Chapter 28
THE PASSING OF A TITAN
By Inked Stamp, New Canterlot Times
The entire world weeps today at the sudden and unexpected passing of Lady Candleflame, Grand Master of the Knights Mystic. She was found Wednesday evening in her New Canterlot City apartment, passed away in her sleep.
Lady Candleflame had served in her position as Grand Master for two years, filling the position when the former Grand Master, Sir Morrel, was murdered by heretic assassins. She will be succeeded by Lady Nickelplate, who will be sworn in Sunday morning in a private ceremony.
“This has taken us all by complete surprise,” quoted a shaken-looking Sir Steadfast Word, High Inquisitor. “Nopony was ready for Lady Candleflame’s passing. She has served faithfully for three decades, and we all anticipated serving under her for several more. Her leadership and her vision will be sorely missed.”
Public memorial services for Lady Candleflame will be held at the Central Cathedral, starting at ten o’clock Sunday morning.
1112 AF, New Canterlot City
There was something comforting about putting on formal attire after months of hiding out in the Tale family manor. It was an odd sort of comfort; Lofty would have preferred to continue hiding in the manor, slowly digesting and coming to terms with the riotous changes that had descended on his life. If he did have to go out and deal with high society, however, it was nice to do so wearing the disguise of haute couture.
Tonight’s had been assembled by his sister, who had always been better at the subtle details of fashion and high society. It was a perfectly tailored suit, black to match his mane, with a starched white silk shirt underneath.
No tie, though — he’d drawn the line quite firmly at that.
As he sat in the coach heading to the reception hall, he couldn’t help fidgeting in the clothes, poking at the unbelievably soft silk. It was nice, and fancy, but like everything high society, it was also grievously excessive — Lofty was painfully aware of just how many bits Graceful Tale had spent on his attire for the evening. Even as he admired the craftsponyship, his keen mind couldn’t help but catalogue the amount of good he could have done with the bits instead. The pants alone could have fed a family of four for a week.
It was all about the big picture, he reminded himself with a sigh. Going to this Saints-cursed party would provide a hefty endowment of bits, in perpetuity, for his soup kitchen. He tried to keep that in mind as the coach rolled towards the coming disaster.
In New Canterlot City, everything a noblepony said or did sent a message. When Lofty stepped out of the coach and saw the exterior of the decorated reception hall, it was obvious what message the pontiff and his confessors were trying to send. Nopony could miss the horribly clashing colored streamers and balloons, bundled in the pastels of the six Saints, hung on each street lamp surrounding the hall. Painfully over-saturated banners proclaiming ‘Welcome Crystal Ponies’ hung overhead, all painted with the brightest, most obnoxious colors possible. The whole place was, in short, garish, vulgar, and ostentatious in the extreme.
Ahead, a plushy red carpet extended from the wooden front doors, which had been swung open wide. There were already nobleponies milling about on the carpet, chatting and laughing with each other as they trickled into the hall.
It took only a half-second’s glance for Lofty to realize he had no desire to stop and speak with anypony outside the hall. As quickly as he could without seeming rude or antisocial, he brushed past the slower-moving nobleponies towards the two formally dressed guards at the doors. He was painfully aware of the speculative glances that were fired his way as he gave his name to the door guard. He hadn’t been seen in high society for months now, after all.
The interior of the hall was just as gaudy and over-decorated as the outside. Streamers and balloons splattered the inside as well, and dozens of paintings in gilded, gold-leafed frames illustrated the heroic deeds of the six Saints. Lofty noted that many of the paintings depicted scenes of the Saints defending the Northern Empire from Sombra, the first Great Heretic. It was clearly deliberate. Over-decorated though it was, the interior was still much quieter than outside had been. Lofty could hear the slightest murmur of conversation over the gentle music of a string quintet.
The most interesting and unique things in the room, however, were the crystal ponies themselves. There were only seven of them, spread throughout the room, but they drew Lofty’s gaze the instant he stepped into the hall. Like other ponies, their manes and coats were a rainbow mix of colors, but instead of fur, they had a strange glossiness to their coats and manes, an almost polished quality.
Their attire was also odd, though this made sense to Lofty; after a thousand years of separation between the two cultures, of course fashion would have deviated. The dresses on the three crystal mares, in particular, were almost shockingly different. Each one was slit high on the back leg, showing nearly all the way up to each crystal pony’s cutie mark. In fact, on one of the mares, who had her back to Lofty as she chatted with a pair of stallions, he could just make out the bottom of a sunny orange shape on her bright yellow flank. It was the kind of scandalously daring fashion that no mare in the Diarchy would be brave enough to wear, but the crystal ponies seemed to think nothing of it.
Then the mare turned to glance at him, and Lofty’s breath froze in his throat. Loose, gentle curls of orange mane framed a perfect face with sparkling ruby eyes. Her dress, scandalous though it might be, was a ruby red that shimmered and set off her eyes. Lofty’s legs twitched; he wanted to immediately walk over and introduce himself, but he hesitated.
You’re not that stallion anymore. You can’t think the way you used to.
But that wasn’t completely accurate, was it? He’d crossed the line into disgrace, and sown the seeds of his own dishonor. What more was there left to lose? Besides, if he was forced to be at this farce of a reception, at least he could have some fun. With renewed confidence in his gait, he trotted over to the stunning crystal mare.
As he approached the mare, he felt the old thrill of excitement. For a time, flirting had been a way of life for Lofty. At first, it had been a coping mechanism for dealing with Emberglow’s rejection. Then he’d realized just how good he was, and just what effect his smile had on mares, and it had become fun, at least until the consequences had occurred.
He could hear the conversation the three ponies were having as he approached. Lofty was familiar with both stallions. They were from important families, perhaps, but Ochre Clay’s vapid expression did nothing to hide his blank mind, and Tight Caulk, a stallion twice Lofty’s age, was in the process of regaling the poor mare with the importance of his bloodline while his eyes trailed over the mare with a lustful sneer.
