Spike walked towards Elusive and gave him a friendly jab in the barrel. “Heh. Am I awesome or what?”
“Spike,” Elusive whispered in an eerie monotone.
“Yeah, bro?”
“You’re dead to me,” he sentenced. “And if I manage to make it through this without killing myself in shame, you will be dead to the rest of the world as well.”
“Oh,” Hoity Toity frowned.
The earth pony wandered between the mannequins, taking it all in. If the haughty way his nose was turned upwards was any indication, he wasn’t impressed.
The other Bearers quietly slipped away through the open door.
“Oh my,” he said again, as he walked towards Phil’s… something.
Elusive stood rooted to the spot, waiting for Hoity Toity’s damning verdict with all the hope and optimism of an innocent convict waiting their turn on the gallows. By his side, Spike fidgeted awkwardly, regretting all of his life choices.
This was Hoity Toity.
This was the most important stallion on Wiehern's fashion scene; nay, he was Wiehern's fashion scene. This was the stallion whose influence in the fashion scene reached far beyond the borders of Equestria, whose influence was beginning to be felt in the far reaches of the known world. This was the stallion whose boutique in Canterlot was one of the most profitable private ventures in the entire world. The stallion whose fashion shows attracted millions of ponies every year. This was the stallion whose mere whims dictated the fate of many aspiring artists' careers.
And this stallion was, currently, attently observing Elusive's latest attempt at something that might resemble body coverings, hums and ohs his only companions.
And he did not seem exactly pleased.
At long last, Hoity Toity turned back to Elusive and walked up to him, a neutral look on his face.
“Herr von Ponyville,” Hoity Toity began, voice inscrutable, “after seeing the... outfits,” he said with an honest-to-Celestia shudder, “you have placed on display, I must say…”
Elusive closed his eyes, numb. He found himself caring surprisingly little for Hoity Toity’s words. After all, he was already dead. This was only double-tapping his corpse.
“You’re just as amazing as the Princess told me you would be!” the fashion legend proclaimed.
Elusive opened his eyes and stared.
And stared.
And stared some more.
“... W-what?” He finally said, feeble, fearful, and disbelieving of his ears.
Hoity Toity, however, didn’t seem to notice Elusive’s (lack of) reaction. “Exactly what I’ve said! You’re incredibly talented! Why, in all my years, I have never seen something quite like this!”
“You… You like the designs?” Elusive was unable to keep the utter bewilderment from his voice.
“Oh, sweet Celestia, no, the designs themselves are hideous! It’s as if you tried to aim as low as equinely possible! They’re monstrous! Garish and terrifying! And for the sake of everything that is sacred, that one has streamers and balloons and lollipops and Celestia knows what else! They never should have existed! I'd rather be torn apart and eaten by savages than be forced to stare at these spawns of the Abyss for just one more second! There are just not enough words in all the languages of the entire planet to say just how much I despise these designs!”
That’s more like it, Elusive thought grimly, his soul being crushed more and more with every single word that Hoity Toity uttered. It wasn’t that he disagreed, to be fair. It was the fact that the fashion legend had seen fit to raise his hopes up before dashing them in a thoroughly brutal manner.
“Yet, they’re true art!”
Wait.
WHAT?!
“They’re so bold! So disruptive! So provocative!” Hoity Toity gushed in admiration.
“P-provocative?”
“Oh, ja! They make me want to gouge my eyes out! They’re the Absurd itself given form! I just cannot ignore them! I cannot just stand by! They give me pause! They cause me anxiety and fear! The mere sight of them makes me feel hopeless and alone, adrift in a cruel, uncaring universe, for no God would allow something like this to exist!” For some reason Elusive couldn’t quite fathom, all that seemed to be meant as a compliment. “And isn’t that, in the end, what art is all about? Evoking visceral feelings and emotions?”
“I… I guess?” Elusive wasn’t sure if he had gone mad… Or if Hoity Toity had.
“But the designs themselves are nothing compared to your craftsmanship!”
“T-they’re not?”
“Please. The costuring? The choice and texture of the fabrics used? The quality of the making? The execution itself of such an Abyssal concept? Herr von Ponyville, you’re a prodigy!”
Elusive blinked.
“I… I am?” At this point, he felt like something of a broken record.
“Oh, yes!” Hoity Toity nodded enthusiastically. “Say, do you happen to have other designs in store? I’d very much like to see more of your craft.”
“... Yes. Yes I do,” Elusive drawled pausedly, suddenly remembering all of the other outfits he had made for his friends, with designs that were all over the spectrum of good taste, as well as some of his other orders that he had yet to finish or deliver. “... Follow me, please,” he said, walking into his workshop and gesturing Hoity Toity inside.
The earth pony roamed across Elusive’s workshop, inspecting a mannequin for a couple of seconds before moving to the next.
Hoity Toity was touring his workshop.
The mere thought was surreal. Elusive wondered if he had stroked out when he snapped at his friends and all of this was his imagination.
“Is this actually happening?” he muttered under his breath, without taking his eyes away from the fashion legend, who was closely inspecting the stitching on Butterscotch’s original outfit with an unreadable look on his face.
Spike, who had been by his side during this entire debacle, heard him. “Are you still going to kill me?” he asked, just as softly.
“I don’t even know anymore,” Elusive replied sincerely. On the one hoof, Spike had absolutely screwed him over by contacting THE Hoity Toity himself without either asking him for permission, or heck, even telling him about it ahead of time. Yet, on the other hoof, Hoity Toity, who was currently inspecting his "good" creations with accompanying hums and ohs, seemed to already be enthralled with Elusive’s awful ones… and only Celestia knew what that could possibly entail.
