//------------------------------// // 1 - The Reliquary of an Extinct Empire // Story: Commander: The Equis Invasion // by Meep the Changeling //------------------------------// Wind howled and moaned, pressing against the city’s skyscraper’s as if nature wished to topple each glass and steel tower due to some long forgotten personal vendetta. The sea crashed against the piers, splintering the older cargo docks while eroding the concrete foundations of the newly built shipyards. Nearly frozen rain glided down from the skies, striking the the sides of buildings and flash-freezing for brief moments before the warmth radiating from the city’s homes and businesses liquified the sleet once more. In the old days, Manehatten would have never been battered by a storm of this feroisity. The mayor would have dispatched squadrons of Weather Crew pegasi to disrupt, divert, or disperse the hurricane long before it made landfall. Those days seemed like fairytales to all but the oldest ponies in Equestria. The Change had made many things hard to imagine for those who grew up in a world where the pegasi were still re-learning how to tame mother nature. It was all the Weather Crew could do to keep the wind down just a smidge and divert the bulk of the storm to the north, away from the majority of residential districts. Not that it mattered. This particular storm had plenty of minds wondering if this was mother nature’s punishment for thousands of years of subverting her will. A fair assumption, given the buildings impaled by uprooted traffic lights, flooded subway tunnels, and the thin sheets of black ice coating the streets. “—leading meteorologists believe we’re approaching the halfway point of Hurricane Ribbon. The eye is expected to miss the city by ten kilometers, so please don’t assume there will be a brief period where it is safe to move through the city. The Shelter in Place order will remain active until the storm—” The deep voiced stallion was cut off with a sharp click as Amber Hex switched off her office’s radio. The mare sat across the room from the small red plastic pocket radio, a few motes of white light drifting through her pale amber bangs betraying her use of telekinesis to manipulate her radio. Amber sighed and leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes in irritation while drumming her fingers next to her keyboard. “Figures…” she muttered bitterly. Amber had been trapped in her office for five hours. As much as she enjoyed her job, and as important as archeology had become to Equestria, Amber had other things to do with her life.  Admittedly the one she wished to do was get out of her pant suit, take a long hot shower to wash the office sweat from her pastel pink fur, give her hooves a trim, then bundle up on the couch in a nice heavy blanket and read the four graphic novels she’d missed out on during her recent field assignment. Not exactly anything important or crucial in the judgmental eyes of society, but every one needs to turn off their brain sometimes. Amber huffed once more then turned back to the document she’d pulled up from the university’s maneframe. The large glowing crystal mirror serving as her office terminal’s monitor was incredibly out of date. It had probably been installed in the university before The Change, maybe even long ago enough for Princess Twilight Sparkle to have been a normal Unicorn mare in elementary school. As a result the screen was monochrome, using a sickly green-silver color for everything it displayed while being quite blurry and hard to look at for extended periods. Exactly the sort of thing nopony at all wanted to read badly scanned microfilm on. It in no way made Amber want to have a good long cry then hug her toughbook when she got home and apologize for ever calling it crappy. Amber turned her head a bit to try and examine the ancient writing on screen from a few angles. The throughline and tick writing system she was working with was more than a little hard to read for someone who grew up learning Equish’s loopy runes. “Mmm… no,” Amber said decisively after a glance back down at the black and silver puzzle box next to her computer. “That’s not eawin.” Or more precisely, the reliquary. No puzzle box made from slabs of polished obsidian tinted petrified wood, trimmed in gold, and decorated with a trio of magically illuminated rubies on the corners could possibly be called a “puzzle box” with a serious face. It simply looked far too important to be called something so... normal. The ancient reliquary had been the target of Amber’s last dig. They’d been quite fortunate to retrieve it, especially after a boobytrap claimed the lives of two of the other archeologists working the site. Including Silver, who had been teaching Amber how to read the language she was presently translating. Before the floor-spikes had taken Silver’s life, Amber had managed to learn how to pronounce Gaw̃hen words… but had no clue what a given word actually meant. Cracking their language was a relatively new discovery. So new that even one of Equestria’s foremost experts on Gaw̃henish artifacts had to learn it in the field on a dig. Yeah this is totally the best place to be doing this… Amber silently muttered while squinting hard at the box’s engraved lid. You know. A university office back room with a small safe. Totally the safest place for a potential arcane warhead that’s also the most sought after object in all Equestria to be. I totally shouldn’t just be working in the lab with armed guards to protect me in case one of oh a dozen different criminal groups breaks in to try and steal this to ransom it back to the Kingdom. Nooooo! This totally makes sense! Can’t just tell interns to not poke at this. Or ban them from the lab for the project… Gotta leave it here… Potentially accessible by random students walking to or from a lecture who decide to snoop around my stuff. And is there anypony I can report