The centaur and pegasus looked up at the silvery light reflected from craters as they stood in the heart of the palace gardens, and there was a moment in which neither of them risked breath.
“Do you feel any better?” Nightwatch finally asked. “Um. For being out here?”
Cerea’s right hand instinctively, awkwardly pushed back on the sleeve which draped over her left wrist. Moved the fabric just enough to let cool autumn air touch a little more of her skin.
More than cool now, even in the carefully-regulated gardens. Enough to make her wonder when winter would arrive.
“It helps a little to be outside,” the girl quietly said, with that hand now rubbing at the exposed arm. “We don’t do well with long-term confinement. ...centaurs, I mean. There’s this part of me which almost always wants to gallop...”
“That’s everypony,” the pegasus softly qualified as they moved down the trail which wove around the evergreens. “Everypony in the whole world. Even pegasi. I want to fly, but -- running is different. You can't say it's better in front of a pegasus without starting a fight. Um. Most pegasi. Definitely at least one. But I think it can be almost as good in a different way.”
“I’m not a pony,” felt like a statement which had to be made.
“But you still want to gallop,” was offered as a gentle counter. “Maybe that’s close enough.”
They were both quiet for a while, and then the pair began to move again. The centaur was trying to keep herself as close as possible to the left side of the path, because the pegasus was on hoof and they were trotting with each other. It created a need to make room as a form of apology for her size, even when sufficient space for a full secondary school class tour already existed. The central effect was to create multiple pauses in the journey, during which the girl would try to untangle her hair from low branches. It was a little easier for her fingers to brush the green needles out.
“Were there prisons?” Nightwatch asked. “In your gap. Um. Because you had to have just about everything in that one place, so if anyone broke the law, there had to be some kind of punishment. And if you all have trouble with being confined, then the cells might be enough. But a prison might have taken up space which your herd needed for something else. Only you couldn’t exile anyone as a punishment, not when no one knew you were there. And... um... the other option would probably be... um...”
Cerea sighed. The rubbing got a little faster.
“It was a... tiered system. Two of them. For mares and stallions. But they ended the same way.”
The pegasus waited, because there were times when it was best to let the questions pile up at the back of her teeth. A quick check was made of the Moon-lit trail, just to make sure they were still heading in the right direction.
“With the mares, it started with public discipline,” Cerea eventually continued. “Which mostly meant getting yelled at, in public." Her mother had believed in that one in the same way grass believed in sunlight: near-constant use of the resource, comprehension fully optional. "The idea was that if you were humiliated enough about breaking a small rule, you wouldn’t want to do it again. There were some punishment details: extra labor, the jobs no one wanted to do. But the usual step after that was shunning. No one would talk to you unless they caught you doing something wrong, or you were trying to use their not talking back as a way to say some things. You could take food, keep the gap running, go to bed and do it all again tomorrow — but if you didn’t create a stir, everyone just acted like you weren’t there.”
She’d never really seen that level as an effective deterrent, at least as it applied to herself. When it came to Cerea’s position in the herd, shunning had felt all too close to default.
“With the smaller offenses, most of it was really just about trying to get everyone back in line,” the girl went on. “Because you really couldn’t go anywhere else. There were gaps which were fairly close to each other, enough to risk travel and maybe ask someone else to see if your problem fit in better with their herd. Ours wasn’t one of them. So making someone behave... that was the first priority.”
“And if it was something big?”
Silence, which at least gave Nightwatch the chance to peer ahead. Still some distance to go.
Carefully, “Cerea... It’s the things we have to ask each other. You... sort of implied that some of your stallions might try to — there’s a reason you carried that baton —“
“— prisons are...” The girl swallowed, and the accelerated rubbing began to redden skin. “...a constant drain on resources. If you lock someone away, they aren’t contributing anything to the herd. They’re just taking from it, because they still need everything which keeps them alive. And part of it was — what you said. There’s only so much space to use. So there were only a few cells, because that was all the herd could support. No mare went into them unless every other option was gone. It would be indentured servitude before it went to the cells, and I never saw any mare reach either stage. But there was one in the cells, when I was born. No one ever said what she did, and she died when I was seven years old. You... didn’t go too close to that patch of ground, because sometimes you could hear her screaming. And then the screaming just — stopped.”