The only reason why Elusive’s mind wasn’t racing was because he was still far too flummoxed to quite process what was happening. Neither could he shake the awful, sinking feeling of anticipation in his gut. Things were just going unfathomably well.
Which, in his experience, only meant something truly awful was about to happen.
“Well, Herr von Ponyville,” Hoity Toity turned back to him a couple of minutes later, a neutral look in his face, “I must say that I stand corrected.”
Despite all the encouraging signs, Elusive couldn’t help but wince, dreading Hoity Toity’s next words. He knew that, whatever he was going to say, was going to be bad. It just had to.
Here it comes.
“You can absolutely become a commercial success, as well!”
“Beg your pardon?” He definitely didn’t splutter.
“You see, when I saw those aberrations I couldn’t see a commercial future for you.” Elusive must have grimaced, for the earth pony chuckled. “Oh, don’t make that face! Surely you know what I mean! They might be art in its purest form, but no pony in their right minds would be caught dead wearing that!”
And yet, for some Celestia-forsaken reason, his friends deemed them ‘perfect’. Maybe they were the insane ones, not Elusive or Hoity Toity. At this point, Elusive couldn’t tell anymore.
“The sad truth is that nopony makes a living out of artistic integrity, mein Lieber,” Hoity Toity shook his head. “You need to sell your designs, or you will starve. Speaking from experience, the best thing you can do is diversify your portfolio in order to participate in as many fashion shows as you can. And well, now I see these designs and I can assure you, mein Lieber, Ponies will be flocking to wear them!”
“You… You really think so?”
“I know so! Elusive, you have a very bright future ahead of you!” He thoughtfully rubbed his chin with his hoof for a few seconds. “In fact… Yes, indeed, I think you’re just the pony I need!”
Elusive was afraid to even ask. Fortunately for him, Spike wasn’t.
“For what?”
“You see, I’ve been looking for a new apprentice—”
Hoity Toity kept talking, but Elusive couldn’t hear him anymore. His brain had shut down entirely.
Later, Spike would inform him that he had, on his behalf, agreed to a junior partnership with Hoity Toity. Elusive would provide Hoity Toity with his own designs and products, while the latter would give him exposure, connections, advice and a generous salary.
And, as part of the deal, Elusive would accompany Hoity Toity back to Wiehern to not only get to know his Boutique and his staff in person, but to make his own debut in a fashion show in two weeks. Of course, he would only be one among many other up-and-coming designers on said show, but still!
All things considered, either Hoity Toity was supremely impressed and confident of Elusive’s talent, or Spike was the best damn haggler the universe had ever seen.
That being said, the deal they had struck was not lacking in risks. After all, he had to provide a constant stream of high quality designs and products that met Hoity Toity’s supremely high standards… And he always ran the risk of displeasing his patron.
Or even worse: upstage him.
But those were the dangers of being apprenticed to the number one: either you become their cherished heir, or you become their worst enemy. And one couldn’t afford to make an enemy out of Hoity Toity, especially this early into their career.
Naturally, Shining Armor had been less than pleased when he had been informed the next day.
In fact, the Captain had stared at him like Elusive had just crushed a small puppy in front of him.
“Why have you forsaken me, Elusive?” he asked in a weak and heartbroken voice, the papers on his desk entirely forgotten.
By his side, First Lieutenant Morning Star of the Royal Mage Corps, the only officer of the military council that had yet to be redeployed elsewhere for she was in charge of the Ponyville Garrison, had shot him a very nasty glare.
It had taken all of Elusive’s diplomatic skills to appease the hurt and angry military officers, but given that Hoity Toity had promised to revise their deal in case Elusive won the elections to better accommodate his new duties, he had managed to convince them that both paths weren’t mutually exclusive, and that he was very much still on board to take on Filthy Rich.
Besides, there was the fact that Elusive wasn’t still entirely convinced that this was actually happening.
Hoity Toity had picked him for an apprenticeship.
He had just designed the worst aberrations in fashion history, and Hoity Toity had been so impressed that he had picked him for an apprenticeship.
They would leave Ponyville on Wednesday at five o’clock for Canterlot, where they’d attend a minor fashion show a friend of Hoity Toity would take part in, stay for a day, then take a train to Wiehern, where he’d stay for two weeks. All in all, he’d be away from home for the rest of the month, only coming back to town in early October.
All of that time, he’d be spending it attending fashion shows, meeting high-society ponies and working with Hoity Toity himself.
It was madness. Utter insanity.
Yet, the train ticket on his hooves was all too real.
So he’d better get used to it.
Wednesday, 18 of September, 1613, 14:42.
Dear Professional Scientific Journal,
Today’s the day.
In less than three hours, Elusive and Spike leave for Canterlot, and from there, onto Wiehern.
I must say, I’m still a bit on the fence about letting Spike go with him.
It’s not that I don’t trust Elusive. In fact, if I trust anypony (that is not a family member, so mum, dad, Shiny and Cadence [1] don’t count) entirely and utterly to look after Spike, it’s Elusive. He’s mature, sensitive and responsible. True, Sweetie Belle may run amok from time to time, but to be fair, there’s only so much that can be done to curb the danger of a Cutie Mark Crusader, and Elusive is but one stallion.
