//------------------------------// // Chapter 1: A Dusty New Horizon // Story: Daring Do and the Iron Pyramid // by Unwhole Hole //------------------------------// Crowds had gathered at the borders of the docks. Fillies and colts, staring in amazement toward the skies, and their parents, taking a brief reprieve from their jobs and watching with the barest hint of the same childlike joy. High in the clear blue sky, coming across the seemingly endless desert, came the zeppelins. The majority of them were decrepit, ancient things from centuries past maintained largely with a combination glue, luck, and staunch refusal to properly obey gravity. That said, to the ponies of Southern Equestria, they were truly a sight to behold, if only because of their sheer size: massive behemoths of the sky, their engines belching black smoke into the cloudless sky as they drove ever forward, carrying canned vegetables or bottled vegetables or even dried vegetables, whatever would persist throughout the journey from the north to a region that only until recent decades had been only accessible by the very hardiest of trade caravans. Then one passed the others. This one, the ponies looked at in confusion, and perhaps fear, because it was different. A smaller ship, a northern corsair, driven not by coal-fire but by wind. Not a trudging, damaged monstrosity but something new and fresh, clad in shining paint and marked by the sign of a red moon. The corsair was far faster than its heavier, cargo-laden compatriots and moved through the docking yard with exacting precision and unparalleled speed. As it and the others approached, the ballast boys took flight: Pegasi in dusty uniforms rose to the incoming zeppelins and dirigibles, grasping ropes thrown to them by the sky-sailors and clipping them onto their belts. Some among them pulled as the engines cut, pulling the airships to the appropriate spires, while others simply fell limp, causing their ropes to go taught and, as their job title implied, becoming ballast. The corsair was directed toward the passenger offloading area, usually used for small transport vehicles but occasionally vast luxury liners. This, though, was a private ship, and assigned its own spire. The ballast boys had been told what the insignia on its side meant, and what to expect—to the extent that anypony knew. As the workponies moved to affix the corsair to the mooring mast, others set to work linking to the docking ports to allow for immediate egress. Before they could even get the stairs into position, though, one of the external doors was flung open from inside. A pony ran onto the observation deck and leapt over the rail, her wings guiding her downward to the mast balcony before the zeppelin had even been stabilized. She landed, immediately dazzled by the bright desert light, and took a breath of the dry air. It smelled so very strange, like dust and freshness mixed with the scent of oil exhaust and ballast boy, and it only served to excite her more. The mare in question, at age seventeen, could barely be called a mare. She was clad in a sleeveless, double-breasted shirt, made of black silk of course, and she could immediately feel the heat of the sun even from the shade of the spire mast. Her coat was not dissimilar in color from the dust that surrounded her and clung to every surface. Her mane, which she could already feel the wind passing through and against, was pure black. She immediately ran to the edge of the balcony, looking out over the airship, at the zeppelins approaching and docking around her, and the exotic city beyond. In the distance, she saw the piles of squarish houses, dwarfed by an enormous pyramid, and beyond them the remnants of a distant fort, its sandstone components falling into ruin even as a Celestial flag flew overhead. Beyond that, she saw nothing. Only sand reaching to the end of the horizon. “Wow!” she said, almost bursting into laughter. “We’re so high up!” “We came in an airship, Daring.” Daring Do turned. The workers, somewhat displeased by her impatience, had moored the corsair and linked the mobile stairs and bridge to the airship. The pony now descending the stairs was the one who had spoken. She was a mossy colored mare, clad in delicate silk, most of it black in the same shade as Daring Do’s clothing. Instead of being formed into a sleeveless blouse, though, her clothing had been assembled into a dress of incredible complexity—and cut to very closely reveal her towering figure. Although she walked with a