Brown fur rippled in the breeze. The centaur stopped moving, and a slow breath shifted the sweater. The sleeve was pulled back down.
“Underground cells,” Nightwatch softly said. “I should have expected that. Did... the herd take fillies to where the prison was? So they could hear what would happen if they were bad?”
Cerea silently shook her head. After a moment, a simple “No,” was added to that, because even overlapping body language needed a little help when the other party was looking up from an awkward angle.
“So there’s that,” the Guard quietly observed. “I... um. I think you know what the next question is —“
“— never in my lifetime.” The girl’s voice was almost calm. “There were other things for mares, and ways around a few of them. You could even get trial by combat under certain conditions, but...” And stopped.
Open, immediate concern. “Cerea?”
“Let’s call that,” the tones of detachment said, “a means of settling civil and family disputes. But with stallions, after a certain point, the punishments had to be physical. They needed something they could be afraid of, because social consequences... for the most part, they just didn’t care. Some of them were too dumb to worry about pain. And if they were big enough, strong enough, stupid enough, and someone really got hurt...”
Blue eyes sought silvery moonlight, and found no answers waiting for her in reflected light.
“...there were different cells,” Cerea finished. “With heavier chains. And I know that twenty years before I was born, there was an execution. Because you couldn’t send them anywhere, so if the cells weren’t enough, if they were so strong that there was always going to be some chance of escape — then there was just one option left.”
Every part of the girl shook. The pegasus waited until the forward regions settled down.
"We don't have that," the little knight carefully offered -- then hesitated, as feathers briefly rustled. "Um. I'm not the best with history. But Princess Luna told me some things, and... it's more accurate to say that we don't have that right now. There's prisons, but... the ones for ponies mostly try to promote reform. Finding some way of making their lives better when their sentences are over. But there's always the ones you can't fix, or crimes so bad that the ponies have to be kept there for life. And... there used to be a death penalty, but it either phased out over centuries or it reached the point where it could only be used for things which never happened. If anypony gets close to going that far, there's..."
This was a shudder.
"...another prison." Two breaths, and then black fur was once again resting in its natural grain. "It's one of the things the Princesses argue about, because Princess Luna feels execution should be an option more often than it is. Only for a very few things, but..." A slow breath. "She says it isn't a deterrent against someone doing the worst, because anyone who would go that far probably isn't going to be thinking about consequences at all. So it doesn't keep anyone from doing something. But she said she's completely sure it stops them from ever doing it again."
They both moved a little more. The pegasus examined moonlight as it played off moss, then picked up her pace.
"They had a fight," Nightwatch added. "After Tirek. Um. Most ponies don't know about that, and you shouldn't repeat it to anypony outside the palace. But the Guards know. The Princesses have to find ways of agreeing on things, and... they couldn't. So they just argued, and -- we don't know how they settled it. They left the palace for a little while, and when they came back, Princess Celestia had the last word. Princess Luna doesn't talk about it, because she thinks it was the wrong decision and she doesn't want to start the fight again. Ponies... get scared when they fight."
It didn't even qualify as a guess. A guess meant there was a chance you weren't certain. "She wanted Tirek killed."
"...yes."
"And Princess Celestia -- thinks he can be reformed?"
Ponies died.
How many ponies died...?
The words had become as dark as the fur. "He's not in that kind of prison. I don't know what the whole argument was, Cerea. I only heard a little of it, and they were fighting for a few days. Which means a lot of the argument took place during parts of the Solar shift. But from what we all pieced together... at least part of it was because Princess Celestia wanted Tirek to explain himself. Not his motive, because that was easy. How it was done. She wanted to figure out exactly how the draining worked, because that was the only way to create a counter. In case someone else came along who could do the same thing. And it's a lot harder to interrogate a corpse. But maybe he decided that he would only survive as long as he didn't talk, or..."
The pegasus stopped. Wings flared, and needles were caught in the sudden blast of wind.
"...he might have just thought it was funnier to make them wonder. I don't know if anypony's tried to question him again, because there may not be words which don't make him laugh. He's a monster, Cerea. He's something which can't care. And he's still alive, when so many ponies aren't..."
The girl waited until feathers had stopped shaking, and tried to be discreet about straightening out her hair. It didn't work.