“... far back as the year seven forty-two After Founding, when my illustrious ancestor Red Sands the Explorer found the Sky’s Path, the only known pass through the barrier mountains between your home and ours. Someday, trade caravans could be moving back and forth on the very path trod by—"
“Excuse me,” he interrupted, sidling up next to the three ponies. Tight Caulk spared a moment to scowl angrily at Lofty, though he ignored the look. His eyes were only for the crystal mare. “The hosts of this reception went to all the trouble of arranging music for dancing, but nopony is taking advantage of the opportunity. I could repair this travesty, but I only lack a willing partner.” He held out a hoof to the mare, making sure to deliberately ignore the other two stallions.
“Wait a moment, young stallion, we were…” Tight Caulk demanded, but with a smirk, the crystal mare took Lofty’s hoof with barely an apologetic look at the lecherous old stallion.
As soon as they were far enough away from the two stallions, Lofty grimaced. “I’m sorry, miss. As far as lines go, that was probably one of my weakest. I’m a touch out of practice,” he whispered to the crystal mare as he guided her to the empty spot in front of the string quintet.
“You are forgiven, sir,” the mare laughed. Her voice was musical, with an accent he’d never heard before. “I was already trying to find a way to politely escape my previous company anyways.”
“Then I am pleased to have been of service,” he said. “My name is Lofty Tale.”
“Topaz Glitter,” she replied, and the two shook hooves. “So did you really wish to dance, or were you just coming to my rescue?”
“I can want both things.” Lofty grinned as the two of them turned to face each other. “So, is ballroom dancing taught in the Empire, Miss Glitter?”
“Of course. Would you like a demonstration?”
“Oh, a cultural exchange!” Lofty smirked. “I would love to see how a crystal mare dances.”
He took her right forehoof in his left, and placed his other on her shoulder. He led them in a slow, gentle ballroom dance, spinning in front of the musicians as the two of them ignored the glances they were receiving.
“You’re a very graceful dancer, Lofty. Much more experienced than me.”
“Why, thank you,” Lofty replied as they spun about the dance floor. “You don’t have much time to practice ballroom dancing working as a diplomat for the Empire?”
“I’m not really a diplomat by profession,” Miss Glitter replied with a sheepish grin. “This is more of a… political appointment.”
“What do you do, then?” Lofty asked.
“I’m a social worker, actually,” Miss Glitter said. Lofty’s expression betrayed his confusion, and she giggled. “You don’t have those here? I’m a counselor, specializing in romantic relationships, marriage, and sexuality.”
“I... see,” Lofty said, though he didn’t, really. A counselor, for… relationships? Sexuality? He was slightly curious, but realized the subject might be a bit dangerous, considering how different the crystal ponies seemed to be. He wasn’t quite trained in foreign diplomacy, and certainly didn’t want to offend her, so he changed the subject. “If you’re not a diplomat by profession, why were you appointed to this embassy?”
“Hmm,” Miss Glitter hummed lightly, with a sly smile. “I imagine it’s for the same reason that a lot of the Diarchy ponies are here at this reception.”
“Oh?” Lofty asked, confused. He looked at the expression on Miss Glitter’s face, the thoughtful, clever sort of smirk, and it clicked. “Who did you upset?” Her grin widened. He was suddenly quite impressed with this perceptive mare. This little conversation was turning out to be even more interesting than he’d originally thought.
“So I was right?” she fired back smugly, ignoring his question.
“Yes, dear lady, unfortunately, you are correct,” Lofty said. “Every noble family of any importance in New Canterlot City has indeed sent representatives to this reception. But those representatives… well, they’re not exactly the best of the best.”
“A not so subtle insult, then,” Miss Glitter confirmed. Lofty nodded.
“One that you crystal ponies were supposed to be too ignorant or socially inept to realize so quickly,” Lofty scoffed. “That clearly went well.” The two shared a laugh. “Every pony here is a disgrace to their family, an embarrassment to be hidden away and ignored, until something like this comes up.”
“What about you, though?” Miss Glitter asked. “You seem normal.” She seemed to realize that the question was impolitic and grimaced, opening her mouth to maybe apologize, or even retract the question.
“Ah, but appearances can be deceiving. I’m possibly one of the most disgraced stallions here,” Lofty interrupted before she could, hiding the sudden pang of hurt he felt behind his confident smirk. “After all, nopony else here was drummed out of the Knighthood.”
“Really!?” Miss Glitter gasped, her eyes alight with curiosity. “A Knight! I’ve never spoken to a Knight before, I...” she blushed and trailed off into silence. “… I’m sorry. I’m sure it’s a sore subject.”
“I don’t mind,” Lofty said. “You’re curious about Knights, Miss Glitter?”
“A bit, yeah,” she admitted. “I’ve heard stories, but…”
“I’m afraid I don’t have too many stories to tell. I was barely a Knight for even a year,” Lofty said dismissively.
“W-what happened?” Miss Glitter asked, her curiosity clearly warring with her politeness.
“Nothing too sordid, I assure you,” Lofty admitted. He expected to feel reluctant to share, but oddly didn’t. “I used to be a Knight Vigilant. Before swearing my Order’s oath of chastity, I… well, ‘sowed some wild oats’, as the phrase goes. I thought nothing of it until nearly a year later, after joining the Knighthood. One of my indiscretions proved more fruitful than expected.” He let out a sigh. “I wasn’t automatically banished, as the incident had taken place before my oath. I had a choice; give the foal I had fathered up for adoption and continue in the Knighthood, or raise my son and retire in disgrace.”
“Oath of… chastity?” The look on Miss Glitter’s face was a mixture of both shock and horror. “You mean you were to never…” she gulped as she trailed off. “Um. Never? That’s awful.”
“Never,” Lofty shook his head, and had to laugh a little at her horrified look. “Is that so alien to you?”
“I g-guess so?” she stammered, coloring as she seemed to realize just how imprudent she was being. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Lofty said. “I’m not bound by it any longer. I chose to raise my son.” He paused thoughtfully. “Though, some advice? If you’re going to be a diplomat, I’d avoid calling sacred oaths ‘awful’.” He made sure to keep his voice light.
“Noted,” Miss Glitter said with a little embarrassed smile. He found he enjoyed the way her lips curled up shyly. “So, you picked family over everything else?” She sounded relieved to change the subject. Lofty nodded, eyeing his dance partner with surprise. Nopony else had seen straight to his own position on the subject so quickly, nor had stated the fact so simply and frankly. “I don’t think that’s disgraceful at all.” She sounded impressed.