[1]: Given that Cadence is Shiny’s best friend, and that she did a very good job taking care of me when I was a little filly, I believe that she rightfully counts as honorary family.
Besides, Spike looks up to him, and he’s a good influence on Spike. Unlike, I don’t know, Rainbow Blitz, who, most likely, would let him drink and smoke and Celestia knows what else.
Neither is it that I don’t trust Spike. He’s very mature for his age, and I trust his judgement whole-heartedly (although that might have something to do with the fact that I had a major hoof in raising him into who he is now, so I may be biased). He also managed to survive in the wilderness for two weeks in a cave after the ticket fiasco, so there’s no reason to worry on that front.
No, the real reason is one of a more practical nature.
And that problem is that the Post Office is far more expensive than it has any right to be. I dread to think of a world in which I had to pay the tariff every time I write to the Princess… yet that is the world I’ll find myself in for the rest of September.
Never mind the fact that I’d probably have to pay extra if I want my letter to reach the Princess in a timely manner, instead of getting stuck with the rest of the thousands of letters she surely receives on a daily basis.
“Oh, Twilight Sparkle!” I can hear you exclaiming, with a knowing smirk, in the deep, enriching voice of one of my most esteemed lecturers at Princess Sovereign Celestia’s Academy of Arcane Arts, Professor Freemane. “But why can’t you just keep using the enchanted scrolls you already use, replacing Spike as your fire source?” The reason, my Dear Professional Scientific Journal, is that said scrolls are enchanted to react exclusively to Spike’s fire signature; if I were to light them up with any other type of fire, they’d just burn down to nothing.
That was a safeguard the Princess herself added when she created the spell for privacy’s sake; that way, nopony could ever pass themselves as me in order to get a direct line to the Princess.
I do wonder if I can
There was a knock on the library’s door.
Befuddled, Twilight raised her gaze from her Professional Scientific Journal to gaze at the closed door. No pony in their right mind would go to the library on a wednesday by lunch break.
Silence.
She shook her head. “Must have been my imagination.”
Yet, the instant her eyes turned back to her Professional Scientific Journal, there was another knock.
Frowning, Twilight stood up from the table and walked towards the door.
She didn’t know what she expected to see, but it certainly wasn’t her neighbour Lyra grinning widely at her, for she was taken off-balance by the sight of her.
“Hey, are you open?” the mint-green unicorn asked.
“Uhhh… Not… really, no,” Twilight rubbed the back of her head, before grimacing as her careless hoof undid her bun into a ponytail. Eh, whatever, she shrugged internally, as she decided to leave it like that. A ponytail is more comfortable, anyway. “Spike is leaving in a couple of hours.”
“Yeah, I heard about that!” Lyra nodded. “He’s going to Austrot with Elusive, right?”
“Yeah,” Twilight confirmed, then frowned. “How did you…?”
“Living with Bon Bon has its benefits,” Lyra was a step ahead, a light grin on her face. “She knows all the gossip around town; she’s like, Ponyville’s own Lord Hayrys.”
Twilight couldn’t help the small giggle that left her lips. While she herself was very fond of Groom Q. Q. Martingale’s novels, she got nothing on Lyra; after all, the mint-green unicorn had been the one to introduce her to the series. However, her smile didn’t last, falling off her face as she remembered what they were originally talking about.
“Sorry, but the library is closed right now. We’ve got to be at the train station by four. You know how it is.”
“It’s a few minutes short of three, though. There’s still time,” Lyra pointed out. “I won’t take long, I promise.”
She has a fair point, Twilight conceded.
Then, wordlessly, she stepped to a side.
“Yay!” Lyra cheered, happily cantering inside the building.
As Lyra walked towards the bookshelves, Twilight returned to her Professional Scientific Journal.
All right, where was I? she thought, eyes skimming the opened pages. Right, can’t contact the Princess with my scrolls without Spike’s fire signatu—
She paused, staring blankly at the page.
Oh, what am I even talking about? She groaned internally. Spike isn’t leaving for another two hours. I’ll just write to the Princess before he leaves to come up with a replacement for the meantime.
Her mind set, she grabbed her quill with her magical aura and crossed out the unfinished sentence, writing instead the realisation she’d just had.
With that done, quill at the ready, Twilight stared at the journal’s pages for a second.
Then for another.
And, for good measure, for yet another.
Huh. Guess that was it, wasn’t it? she thought. She skimmed through the entire entry.
Spike was leaving town with Elusive. She trusted both to keep out of trouble. The Post Office’s rates were an aberration against ponykind and probably a violation to the Canterlot Conventions. She would ask the Princess for a way to circumvent them now that her enchanted scrolls would be useless without Spike’s fire to activate the spell…
That’s about it, yeah.
And so, she signed:
Signed,
Twilight Sparkle, MPhil.
Bearer of the Element of Magic
Personal Protégé of Princess Sovereign Celestia of Equestria.
And, with a self-satisfied smirk, she closed her Professional Scientific Journal.
And did nothing.
A couple of seconds passed.
She frowned.
She was wasting time.
For what she could use it, she didn’t know. But she did know she was wasting it.
Twilight Sparkle was a prodigy. She spent her days reading, honing the edge of her mind to become the very best, like no one ever was. She strove to surpass all of the scholars that had come before her. To have her name worthy of being listed alongside the great Starswirl the Bearded and Clover the Clever as the preeminent thinkers of Equestrian history.
Twilight Sparkle did not waste time.
Yet, what could she do? She only had an hour, after all.