parasol, it was apparent even at a distance that she was a unicorn, one almost twice Daring Do’s height—and with a distinctly curved horn emerging from her forehead. “Additionally,” continued Wun, “you have wings. Do you not fly? Are you lazy?” She paused. “Should I have keelhauled you off the zeppelin?” Daring frowned. “ Sure, now you offer,” she grumbled. “But it’s different when there’s a tower involved. I mean, look at it! We can see everything!” Wun Perr-Synt approached the edge and stood beside her sister, turning her unnaturally large eyes toward the expanse. “I do see it,” she said. “From above, it all looks very dull.” “I bet it would be fun seeing it up close, then?” Daring looked to her sister, a broad smile crossing her face. Wun remained impassive. Then she spoke. “Yes.” Her horn ignited, lobbing Daring Do over the railing. Daring, momentarily surprised, shouted with excitement as she gained her direction and spiraled down the tower. Wun smiled, if only slightly. Her sister amused her. She turned to take the stairs, her large eyes scanning over the workers unloading her luggage. “Be careful,” she said, passing a small earth-pony struggling with a heavy metal suitcase. “The contents of that one are quite explosive.” The boy looked up at her, terrified, and she smiled. Their fear amused her too. Daring Do’s hypothesis was almost immediately proven correct. As impressive as the world looked from high above, it was so much more engaging at eye-level. There were ponies everywhere, and Daring Do could hear nearly every language she knew and a few she did not. There were workers, sailors and longshoreponies, the latter of whom were unloading cargo of nearly every sort or linking crates of rare spices and alchemical reagents onto cranes, lifting them up to the zeppelins tied to their towers that blotted out the sun over the outer parts of the city. Beyond the docks, there were the buildings, and the city itself, and the ponies within it. They wore robes of many colors, and many had their eyes painted with makeup extending downward in vertical lines. Many were adorned with glowpaz, and some with gold or other jewels—and all were talking and milling about, hard at work and selling their wares on the busy streets. Daring Do, of course, was ecstatic. The noise of pony speech, the sound of hooves and machines and the smell of spices and exotic foods roasting all met her at once, nearly making her busy. It was so much like the streets of her home, but everything that was familiar about Singapone had been turned on its head. Everything was so deeply and profoundly NEW. Exactly how long she was stunned was unclear, although soon she found Wun beside her, staring at nothing in particular from beneath her parasol. This was somewhat standard behavior for her, although Daring Do could not imagine how. “This does nothing for you? Come on! Look at all this!” Wun looked out at it. “Yes. I like this. Very noisy.” Daring paused. “Have you been here before?” “Here? No. I never have. The Company does not ship this far south. Although seeing these spices, I am beginning to reconsider. I will draft a proposal to father when I get the chance. You know how he is about airships.” Daring jabbed at her sister, nearly causing her to tilt. “Come on, Wun. I know you’re excited. What do you think we should do?” “Do?” Daring gasped, looking down an alley to another section of the town. “A market! We should—we should buy PROVISIONS!” Wun stared at her. “The site is fully supplied already. Or should be. If it is not, I suppose I will have to hang somepony. By...an appendage.” Daring sighed. “When are we due on location?” “Tomorrow.” “And if you didn’t want to explore the town, you would have stayed on the ship.” Wun stared at Daring. Then she slowly started walking toward the market. “It is amazing how well you know me.” Daring smiled and bounded excitedly forward. Wun did not move quickly—she seldom did—but her height lent her an unusual gait that was simultaneously graceful and bizarrely quick. Daring took note of the reactions of the ponies around her. Most of them were polite enough not to stare, but they still withdrew from Wun’s presence. Wun herself seemed distinctly out of place, and Daring felt the same—but did not know what else to do. They came to the market and found it nearly as bustling as the shipyard, except exponentially more colorful. There were stalls and stands and tends of every sort, selling every kind of thing that Daring Do could imagine. There were