"I can find something to cut it with, if you don't wear it that long," the little knight offered. "If you want to do it yourself. Or we could ask somepony to get those stylists back."
As changes of subject went, this one felt like a life preserver tossed into a stormy sea: the centaur wrapped her arms around buoyancy and hoped for the waters to settle. "I'll probably trim it myself. They tried to make my hair look like a mane. I don't have a mane."
Not without humor, "Is there anything else you really need right now? Something you're willing to ask for? Maybe not even an object or item, but a wish --"
Immediately, "A shoulder massage. Someone who can just rub them. Work their fingers against the muscles. I --" hopefully "-- I don't suppose you know how to -- I know it's a lot to ask, with all the -- touching, but if you're willing to try, even for a few seconds --"
Nightwatch stopped trotting. Giggled once, and her wings flared again. Just enough to allow a hover in front of Cerea's gaze, so she could helplessly, mirthfully display her forehooves.
"...oh."
"The palace has a masseuse on retainer," the pegasus added. "Just not on staff. She has her own place in the capital. And she can work with her hooves. Most spa ponies know how. But she mostly comes in for the Princesses, when things get really bad. And she'd still need to learn your anatomy, so she'd know what not to do. And --" which was where words ran out.
"And find a way not to be afraid of me," Cerea morosely finished.
"It's not impossible."
The girl went with the obvious counter. "It's not likely, either."
They looked at each other for a few seconds, blue on silver, with shadows from nearby statues of the dead falling across both bodies. And then they moved again, with the pegasus staying in the air. (Cerea was sure that sustained flight at such a low speed and rate of wing flaps was impossible. Magic seemed to be involved in just about everything.)
"You sort of look like you're thinking about something," the pegasus observed.
"Holidays," the girl admitted. "It was -- sort of a random thought. I don't know how deep into autumn this is --"
"-- about halfway --"
"-- and that made me think that I don't know what your autumn holidays are. Or if you have any."
"Um. Nightmare Night was a little while ago. It's... probably a good thing that you didn't get to see any of that. It's partially about disguising yourself as something which isn't a pony, other ponies use the chance to try and prank or scare, and... a couple of people in the capital came up with the same idea. Adolescents. Old enough to think they were smart and young enough to be stupid on purpose. They thought it would be funny if somepony got mad at them, because they were safe when they can't be identified and the anger couldn't reach them where they lived or went to school, there were some pictures to work with and --"
The pegasus was still trying to work out the girl's body language. There was an extra torso to deal with, plus two additional limbs: it complicated everything. But eyes tended to widen with horror in exactly the same way, and that was all it took for the little knight to realize that the centaur had just figured it out.
"-- um... it... wasn't exactly in good taste. They got yelled at. A lot, because ponies were offended. But they didn't get to be anonymous after the disguises got torn off. Or kicked off --"
The larger hooves were beginning to canter in place.
Frantically, "-- but the next big holiday on the calendar is Homecoming! That's more of a celebration! And it's just a few weeks away. You're supposed to --" and the implications were only capable of putting brakes on the suddenly horrible words, while being completely helpless to stop them "-- get together... with your... family..."
The females simultaneously looked away from each other.
Technically, the blush faded first from the centaur: it was just harder to pick out the last remnants on the pegasus.
"...sorry."
"It's okay."
(It wasn't. But as lies went, the words made up a familiar one.)
More trotting, with eight legs now moving forward from the pressure of sheer embarrassment.
"I'm just glad we were able to get you outside," Nightwatch eventually resumed. "It's easier at night. The gardens didn't have to be cleared. And..." Hesitated. "Um. I didn't think you were going to -- react like that. To hearing about what happened with Blitzschritt. So strongly. So it felt like you really needed some fresh air. And I wanted to show you something anyway, after you heard her story. Um. I was planning on doing this before the books arrived. Or trying to plan. So it's good that we can go out immediately."
It was easy to make an emotional connection, when somepony was reading her a true story. For most of the girl's life, stories had been just about the only such connections available. "The Sergeant said... everyone has to learn about a Guard?"
A little more softly, "Yes. Every recruit. It's usually a different Guard for everypony in the group. Why do you think he assigned Blitzschritt to you?"