this to? Nope! Mother nature’s on the rag tonight and nothing can be sent out. Wheee! “I swear if he’s trying to get me killed and not just an idiot…” Amber murmured under her breath before deciding to push that particular existential read to the back of her mind. Yard Sale was the worst option for the new dean… Still can’t believe the board elected him. Amber had too much on her plate to waste time worrying about her boss. After all, she had to translate the inscription atop the lid of an ancient and most definitely boobytrapped box which looked exactly like what an arch-lich would want to house their soul in. At least, according to Dashing Colt Comics. While most of Amber’s general frustration was with her seemingly insane employers instructions, a good chunk of her present anger was with the form of Gaw̃hen whoever made this box had chosen to use. The language had two known written forms. One for ink and brush, composed of runes not too alien to Equish’s own… and one composed of small tickmarks and lines made along a throughline that could be carved in seconds with a chisel into stone, metal, or wood. A form made to endure and, consequently, very hard to read. >ᚋᚁᚔ ᚔᚐᚒᚒᚂᚅᚌᚐ ᚓᚈ ᚋᚓᚊᚚᚐᚒᚒᚒᚒᚄ ᚋᚁᚔ ᚈᚐᚏᚐᚒᚒᚐᚌ ᚊᚚᚐᚄ ᚊᚔ ᚂᚔᚒ ᚔᚊᚐᚒᚒᚚ< >ᚄᚐᚋᚒᚋᚋᚐ ᚋᚁᚔ ᚈᚐᚏᚐᚒᚒᚐᚌ ᚐᚔᚐᚒᚒᚂ< >ᚋᚁᚔ ᚈᚐᚏᚐᚒᚒᚐᚌ ᚂᚓᚄ ᚋᚁᚓ ᚔᚑᚌᚁᚔᚒ< >ᚐᚔᚐᚒᚒᚂ ᚈᚓᚈ ᚇᚓᚏᚈᚒᚒᚅᚌᚔᚒ ᚐᚔᚚ< >ᚔᚋᚔᚓ ᚊᚒᚌᚁ ᚐᚔᚚ ᚐᚁ ᚔᚁ ᚄᚐᚚᚔᚚ< >ᚇᚐᚋ ᚋᚐ ᚓᚈ ᚔᚔ ᚁᚑᚅᚌ ᚐᚔᚐᚒᚒᚂ< >ᚐᚊᚒᚈ ᚇᚒ ᚐ ᚌᚁᚓᚇ< >ᚋᚁᚓ ᚌᚔᚌ ᚅᚌᚒᚅᚌ ᚄᚒ ᚄᚓ< The puzzle box was quite large. About the size of a mare’s head. Big enough to contain one of the items Ponykind had become obsessed with finding over the last century. A Sovereign Stone, or Ketsĩtephĩmě as the Gaw̃hen had called them. As far as ponykind knew there were seven of the large black crystals, one for each of the Emperors and Empresses of the ancient fallen empire called Gaw̃hen. Amber turned her head to her notebook in order to double check that her rubbing matched the chiseled message. It just wasn’t practical to keep turning the heavy box to double check the makings. Unfortunately, the box’s engraved message was quite shallow, which made taking a rubbing of it quite difficult. Amber’s charcoal covered page indeed contained several mistakes. She took a deep breath and crumpled up the rubbing, tossing it onto the floor. “At least this means I can just make another of these real quick,” she said to the empty office. Amber reached across her desk, grabbing her charcoal pencil and a fresh sheet of paper with one hand. She then carefully taped the page to the top of the box, keeping it as taught as possible. Then, slowly, evenly, and consistently as possible, she brushed the side of her pencil tip across the box’s lid. Amber held her breath as she worked. A steady hand was not just wise, but mandatory when working with Gaw̃henish artifacts. Odds are good this box’s trap won't spring from this… Amber mused to calm her nerves. Twilight’s Bookshelf, the Gaw̃hen sure did love their boobytraps! And not just sensible magical ones you can just scan for. Nooo they had to be Engineering Gods capable of making tech traps of stone, bronze, iron, and wood that somehow lasted for ten thousand bucking years! Amber carefully removed her fresh rubbing from the box and placed it next to her keyboard, resuming the translation by muttering it to herself. “The yawlngã et měkpaw̃s the Tarawãg kpas ki liũ ĩkawp. Samũmmã the Tarawãg ãyawl. The Tarawãg only mbě do not. Spared tet all-death aip. Ĩmye kugb ãip not ib sapip. Dãm mã et yi bong ãyawl. Ãkut du a gběd. Mbě gig last resort sě̃.” Amber took a deep breath through her nose and let it out slowly. “Yeeeahh! This is a super safe thing to be opening up. Perfectly fine!” she exclaimed throwing her hands up in frustration. Ugh… I know I have to be the one to open it, I’m the foremost expert on these and last time something like this happened three thousand ponies were liquifacted when they opened the thing wrong but that box didn’t have a warning label containing a word that I am pretty sure is a compound word made from the words all and death! Amber took a moment to take a few deep breaths and calm down. A tall order given what was running through her mind… She turned her head to her office’s corkboard and to a 30 year old newspaper clipping pinned to the wall beneath her motivational poster of a kitten hanging from a tree. Canterlot University Devastated By Arcane Explosion! An explosion struck Canterlot University this morning at 1029 when archeologists removing a Sovereign Stone from its container triggered a protective ward which had not been detected during the recovery operation. The explosion caused extensive damage to the university’s campus and several surrounding buildings. Organic matter caught within the blast was liquifacted, transforming to puddles of organic matter. This includes the 2876 students and faculty within the university at the time. The blast also created a caustic and toxic pinkish fog which is slowly settling out of the air. Citizens are advised to remain clear of the grounds regardless of any circumstances until the fog recedes completely. Recovery crews searched the ruins for survivors and the Stone, and were able to find neither. The Stone was either destroyed or teleported elsewhere during the event. Amongst the dead is head researcher Doctor Granite Hex… Amber sank deeper into her chair and turned back to her work. I wonder if dad was as careful then as I’m being now… Mom’s never mentioned if he took his work seriously or not. At least he made damn sure I won't make a single mistake if I can’t help it. Amber took a few minutes to check her water bottle’s level, make sure her pencil was sharpened, sort the stray papers on her desk, and a few dozen other tiny tasks just to avoid further work on the box. I don’t know how many safety violations working on this thing outside a secure facility is. Let alone in a populated campus… At least just translating this is