exotic textiles, clothing, and ornaments besides spices of every color and fruits and vegetables that even Daring Do did not know the names of. Once again, the sudden exposure to so much stimulus left Daring completely stunned. “Focus,” said Wun. She turned slightly to her right, finding the tip of her nose inches from a bulbous, spiky plant growing out of the sandy soil. “That is a cactus,” she said, to no one in particular. “This pleases me.” “Don’t try to eat it.” “I was not going to.” “Yes, you were. Don’t do it.” Wun did not answer, but continued to stare unblinkingly at the bizarre plant. Daring, meanwhile, approached the nearest stall. An older stallion sat behind it, and he smiled as she approached. Daring Do looked at his wares and was tickled to realize that he was selling trinkets and curios. “Wun, look at this!” Daring approached a statue of a pony carved from a unique dark stone. A figure that the merchant had several of—and that actually, as Daring Do looked around, seemed to be a common motif of the town. Everyone seemed to have statues of that pony, and the center of the plaza had a large one. “What is this?” asked Daring Do. Then, she rephrased. “Who is this?” The merchant smiled kindly. “Why, child, that is Somnambula, the Bastion of Hope, a pony of great importance to our people. Second only to Ra, of course.” “Ra?” “Yes, the one you call Celestia, the One True Goddess.” “Is it old?” asked Wun, her mouth dripping with cactus sap. “Ra?” Wun pointed at the statue. “Old? As in…? Daring sighed. “She means the statue.” “Well, no,” admitted the merchant. “These are carved recently, but locally, and with great love. Every representation of Somnambula is. But in truth, it is the idea of her that bears such weight, is it not? Of hope, even in the darkest times, and the will to see it forward to fruition.” He raised an eyebrow. “But it is strange to meet one who does not know the Bastion of Hope. I take it you two have only arrived recently.” “Is it that obvious?” The merchant shrugged. “A little?” He paused. “If I might ask, if it is not too rude, are you tourists? Perhaps you would like...a tiny souvenir?” He produced a tiny Somnambula statue. “It is never a bad thing to have a little hope, no?” “We’re not,” said Daring. “We’re actually here to oversee an archaeological expedition.” The merchant’s eyes seemed to light up. “Archaeologists? My my, you’ve certainly come to the right place! So much of our culture has gotten buried and lost! Perhaps you are here to work the dig at Hissan’s pyramid?” He gestured to the towering structure in the distance. “We have already learned so much about our ancestors, archaeologists are always welcome here!” He held up a tiny Celestia statue. “I will even give you this one to, for half price if you buy both!” “We’re actually not archeologists,” admitted Daring. “You’re...not?” “No. Our father is financing the dig. We’re just here to oversee it.” Daring smiled. “And I’ve been keeping up reading about Hissan’s pyramid, as neat as it is, that’s not where we’re going.” “Oh really? Well, we have a great many pyramids and palaces.” “We’re interested in one in particular. It’s located to the south.” The smile vanished from the merchant’s face, and all levity left his tone of voice. “This is the most southern extreme of Equestria, I’m afraid. There is nothing south of here.” Daring frowned. “Yes there is. That’s where we’re going.” “There is nothing,” snapped the merchant. “Nothing except red dessert.” “That’s not true. Two hundred forty miles south of here, there’s--” All color drained from the merchant’s face, and a look of horror overcame him. “Is something wrong? What did I say--” “There is NOTHING!” he screamed. “NOTHING TO THE SOUTH!” “But--” “Get out! GET OUT!” Daring took a step back, only to find that much of the market had fallen silent. She stood still for what seemed like an eternity, and then everything started moving. In seconds, it seemed like every shop had closed. Every window that could be boarded had been boarded, and every stall closed. The ponies had vanished, running as quickly as they could. Even the statue merchant had fled, terrified and shaking, abandoning his statues as he departed. Then it was empty. The market, once bustling, was now dead and silent. No ponies could be seen. Wun barely seemed to notice. She was staring closely at the Somnambula statue. “I do not want this,” she said. “But if we find the real Somnambula, I would like to own her skeleton.” “Where did everypony go?” asked