Twilight leaned back on her chair, crossing her forehooves, brow furrowed in thought.
Her theoretical research into known anomalies to the laws of physics had hit a dead end, just as she expected (and had confirmed on her own during her field observations of Phil last month). She had placed orders on the required laboratory equipment to run further, more specialised tests, so for now all she could do was wait until they arrived… Or, rather, until they were approved by the Ethical Commission in the first place.
Not that she worried much about that. No one would dare to say no to the Princess’s own personal student, after all.
Her research into recent history and politics, too, hadn’t much going for it. While she understood its importance, for the life of her she couldn’t formulate an hypothesis that piqued her interest. It was just late-night reading, nothing more.
She had researched The Bleeding Years after the Summer Sun Celebration in an attempt to prove the Night King wrong, but she hadn’t found conclusive evidence either way. While the early centuries of Princess Celestia’s splendid reign had been marked by strife and instability (they were called The Bleeding Years, after all), she had found no evidence of it ever being incited by the Princess herself.
In the end, with what little information there was about the time period, Twilight had concluded that The Bleeding Years were simply a period of major instability across the entire continent. Griffon states warred to the northeast and raided Pegasia and Unicornia for slave labour, the Peršeyhean Empire controlled vast swathes of southern Equestria, the constituent kingdoms were in their early infancy with tribal forms of government being the norm, major migrations took place, uprooting the established institutions, and Equestria itself was only as strong as her quarrelsome vassals allowed her to be. Whatever agency the Princess could have had was virtually negligible against such a state of affairs.
Maybe another day, she could make a larger, more in-depth research on the matter. But in what little time she had before leaving for the train station, she couldn’t even begin to compile her prospective bibliography. Especially if she wanted to make a good, exhaustive research worth her while.
Twilight frowned, then perked up as the answer to her dilemma made itself clear.
Wait, of course!
Why would she begin yet another research project when she had yet to finish the current one? After all, she had just finished Tales of Tartarus (which suggested that, at least in common parlance, Tartarus and The Abyss referred to the same infernal concept), and she was still far away from exhausting all of her bibliography. Now was as good a time as any to pick up the next title of her queue.
If she remembered correctly, she could find it on Starswirl the Bearded: Complete Works.
So, with a spring to her canter, Twilight walked up to the bookshelf where she knew the book was. After all, she often read it when she needed a pick-me-up.
Twilight had thought of keeping the book to herself, but she wouldn’t just deprive prospective readers from access to the GOAT’s collection. Sure, given her past experience as Ponyville’s librarian, she thought that the odds of that ever happening were slim, but she wouldn’t take any chances. She had sworn to herself she was going to be the damn best librarian Ponyville had ever had in its (admittedly short) history, and Twilight Sparkle was nothing if not an overachiever.
Not that she had to worry about her popularity; she had come to learn that, after the Ursa attack, ponies adored her. Colts and fillies had, for a couple of weeks, flocked in droves to the newly reopened library, but to her disappointment, they were more interested in her than in the books she had to offer.
And, unfortunately, she just didn’t have much to say to them to keep their attention.
Defeated the Night King? That had been a fluke, and she had the nagging thought that Fate had had a hoof on it.
Defeated a dragon? Team work, and even then, most of the credit went to Butterscotch; they would have all been toast if it were not for the pegasus’s sudden rage… and she didn’t want to divulge that to a bunch of impressionable young colts and fillies. Nor was it her place to do so in the first place.
Defeated an Ursa Major? Yeah, fair enough, that had been Phil and her, but there’s only so many times she could retell the epic, if vastly embellished, fight before they got bored and left.
At least she had managed to get more than a couple of them hooked into the wonderful habit of reading. A.K. Yearling had the perfect prose to appeal to both novice and experienced readers, and Daring Do could satisfy the itch for thrilling adventure that her own experiences couldn’t.
Now, she hadn’t expected that Scootaloo would be among them, but perhaps she had misjudged the little pegasus. Who knew, maybe she could get her idol on board, too.
Yeah, Twilight snorted, as if that’s ever going to happen. She had the mild suspicion that Rainbow Blitz was illiterate.
She didn’t really need to walk over the bookshelf to pick the book up, but she took great pride in her sorting capabilities, and just conjuring the book to her seat would deprive her of the self-indulgent exercise.
There it was; clad in a beautiful, soft lavender leather hardcover was the full collection of the extant essays, papers and memoirs of Starswirl the Bearded. Oh, how she yearned to read them all in one sitting.
But she was a mare on a mission. For now, all she needed was the paper he had written about the horrific Pony of Shadows, one of his last known writings.
She was taking a leap of faith here, but if she remembered correctly what was said on that fateful night all those months ago, this ‘Abyss’ could corrupt and twist ponies’ minds, turning them into little more than monsters. It wasn’t that much of a stretch to think it was plausible that the Pony of Shadows was only another, better recorded instance of the same evil.
She was about to go back to her trusty cushion by the table, but she found her attention drifting towards the green-mint mare that stared intently into her pristinely organised bookshelves.
“Lyra…” Twilight began cautiously, going against her better sense.
“Yes, Twilight?” The mint-green mare didn’t look away from the bookshelves she was furiously searching in.
“We’re…” Twilight choked on the word, as if it refused to be spoken. Fortunately, Lyra was too absorbed searching for something that she didn’t notice Twilight’s pause.
It was a very loaded word, Twilight had learned. Not one she would ever use lightly.