safe-ish. Still, I wish you could tell your boss no and still have a job at the end of the day. Or that landlords would be fine being paid with exposure. Her honey-colored eyes refocused on the blurry screen in front of her. The translation was barely finished, something she knew would enrage her boss if he found out it took her more than an evening to work out. It’s a real pain to know what a language sounds like, and be able to read it out loud, but not know what the words actually mean… Especially when your boss thinks knowing a language’s phonemes means knowing its lexicon! This inscription has to be one of two things: A cryptic warning about the protections on the box, or a description of the contents. That’s how Gaw̃hen works. Everything else they made that we’ve found works like that. They had to have known they were going to collapse and wanted others to make use of their things as a legacy. A way to have mattered. Shame we don’t know why they underwent a collapse. Especially since they could make reality warping artifacts! Amber grumbled as her squinting eyes began to water while she tried to work out if a line was bending left or right on her display. It would be nice if we could go back to studying the past for the sake of academia. It would be nice to focus on why they fell, she thought bitterly. I’ve spent my whole career just plundering their tombs for salvation. I think I deserve to know more about them than how to disarm their traps. Shame the Princess won't fund those until we “break the curse”. Amber sat up and rubbed her temples for a moment. “I swear this job…” she half grumbled before taking a sip from her water bottle. Amber looked through the dictionary again, scrolling down several pages before smiling just a little. “Okay, so that is taraw and ãg is a plural designator for a large group. Okay. Great...” Amber said with dull excitement as she scribbled on the page of her notebook where the rest of the translation in progress resided. Taraw meaning Demons/devils/monsters ie: anything alien and hostile. Yeah I’m really super fine being in the same room as this thing! Amber thought to herself to contain a horrified nervous laugh. Yeah this is almost certainly a Sovereign Stone. They probably used them against Tartarus’s monsters or something else like them. The Stones worked much like the Elements of Harmony, so much so that Equestria’s scholars were pretty certain that the Elements had been created by people who had studied a Sovereign Stone and decided such things should require more than one person to activate. And shouldn’t be nearly as powerful. Only a single Sovereign Stone was needed to reshape the world as one saw fit… with a twist. Whatever somepony wished for with a Sovereign Stone was done for or to everyone. A wish for a million bits would give everypony a million bits. A wish for a swift death would kill everypony. Or, more relevant to ponykind’s current obsession with locating a Sovereign Stone, a wish to change one’s physical form would change everypony’s body as the wishmaker specified. The Stones couldn’t take back a wish made on them. You needed another of the Stones to undo what another Stone did. The odd number of the Stones ensured that whoever fired last would “win” with their will becoming reality for the rest of time. Most ponies who studied the Stones believed that to have been an ingenious way to ensure their owners were very reluctant to ever use a Stone. That they were made to be a last resort for preserving the Gaw̃hen empire. Funny how even with reality warping artifacts up the ass the Gaw̃hen still fell, Amber thought to herself as she began working on the next word. It would be a great idea to stop and figure out why they fell before we buck around with a Sovereign Stone again, but noooo! Dig, dig, dig. Never question. Never analise. Never do real archeology. Just tomb raiding. Amber paused and flipped her pencil between her fingers for a few moments. She was thirty two as of last month. She’d never known being a quadruped. Her mother had a few hazy memories of walking on all fours and somehow holding a toothbrush with her forehoof. Amber honestly couldn’t imagine herself doing that. Amber eyed the puzzle box for a long moment. It was indeed big enough to contain a Sovereign Stone. Every last scrap of information she had pulled out of the jaws of entropy said the Gaw̃hen had stashed something crucial within the tower she’d exhumed over the last ten months and this was the sole thing to be secured there with traps as a test of ‘worthiness’. Should I really open this box? Amber asked herself silently. Wouldn’t turning everypony into quadrupeds now be just as traumatizing? The ponies who remember life before The Change have what… two, maybe three decades left at most. If I open this, and it is a Stone, they’ll use it. There’s no question about it. Amber turned back to her screen, deciding to keep working for now. Unfortunately, this meant continuing to glare at the crystal screen and hope her concentrated hatred didn’t cause the thing to shatter. Due to the vastly different arcane controls that pre-Change devices like this worked with to accommodate forehooves, that was an actual possibility. I should just buy a computer for my office… Amber grumbled as she resisted the urge to punch the crystal display to see if that would break it in such a way as to cause an improvement. Amber raised her pencil to her notebook one more time and jotted down the next word in she was able to identify. “Mã… to speak with, conversation…” She frowned sharply and checked the rest of her in progress translation. That’s definitely their word for talking to someone. Why is it the start of the third to last line in the inscription? Is the last part instructions on how to talk to someone who might know how to open this? Or am I wrong about deÌŒrtuũngyũ being a compound word formed from death and all? Is this actually