It was the sort of question which felt like a test. It was also something which Cerea had been asking herself for a while, which meant some level of probably-wrong answer was readily available. "Because she was the only one. The first and last ibex to serve. Someone... singular. And if I pass... that's what I am." Not that the centaur had made it through yet. Or might make it through at all.
"I think that's part of it," the little knight replied. "But there's something which I heard during my training. That if we thought of ourselves as pegasi and unicorns and earth ponies while we're in the armor, it should only be in terms of what we could each contribute to the squad. But in every other way, we had to think of ourselves as -- Guards. And that was the first way to see it. Blitzschritt was a Guard with the magic of an ibex --"
The tone was insistent. "-- she was a knight."
It was becoming easier to recognize the smile. "You keep saying things like that."
"She was. Just like you are. Knights have a cause," Cerea recited. "You both do. You find your cause, and then you dedicate everything to it. She lived for something, she fought for something, she died for --"
"-- she didn't mean to die."
This time, the centaur stopped.
"Um," Nightwatch continued as the hover became increasingly shaky. "Um. She... sort of did, at the end. Um. I mean, I think she knew she was going to die when she made her stand. And she knew that if it worked, her death would mean the Princess lived. I guess..." Forelegs made awkward motions. "Um. I'm not always great with words either. I think I wanted to say that she didn't go into the Guard looking for a way to die. She probably wanted to live. Maybe she wanted to find someone to fall in love with and have kids. Her dream might have been to have her retirement ceremony with three generations watching. A Guard has to be ready to die for their Princess. It shouldn't mean you're always hoping that's what happens. Anyone who signs up because they want to find their death shouldn't be there. You should live for your Princess more than you ever think about dying for her. And when somepony plans on having that as their death... they're gone."
"A knight's death should have meaning," insisted a thousand stories.
"Some Guards live a long time, and die in their bed at home. They made ponies happy, and we smile when we remember them," the pegasus gently countered. "I think that means something."
No response, but for the girl's hands slowly falling open at her sides.
They began to move again, because there were times when awkwardness served as a whip against the base of the tail.
"There's more light up ahead," Cerea observed: a silvery shine was just visible to the left of an upcoming sharp turn in the path. "Is that somepony's corona? I -- don't want to startle --"
"-- no sparkles," Nightwatch answered. "And I know where we're going. It's supposed to be like that. You'll see in a few seconds. This is where I wanted to take you."
She flew ahead, vanished around the curve. The centaur quickly hurried to follow --
-- there were multiple environments in the gardens. Miniature ecosystems, carefully maintained by at least two kinds of magic. And when the girl thought about such environments, she typically pictured that which existed under open sky. She was capable of swimming, but -- it was an effort, the centaur body wasn't really meant for snorkeling, diving was worse, and exposure to Meroune's mother had turned any potential charm involved in visiting a coral reef into just being that much closer to the realm of madness.
She usually thought of ecosystems in terms of what existed in the open. A species which associated confinement with the underground wasn't going to imagine a cave.
There were no spikes of rock hanging from the ceiling at the border of the gap in the rock, nor did spires immediately rise from the floor. It was possible to see some specimens of each somewhat further back in the hollow, because there was enough light in which to do so. Moss grew in the cave, and the proof of its life streamed from its surface as silver light. Chips of mica picked up on that glow, scattered it before reflecting portions back to waiting stone eyes.
There were other colors. Mushrooms shone red: some sort of lichen added a touch of blue. But the statue itself was grey: the sort of grey which takes over when age drains all other hues away. It had been visibly restored several times, with that work being done across uncounted generations by sculptors using different methods: the seams showed upon close observation, but any visible difference in the materials themselves had faded over the centuries. It was a statue so old that for all Cerea knew, the cave had simply emerged around it.
A grey statue of a sturdy earth pony whose expression was patchwork resolute, set under a style of helmet the girl had never seen before. Resting in the mouth of a cave within the embrace of the night's rainbow, as a black-furred pegasus hovered nearby.
"This is Adamant," Nightwatch reverently stated. "He was one of the first Guards. A Lunar. And... he was mine. It was hard to learn about him. It took nearly two moons before I thought I had enough to understand him, even a little. I had to spend some time in Ancient History, when I'm not good with that, and just getting the right books and documents..." with a little smile, "...well, the librarian eventually got better. But I learned as much as I could about him. And... I just thought it was a good night for you to meet him. Because we all get a Guard. And we have to figure out how those Guards relate to us."