Yet, Lyra and her went back a full decade. Although the mint-green unicorn was more than a hoofful – Oh, yeah, I still need to figure that one out – of years older, she had taken her under her metaphorical wing. She had shown her the wonder of G.Q.Q.M’s dark fantasy world. They used to hang out when she still lived in Canterlot.
Well, for a given value of ‘hanging out’, because as Spike had eloquently put it, she was ‘a shut-in nerd that constantly ignored her friends in favour of being said shut-in nerd’.
Yes, she surmised that would count as being friends. Maybe not close friends, but friends nonetheless.
“We’re… friends, right?” she eventually managed to croak out. After all, that something was so didn’t make it any easier to say it.
At that, Lyra did turn to look at her, and gave her a smile. “Of course we are, Twilight! Maybe not as close as you and Moondancer were, but we’re friends!”
“Right. Of course,” Twilight nodded, cringing internally at Moondancer's name, a reminder of just how shitty of a friend she had been, but she already had something in mind to say, so she just tabbed that thought for later. “Well, if you don’t mind me asking… what are you doing, exactly?”
Lyra shrugged good-naturedly. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“If I’m being honest? Having a stare contest with my bookshelves.” My beautiful, beautiful bookshelves. “And somehow, you’re winning.”
Lyra giggled. “Well, you don’t share a house with Bon Bon without learning a few things.”
“Like how to beat inanimate objects in stare contests?” Twilight deadpanned. Oh, she’d heard them argue about that one, alright.
“Yup!”
Twilight shook her head. “You don’t have to stare at the bookshelves, though. I’m the librarian. I can help you,” she offered amiably. “What are you looking for?”
“Heh, do you even know me at all? I’m looking for books about Humans!”
Of course, Twilight just barely managed to stop herself from facehoofing right there. How naïve of me, thinking Lyra might be looking for literally anything else.
She pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation. “Lyra, you’ve been to each and every library in Canterlot and found nothing. What makes you think the only library of a small country town is going to be any different?”
“Because the Princess suggested it!”
At that, Twilight did a double take. “Huh?”
“The Princess told me to come to Ponyville to further my studies!” the mint-green unicorn explained, a grin in her face. “She even arranged for me to stay with Bon Bon for the time being! She’s neat, but kinda grumpy.” Yeah, you could tell Twilight that again. “Anyways, the Princess told me that the library here might have what I needed, so you can imagine my surprise when, barely a week after I arrive, it goes up in flames!”
“Yeah, you can blame Spike for that,” Twilight groaned. For all the jokes, she hadn’t enjoyed her time as a hobo.
“And Elusive’s sister, too. She’s the one who gave me the weird cursed flowers that restructured my spine into a bipedal form.”
Twilight winced. “Yikes.”
“Nah, it was actually pretty cool! Once I got the hang of it, of course. I felt like a human!” Lyra beamed.
“Of course you did,” Twilight rolled her eyes. She sighed. “Why are you doing this, Lyra?”
“Doing… what?”
“I mean, you do know your investigation into Humans is hopeless, right?”
She immediately felt bad, but before she could ask for forgiveness, Lyra rolled her eyes nonchalantly. “Why does everypony keep saying the same thing?” she wondered, sounding almost amused, as if she was used to being doubted.
“Because they’re not real,” Twilight replied flatly, her scientific zeal overriding her months-long efforts into learning about friendship and empathy.
“But they are, though.”
“No, they’re not! They’re just a silly filly tale to spook the fillies and foals!” Talking, bipedal, oversized hairless apes? The mere concept is risible!
“Oh, are they?” Lyra challenged. “Then how do you explain the Sighting of ‘86?”
“An invention made up by a struggling, alcoholic journalist with no integrity nor imagination trying to make his big break,” Twilight shot back without missing a beat.
However, Lyra grinned mischievously. “Exactly!”
That was not what she expected. Twilight blinked. “I… I don’t follow.”
“Hot Take was, indeed, an alcoholic with no imagination. I’ve read his articles, and holy hell, you can see why he never found success! His penmanship was awful, he had the creativity of a particularly dim-witted rock, and he could make the most exciting thing in Equestria sound boring. On the plus side, he did invent the most successful cure for insomnia in history, so there’s that.” Lyra paused. “I think that was by accident, though.”
“... And how is that good news for you?” Besides not ever having to worry about insomnia, I mean.
“Because, my dearest Twilight, there had been no mention whatsoever of Humans previous to his sighting,” Lyra replied with a smug smile. “Not in filly tales, nor in Bestiaries, scientific or fantastical. Furthermore, there’s no mention of Humans or their like in any of the Pre-Equestrian mythologies and pantheons. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zero. I could go on, but you get my point. How come an alcoholic with no creativity came up with that?”
“Maybe he saw a minotaur when he was blackout drunk and misremembered everything?”
“Yeah, maybe,” Lyra conceded. “And I would consider your hypothesis if Hot Take’s testimony was the only one.”
“Wait, there’s more?” The purple unicorn frowned. She didn’t know that.
“Yup. Hot Take’s is only famous because it was publicly debunked and he later committed suicide. But in fact, in the Secret Archives, there’s—”
“YOU GOT INTO THE SECRET ARCHIVES?!” Twilight shrieked, eyes wide. Every library worth their salt had a forbidden section (perhaps the basement would do for hers? She still had to figure that one out), and the Secret Archives were Canterlot Royal Library’s. Unless you were Celestia herself, you could only access them with the Princess’ express authorisation, and under strict supervision. “I’m Princess Celestia’s personal student and not even I have been granted access to them! How did you get in?!”
