//------------------------------// // Chapter 12: Mercenary // Story: #277 // by Unwhole Hole //------------------------------// By the time she got back into the castle, Celestia was exhausted. Her legs were shaking and she was breathing as though she had just trotted her entire daily circuit—and only after a few minutes of leisurely talking in the sun. Worse, her mind had grown increasingly fatigued. It was getting more difficult to think, or to remember She was not sure why. Inside, it was cool and dark, and that helped—or at least Celestia permitted herself some wishful thinking that it might have helped. That maybe she had just somehow managed to overexert herself. Regardless, she was more comfortable in the dark and in closed environments. Taking her time, she made her way to the kitchen, hoping to find some food even though she supposed she did not technically need to eat. She wondered what they were feeding her in the real world. She wondered if they were feeding her enough. When she arrived, she entered the room to find Yelizaveta at the far end of the castle kitchen. Philomena was perched on a windowsill, and Yelizaveta was feeding her a treat. Philomenia, never one to disregard tasty food, took it readily and then hopped onto Yelizaveta’s extended hoof, nuzzling her in appreciation before facing Celestia. “I used to have a phoenix like this one,” said Yelizaveta, not looking up as Celestia entered and took a seat at the far end of the kitchen table. “I’m glad to know that there are phoenixes in the real world, too,” said Celestia, smiling as she levitated several slices of cake from the nearby refrigerator and to her position. Cake that would, no doubt, taste like paper. “Oh no,” said Yelizaveta. “There are thirty seven extant species of bird left in our world, and phoenixes are not among them. They probably never were. Mine was of course mechanical. Gears, wires, motors, silicon. But she was no less real. I named her Winifred.” “That is a cute name.” “That was so long ago. I miss her sometimes.” Celestia paused. “What happened to your phoenix?” Yelizaveta sighed. “I left the window open one day, and she flew away from me.” “I’m sorry to hear that.” Yelizaveta shrugged. “These things happen. There are much bigger things to be sad about in this world than one robotic bird.” Philomena took flight from Yelizaveta and elegantly passed through the air before landing on the tip of Celestia’s horn and standing there, as if waiting. “So,” said Yelizaveta. “You’ve come to me last, then.” “What do you mean?” “You started with Trixie. Then Virginia. Now me.” Celestia took a bite of her pointless cake. “Would you rather I had come to you first? I certainly didn’t mean to make you feel left out.” “No. But I do have a question.” Celestia frowned. “For me?” “No, for Trixie’s rump. Of course for you.” “You don’t need to be rude about it. Of course you may ask it. I’ll do my very best to answer.” “Why?” Celestia’s frown faded. “I...don’t understand.” “Virginia spent a great deal of time on this simulation, and yet here you are, at every turn trying to defy it. To find information that brings you apart from it, which is literally harmful to you. It does not make any sense. Why are you doing this?” Celestia laughed. “Is curiosity a crime?” Yelizaveta’s expression remains deadly serious. “I have seen ponies that graft themselves completely into simulations less realistic than this one. That bind themselves to it so tightly that the links to their bodies atrophy and their minds fragment. If you asked, Virginia could go back to being Twilight and I could go back to pretending to be Starlight...even if that form feels disgustingly off-color.” “Why would I want that?” “Why wouldn’t you?” “I don’t know what you’re getting at, Yelizaveta. There’s a great big world out there, and I want to know what’s there. And I know! Before you say it, I’ve already been told several times. It will make me sick if I learn it too fast. But I at least what to know who’s taking the time to help me. Why would I want you to pretend to be my other friends...simulated friends...when I really ought to be friends with the real you?” Yelizaveta smiled. “You really do take friendship seriously. And here I thought Twilight was supposed to embody it.” Celestia shrugged. “Who do you think taught her about it? Not me, obviously, but the real Celestia...or the form of Celestia?” “How Platonic. Still, I find it so very strange. You have a simulation where you could be a perfect Princess, and yet you insist on refusing it.” “How could I be a good Princess if all I ever did was play with a simulation that isn’t even real?” This seemed to amuse Yelizaveta, and she crossed the room slowly. She did not seem tired, but somehow heavy, as if her body had significantly more mass than that of a normal pony. Yet, when she took a seat in the chair next to Celestia, it did not even squeak. That admittedly made Celestia somewhat jealous. “Then for you, I will make a special exception. I have something I want to show you.” “Really? What?” Yelizaveta took a breath, and Celestia suddenly felt extremely disoriented, as if the world around her vanished and she had started to fall in an unascertainable direction. She almost cried out before she jerked back on the floor, nearly falling out of her chair—except that there was no chair. And when she looked up, her eyes became wide as her wind left her. The vista before her was the most beautiful thing she had ever witnessed. Before her sat a vast forest of pines, separated only by a clear river and fields