Daring. “What did I do?” “Interesting that you blame yourself,” said a voice beside them. Daring nearly jumped from the sudden disturbance in the silence. She turned sharply to see that one merchant had not left, one operating his stall from an ornate caravan cart. His clothes were not like those of the others. From his dress and from his preternatural height, it was clear that he was Saddle Arabian—and the only one now present in the market. “You didn’t run away.” He shrugged. “I have no reason two. Although never have I seen one perturb the locals so very badly.” Daring approached the unicorn. He was pinkish in coloration, and wearing a pair of goggles over his hat. “Such a disturbing pun,” mused Wun. Daring ignored her. “Why did they run away?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at the empty market. Its silence was disturbing, and its emptiness more so. “Superstition, largely. The locals, they do not speak of the south here, and what lies there.” “But you do.” The stallion smiled. “I am very clearly not a local. My wife and I cross the deserts to trade here.” As he spoke, the door to his cart opened, and his wife emerged. Daring Do was immediately somewhat confused, not knowing the word for what she was. Then it occurred to her. The stallion’s wife was a camel. Wun’s head swiveled, and she frowned. “I am not sure if this is offensive as I think it is.” The camel set down a tray of kebabs and leaned her long neck against her husband. She was clad in a brightly colored blanket, and wore the same eye makeup as the locals. “Take one, child,” she said. “Do not let the heat make you forget to eat. Starvation takes what thirst does not.” Daring took one of the kebabs. It was made of vegetables and some manner of fungus. She took a bite and found it quite delicious. “And you, old one?” “I’m not old,” snapped Wun. “Her and I are the same age.” “No. You are not.” “She only eats cubes of tofu,” said Daring Do. Which, was of course, was not entirely true—but she did not want to explain Wun’s unique diet to others. “Thank you. But why don’t the locals talk about the south? Why are they so afraid?” The Saddle Arabian stallion tilted his head. “Well,” he said, “I cannot say I know for sure. But every traveler knows to stay away from that land.” “Even my people do not cross it,” said his wife. “Until recently, not even we could survive the journey.” “Some have,” said the stallion. “Not travelers, or traders. Strange folk. But they cannot get near. The locals are...well, not the sort to give you free kebab.” Daring felt her face grow hot. “I can pay for it--” “No need,” said the camel. “We are in a very good mood today. After all, it is Wednesday.” Daring frowned. “What’s so special about Wednesday?” The unicorn and his wife looked at each other and giggled. “Regardless,” said the stallion, after a moment, “going south is an unwise choice.” “But you said it was just superstition.” “No. It is superstition that keeps the locals away. The terror of the Black Pyramid. We stay away for much more practical reasons.” “Nothing good can come from that dead place,” added the camel, her expression darkening. “We already have an expedition on site,” said Wun, coldly. “And I do not intend to let either superstition nor practical limitations prevent me from performing this operation.” The stallion’s smile grew. “Yes. I know. I was the one who outfit them, because I was the only one willing to sell to them. Just as I am the only one here to sell to you.” “You son of a—you were waiting, weren’t you?” The stallion shrugged. “Maybe we were, maybe we were not. Who knows?” “Well, the joke’s on you, I don’t even need to--” Daring Do was pushed aside by her sister’s magic. “Wun?” “I have decided that I want to buy something,” she said. “Wait, really?” “Yes. So I recommend that you wander off. There will be some slight negotiation. It may take time. Also probably violence.” The camel seemed nervous, but the stallion seemed to have—stupidly--accepted the challenge. Daring Do, meanwhile, beat a hasty retreat. She knew how Wun could get, especially during negotiations. Purchasing things tended to mean very little to her, but she enjoyed the process. It would either be profoundly drawn out and boring, or there would be severe property damage. The sun was starting to sink lower in the sky, and the wind was starting to strengthen. It was surprisingly cold. Somehow it seemed to make the emptiness so much worse. Word seemed to have spread. What should have been a joyous