“W-well, now you know what happened to me,” he stammered awkwardly, unsure what to make of her odd reaction. It wasn’t the same judgement and contempt he was used to; indeed, he was still getting sidelong glances from the other Diarchy nobles in the hall. “Since we’re sharing our most embarrassing moments…” he trailed off expectantly, and Miss Glitter shrugged.
“Fair is fair, I suppose,” she admitted. “I was banished from the Crystal Palace when I called the ruler of all crystal ponies a coward. To her face. In open court.” Her voice dropped with embarrassment with each sentence, finally ending in a whispered mutter.
“Oh?” Lofty asked. “I’m sure there’s more to that story.”
“Maybe a bit,” she said. “But…”
“Say no more,” Lofty interrupted. Her discomfort was obvious, and this whole dance and conversation was supposed to be for fun. “I’d rather talk more about you, Miss Glitter. How are you liking the City?”
“Please, call me Topaz.” She grinned. “And the city’s too warm.”
“Too warm?” The two continued to spin about the dance floor. A few other ponies had chosen to join them, and the quintet began a new tune, slightly more upbeat. The pace of the dancing increased.
“Oh yes. The Crystal Empire’s much colder. I mean, seriously. How do ponies ski around here?”
The sudden non-sequitur caught Lofty by surprise, and he let out a startled spurt of laughter. Skiing? He’d gone twice before as a young foal, but it wasn’t a particularly popular pastime; most of the continent’s suitable ski slopes were outside the borders of the Diarchy, far to the north in the Empire. There were a few slopes, though only the fabulously wealthy ever had the chance.
“Skiing? Is that what you miss the most?” Lofty teased. Topaz smiled, but there was a sudden shadow over her expression.
“It is very different here,” she sighed. “I miss…” she trailed off. “Never mind.”
“You can share with me.”
“Maybe not,” Topaz mused darkly. “We were warned, before we came south. There are certain topics we just can’t talk about.” Her voice fell to a whisper.
“I see.” He nodded slowly. “Well, if you need somepony to help you navigate the ins and outs of society here in New Canterlot City, I would like to humbly offer my services.”
“So enchanted by my presence that you’ll look for any excuse to spend more time with me?” Topaz teased. Lofty grinned.
“Yes ma’am,” Lofty said cheerfully. The crystal mare was intriguing; she was clearly intelligent and well-spoken, and he wanted nothing more than to learn more about her. “I would love nothing more than to have you over to my family’s manor for a visit. Perhaps for lunch tomorrow?”
“Purely for the purpose of my social education, of course,” Topaz quipped, and Lofty laughed.
“Of course, Miss Topaz. Only that.” The song ended, and the two ponies took a small step apart. “Let’s go see if there’s anything worth drinking at the bar.”
The bar, as it turned out, had somehow managed to source several bottles of smuggled crystal berry wine, apparently a delicacy from the Crystal Empire. Topaz was quite excited, and immediately demanded that Lofty try some. He was reluctant, even though he was no longer a part of the Knighthood, and his oath of sobriety was no longer in force. But the eager look on Topaz’s face, along with the glint of pleasure in her eyes, convinced him.
The bartender provided the two of them with a pair of fluted champagne glasses, full of a chilled dark purple wine. Lofty sipped cautiously, but was rather surprised as the taste hit his tongue. It reminded him of a semi-dry blueberry wine, lightly fruity and just slightly sweet. The carbonation was even more surprising; just enough to tickle his tongue.
“This is amazing,” he said, after a few small sips. Even if he was going to indulge, he could do so carefully. "Like blueberry wine.”
“They make wine out of blueberries?” Topaz asked. “We barely see any up north. Most fruit has to be imported from Zebrica.”
“I may have to ply you with all sorts of berry-themed wines, then,” Lofty teased, though inwardly he promised himself to be cautious. It wasn’t just the former oath of sobriety that held him back; some part of him would always remember the day he had stumbled down his best friend’s street, drunkenly shouting her name.
“Very well, Lofty Tale,” Topaz said, her voice both formal and flirty. “I shall be quite pleased to accept your invitation for conversation, company, and fine wines.”
“You will not be embarrassed to be seen with such a disgrace?” he asked, keeping his voice light despite the roil in his gut.
“Where I come from,” Topaz mused thoughtfully, sipping at her glass, “ponies are praised for putting their family above their careers and their own ambitions.”
“Thank you for saying so,” Lofty said softly. In truth, speaking with the young mare was unsettling him a bit. A small part of him longed for the fairy tale that the Crystal Empire seemed to be. It wasn’t as if he had much attachment to his family and home any longer, besides True, of course, but even the brief moment of fantasy pricked him with guilt.
Lofty spent the rest of the reception with Topaz. She was clever and funny, and Lofty found himself forgetting his own issues as he spoke with the intriguing mare. After the first glass of crystal berry wine, he switched to water, and after a moment’s hesitation, she did as well. It didn’t matter; he didn’t need alcohol to make the time fly. What had been an evening he had dreaded had turned into something quite fun. When he finally had to say goodnight to the intriguing mare, it was with great disappointment..
“This is the point in the fairy tale where the prince says something like, ‘I will count the hours until I see you again, fair maiden’,” Topaz said, when Lofty finally announced that he would have to leave. He laughed.
“Didn’t you hear, Miss Topaz? My name is Lofty, not Fairy. I’m not that kind of Tale.” He waggled his eyebrows, and gracefully reached down to take hold of her hoof. While maintaining eye contact as much as possible, he lowered his head just enough so that he could gently brush his lips against her fur in the ageless gesture of gentlestallionly grace. He was gratified to see her cheeks flush very slightly. “I eagerly anticipate our next meeting.”
“Me too,” she whispered. Her eyes didn’t leave him until he slipped out of the building.
* * * * *
Wednesday was Liturgy, and that meant confession day with Lofty’s confessor. Part of his punishment for his disgrace was weekly meetings with Sir Tarpit, a Knight Jubilant assigned to look out for ‘at risk’ ponies such as Lofty. Lofty knew enough about the inner workings of law and order in New Canterlot City to realize that his family position was why it was just weekly meetings he had to deal with, instead of being shipped off to some reeducation camp.