“Through the cupola on top of the East Wing’s dome. The whole thing is surprisingly unguarded, so all you need to take care of is not falling off the rafters to your doom,” Lyra replied matter-of-factly. At Twilight’s scandalised look, the unicorn shrugged. “I mean, if YOU, Twilight freaking Sparkle, the personal protégé of Princess Celestia herself, haven’t ever been allowed in, then I was totally boned. So I found an alternative.”
Twilight was both horrified at how nonchalant Lyra was being about her illegal trespassing into a top secret area… and, at the same time, she made sure to tab her indications.
Y’know.
For science.
“Anyhow,” Lyra got back on track, “the thing is that there’s a whole folder about other sightings on the same time span. And you know the interesting part? They’re all from towns along the border with Neightalia and Austrot, like Haymilton, Appleton or Hoofensburg, and they include ponies from all places of society. Beggars, commoners, nobles and whatnot, they all testified to seeing these ‘humans’. Even ponies who usually disagreed on just about everything put forward the same story!”
“A mass hallucination event caused by water contamination, maybe?” Twilight proposed, but she was unconvinced herself. “A mediocre illusionist pulling some magical shenanigans?”
That was a lot of ponies, across a rather vast geographical area. While there had been instances of water contamination affecting large areas, most incidents had occurred many centuries ago, before the Ponish mage Czysta Woda invented the Water Purification Spell in 1021. Still, there had been a few incidents since then. She hadn’t read anything about mass water contamination in the Equestrian–Neightalian–Austrotian border, but then again, she’d had no reason to look into it.
And considering this “sighting” had occurred almost ten years before Twilight was born, she seriously doubted Trixie had already been born, let alone pulling her usual shenanigans.
“Then how do you explain the comet that fell down from the sky right before the sightings? And that one is very well documented, as it was even seen from Canterlot, too!” Lyra smirked. “Now, tell me, Twilight. Was it a comet… Or something else entirely?”
Twilight harrumphed. “You’ve certainly given this a lot of thought,” she conceded reluctantly.
Lyra smiled proudly. “I may look like – and, as a matter of fact, actually enjoy my reputation as – a crackpot insane theorist, but I’m first and foremost an Academic!”
Before Twilight could make her own biting remark, Spike walked down the stairs.
“All right, I’m done!” he proclaimed.
Twilight turned to look at him. “You’ve got everything packed up?”
“Yep!”
“You checked the checklist I made for you?”
“Multiple times.”
“And the checklist I made to make sure the checklist was complete?”
“Yep.”
“And the checklist of the checklist of the checklist?”
Spike blanked.
“Aw, man, I forgot about that one,” the baby dragon groaned, turning on his heel and dragging his feet up the stairs.
Lyra giggled, and Twilight had to smile in amusement, too.
“That’s another thing, too,” Lyra said after a beat. “‘Man’. Haven’t you ever wondered exactly where did that word come from?”
“If I recall correctly, it’s the name of the ancient ‘M’ rune,” Twilight furrowed her brow in thought. “How did that become slang for ‘dude’ or ‘guy’, though, I have no idea.”
Lyra trudged forward, unabated. “Or what about all the words that include hands? ‘Handle’, ‘handful’, ‘handy’. How do you explain those, if not by human influence?”
“Well, sorry to rain on your parade, Lyra, but I can explain those,” Twilight interjected forcefully. “Hands aren’t exactly a foreign concept for us, given that minotaurs and centaurs have hands, and one could argue that the same goes for griffons and dragons, as their claws are functionally the same. And there’s written attestations of those exact same words going back centuries prior to your ‘sighting’. And for that, there’s a handful of evidence,” she said smugly.
Lyra frowned; she clearly hadn’t considered that. So Twilight went for the kill, too focused on being right to be a good friend.
“And that’s why you should hit the books more often. Proper books.”
“Your face is a proper book,” Lyra grumbled in a low voice, before addressing Twilight directly. “Well, genius, how about you recommend me some of your proper books yourself?”
“Sure,” Twilight agreed, pleased with herself. “I’ll have your bibliography by tomorrow morning.” That’ll show her.
Lyra read her mind, shooting a warning look at her. “And don’t pick just books that debunk the whole thing! Remember I have access to top secret files that you don’t, so for once I actually know more than you do on the subject!”
“Illegal access, that is,” Twilight dryly replied, slightly annoyed at the fact that Lyra knew more about something than herself. She was Twilight Sparkle! Knowing stuff was her whole shtick!
“Access nonetheless. And if you don’t give me some good, unbiased books, I won’t show you how to get into the Secret Archives.”
“You already told me. Cupola on top of the East Wing’s dome, be careful not to fall to your death.”
“Sure. And how do you intend to bypass the magical wards? Climb up the walls? Know exactly where to step to avoid falling down?” Lyra smirked.
“You drive a hard bargain, don’t you?” Twilight snorted. “Deal.”
“Cool. Pleasure doing business with you, Sparkle.”
“Can’t quite say the same, Heartstrings,” she shot back good-naturedly. Then frowned as she remembered her tabbed thought. “Say, about Moondancer… She isn’t mad that I didn’t go to her birthday party, is she?”
“Well, considering the End of Days came that very night, the Princess was deposed and Equestria plunged into eternal night, I don’t think she cared much about that.”
Phew.