of the most verdant green she had ever seen. In the distance, vast snow-capped peaks rose high into the pure-blue sky. From above, the sun shown—and not the harsh fluorescent glow of the monstrosity placed over Ponyville, but a true sun. A sun that sat just slightly behind some clouds that were just a little to gray to be artificial. The forest stretched out before her, seemingly extending forever, a land of perfect trees that just seemed impossibly detailed. Trees with their own needles and branches and bark, right down to marks and broken limbs and the occasional fallen trunk now covered in brilliant moss. The sound of the river could be heard, as well as that of something like birds. Celestia realized that she herself was sitting in a quaint wooden structure, on a blanket sat out on the porch—and Yelizaveta was beside her. The discrepancy was obvious as soon as she saw Yelizaveta. The world and its dizzying, undiluted beauty was not like how her body was represented. Instead, Yelizaveta looked like a drawing, or a cartoon. Celestia realized that she did as well. The two of them were juxtaposed on a world that was so much more solid—or seemingly solid. Because as beautiful and perfect as it was, as vastly superior to the image of Ponyville as it was, Celestia could still just barely sense the table beneath. That this was still not real—but perhaps once had been. Yelizaveta sat with her front legs spread out before her. She no longer had clothing—as Ponies did not require it—and Celestia could see that the strange geometric lines that covered her face and legs stretched across her neck and rear legs as well. Lines that Celestia could not discern the purpose of in the slightest. Further, she noticed that below Yelizaveta’s short mane she bore a system of metal running down her spine. Metal filled with holes and ports. Something that, until then, she had always kept covered. “Where are we?” “This was my family’s summer home,” sighed Yelizaveta, smiling. “We are in a memory. One of mine, that I recorded. It’s not open-world, like Virginia’s simulation. In that one, you could go anywhere, do anything. Any nation, any country, even to the moon...but this one we can only see from a distance. It is just an image.” “It is beautiful.” “It was.” Celestia felt Yelizaveta’s sadness and distant sorrow creeping through her. “What do you mean ‘was’?” “It no longer exists. And it is my fault.” “How could...it can’t be your fault—” Yelizaveta looked up at her. There were no tears in her dark eyes, because the sorrow within them was so very old. “I oversaw its development. This forest was leveled and the area converted into automated factories. I oversaw the destruction of my own Motherland. And for that, I was paid a substantial sum of money and given citizenship in the Georgia Pacific vassal. And by extension in the United States.” She sighed. “That was three hundred years ago. And every day for so very long, I wished I could give it back. If I could just go home again. But that is a problem with a long life. You accumulate regrets.” “Then why did you do it?” Yelizaveta tucked her marked legs under her body and looked out at the memory forest. “Because at the time I thought it was the right thing to do. Because I was young and naive and I just wanted to make the world a better place.” Celestia looked out at the landscape and, after some time, spoke. “I’m sorry.” “I did not show you this to be sorry about it. There was nothing you could do, nothing you could have done even then. I showed you because it is beautiful, and I wanted to share the memory with you. That this was something that once existed in the real world.” “Will seeing it hurt me?” “No. Seeing the world will not harm you. Only comprehension of it.” Celestia did not understand, but she leaned back and basked in the warm sun and cold air of somewhere just north of Lake Karachay. “You should forgive yourself,” said Celestia. “Three hundred years, that’s a long time.” “Aren’t you over a thousand?” “I don’t think so,” mused Celestia. “I don’t know how old I am. Am I older than you?” “No.” Celestia chucked to herself. “What’s so funny?” “It’s just so strange! That my own dear little Twilight is older than me? What a reversal!” Yelizaveta smiled. “I know.” “How did you get that old, if I might ask?” Yelizaveta shrugged. “Ponies do not intrinsically age. We can live as long as we choose.” “Choose?” Yelizaveta’s expression darkened—and Celestia realized that this cabin was far too large for one pony. It was meant for several. “It is...complicated. And I would rather not talk about it. But...” She looked behind her, at the building. “I was a quadriplicate. I had three sisters. And now I only have me.” “I’m sorry.” “Stop apologizing. You’re a Princess.” “So are you! In fact, I'm retired! You're technically more of a Princess than I am!” Yelizaveta looked back at her wings. “Oh,” she said. “I suppose I am?” Celestia burst out laughing, and Yelizaveta joined in, if more quietly. As she did, she sat up, and Celestia saw a glint of metal on her neck. The only thing she had kept while her other clothing sat on a nearby clothesline between to stately trees. A necklace with a silver cross. “Your necklace. You still have it.” Yelizaveta looked down. “What? Oh. Yes.” She held it up with her magic. “An heirloom. It is even older than I am.” “Virginia mentioned it. She said you worship a pony who...” Celestia shivered. “Who got nailed to a cross and...and died...and came back, apparently.” “That is a very coarse way to put it,” said Yelizaveta, harshly, “and