holding some kind of communications device? Amber pursed her lips and mulled it over for a few moments. “No… I’m pretty sure that’s basically the word genocide. Or at least, massive death,” she murmured out loud. Amber’s eyes shot open as a realization struck. Wait! Maybe this inscription is trying to tell us about what happened to them! Maybe it’s something like “We’re all dead now, but if you want to speak with— Three sharp knocks on Amber’s office door snapped her out of her focus state just as the knob turned and the door started to swing open without so much as a word of warning. Amber spun in her seat, almost knocking it over as she stood up, half from surprise, half from fear the reliquary was about to be stolen. Her short horn flared white as she grabbed her field-kit’s utility belt from the coat rack next to the door, yanking it across the room to her waiting hand. Her hands moved like lightning, seeking the folding hand crossbow holstered within the belt. The door flung open to reveal an elderly pegasus mare, graying yellow fur, fully silver mane and tail, slightly bent with age. The mare was dressed in what could only be described as a gown, as befitting somepony who fancied themselves a “Belle” and modeled their lifestyle after Equestria’s most fashion focused heroine. Amber’s left eye twitched. “Twilight, bucking, damn it! Penny, don’t bust in here without warning!” The elderly mare’s eyes widened in alarm as she registered that the young archeologist was in the process of readying a weapon. “Amber! This is a University! Why are you even allowed to have such a thing in here? Put that thing down!” Amber levitated the belt and still holstered crossbow onto her desk while she gestured towards the obsidian reliquary with both hands while putting on her most deranged upset face. “I’m not! But do you have any idea what might be in this box?” she snapped. Penny huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “It can hardly be so dangerous as to mandate you keeping a firearm close to hoof in a school!” Amber’s eye twitched again as her stress broke. “Okay, first off, this isn't a gun. It’s a crossbow with tranq darts I keep at hand in case I get attacked by wild beasts in the field. It would be a gun if I could afford one because those are just better, but that doesn't bucking matter for this argument! This could be a bucking Sovereign Stone reliquary, Penny! I’m supposed to have armed guards for this! And here you are just barging in without warning, ignoring the Do Not Enter Without Identifying First sign on my door. I’ve been panicking all bucking night worrying someone from the League of Mages is going to just boot in my door, blast me with a wand containing magic I just super can NOT counter, turning me into a bucking orange or Twilight knows what sort of abomination, then buck right off with this massive security breach of a box!” “Sovereign…” Penny’s eyes ran across the desk, noticing the reliquary’s obsidian clad sides for the first time. She gasped, bringing one hand up to her muzzle. “Oh dear sweet Celestia! What is the dean thinking?!” Penny whirled around and slammed Amber’s office door shut with the force of a panicking old mare faced with a heinous security breach being yelled about by a young upstart employee. “Right?!” Amber asked, letting out a strained laugh. “He told me to keep it in my office safe for now. At least it means I can get fresh rubbings of the engraving because those are super easy to buck up or smudge beyond recognition.” Amber took a deep breath, then another, and let it out slow to calm herself down. “Look, I’m sorry… What did you need?” Penny shook her head slowly. “Well… Before I get into that let me say I will be submitting a formal complaint to the board about this. Not you, your work order. This is madness! Do they want another Canterlot University?” Amber’s left eye twitched slightly. “I… beg… your… pardon?” Penny’s lip curled up as she sucked in a quick breath. “Oh dear… I didn’t mean it like that. I’m certain you’re being more careful than anypony else would ever be,” she cleared her throat and did her best to put on a professional expression. “I just… needed some help grading an essay.” Amber twisted her lips into a confused o and gave the elderly professor a long hard stare. “I… I’m not a teacher. I'm on the research side. Not the education side.” “Yes, yes,” Penny said with a dismissive hand wave as she fetched a neatly bound 12 page report from a very cleverly hidden pocket within her gown. “Look, I don’t know everything about archeology or history. How could I? How could anypony? This is Glowing Dawn’s report and well, he’s made a rather ludicrous claim that normally I would outright dismiss but given he’s the Princess’s colt it’s possible he overheard it from “the source” as it were… If it’s true, I’m certain you’d know, given your field and specialization. Would you mind checking page 8 paragraph 10? Where he’s talking about The Change.” Amber shrugged and levitated the report to her hand, flipping it open with a mote of white light. “Alright… Just give me a moment to read this.” Amber quickly found the relevant paragraph and began to read the paragraphs leading up to the one Penny indicated. After all, context was the Princess of understanding. The Change occurred on the 10th of Solar Dusk at exactly 0735. The transformation wave originated from a Gaw̃henish temple which had sank beneath the muddy earth and washed across the globe, altering the physical form of all equine lifeforms such that their natural state transitioned from quadrupedal to bipedal (including Changelings, Zebras, Mules, Donkeys, everything not classically considered a pony, but sharing a similar form). While the transformation performed only the minimally viable amount of alterations to impose the new form on all of equiniti, the alterations made to equine brains in order to permit the newly transformed