time of cultural exploration had turned so much darker. Daring Do had become a pariah in a place she had just arrived. Ponies who saw her would quickly hide in their houses, departing from her presence as quickly as they could. As if the curse they feared had stuck to her simply by intent. So she wandered through the cooling streets, alone and in the orange light of a beautiful sunset that she could not see through the densely packed buildings. She eventually wandered to a place where she could see the ancient fort looming over her. A pair of elderly soldiers in Southern Equestria uniforms were in the process of lowering the flag for the night. Daring sighed and shivered. The excitement had faded, and now she was having misgivings about the whole of it. It was the first time she had been allowed to attend a mission like this, or to go anywhere at all apart from her home. The best she had ever managed to do was sneak out into the city—and now she was here, in a place she had always dreamed of going, and everypony seemed to hate her. She looked up and saw that she had gotten totally lost. Except that she was standing in front of a building marked with a sign of a book, and an insignia of a star. The text beneath it read, in Southern Equestrian, “Library”. Daring reached for the door, knowing that it would be locked. Instead, though, she felt the mechanism of the handle click and the door slide open. She stepped inside, feeling the coolness of the building washing over her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The scent of books, and old ones, was a smell that had always calmed her. Books, texts, and tomes were what made up her life, and even if they were not quite enough they were something she would always love. And this library held that smell deeply, as it had for a long time. When she opened her eyes, they had adjusted to the light, which was dim. The orange glow of the sun came through a set of high windows, lighting paths through the dust and splashing brightly on the cold tile floor. Across the way sat a desk, and the stallion behind it looked up. Daring Do was immediately struck by his appearance. He was a unicorn, and one of advanced age, but not in the normal sense. He aged the way those of only the purest descent were able to, and the way that so few ponies could consciously perceive. But Daring Do could. The way his beautiful and youthful face was just a little bit too gaunt, or how his limbs were just slightly too thin—and of course, the eyes. The eyes were always the most obvious clue. The eyes of a creature that had lived so long that he was on the verge of becoming something that was not even a pony at all. They were just like the eyes of the stallion that Daring Do considered her father, although not quite the same. Wun Hun Dred Perr-Synt’s unblinking eyes always seemed to carry predatory intent, a sort of bizarre and hungry intent. This stallion’s eyes, though at least as old, seemed to carry a sense of disturbing inquisitiveness. Daring Do was not sure which was worse. “Welcome,” he said. “Please, feel free to look around. I do not get many visitors these days.” Daring paused. “You’re not going to tell me to leave, are you?” The stallion looked over the top of the book he was reading. “Everyone is welcome in the library. This is a safe place for anyone at all. That is my strictest policy. You are welcome here, as is everyone who respects the books and the knowledge therein.” Daring Do took a few steps forward. The stallion was gray in color, nearly white, and had several streaks of violet in his otherwise white mane, which was tied back in a ponytail. His face was mottled with peculiar violet freckles. Daring Do took note that on his left foreleg, he seemed to have a tattoo of some sort. It was covered by the sleeve of his jacket, but she could see that it was something of immense complexity—and something that had not yet been finished. Stranger still, Daring recognized him. “The star,” she said. “You’re from House Twilight.” The stallion, somewhat surprised, smiled. “Yes,” he said. “Twilight Felt. And you are?” “Daring Do.” “What an exiting name. And, if you might forgive an old stallion, it is strange, isn’t it?” “My name?” “No. The fact that a young Pegasus girl enters my library wearing a shirt of changeling silk in Singapone style and can recognize pureblood Houses.” “Well, I’d say it’s strange that a member of the most powerful noble family in all of Equestria is sitting in a dusty library at the outer edge