Sir Tarpit had an office at the Jubilant Annex in the center of the City, but he always chose to hold their meetings in Lofty’s local cathedral. He claimed the purpose was to make Lofty more comfortable. Lofty was just happy he didn’t have to gallop all the way downtown once a week. It was quite the trot from his home to the Annex.
The office was undecorated; just a blank, bare, and soulless room, with a simple writing desk and two cushions for sitting. Lofty hated it, though he felt a practiced smile slipping onto his muzzle as he stepped inside. Sir Tarpit was there, dressed in his pink robes. The stallion was overweight and balding, with a perpetually serene look on his face. He always kept what was left of his greying brown mane cut short. He had shoved the desk up against one wall; Sir Tarpit didn’t believe in taking notes during their talks.
“Lofty! Good to see you, my boy,” he called out as Lofty closed the door behind him. “How was your week?”
Wonderful. Blissful. Surprisingly entertaining.
“It was just fine, sir,” he said respectfully. It was true that he liked the old Jubilant, but Lofty certainly didn’t fully trust him. It was hard to, when a wrong word, one slip of the tongue, could spell disaster.
“Good, good. I suppose we should get the frustrating part of our conversation out of the way, first.” He chuckled ruefully. “I keep telling my superiors we’re wasting time. You’re just as earnest and faithful now as you were when we first spoke, but procedure must be followed. So. Tell me about your personal development. What were your sins this week, Lofty?”
Despite Sir Tarpit’s assurance, he was as thorough as ever. If Lofty didn’t mention every jealous thought, every wrathful impulse, every unacted-upon lust, the shrewd old pony would dig. So Lofty did his best to be as detailed as possible. Honestly, he didn’t mind; Sir Tarpit didn’t judge, he only listened and offered suggestions here or there. Still, it was a relief when Lofty got to the end of his list for the week.
“So, I heard your sister finally managed to get you out of your hermitage,” Sir Tarpit said, as soon as Lofty was done.
Lofty smirked, though he felt a slight nervous tickle in the back of his mind. Tarpit was clever, often more clever than he let on.
“Oh yes, the reception ball for the new embassy,” Lofty said offhandedly.
“How was it?” Sir Tarpit asked politely.
“It was nice to get out of the manor for a while, I suppose,” Lofty said. Noncommittal, vague answers were safest; Sir Tarpit might be a pleasant pony, but Lofty still didn’t want him too curious.
“I would have been awfully uncomfortable, myself.” Sir Tarpit shuddered. “In the presence of so many heathens…”
“They seemed just like normal ponies to me,” Lofty said, then silently cursed himself. When he gave away too much information, Sir Tarpit liked to dig.
“Really? Then they are better at hiding their true natures than I thought. Tell me, how much time did you spend speaking with one of the heathens?” The question was far too specific; Lofty assumed Sir Tarpit already knew the answer.
“Quite a bit, actually. One of their diplomats was being hounded by Tight Caulk and Ochre Clay. I thought it might be best to interject myself and forestall a major diplomatic incident when he inevitably tried to assault her.”
“Lofty,” Sir Tarpit scolded, though he was trying to hold in a smirk. “You don’t need to be so judgmental.”
“I’m not wrong,” he commented, inwardly pleased to have deflected the conversation a bit.
“Still,” Sir Tarpit admonished, shaking his head with the smallest of smiles. “You should at least try to be kind.” He paused, his eyes sharp on Lofty. “As it turns out, I was actually informed you had spent quite a bit of time dancing with the young lady.”
“Did I do something wrong?” Lofty affected confusion. “Wasn’t the point to try to make them feel welcome?”
“Don’t play coy, Lofty Tale,” Sir Tarpit said. “You and I both know what that reception was really about. Tell me, what did you learn about the heathen?”
There was a part of Lofty, a not insignificant part, that rebelled against the way Sir Tarpit spoke so dismissively of Topaz. It was condescending to diminish a pony to a mere pejorative. His eyes narrowed, though he managed to keep a handle on his annoyance before he said something rash.
“I learned that Miss Topaz Glitter,” he emphasized the name gently, “is young and not a diplomat by profession, but a therapist. I learned she is intelligent, well-spoken, and perceptive. She was well aware that the purpose of the reception was to insult the embassy.”
“Now you know I have to ask,” Sir Tarpit shuffled in his seat, glancing away for a moment. “You know why we’re here. Did you have any sinful temptations around this Topaz Glitter?”
“Not really,” Lofty said, which was mostly true. Was he attracted to Topaz? Most definitely. She was interesting, and he wanted to spend more time with her. But recent events had forced Lofty to have a much tighter control on his impulses. “She’s pretty, sure. And fun to be around. But I don’t see anything coming of it.” That part wasn’t quite honest at all. He certainly hoped something came of it: at least one meeting at Lofty’s manor later today. The trick was to not seem too interested, or Sir Tarpit would become bothersome.
“Do you think you can control your sexual impulses around her?” Sir Tarpit pressed, leaning forward. Lofty tried not to cringe. “Especially if you meet with her more?”
“Of course I can,” Lofty said. “Sir, I’ve been months without a significant incident.” That was what Sir Tarpit called anything romantic or sexual. A ‘significant incident’. Lofty found it useful to use the Knight’s own buzzwords.
Sir Tarpit’s eyes were sharp on Lofty, as if he were searching for something in Lofty’s expression. “I see. You seem confident.” There was a flash of interest, and a delighted smile spread over his face “This could be good. Wonderful, even. A unique opportunity to glorify the Saints.”
“Sir?” Lofty asked.
“Don’t you see, Lofty?” Sir Tarpit’s voice was betraying his excitement. “This could be the first time in history a crystal pony converts to the true faith. You simply need to show her the way.” He waved a hoof in the air expressively. “My sources at the reception tell me that you spent the entire night, nearly, dancing and chatting with the mare. Clearly she was quite taken with you.” It was odd that he would admit his spying on Lofty so openly. He must be truly enthused. “You can spend more time in her company. Become her friend, her confidante. Her lover, even. It doesn’t matter, if it’s for a noble goal. As long as you get and hold her attention, you can show her the true will of the Saints.”
“O-of course, sir,” Lofty muttered. He was taken completely off guard. This was not what he had expected.