The girl was staring. Watching the colors play off stone.
The little knight noticed. "...are you okay?"
"I've..." She swallowed. "...I've never seen anything like this before. The plants..."
Nightwatch smiled. "It's not quite the same during the day. Some things do better at night. There's less competition. And... it's not just plants which can look different under Moon. It's the world. It's.. more beautiful this way, here and there. But most ponies won't believe that."
She flew back, touched down next to the girl, and settled her body down onto the path. Resting, as she quietly watched stone eyes.
After a while, the centaur sank down to join her.
"Is there more written down?" the girl asked. "About Blitzschritt?"
"Um. I don't know. She's one of the Guards we all learn about, as one of the greats. But most of that is how she died. There might be old files from when she was going through training, but it would be mostly notes about how she was doing. Her application could still be around. If she kept a diary, it would probably be in Ibexian, and there aren't many ponies who know how to read it. I could try to help you with an Archives search, but I'm not the best with that either."
"What about the ibex? Wouldn't they have their own books?"
Silver eyes closed.
"I don't know. We can pass through the mountains, but -- it's a lot harder for most ponies to stop there. We all learn about her, at least a little, and... I sort of... stopped reading to you a little early."
The girl awkwardly looked down at the pegasus and found closed lids staring forward into a private darkness, as partial prisms painted the fur.
"There was something written down about the way most of them reacted, at the start," Nightwatch reluctantly admitted. "I didn't want you to hear it just then. Um. It's easy to censor things, when you know someone can't check on their own yet. I should stop doing that."
Carefully, "What did it say?"
"They... blamed her." Hastily, while the girl's vocal chords were still lining up for the shout of protest, "They said none of it would have happened without her. Because if she hadn't gone down, then the Princess wouldn't have come up. And that made it her fault."
"But --"
"-- I know how it sounds!" Forehooves angrily pushed against the dirt of the path. "But there's all sorts of sapients who think like that! They just -- go further and further back, looking for something they can blame. Tracing back every decision until they find the one that's wrong. And it's pointless most of the time, because it already happened. You can't take it back, and when it comes to blaming anyone, when you're just looking for that one moment... the griffons have a saying about that. About why it's pointless."
She knew it was a cue, and also recognized that she had no choice but to take it. "What's the saying?"
Armor shifted across the movement of the breath.
"It's about where that sort of trail always winds up, if you take it far enough. 'And...' Um. 'And no one would have suffered had they not been born.'"
The girl's eyes closed.
Yes.
"Princess Luna quotes it sometimes, when she's frustrated," Nightwatch added. "She says it's the sort of saying which most ponies don't want to think about. Because it makes too much sense. Some of them will do anything not to think about it..."
Birth is where suffering begins.
Or in Cerea's case, somewhat earlier --
"-- you're quiet."
"I am simply thinking. Your words have given me much to think about --"
Carefully, "-- and now you're formal again. Which probably means you're upset."
Both females opened their eyes at just about the same time. Looked at each other, and then mutually found it easier to regard the statue.
"There's just been a lot tonight," Cerea finally said. "The humans have a saying... 'too much to unpack'. That's been every night here..." She'd never understood it until she'd had to face down her luggage in Japan. After the airport had finally found it again. "I -- know it's a lot to ask. But I want to learn more about Blitzschritt. If it doesn't create more problems for you, would you please --"
"-- yes."
Moon, close to full now, continued on its journey. Two tails slowly shifted across the dirt of the path.
"There's at least one more way that you're like her," the little knight stated. "At least to me. I can't say it, because -- you're supposed to figure it out for yourself. And I could be wrong, because it's just the way I'm seeing it. But I'm almost sure there's one more."
Black and blonde strands briefly touched, with the longer doing most of the work. Separated.
"I'll read you Adamant's story," Nightwatch offered. "After you tell me what you think that extra link with Blitzschritt is."
"I'll try."
Touched again.
"I like to come out here when I'm having trouble thinking about something," the pegasus said. "It's usually pretty lonely in the gardens at night. I think he likes the company."