of nowhere, but I wasn’t going to point it out because I’m not a rude butt.” “And yet you pointed it out anyway. So I guess we are both the butt. And clearly you do not know House Twilight very well.” “Enough to know that you should be sitting in a throne eating grapes of fluffing Celestia’s wings or whatever it is you do.” Felt smiled, and pointed to his face and the violet mottling of his coat on his neck. “I was, unfortunately, not born white. A colored pony has no place in House Twilight. Nor does it bother me, though. Courtly life is not exactly my forte.” “Meaning?” “Meaning that I used to be an adventurer like you.” Daring Do was taken aback by this. “I’m not an adventurer.” “Ms. Do. I had lived several of your lifetimes by the time I was middle-aged. It’s not something you choose. It’s something I can see in your eyes. Although frankly you are going to swelter in that silk. If it is not to forward, I do have some spare clothes that are more suitable.” “I don’t need--” “If you intend to be doing any adventuring at all, you need to be properly equipped. And blending in is never a bad idea.” Felt stood up and stepped out from behind his desk, with some difficulty. He walked with a severe limp, and when he emerged from his desk, Daring saw why. One of his rear legs was missing halfway up the thigh. He saw her staring and chuckled. “Yes, well, as you know, anyone with any manner of bow, well...they aim for the knees. What they do not tell you is just how many tribes poison their arrows.” “I’m sorry.” “For what? I got old, and I got slow. Such is the way it goes, even for purebloods.” He walked toward the rear shelves of the library, to the immense stacks built in the tighter spaces back there. “This is a lot of books.” “My accumulated work.” Daring gasped. “You wrote all these?!” Felt laughed. “Wrote them? No, my dear. Why would anyone want a library with just one author? No, no, not at all…these were books I collected, in my time.” “You adventured for...books?” Felt paused. “An interesting thing you might consider, Ms. Do. Where does history come from, do you think?” “From...the past?” “Yes, ideally. But in practice, not at all. History comes from those who write it down. They are the ones who control it. The ones who define our reality.” “That doesn’t make any sense.” Felt looked at her. “The fact that you feel that way is a good sign. I feel the same way. Which was the point of my work. Not to understand what was, but what was lost. The parts of history that were stolen from us.” “How can you steal history?” “It is not as hard as you would think.” Felt looked at his shelves. “My own family is a prime example. Everything that is taught to us was a lie. We created ourselves in the present to define our past. Which answers your question.” “What question?” “Why I am on the far end of nowhere.” Daring Do paused for a moment, staring up at the books. Her eyes had adjusted enough for her to see the titles. Many were in strange languages, and had esoteric subjects. Many concerned magic, and other things—forgotten titles about forgotten things. Some of them, she was sure, were dangerous things—but she could not fully convince herself that even those ones should be forgotten too. “Can I ask you another question?” “Very few of the locals speak to me, and I no longer sleep. I have time, and volition.” Daring Do took a breath. “I came here to oversee a dig. At a special pyramid...in the south.” Twilight Felt turned to her, slowly, his violet eyes seeming to stare into her. Daring Do braced for screaming. “The Iron Pyramid,” he said. “Then I was not incorrect.” “You know it?” “I know of it, yes. Although I have only seen it once.” “You—saw it?!” Daring Do gasped, suddenly realizing what the trader had meant about “Strange Folk”. This stallion was quite clearly a wizard, and from the tattoo and the books, almost assuredly an extremely dark one. “Once. Getting close is not easy. Invisibility does not work. They can hear you. Those arrows missed my knees, but did not miss entirely. But the Pyramid held nothing I needed nor desired, so I left it behind.” “Do you know what it is?” Felt paused, and then walked over to one particular shelf. He scanned through the titles and began carefully removing books. “I do not think anypony knows what, exactly, it is,” he said, slowly. “In any more than a general sense, at least. “Then what is it, in a general sense?” “A pyramid.” “Well, yeah, I already knew that.” “Did you? You haven’t seen it. You’ll understand when you