“Your continued meetings with the heathen have been approved by the Knights Mystic,” Sir Tarpit said. Lofty felt a sudden shock of cold fear in his belly. The attention of Mystics was never good; he would have to bring his grandfather into this. There was anger, too; why did everything have to be so complicated, so political? Why couldn’t he just enjoy some time with a beautiful mare?
“That’s good news,” Lofty said blandly, deliberately not asking how they knew about it in the first place, or how they would continue to keep their unwelcome eyes on the situation. “I’m glad they approve.”
“Hah!” Tarpit chuckled ruefully. “Nopony really enjoys the Mystics watching them too closely, Lofty. But I’m sure you’ll be fine. The inquisitors wish you to continue your growing relationship with this young mare, and attempt to share with her the glories and wisdom of the Saints, hopefully to bring her into the fold.” He paused thoughtfully, and his mouth curled down with distaste. “You are also to give full and complete reports on everything that she says and does. I’d rather not ask this of you, but my contact within the Mystics insisted. I would prefer a more honest approach, but they must have their due. You understand, of course. ”
He paused, and his eyes were sympathetic. “Lofty, you and I both know you don’t belong here, having these conversations with me.” He reached out with one hoof to gently pat Lofty’s. “You’re not a danger to anypony. You’re a wonderful stallion who made a mistake, and now you’re doing your best to make up for it. I can see that it hurts you that others don’t see it. That’s why this is such an opportunity! This will go a long way to proving your full repentance for your sins.”
“Of course,” Lofty answered, his heart pounding. Fear, fury, and despair all spun together in a chaotic hurricane, a nightmare of dark emotions. He would have to find a way to warn Topaz Glitter. Sir Tarpit may have been harmless, but the Mystics guiding his hoof? Much less so.
“Very good, Lofty. You have no idea how excited I am for this opportunity. The first crystal pony converts!” He clopped his forehoves together with a bit of a laugh, before coloring slightly. “Ahem. Well then. We should talk about some details. From what we can gather, this mare is quite important in the Crystal Empire. She’s a blood relative of their mysterious ruler, their ‘Princess’. Please obtain as much information about her, and this princess, as you can.” Lofty was nodding, his own thoughts still spinning.
* * * * *
As soon as he got home, Lofty sought his grandfather out. Righteous Tale was sitting alone in the library, napping with an open book spread out on the pillow in front of him. Lofty shook him gently.
“Grandfather. Grandfather! I need you to wake up.”
Righteous tried to sleepily fend off his grandson with a shove of his hooves, but Lofty was persistent. Finally the old stallion grunted, his eyes opening up baleful slits.
“Begone, pest,” he growled, and Lofty nearly laughed with relief. There was something about Righteous Tale’s open animosity that felt refreshing after all the time he’d spent worrying about hidden Mystic handlers.
“Nope. I need your advice. Get up, old stallion.”
“Rude!” Righteous grunted, though he shifted so he was sitting up, and opened his eyes to look at Lofty. “So. Confession went poorly?”
“It went as well as usual,” Lofty growled. “Only there’s more this time.”
“Oh?” Righteous raised an eyebrow.
“I told you about the crystal pony I met at the reception. She’s coming for a social call this afternoon. Only Sir Tarpit already knew about it.” Lofty let out a shuddering, angry breath. “He approves, actually. And he asked me to spy on her, while I try to convert her to the faith.”
“That makes sense,” Righteous said. “If I were in his horseshoes, I’d do the exact same.”
“I’m not going to spy for them, grandfather.”
“Why not?” Righteous asked, and snorted at Lofty’s blank look. “Don’t be an idiot, boy. You owe nothing to this crystal pony. If you risk the Mystic’s ire over a pretty face and a bouncing flank, you’re risking your entire family. It’s not worth it.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Lofty sighed, “but I’m no spy. I’m not going to play snitch so the Mystics can persecute some innocent pony.” He narrowed his eyes darkly at Righteous. “I’m not going to betray anypony like that. So if you care so much about what happens to me, and to this family, you need to give me advice.”
“I thought I just did,” Righteous muttered angrily. “Fine. You want to play with the Mystics, don’t cry when you get burned.” He took a deep breath. “The first question is how they’re spying on you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t think they’ll just trust you to do this, do you?” Righteous said. "They’re going to find a way to keep tabs on you.”
“They could be listening right now?” Lofty tensed instinctively, lowering his voice.
“Unlikely,” Righteous scoffed. “Most noble mansions in New Canterlot City are built with rune enchantments written into every room. Mechanical bugging devices simply won’t work, and enhanced hearing won’t pierce the walls. To a pony, we nobles are a paranoid bunch. If they were listening, we would have been raided and black-bagged weeks ago. You might be safe in our mansion.”
“’Might.’”
“Yes, might,” Righteous shot back. “If you’re looking for complete certainty and absolutes, you won’t find it here. So, you can either spend all your time trying to expose every traitorous leak, find every listening device, and dismantle every spell, or you can simply ignore it, and watch what you say.”
“So that’s all your advice is? ‘Watch what I say’?” Lofty asked sarcastically. “Thanks, grandfather. You’ve been quite helpful.”
“Shut your fool mouth, boy. That’s the first part. Not just you, but both of you need to watch what you say. Which means you need to tell her what’s going on. Which is dangerous. And idiotic. But you are the one setting the parameters for this little meeting, so…” he trailed off with the shrug of his shoulders.
“Okay, so I tell her, so we can both be careful what we’re saying, what we’re talking about. What next?”
“Find a way to make it look like you’re doing what they want. The manor is probably safe from ears, but meet here too often and your handlers will get suspicious. You probably can’t trust the girl’s playacting…”
“I don’t know,” Lofty interrupted. “She seems to be quite intelligent and perceptive.”
“Son, you’re an idiot, and you’re letting your lower brain think for you. You know, the one you piss with.” Lofty rolled his eyes at the vulgarity. “Assume she can’t act. Don’t try to come up with elaborate scenes or deceptions. You’re supposed to be teaching her about our culture and society, right? Try to make it all about religion, and your Jubilant handler will be happy. Have her pretend to be interested, whether or not she is, and the Mystics will be happy with reports of your progress. And talk to me about every single conversation you have with her before you report it to the Mystics. I’ll see pitfalls you’ll miss.”