individuals the use of their new hands and a sense of balance to permit walking upright wreaked havoc on the natural magics of ponykind. While all magical powers and abilities are still present within each species, their full potential has been locked behind the gates of knowledge as new biomechanics mean new gestures, new thaumaturgic currents, and so on, effectively resetting ponykind’s arcane knowledge (though great strides have been made in reclaiming these abilities in the decades after the Change). The Change itself has a known cause, the accidental activation of a Gaw̃hen artifact referred to as a “Sovereign Stone”. These large black crystals function very similarly to the now inaccessible magic of the Elements of Harmony, in that Sovereign Stones can warp reality on a massive scale. In the case of The Change, the heart’s desire of the pony who found the Stone, one Lyra Heartstrings— Amber snorted in amusement. “No, that’s just flat out wrong,” she said with a giggle as she looked up from the essay. “Can you explain why?” Penny asked hopefully. “I know you’re not a teacher but surely you know something of the politics in marking the Princess’s son’s essay as anything less than perfect without—” Amber nodded twice. “Yeah, I do. Sure, Lyra Heartstrings is an Archeologist, or at least was. I think she retired a few years ago. Sure, she lived in Ponyville at the time which is next to the Everfree. Yes, her uh… fetish, is public knowledge… and yes she’s on record as saying she’s fine with her current body aside from the lifespan reduction,” Amber admitted with a shy smile and a few awkward hand gestures. “But! She was provably in Saddle Arabia when The Change occurred, working on exhuming the Tomb of Tarx the Magnificent. Princess Twilight herself vouched for poor Lyra several times. You know she’s in witness protection due to the sheer number of ponies who think she did this to them, right?” Penny sighed and took the report back from Amber. “Thank you… Sad to see such a bright young colt slide into a conspiracy theory… Dooo you have any documentation of Lyra’s wearabouts I could use? I don’t want to get into an argument with the Princess without proof.” Amber nodded and took a few steps over to her filing cabinet. “Yeah, hold on,” she said as she started to dig through her archive of Change related news. A few moments of folder flipping and document title checking later, Amber produced a folder of newspaper clippings, reports, and photographs for Penny. “Here, everything I have on The Change’s origins. Do bring that back. I have copies but I like one for my office, one for my house, and one for my trailer.” Penny accepted the folder and tucked it into her gown’s hidden pocket. “Thank you, and sorry for barging in… I’d let the others know the sign is very serious but I imagine you’d rather keep this quiet.” “As the grave,” Amber said with a sharp nod. Penny flinched. “Must you be so… macabre about it?” “I plunder tombs for a living so, yes!” Amber exclaimed with a playful grin before plopping back down in her chair. Penny couldn’t help but giggle at her coworker’s joke. The elderly mare’s eyes strayed once more to the reliquary sitting atop Amber’s desk. Her bemused expression slowly melted into a hopeful frown. “Do…” Penny began, pausing and biting her lip. “Is it likely there’s a Stone in there?” Amber nodded solemnly. “Yeah. This box is very similar to the one my father found. The main difference being the inscription and three gems per corner rather than one. It’s the right size, shape, materials… If it’s not a Stone, it’s something as important to them as a Stone was.” Penny’s smile returned. “Oh do I hope so! You have no idea how worried I’ve been for the last twenty years.” Amber cocked her head. “I’m sorry… I know you lived back then but… Weren't you a teenager when it happened? I’d have figured you’d have adapted given most of your life has been well, as you are now.” Penny shook her head slowly. “No… I mean, yes. But… no,” Penny turned to look Amber in the eyes. “It’s not the body that has me worried. Like you said, I adapted. You’re young. You don’t understand. Which is just the way things are. I, on the other hoof, am approaching ninety years old. I should be just starting to live out the tail end of the first third of my life. Instead, I… I have two, maybe three decades left.” Amber mmmed and nodded. “Ah. Sorry about that.” “Unless of course, you’ve got the means to undo everything right there on your desk!” Penny said with longing in her eyes. Amber hummed for a moment then nodded to herself. You know… I really should bring that thought up. “I get it. I really do, but… May I ask you something?” Amber said as casually as she could Penny nodded. “Of course, dear.” “Have you ever thought about this from the perspective of somepony my age?” Penny frowned. “I… no. Why?” “Well…” Amber spread her hands in a shrugging gesture. “I’m just saying The Change was incredibly traumatic for everypony, you included. We had a societal collapse for a few years from it. A whole lot of ponies never managed to cope with The Change and they’re still in mental institutions. We lost a lot of knowledge and skilled labor as older poneis just rapidly aged to death as our biology changed. Other ponies were left with some powers and abilities beyond the norm and frankly we’re lucky most of them were inspired by Princess Twilight to be the heroes we needed and keep order during the transition… But we still had plenty of ponies who gave in to greed, their lust for power, or just plain old normal lust. After all, a lot of you older folks have a very hard time empathizing with people who don’t have four hooves since we just don’t look like people to you… No offence. I’m just saying it as a psychological fact. One I’m super glad isn't true for those of us born into these bodies. That would have definitely ended our species given enough time.” Penny