts. “Well doctor,” a deep gruff voice spoke up from the bed sitting in the dark behind the doctor, “How does it look?” Dr. Wolfenstein took off his glasses and folded them in his hoof, before picking up the collected data.  “Vell, Sir,” the doctor said in a thick Germane accent, “I’m sure you are aware of ze saying ‘No news is gut news’, Ja?” “Very much so, yes.” “Vell, zat is not ze case here,” Wolfenstein said, “A lack of change in your condition is not ‘good news’. You’re not getting any better.” The doctor’s expression accentuated the faded but still visible scarring around his mouth and left eye. “At least I’m not getting worse.” “True, but zat is not an excuse to do nothing about it,” the doctor put his glasses back on and took a notepad out of the breast pocket of his lab coat, “I am going to have to increase your treatment level.” “I’d fight you on that course of action, but that would get us nowhere.” “Indeed,” Wolfenstein began gather up all the equipment he had brought, “I am going to bring zese results back down to ze lab for further analysis. In ze meantime, you are going to rest. I’m sure you have much verk zat you vish to get done tomorrow.” “That I do.”  Dr. Wolfenstein began walking out the door and into the hallway, when he heard the pony on the bed wince. He turned back to see his patient’s horn and eyes glowing. Wolfenstein gently put down the equipment he was carrying, and took a few steps towards the bed. “Sir,” Wolfenstein asked, “Is something ze matter?” The darkly colored unicorn laying on the bed slowly turned their head towards one of the windows in the room. A small, thin beam of light was able to gently slip through the crack between the curtains. “I sense something…” the unicorn said, “I sense a magic that I do not recognize.” He continued staring at the window. His eyes narrowed, focusing on the light seeping into the dimmed room.  “And that’s not all,” the unicorn continued, “there’s something else there as well. A presence that I have not sensed in a long, long time… “…But I can’t put my hoof on it…” The unicorn returned his gaze to the ceiling. Dr. Wolfenstein sighed. He went over to a large cabinet, and opened it. He looked to the shelves labeled “Treatment Records”.  The unintentional pun still made him a little sick. His eyes went over all the names until he found what he was looking for.  His magic gently pulled out a square paper sleeve, before removing the contents of it with similar care. A large, black disk was held in his magic.  The doctor carefully floated the disk over and onto a gramophone. The reader needle gently touched down on the rim of the record, and the music began to play. “Please, Your Majesty,” Wolfenstein said, “Get some rest.” He re-gathered his things, and gently closed the door on his way out. The music that was playing filled the room with its calming tone and restful energy. It took a few minutes, but eventually, King Sombra drifted off to sleep.