“Buuuuuuut maybe she was a little bit peeved at the fact you didn’t tell her beforehoof… or later… or at all, really.”
“Oh.”
Dammit.
“Ah, I wouldn’t worry about it. She’s a grown mare, she’ll get over it,” Lyra shrugged. “Besides, you sent her a birthday card, right?”
Twilight blinked.
Oh shit.
“... Yes...?”
“Well, there ya go!” Lyra beamed, oblivious to Twilight’s rather blatant lie. “You did the bare minimum, then!”
Twilight was saved by Spike’s timely intervention as the baby dragon returned, carrying a suitcase with him.
“Alright! Checked the checklist, the checklist of the checklist, the checklist of the checklist of the checklist and the checklist of the checklist of the checklist of the checklist!” He proclaimed proudly.
“And the checklist of the checklist of the checklist of the checklist of the checklist?”
“Trick question, there’s no such thing,” Spike replied without missing a beat.
Twilight smiled. She had raised him well.
“All right, then. We should get going to meet the guys,” Twilight remarked, then turned towards Lyra with an apologetic look to her face.
Lyra raised her hooves in appeasement. “Don’t sweat it. If you’re the one compiling the bibliography for my research, then I would be just wasting time here. I’ll leave you guys to it.”
Twilight shot a grateful look at Lyra. The mint-green unicorn turned to leave, waving at Spike.
“Have a good trip. Don’t burn down Wiehern.”
“Don’t burn down Ponyville,” Spike shot back.
“Hah!” Lyra laughed, as she opened the door. “What would be the point if you overgrown lizard aren’t here?” And, before Spike could say anything else, she walked out the library. “Bye!”
“Seriously, what’s up with the overgrown lizard shit?!” Spike groaned as soon as the door closed behind the unicorn. “Haven’t you assholes ever seen a baby dragon?!”
“You know she’s just joking, right?”
“Well, that makes one of them,” Spike replied in deep annoyance. “We’ve been here since June and ponies still think I’m an overgrown lizard. Does the fact that I spit fire mean jackshit to them or what?”
“Oh, Spike. You know Ponyvillians can be a bit…” dumb. “... simple, when it comes to these kinds of nuances. Cut them some slack. Now come on, the guys will be at Clover Café.”
“So… you’re not angry at us anymore, right?” Phil asked in a far-too-meek voice for him.
Elusive frowned. It was the umpteenth time Phil had made the exact same question, and yet, no matter his answer, he never seemed properly reassured. “Of course not, my dear.”
“Even if we almost destroyed yer career?”
The unicorn couldn’t help but laugh sincerely. “If that was your intention, then it certainly backfired!”
“Yes,” Butterscotch winced. “But we were so mean to you, too…”
“Ah, my dears, don’t worry about it. In the end, we were all at fault there. Nopony’s perfect. Let’s just leave all that unpleasantness behind us,” Elusive smiled, “and instead look forward to a brighter future!”
Rainbow Blitz raised an eyebrow. “Somepony’s in a good mood.”
Elusive’s smile was wiped out of his face. “What part of ‘I’m going to Wiehern for three weeks’ you didn’t understand?” He deadpanned. “We’re literally standing on the platform right now. The train leaves in fifteen minutes.”
“The part in which you created cursed, unholy, abominable offenses to Ponykind itself and got chosen by Hoity Toity to be his apprentice?” Blitz snarked.
Elusive instantly mellowed. “Yes, I am rather flabbergasted by that sequence of events as well.” He shrugged. “But I’ve come to learn that life is strange like that.”
“Ya can say that again,” Applejack muttered, turning his gaze to the rest of the train station. “Hey, question for y’all: am Ah the only one who thinks the new train station is a bit too big?”
While the station, for Ponyville’s standards, was positively bustling with ponies, the building itself was huge; the vaulted ceilings rose high into the sky, supported by wide stone pillars, and more than six platforms were connected by large overpasses. Twilight wagered that if you were to put all of Ponyville’s population inside the building, you would still have half of it to spare. In fact, only one of the platforms was currently operational; they didn’t have enough trains to actually use the others yet.
“The entire town is a bit too big these days,” she noted. “I mean, just look at the new town hall or at the main square. They’re massive.”
“All the more places to throw a kickass party!” Phil piped in, looking with a critical eye at the rafters and pillars, thinking how to best decorate the entire train station. However, there wasn’t much of his usual energy to his voice. In fact, to Twilight, it almost sounded as if he said that because they expected him to. She frowned, tabbing the thought for later.
“It’s the same old Ponyville, yet it’s entirely different at the same time,” Elusive nodded. “I’m not sure exactly how to feel about it.”
“Really? Ah thought this would be right up yer alley.”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I like the new infrastructure that Captain Armor has installed, and I see what he’s aiming for. It’s just that… Well. It’s Ponyville. I was born and raised here. Seeing it change almost overnight from a small hamlet into a full-fledged city is… off-putting, to say the least. Particularly when there are no real newcomers to speak of.”
“To be fair, the small hamlet was wiped out from existence,” Twilight pointed out.
“Yeah. If you have to start off from scratch, then why not go big?” Blitz shrugged.
“I despise to say it, but I agree with you, Rainbow,” Elusive shook his head in distaste.
The pegasus scowled. “Why do you hate me so much, man?”
“Do you want the short answer or the long answer?”
“Short.”
“Because you’re annoying.”
“Right. And the long answer is…?”
“Because you’re really annoying.”
Everypony laughed at that, and even Blitz let out a chuckle. “Yeah, fair enough.”