mmmed and nodded. “I see… You’re saying you're worried about another Age of Chaos if we undo the change after so long. I don’t think so, everypony wants to go back to how things were.” Amber shook her head. “No, that’s not it. See, not everypony does. It’s been two generations since The Change. I’m thirty two. The Change was seventy years ago. I’ve never been a quadruped. None of my fillyhood friends were quadrupeds. Most living ponies do not have any memories of being like you once were. This is normal for us. Don’t you think that we’ll be just as traumatized as you were back then?” Penny’s frown steepened as she mulled that distressing and new idea over in her head. “Well… I… I suppose? But it will be better for you! We have whole warehouses filled with magical things all ready to go which will carry us back to our previous, superior, level of development! Healing magic will work so well no foals will die at birth and cancers will be generaly beaten easily instead of all that torture with radiation and drugs that probably won’t even help. Besides, you’ll live three times longer, and be young for most of it! It will be worth a little trauma. I mean, after all I adapted. So will you.” Amber flicked her tail in irritation. Yeah, figures an oldtimer wouldn’t understand… Who wants to live to be three hundred? Two more centuries of bills, political arguments, and idiot bosses? No thank you, please. “Eh… I’m not so sure. Thanks for indulging my question though.” Penny nodded and turned to leave, paused with her hand on the door knob, then turned back. “Wait… if there is a Stone in there, you’ll turn it over to the Princess to help us, right?” Amber nodded without hesitation. “Of course. It’s not my call to make. Besides, it might be possible to fix you old timers while leaving us younger folk alone. I know the Princess won't hurt anyone if she can help it.” Penny’s ears perked up. “You know, that’s true! Well… Good luck. I’d like to still be friends fifty years from now.” Penny said as she opened the door and ducked out of Amber’s office. Amber nodded and turned back to her work. “Good luck with the rest of those essays,” she said while narrowing her eyes at Penny’s statement. Why does everypony of her generation assume everyone is friends? We’re coworkers. I don’t hate her but I don’t want to hang out with a mare who keeps trying to hook me up with stallions because: “Well I never see you with anypony and it must be so hard to find your special somepony when you’re out and about in filthy dungeons most of the time!” Ugh… How is it that dosn’t qualify as sexual harassment? Amber picked up her pencil once more and began to tap it rhythmically against her notebook as she refocused on the translation. She quickly settled back into a working rhythm and managed to get a few more individual words translated before hitting the major roadblock of all translation work. A lack of cultural context. Amber stuck the end of her pencil into her mouth to chew while she mulled over the current iteration of her translation. The et měkpaw̃s the kpas ki liũ ĩkawp. the ãyawl. The only mbě do not. Spared tet all-death aip. Ĩmye kugb ãip not ib sapip. Dãm et do not. Ãkut du a gběd. Mbě gig last resort sě̃. Okay… This is talking about some kind of way to speak and danger. Maybe it’s some kind of warning system? It could still be a Sovereign Stone, if it’s trying to say that they’ll know if we open this. Amber groweld around her pencil. This is why we need to know about the Gaw̃hen as a people. Did they store their artifacts in this way for their own use, or did they pack them up for others knowing they were to be no more? Am I looking at a message meant for someone like me in a distant future from the writer, or something like the sign on my door that everypony just ignores? The moment Amber finished her through somepony knocked on her door, using the old rhyme shave and a manecut’s rhythm for their knock. “Doctor Hex? Ya in there? Storms’ getting worse. I’m checking in with everypone. Making sure y’all okay,” a reedy stallion’s accented voice called through the door. At least he knocked and stayed outside. Amber sighed to herself before calling loudly. “I’m okay… Who are you?” “Oh, there’s a sign,” Amber heard the stallion murmur before he loudly called out through the thick oak slab far louder than necessary. “Name’s Morn’n Snow. Uh… I’ma junior researcher. We’ve never met. They hired me to carry Bright Streak’s load.” Amber frowned suspiciously for a moment until everything clicked into place in her mind. “Oh right he quit just before I left,” Amber began to quickly tuck the reliquary into her office safe with her telekinesis, quietly closing the door and spinning the lock shut hopefully securing the artifact without alerting the stallion she didn’t know that she’d put something away. “Hey you got a minute? I like to know everypony I work with and we haven’t officially met.” “Huh? Oh, I gesso. Ain’t exactly told to check up on folks and everypone's been fine so far,” Morning Snow reapplied with an audible shrug. Amber hummed, assessing his tone of voice. That was pretty genuine befuddlement. I don’t think he came here intending to get into my office. He’s probably genuine. “Come on in,” Amber called. The door opened to reveal the smallest stallion Amber had ever seen. He had the rough stature of a short mare, and given Morning’s Earth Pony heritage, his total lack of muscle tone instantly betrayed heavy unicorn ancestry. What’s more the simple earth-brown furred, jet black maned’s stallion was dressed in the proper uniform of black slacks, blue dress shirt, and white lab coat for the Physics department’s researchers, and even had what appeared to be a real ID badge pinned to his coat. He also had an incredibly dweeby pair of black framed glasses which no evil wizard would ever be caught dead in, not even for a disguise. That combined with the newspaper tucked