“I can do that,” Lofty said, thoughtfully.
“We’ll see,” Righteous spat. “Now, go prepare for your little date, son. And as soon as it’s over, come see me.”
Righteous Tale waved a hoof in clear dismissal, and Lofty bristled at the presumption. Ostensibly, he was supposed to be in charge here, but this was undiscovered territory for him. He needed Righteous’ guidance, and the old pony knew it. Still, Lofty didn’t want to let the balance of power shift back to his grandfather.
“After my lunch with Miss Topaz, we will talk. I’ll meet you right back here at two thirty.”
It was petty, giving him basically the same order he’d just given Lofty, and by the smirk on Righteous’ face, he knew it. But Righteous finally nodded, breaking eye contact first, and Lofty left the room with a curt nod.
It was not a complete victory — it was arguably not a victory at all — but at least Lofty felt slightly less frustrated at the exchange. Taking a deep breath, he set out towards his sun room. There was still a while before Topaz would arrive, and it would be good to relax his frayed nerves a little beforehand.
* * * * *
The sun room was a wide room, complete with a huge window that made up one wall and part of the ceiling. In the morning and for most of the afternoon, the large window would let in plenty of sunlight. Lofty’s mother had once used the room to grow flowers in the winter months, a tradition Lofty had continued. Currently, the room was full of seasonal flowers, meticulously cultivated and curated by Lofty himself.
Usually, there would also be a pair of lounge chairs, for when Lofty came and read in the afternoons when he wasn’t busy with his garden. But today, the lounge chairs had been removed in favor of a small, café-style table with two chairs. It was perfect for a sunny afternoon lunch date.
Lofty walked over to the small bookshelf he kept in the back of the room, idly browsing through the titles while he waited for Topaz to arrive. One caught his eye; it was the journal of Strange Tale, his long dead ancestor, and the story of his journey to Zebrica to steal the secrets of firearms and gunpowder. As a foal, the tales of adventure, danger, and suspense had filled him with wonder. As a teenager, just barely learning about the weight of the family name and obligation, his ancestor’s actions had brought feelings of bitterness. Now, however, he was a bit more mature, and the feelings of nostalgia and curiosity drove him to pull out the book.
He didn’t quite believe the words of his ancestor any longer, now that he understood how somepony could rewrite their own story to make themselves look better. He was starting to suspect many of his illustrious ancestors had done similar things. Still, it was at least an interesting read. Reliable or not, Strange was a decent writer.
Lofty had just reached the point in the story where Strange had received a charter from the pontiff to try and steal zebra weapon technology when the door to the sun room was opened by the Tale family butler.
“Miss Topaz Glitter, sir,” he announced softly, and Lofty rose to his hooves, placing the book back on the shelf. From behind the butler, Topaz emerged, walking into the sun room.
She was wearing a new dress, something much simpler than the one she had worn to the reception ball — a lime green sundress with a long skirt. Apparently, Topaz had decided to go with some less daring fashion for their lunch. Her mane was done up, though, and both it and her fur seemed to sparkle just a bit in the sunlight that streamed through the wide windows.
“Welcome, Miss Topaz.” Lofty walked over and graciously kissed her hoof. “I hope you had a pleasant journey to my humble home.” The butler gave a short bow and backed away, soon to be returning with their lunch.
“Oh, yes, so humble,” Topaz giggled. “Two wings, with three stories. So much humbler than my two-bedroom townhouse that I share with a roommate back home.”
“If you think this is big,” Lofty began as he pulled her chair out from the table for her, “you’d love my actual manor. This is the second manor, for hiding the family rejects. The original home is half again as big, though the garden is much less impressive.”
“I saw a very tasty looking vegetable garden on the way in,” Topaz said. Lofty couldn’t help but preen just a little; he was rather proud of his little project. He moved to his own chair and sat, just as the chef entered, bearing their lunch.
“Cucumber sandwiches, fresh garden crudité, served with a Dijon remoulade, and chilled sweet dandelion tea. Enjoy, sir, madam.” The chef set his tray down and slipped out of the sun room.
“Thank you,” Lofty said graciously. He motioned to the food, and poured them both a cup of iced tea. “I’m glad you could come, Miss Topaz. I’m afraid there’s been a bit of a development you should be aware of.”
“Oh?” Topaz asked, taking hold of the offered cup and sipping lightly at the drink.
“As part of my ‘rehabilitation’ back into society after my disgrace—“ Lofty’s voice oozed with sarcasm “—I am required to be interviewed by a confessor twice a week. Because of my position as a former Knight, that role is played by a Knight Jubilant. We met just this morning, and he informed me that I am not only required to deepen our friendship so that I may spy on you and your embassy, but that I am also required to attempt to convert you to our faith.”
“That makes sense.” Topaz nodded. She looked upset, but not surprised. “It’s not any more than Ambassador Ruby Blade warned us would probably happen if we tried to make friends. What’s really interesting is the fact that you’re telling me so openly.”
Her reaction was not what Lofty expected. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you’re being honest about the whole thing.” Topaz mused, munching on a carrot that she’d snagged from the crudité tray. “That could mean a lot of things. Either it’s a part of a plot — you’re being honest in order to lure me into trusting you, so you can act out the nefarious plans of your handlers — or maybe you’re just being honest, because that’s what good ponies do.”
“Whichever one it is, I’d claim the latter,” Lofty pointed out, and Topaz laughed.
“Indeed. So, Lofty, why are you telling me about your spying mission?”
“I’m just being honest,” he said, feeling a bit of weight lifting off his chest. “It’s what a good pony would do.” Topaz giggled again, and Lofty joined her this time.
“Seriously, though,” Topaz said after a moment. “What do you want to do about it?”
“While we’re in my home, it will be difficult for others to spy on us. However, outside of my manor, that changes. If you choose to spend more time with me, we’ll have to be careful about what we say and do.”
“That was always going to be the case,” Topaz said cautiously.
“And we may have to leave the manor walls more often than not, in order to not arouse suspicions.”
“Hmm, religiously-mandated dates.” Topaz’ voice dropped sarcastically. “How droll.”
“So this is officially a date then?” Lofty’s eyebrows waggled, and Topaz smirked at him.