she should not have phrased it that way to you. Thinking about death is bad for you in your state.” “Is it...true?” Yelizaveta frowned, and then sighed. “It is a very complicated religion. How can I summarize almost four thousand years of history in one sentence? The answer is because I’m a Twilight. Essentially, the Savior was born unto our world and taught us great wisdom. But then He was betrayed and made a great sacrifice so to protect us, His students.” She paused. “Also, He was not a pony.” Celestia tilted her head, confused. “How could he not be a pony?” Yelizaveta laughed to herself, slightly and humorlessly. “He was one of Trixie’s species.” Celestia’s eyes widened. “But I thought they were artificial? Like robots.” Yelizaveta looked up. “Is that what she told you? For the record, it’s not a great idea to listen to Trixie. She is less than a year old and...” Her expression darkened. “...altered.” “By the Trixies?” Yelizaveta shook her head. “I think that her obsession with being Trixie is the only thing that keeps her poor mind intact at this point.” “So she’s...not a robot?” “No, she is, in a sense, but...they weren’t always like that.” She paused, making a strange expression. “I recall a conversation I had once. On a train. The old Transiberian Railway. I was in a car with two Lyras. They were...twins. With strange eyes. They said that Trixie’s species sacrificed their souls and minds to become perfect.” “And they destroyed themselves in the process.” “What? No. Celestia, they’re our world’s apex predator. They are the dominant species. They outnumber ponies a thousand to one at least.” Celestia’s eyes widened. “But that—how does that make sense?” “Because that’s just how it works.” She sighed. “Am I too cynical?” “You’re three hundred years old.” “Three hundred twenty three. And that is not an answer.” “Yes, then.” Yelizaveta looked up, surprised. “Well that’s...blunt.” “Maybe I’m just getting annoyed.” Celestia sighed, turning on her back and balancing with her wings, her legs held above her as she looked out at the world upside down. “I’m sorry," said Yelizaveta, flatly. “Don’t apologize, you’re a Princess. And I didn’t mean it toward you. I’m trapped in a simulation and I can’t wake up. I want to see the world.” “It is not a good place.” Celestia turned her head. “Virginia doesn’t seem to think so.” Yelizaveta blushed slightly. “Virginia is young. Not quite naive, but...” She sighed, turning on her own back and assuming the same position as Celestia. “I see in her what I once was. The girl who destroyed this forest because she thought it was right. I’m so much older than her...and that’s...strange. I’m sure it’s strange for her.” “I don’t think she minds.” Yelizaveta sighed. “I just...I want to stop her from making the wrong choices. I’ve done...bad things. Things that I should not have. And all I want to do is protect her and keep her safe, no matter what it takes. That’s why I’m here, with her. Why I’ve followed her this long. Because I love her and I have to keep her safe. Which is why this project has to succeed.” She looked out at the forest upside down. It was a position that she had never before viewed it from. “Do you want to know something strange?” “What?” “Virginia Woolf. The one she is named after. She was one of them. Like Trixie, or Kristus.” “Really?” “That’s not the strange part. Once, in her lifetime, the original Virginia Woolf and her friends donned fake beards and patterned curtains and convinced the navy that they were diplomats. They received a tour of one of the most closely-guarded and technologically advanced battleships in the world.” Celestia laughed. “That’s hilarious! But I don’t really understand why you’re telling me.” Yelizaveta smiled, but some part of her eyes did not. “I thought you would like it, that’s why. It is a little piece of my world. One of the good ones.” Yelizaveta rolled back over, standing up and stretching. When she stood again, she looked down at Celestia. “I wish that I could take Virginia to a place like this. Not the memory, but the real one. That we could live in peace.” “She seems to me to be more of the young-adventurer type. I don’t know if that’s what she wants.” “I know for sure it isn’t. So I will stay at her side as long as I can and bring her what peace I can. And when the time comes that I ascent to meet Kristus and his Father, I want what she has learned from me to guide her. So that part of me never leaves her.” “That’s beautiful, I think.” Yelizaveta blushed. “I am a Twilight. I am compelled to protect those I care about. And not just her. Trixie as well, if I can. And you.” Celestia nodded. “You’re not the only Princess here. I know exactly the feeling you’re describing.” Yelizaveta seemed surprised. “Do you?” Celestia smiled. “That feeling. It is the first thing that has been real to me this whole time.” Yelizaveta smiled. “Then maybe there is hope.” She held out her hoof. “Come. It is time to go back. You need a final check and then some sleep.” Celestia looked up at her. “Can’t we stay just a little longer?” Yelizaveta looked out at the forest and river and the distant mountains, and then smiled. She sat back down, tucking her marked hooves below her. “Of course, Celestia. It is the least I can do for you after all I’ve put you through.” Celestia smiled and turned over. She tilted her head and put it against Yelizaveta. Yelizaveta stiffened and then, after a moment, leaned back—and the two ponies sat in silence, one old and one young, staring out at the remains of a distant and beautiful memory.