under his left arm and a thermos of the most bland and boring soup ever seen or smelled in his other hand made the little stallion so non-threatening he could have probably just walked into a military base and been escorted out instead of jailed. Amber relaxed visibly, making Morning flinch visibly. “Oh, uh,” he stammered lightly. “I know ya invited me in, but… You look like I’m annoying you. I can go if ya want.” Amber shook her head. “Nah, it’s fine, I'm just really stressed. Working on some things recovered from the expedition. Tight deadline.” Morning grimaced. “Yeowch… I know how those are. Doctor Bright’s a real slavedriver, ya know?” Amber nodded in agreement. “Yeah…” she rubbed the back of her head for a moment. “Look, if he pushes you too hard instead of just quitting like the guy you replaced, ask the department to move you somewhere else. We’re always short staffed somewhere and like, it’s just expected you’ll want to leave in a few months.” Morning groaned. “Yeah… Yeah… Already there,” He rocked up on his hoof tips then back down and took a brief look at Amber’s undecorated office. “Mmm, no fan of decor?” Amber frowned, taking a moment to figure out what he meant before making an irritated face at her inability to understand the simple though oddly phrased question. “My tastes in decor are not shared by the dean. So I just… don’t.” Amber looked off to the side to grumble silently to herself. Superhero posters are not “pin ups”... or political propaganda… I mean, not those ones. Stupid vigilantes. Life was already hard on comic nerds before you decided ”Oh hey costumes are a good idea to evade identification by law enforcement.”. “Uhhhmmm….” Morning said slowly, making the awkward moment a few orders of magnitude worse before remembering he was carrying the day’s paper. “Oh! Did you read today’s paper?” Amber looked up then shook her head. “No. Why?” Morning took the paper out from under his arm and opened it, holding the front page out for Amber to read. “Take a gander. Interesting, ain't it?” Amber levitated the paper over to her outstretched and and quickly skimmed the headline article. Mannequin Busts Fake Youth Potion Ring Wide Open! Costumed vigilante and self proclaimed super hero Mannequin received an official endorsement from Manehatten’s Chief of Police Silver Star this morning after putting an end to the supply of the aptly named fake youth restorative potion “Snake Oil” which several criminal groups were using to con the eldrly out of countless bits. The group behind Snake Oil was not the League of Mages as widely believed but in fact a small gang of amateur alchemists who will go unnamed so as to minimize their infamy and impact on the criminal underworld. Mannequin brought the gang’s leader to the 8th Precinct’s Headquarters along with the formula for Snake Oil as well as the distribution plans after capturing the gang leaders earlier this morning by her usual means. While fighting crime and corruption as a civilian remains illegal in Equestria, Mayor Hedge Fund’s “Deputization Initiative” provides a few layers of protection for specific individuals whom Manehatten’s Chief of Police has deemed to be assets to citizen safety. For her actions in putting an end to Snake Oil racketeering, Mannequin has joined this growing roster of vigilantes sanctioned by city officials. Sadly, Mannequin remains impossible to photograph (due to her costume fogging film) and thus this reporter is prevented from including a picture of the new Deputy accepting her licence to fight crime at City Hall. For those of you unfamiliar with Mannequin in name, appearance, or both, the costumed crime fighter presents as a mare dressed in a white morph suit, concealing the entirety of her features, over which she dons a near-black purple trench coat, silver aviator’s scarf, and a wide brimmed fedora which matches her coat. Like most of the city’s vigilantes she employs the use of violence to stop crime directly, and is known to patrol Haverville most nights where she will strike using stealth and ambush tactics. The Manehatten Gazette wishes to remind our readers that crime fighting, behind a badge or under a cape, is extremely dangerous. For every pony that manages to make a “career” of vigilantism, a hundred more wind up injured, maimed, or worse. All successful costumed crime fighters to date either demonstrate skills taught to law enforcement agents and/or soldiers, or possess abilities beyond the equine norm due to unique arcane circumstances. Please do not allow the success of a small number of outliers to influence you down the path of vigilante justice. Instead, please vote for politicians who support increasing funding to the police— Amber stopped reading, blinking several times. While her face remained scrunched in confusion, her inner filly was busily hopping from hoof to hoof while chanting yes repeatedly. “I’m sorry,” Amber said slowly as she looked back up at Morning. “Did… Did superheroes become an actual official thing while I was out?” Morning grinned like a dork. “Yeah! I mean, well…” his face fell somewhat. “We’ll see how things go after the first time the Crown takes one to court. But looks like the mayor's set on just deputizing anypony who can help clean up the mess.” “Is there a super team yet?” Amber asked hopefully as her inner filly just spilled on out of the prison of adulthood. “No, but I heard somepony’s trying to start one! I think I’ve got the paper talking about that in my locker,” Morning said with an easily childishly-happy grin. “I uh… ya’ll like comic books too I take it?” Amber cleared her throat. “I mean, a little… Okay a lot.” Morning blushed, scratched the back of his head, then cleared his throat. “Uh, well, then to be wholl honest…” Amber’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Penny told you to come ask me out, didn’t she?” Morning nodded once. “Yeah… Uh… I mean we got something in