“Do you always look for the brightest side of things, Lofty?” she asked. “Because if you do, we’re going to get along great. My cutie mark is a rising sun with a smiley face, after all.”
“Oh, I, uh…” Lofty was a bit taken aback. Topaz looked at him with concern.
“Is everything… Oh!” she blushed. “I forgot about that uh, cutie mark thing, I’m sorry. It was in the etiquette crash course they gave us before our ship sailed. You Diarchy ponies don’t talk about your cutie marks at all.”
“We usually don’t bring it up.” Lofty nodded. “It’s just something that’s normally kept private, except between very close friends and family.”
“I guess it’s just a side effect of always wearing clothing,” Topaz mused. “Up north, clothing is an accessory, not a necessity. I’ve had complete strangers ask me about my cutie mark before, and thought nothing of it.”
“So, you’re unclad most of the time?” Lofty couldn’t help his curiosity. “How do you…” he stopped himself before he could ask what was probably a rude question.
“How do we what?”
“No, it’s improper to ask,” Lofty demurred, but Topaz must have caught a hint of his embarrassment, because her grin became sly.
“No, ask away, Lofty. After all, we’re here for cultural education, right?”
“Well, I was mostly just looking for an excuse to spend an afternoon with a cute mare…”
“Lofty, really. You won’t offend me. What are you wondering about?” Topaz asked.
“Um,” Lofty began. “If you’re all naked all the time, how do you not…” There was no polite way to say it. “Um, stare at each other’s bits all the time?” It sounded so immature, but he literally couldn’t come up with another way to say it.
“Self-control,” Topaz said simply, then flinched. “Wow, sorry. That sounded very condescending. That’s it, though. I mean, if you keep your tail down and don’t stare, everything’s fine. It’s this whole modesty thing I don’t get. I heard a theory…” she trailed off, looking embarrassed herself.
“Topaz?”
“No, it’s rude, I couldn’t…”
“You made me ask my embarrassing question, Topaz. It’s only fair,” Lofty demanded, taking a bit of pleasure in the way she squirmed.
“Well, I heard a theory once. That’s one of the ways they control you.” Her voice grew soft and sad. “They take away your individuality. They delete your cutie mark, the mark of your destiny and special talent, in order to make you disappear into the herd. Herds are easier to control than individuals.”
“I-I don’t know about that,” Lofty stammered, glancing towards the doorway. He certainly didn’t want to think about it. It sounded far fetched, and he wasn’t sure if he believed it, but then again, he wasn’t sure what he believed these days. He was supposed to be a heretic now, after all.
Regardless, it wasn’t the sort of conversation he wanted overheard, even if he did trust his staff. He glanced carefully towards the doorway, and Topaz followed his gaze nervously.
“Forget it,” Topaz said, waving a hoof. “I’d rather not make you uncomfortable.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Lofty said, relieved.
“We were instructed to avoid the topic of religion and faith. We’re not supposed to criticize your faith at all.” There was something worried in her tone.
“Was that one of the conditions for you ponies creating your embassy?” Lofty asked.
“No, it’s a rule that Ambassador Blade made. Looks like I did a great job sticking to it.” She sounded guilty. Lofty shook his head.
“While we’re here in my house, I want you to feel safe to discuss whatever you want, okay? Outside, we’ll have to be very careful, but as long as it’s just the two of us, we should be fine.”
“Okay,” Topaz said cautiously. Lofty could see a hint of suspicion in her expression.
“So on the subject of cultural exchange, is there anything you’d like to know?” Lofty kept both his question and his tone open. Best to let her guide the conversation if she felt uneasy.
“I’m very curious about Knights,” she admitted. “If you’re comfortable talking about it.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Well, how are you different from normal ponies?”
“There’s a ritual. I can’t…” He took a deep breath. “I’m not allowed to share all the details, on pain of torture.” He didn’t suppose it mattered much, as it was unlikely anypony would know. But there was still a small part of him that wanted to think his experiences in Old Canterlot were sacred. Special. “But there are things I can tell you. We’re enchanted. We can run faster, and for longer, than other ponies. We’re stronger, too.”
“What about rune spells? Does that come with the Knighthood, too?”
Lofty was rather surprised. She really didn’t know much. “No, but typically only Knights have access to rune gauntlets. They’re generally too expensive to make for the common pony to use, and the only place to learn runes is usually the Ivy Seminary, where they train Knights.”
“So anypony could do it?”
“I suppose?” Lofty said, though he wasn’t entirely sure. “To be honest, though, I doubt it would pass without very serious questions. If somepony was trotting about casting spells with a rune gauntlet, I’m sure the Knights Mystic would have some questions for them.”
“Knights Mystic. That’s one of the Orders, right?”
“Yes. Mystic, Radiant, Jubilant, Vigilant, and Adamant.”
“Shouldn’t there be six? There were six Elements of Harmony, and six bearers.”
That was interesting. So the Crystal Ponies told stories of the Saints as well.
“The Knights who served Saint Fluttershy became the Knights Discordant. They’re heretics now,” Lofty said carefully. This was a dangerous subject; even though he might be a heretic now, it was certainly not something he was willing to share with a near stranger, regardless of how enchanting she might be.
“Knights Discordant,” she echoed, and there was a hint of familiarity in her tone. Lofty opened his mouth to ask what she knew, but stopped himself. He wanted to avoid the truly dangerous topics. He wasn’t even sure of his own relationship with the rebels just yet, and certainly didn’t want to let anything slip by accident. She shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. “So what about your order? What were you?”
“I was of the Knights Vigilant, sworn to serve Saint Applejack the Honest.” It was painfully ironic for him to say the words out loud, with how many lies he’d been forced into recently.
“And your job?” Topaz sounded eager and curious. “Sorry, I don’t know what all the Orders do.”
“I was an investigator. The Knights Vigilant are the pinnacle of the Diarchy’s justice system; we serve as magistrates and investigators. We handle crimes too hard for the local constabulary to solve.” He was surprised to hear the forlorn note in his own voice; he missed the Knighthood more than he’d thought, apparently.
A sudden gentle knock on the door interrupted whatever Topaz was going to ask next.
“Yes?” Lofty asked.