do I suppose, if you make it that far. But the point is, it’s a special pyramid.” “Every pyramid is special.” “Not really. All made of rock and with a dead king stuffed inside.” “Then why is this one different?” Felt looked over his shoulder. “Because of its age. It supposedly was created by a pre-Celestine culture.” Daring Do shivered. “Pre-Celestine? Is that even possible?” Felt raised an eyebrow. “You are asking if things existed prior to Celestia? Have you ever heard the name Somnabula?” Daring reddened. “That’s not what I mean! It’s just that...well...” “That almost everything from that era has been meticulously erased from history?” Daring shivered. “That isn’t proof.” “I do not need proof more than I have.” He looked at spine of a book, and then pulled it out. “However, I can say that almost nothing is known of that era. The longer you go back, the more sparse the records become.” “Well, you’re supposed to be an expert, aren’t you?” Felt looked up. “I never said that.” “Road apples. You said you’re an adventurer, right? And all these books?” Felt’s brow furrowed, to the extent that his facial muscles still functioned. “I don’t know what it is, or what function it once served. An early tomb, perhaps, or a temple. Or perhaps simply a monolith. Perhaps something empty with nothing inside.” “Do ancient tombs ever have ‘nothing inside’?” “No.” Felt snapped the book closed and put it with the others. “But sometimes they have nothing of use. Or things that really are better left alone...as the other Twilights would say, anyway. My real question, though, is why you seem so obsessed with this line of inquiry.” “Because I’m headed there. My sister and I are overseeing a dig. It’s really important to our father, and Wun too, I guess.” “No.” “No? You don’t know her. I hope. Unless you...” Daring Do shivered. She had never really asked how many times her sister had been married, or two whom. “She likes old things. Artifacts, like our father. It’s her thing.” “Not what I meant. I am asking why if you are headed there you have no idea about where you are going.” Daring frowned. “If I knew, why would I be going there?” A thin smile crossed Felt’s face. “A good answer. But ask your sister. She may not answer in the same way.” “What is that supposed to mean?” Felt took another book from a different shelf. “I cannot say as to what you might find. This area was considered barely inhabitable until the Hissan Dynasty. What you could find might represent a culture completely lost to us. Something entirely unprecedented.” Daring Do felt her pulse quicken at the very thought. “The things we could find there...things that nopony’s ever seen, ever.” Felt smiled. “Indeed.” He passed her the books he had gathered. “These are for you.” Daring gasped. “Really?” “It’s a library. You can take them home. Just bring them back later. Every good adventure requires a firm basis in theory, and research. Well, I suppose not every good adventure...but the adventurers that do not do their reading first usually do not last so long. Now, that clothing.” He turned back to the rear of the library as Daring Do balanced the books between her wings. She followed Felt, and paused for a moment as she passed a small alcove. In it was a desk with a typewriter. A page was sticking out of it, but only barely. “What is that?” “Oh,” said Felt, sadly. “That is a project of mine. A memoir, I guess you could say.” “Really? Wow, I bet you have a lot of stories, right?” “I did, once.” Felt’s expression fell. “But I have lived many of your lifetimes. And my memories are fading. It is my greatest regret, not having recorded it while it is fresh. I have many friends and stories that are only shadows now, and I wish so badly that I could revisit them one more time. It is something I suppose one only sees in hindsight.” He paused for a moment, and then an idea seemed to strike him. He reached out and grasped a book in his magic. He held it out to Daring Do, along with a well of ink and a quill. “What is this?” “For you. It’s blank.” “I’m not good at writing, I can’t--” “Please, humor an old stallion. At least take it.” Daring Do looked at him, and let him put the supplies on her pile of books. “Sure.” Twilight Felt smiled. “Now, what is your chest size?” Daring Do nearly dropped her books. “Wh—excuse me?!” “I might need to resize the shirt.” “O—oh...” Felt laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll have you outfitted in a jiffy. It’s the least I can do for a fellow adventurer, after all.”