common. I didn’t think we would. So… ya want to get a drink once the storm’s died down? If any place is open that is.” He asked with a shy smile. Amber frowned and shook her head. “Sorry, Morning… I mean, I would like that, but not as a date. I really need to just tell Penny I don’t like colts like that,” she admitted with a shy blush. I don’t like girls either, but… I really don’t want to have a discussion about my sex life with that old bitty. Morning took the news surprisingly well. “Oh! Well, as friends then? I’m new to town.” Amber’s smile returned. “Sure! Do you read The Astonishing Astromare?” “No, is it any good?” “Extremely! I’ll pitch it to you, you can pitch me your favorite,” Amber offered before nodding back to her desk. “I do need to finish this up tonight though… Uh, tell you what. We don’t need a drink to talk shop. How about I finish my work here then find you and we hang out in the break room or something?” Morning’s smile broadened and his glasses gleamed as he tilted his head back happily. “Sure thing, sugar! Uh, pardon my country-ism.” “It’s fine,” Amber said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Where do you work?” “I’ll be in the Weather Dynamics lab,” Morning replied, jerking his thumb over one shoulder to the northern side of the campus. Amber blinked twice. “Wait… But, that’s only reachable with a walk outside.” He shook his head. “No? There’s the tunnels.” Amber tilted her head. “Tunnels?” “Yeah, you know, they link the campus buildings. Hidden doors at the bottom of each stairwell. Probably so students don’t find them and get up to shenanigans. They've got all the campus’s water pipes, crystal traces, and power lines in ‘em,” Morning said with the enthusiasm of somepony who really loved secret doors. Amber blinked twice. “I’ve… never heard of them. Are you sure you’re allowed to be down there?” He shrugged. “Been using them since my second week and ya’ll haven’t told me not to. ‘Cides, there’s maps and direction arrows down there.” “Huh. Neat!” Amber said with a decisive nod. “How do you open the doors to them?” “Ya know how stairwells work? Act like you’re gonna go down even though you can't see any stairs. Floor slides open magically. Uh, it hasn’t worked without having my badge on me. Just so ya know,” Morning rambled before turning to leave. “See you soon?” Amber shook her head to clear the shock of the small stallion’s secret tunnel revelation. “Uh, no. An hour, maybe two. You know how a note that reads “If you take my lunch again I will punch you so hard you poop out your intestines.” could either be super serious or a total joke depending on who wrote it and who they intended it for? Yeeeaaahh… I’m butting heads with that problem with translating an ancient document.” “Yeowch! Good luck with that,” Morning said with a sympathetic wince. “See ya later then. I’ma finish checking up on everypony. I really was doing that. Professor Penny just tacked on a side quest, so to speak.” “Bye!” Amber called as Morning left, closing the door behind him. Amber turned back to her work with a smile. Looks like I might finally have a work friend who isn’t likely to just keel over and die. Nice change of pace. Amber turned back to the translation and her terrible screen, the work no longer quite as stressful now that she had something to look forward to. A good ten minutes of poking and prodigy at the ancient Gaw̃hen script came and went, bringing Amber to one crucial conclusion. Wait a minute! We should have some known phrases translated in the Library network! I can compare the texts to see if anything matches and that will help with the context problem! Taking full advantage of the freshly lit fire her revelation sparked, Amber steamed ahead with her work. Thirty minutes passed as she poured over paper after paper on her terminal, jotting down phrase after phrase then comparing her list to the translation. A few furious scribbles later and Amber was left looking at what she felt was a working though incomplete translation of the reliquary’s inscription. Within this box lies the way to the . The do not . The only . You will be spared . . Ĩmye kugb ãip not ib sapip. We do not recommend speaking to them. you think differently. Only as a last resort. Amber read the partial translation several times before letting out a long, slow, yet excited breath. Okay… This probably isn’t a Sovereign Stone. That sucks, but at least I get to make a real contribution to archeology! The Gaw̃hen Empire definitely had a Tartarian War. No supprise since we’ve had three… But, this proves it! This reliquary probably contains a magic mirror, or some other arcane communicator. This might be our first clue as to what happened to them! They could have been drug down into Tartarus at the losing end of a war. Amber rocked back and forth in her seat both excited by her discovery and looking forward to studying whatever the requary contained once it could be extracted. I guess It’s time to put this into the safe, tell the boss we need to open this in a secure facility to be sure, but it’s probably not what we hoped it—  Amber’s thoughts were shattered by the university’s intercom crackling to life and the dean’s voice calling out in a tone both serious and worried. “Ladies and gentlecolts, may I have your attention, please. The lockdown alarm has been initiated. In the interest of your safety, we request that you remain calm and stay in your seats. University administrators and local police are taking appropriate actions. There is no cause for alarm. Please listen for instructions from administrators and staff. If confronted by anyone purporting to be a member of the League of Mages, please comply with their demands.” Amber’s good mood burnt down, fell over, and sank into the swamp. “And there it is! Twilight. Bucking. Damn. It,” she growled while getting up to strap on her field belt. Time to play keepaway with wizards... For keeps.