“Sorry to bother you, sir,” Nanny Brushstroke’s soft voice called from the other side of the sun room door. “True wanted to come meet your guest.” Lofty couldn’t help but smile.
“Your son?” Topaz whispered, and Lofty nodded. “I’d love to meet him.”
“Come in, Nanny,” Lofty called out, and the door swung open to reveal True Tale. Nanny had dressed him in his nicest suit, and his mane was freshly combed. The toddler nervously rubbed his hooves together, his eyes darting about the room, between his father and the unfamiliar guest.
“Now Master True, remember your manners,” Nanny told him gently, and True nodded.
“Hi,” True said shyly, and Topaz had to hold a hoof over her mouth to hide her giggles. True glanced back at the Nanny, who raised her eyebrows. “Um…”
“Introduce yourself, young master,” she whispered helpfully.
“Oh yeah!” True said. “I True Tale, nice meechya.”
“It’s lovely to meet you too, True!” Topaz cooed, standing up quickly to walk over and ruffle the foal’s mane. “You’re such a polite and handsome young colt. Thank you for coming to meet me! I’m Miss Topaz.” Out of the corner of his eye, Lofty saw Nanny Brushstroke subtly tense as Topaz approached. Perhaps not all in this house were so receptive to Topaz’s presence.
“Topaz,” True repeated.
“Miss Topaz,” Nanny corrected.
“Mistopaz,” True said, and both Nanny and Lofty nodded approvingly.
“Very good, young master,” Nanny said. Lofty could hear that her voice was just a little too formal. “Was there anything else you wanted to say?”
“Wecom to our home,” he muttered shyly.
“Thank you, True,” Topaz said. It was clear she was holding back delighted laughter.
“Yes, very well said, young sir,” Nanny said. “Now, how would you like to read a story before naptime?”
“Naptime?” True moaned with dismay, though he trotted off after Nanny Brushstroke.
“Yes, and if you come without whining, I’ll let you pick two stories.”
“Two!” True cried with glee, and Lofty and Topaz broke into gales of laughter as the hoofbeats of an eager foal echoed down the hallway. Nanny Brushstroke paused just long enough at the doorway to give Lofty a weighted glance, her eyebrows raised slightly with skeptical implication. He wondered what it was about Topaz that made the old mare so disapproving. But after a moment, she turned away, following his son down the hallway.
“Your son is adorable,” Topaz beamed, oblivious to the silent exchange. “His coloring is just like yours, and he has your eyes. Very handsome.”
“Thank you,” Lofty replied. “I love him very much.”
“So much that you gave up your Knighthood,” Topaz remarked bluntly. He wondered why she’d bring up something so uncomfortable. “You might see it as a disgrace, but I’d call it a badge of honor. Family’s important.” There was a sadness to her tone at the end, and it sparked a memory from Lofty’s conversation with Sir Tarpit.
“You said you were exiled because of a falling out with the ruler of your Empire,” he said, and she nodded. “I was recently informed that you’re related to her by blood.”
“My great grandmother, in fact. If you add about a hundred greats.”
“How is that possible?” Lofty breathed. It would have sounded unbelievable only a few months ago, but Lofty’s life had gone through some upheaval recently. He was willing to believe at least a few impossible things.
“Princess Flurry Heart, daughter of Empress Cadence. Ruler of the frozen North, raiser of the sun and moon,” Topaz intoned ritually. “And also grandma, though I haven’t really called her that since I was about True’s age.” She sighed sadly. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen eye to eye.”
“What… is she? How old is she?” Lofty asked.
“Princess Flurry is an alicorn,” Topaz said simply. When Lofty gave her a blank look, she continued. “She is all three of the pony races, rather than being just one. An alicorn has immortality, immense power, as well as the magical legacy of all three pony tribes; earth, unicorn, and pegasus. That’s why she has wings and a horn.”
“You can’t be serious,” Lofty argued, but there was no deception in Topaz’ face, or her clear eyes. “I don’t think you’re lying, but…”
“You Diarchy ponies know nothing of alicorns?” she asked incredulously. When Lofty shook his head, she stared. “What do you teach about Twilight Sparkle, then? What tribe was she from in your Book of the Saints?”
“Earth pony, of course. Until she earned her wings and ascended.”
“Huh.” Topaz’ stunned eyes were locked on Lofty.
“What does that mean?” he asked, and Topaz shook her head.
“Maybe you’ll think I’m crazy, but I’m related to her. Twilight Sparkle, that is. I’m descended from her brother, Shining Armor, and his wife, the Empress Cadence. Princess Flurry is their daughter, and Twilight Sparkle’s niece. There’s a shrine to Princess Twilight in the Empress’ chambers. I used to look at her statue all the time.”
“Saint Twilight had… a brother?” Lofty asked. There was no mention of that in the Book of the Saints.
“Yes, and a niece, who is immortal and still alive today. In fact, Twilight Sparkle should still be alive today, if something hadn’t killed her. She was an alicorn too.”
“You mean…”
“Yes, Lofty. Twilight Sparkle was born a unicorn, then earned her wings.” She stared at his shocked expression. “How could you ponies not know?”
“A unicorn?” Lofty gaped. “No, that’s wrong.” But his denial was automatic, born of years of teaching, not true conviction. The last few weeks had not been kind on his belief, after all. “Twilight Sparkle was an earth pony before she earned her wings and ascended.”
“I’d heard your faith teaches that pegasi are unique,” Topaz mused, as if to herself, before suddenly blinking with realization. “Oh! I did it again, didn’t I?” Her face flushed with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I said I wasn’t going to bring up awkward religious topics, and I dove right in again.”
“You’re just fine,” Lofty said quickly, unable to hide his own discomfort.
“If it would make you more comfortable, we could talk about something else,” Topaz’ eyes were on the table in front of her, and she rubbed her hooves together nervously.
“If you like, I’d love to hear more about the Empire. Tell me about your home, Topaz.” He could see the obvious relief in her eyes, and they cheerfully turned to less fraught conversation.
Still, there was an idea planted deep in Lofty’s head, an insidious and strange fancy. Even as he chatted pleasantly with Topaz, the picture refused to leave his mind; Saint Twilight Sparkle, standing proud and imperious with wings spread, a unicorn’s horn jutting prominently from her forehead.