“Mah granny can barely believe her eyes when she comes down to town now,” Applejack mused. “She was here when Ponyville was first founded.”
“Really?” Butterscotch asked curiously.
“Eeyup. She was as youn’ as Apple Bloom back then, she was. She even helped build the old town hall with her own two hooves.”
“She must have been really sad to see it go down,” Phil frowned.
“Nah, she always hated the damn thing,” the farm stallion chuckled. “She actually tried to burn it down back in ‘53.”
“... Why?”
“No idea. We don’t really talk about her life before meeting my gramps an’ settlin’ down. All we know is that she has a criminal record.”
Twilight stared blankly at Applejack.
“... Your granny.”
“Eeyup,” Applejack nodded.
“Granny Smith,” she repeated.
“The one and only.”
“A criminal record.”
“And a very large one, too.”
“Are you serious?”
“She was a wild one, mah granny,” Applejack shrugged far too nonchalantly for Twilight’s peace of mind. In fact, she was fairly certain he had more than just a hint of pride to his voice. “Still is, really. Only difference bein's she's old now.”
“Well, now we know where Apple Bloom got her arsonist tendencies from!” Phil quipped. After a moment’s thought, he tapped his chin in thought. “Don’t ya’ think that maybe that’s her special talent?”
Butterscotch’s eyes widened. “Burning things down?”
“Yeah! She’s really good at it, too!”
“Celestia save Equestria if it is,” Applejack sounded horrified at the prospect. “Because that lil’ filly can make water burn.”
“That’s not scientifically possible,” Twilight frowned.
“Yeah, well, tell her that.”
A voice rang out of the station’s intercom.
“Passengers for the train to Canterlot, please proceed to board the train,” a prim, polite female voice informed them, before repeating herself.
“That’s us, it seems,” Elusive stood up from their bench.
Twilight nudged Spike, who was taking a nap on top of the suitcases. “Hey, sleepyhead, get up.”
Spike groaned. “Five more minutes, mum…”
Twilight rolled her eyes before prodding him with her hoof. “Come on, you’re going to miss the train.”
The baby dragon sighed. “Fiiiiiiine…” he whined, as he reluctantly stood up, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to wake himself up.
“Are you sure you don’t hate us?” Phil asked yet again.
Elusive bit back a sigh and shook his head. “For the thousandth time, Phil. No. I most categorically do not hate you. What can I say or do to persuade you otherwise?”
“Bring some cool souvenirs?” Blitz interrupted before Phil could answer.
The alabaster unicorn mulled it over for about half a second before agreeing. He was, after all, the Bearer of the Element of Generosity. “Sure thing. Would that help convince you, Phil?”
“That wasn’t what I had in mind,” the pink stallion said, “but I guess it works.”
“And what did you have in mind?” Butterscotch asked kindly.
“... I don’t know,” Phil looked away. “We were just so mean, I guess. And you were so upset. It’s a bit hard to believe you would just forgive us like that.”
“Phil,” Elusive sighed. “It doesn’t matter. Truly. Looking back on it, I was overreacting. True,” he conceded, “the outfits you asked me to make were hideous, and I should have put my hoof down before it got so far. But the fact of the matter is that you’re my friends, and I would do anything for you.”
There was a brief, heartwarming silence as Elusive’s words sank in.
“Except for you, Rainbow Blitz, you’re the worst.”
“Fuck you.”
“How was it? ‘Fuck me yourself, you coward’?” Elusive laughed.
“Last call: Passengers for the train to Canterlot, please proceed to board the train,” The voice rang once again through the intercom.
Elusive sighed, then smiled at them. “Very well, my dears, I guess this is goodbye for now. We’ll see each other again in October.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you guys updated,” Spike promised, blinking sleepily. “I’ve got some scrolls with me.”
And so, they bade their farewells; Twilight hugged Spike tightly as the rest of the guys gave Elusive a half-hug.
“I’ll look after Sweetie Belle and Opal for you,” Butterscotch promised as his turn came.
“My dear, I have the utmost confidence in you. You’ve got this in the bag.”
Butterscotch smiled weakly, not entirely reassured. After all, this was Sweetie Belle they were talking about.
And, without losing any more time, both unicorn and dragon boarded the train. Barely a couple of minutes later, the chimney puffed out a large cloud of steam, and with a loud whistle, the train began moving away from the platform.
The remaining five ponies stood in silence, gazing at the train as it vanished into the distance.
And so, they turned and walked outside the train station without saying a word, for there was nothing to be said. Even though they were downcast and saddened by their friends’ departure, they knew it to be not only a temporary affair, but one that would be of great benefit for Elusive. Still, it didn’t make it any easier.
Butterscotch was the first to split from the group, as his cottage was nearby. Not long afterwards, Phil did the same as they passed by Sugarcube Corner.
And so, Twilight, Rainbow Blitz and Applejack walked down the renovated streets of Ponyville.
"You know, it’s funny,” Blitz suddenly muttered.
“What is?”
“I can’t shake the feeling that I’m forgetting something. Something kind of important.”
It was at the exact instant he finished talking that it started pouring cats and dogs.
“... Oh, right,” Blitz facehoofed. “There’s a massive storm scheduled for this evening.”
“Yer a moron,” Applejack stated flatly, his wet stetson bending under its weight. A thunder echoed in the distance.
“Come, the library is not far from here!” Twilight yelled to be heard over the mighty rain. “We can wait out the storm there!”