//------------------------------// // 19 - Prison Break // Story: Soft Reset - A Novice Chronomancer's Guide to Tempomancy // by Foxvolt //------------------------------// PRISON BREAK I return to the waking realm, having comforted Twilight’s troubled mind for the first time since my return. The mare has much troubling her, though it is not my place to pry further than is necessary or requested of me. Sister has made it clear she wished to right things herself, and so I shall abide those wishes. The scant few ponies present- A court recorder, my night court and Canterlot retainer, and two Day Guard at the door- react with minimal interest as I fall out of my trance, though they’re used to my attending other duties when there is little else to do, and quickly return to their idle states. My ears pick up the hurried hoof falls of a guard or similarly-clad pony galloping towards the throne from the outside, and I pick my head up to address them. The two Day Guard on the other side of the doors open them, and I see one of my officers attempting to collect himself as he trots a bit more slowly forward towards the base of the throne. “Mindful Gaze, news of what import do you bring to have abandoned your post?” Mindful Gaze is assigned as head of operations at the old castle. Perhaps it is familiarity, or perhaps sentimentality, but I prefer to conduct my more delicate business therein. I knew he was too young for the promotion when he received it, as did many of my juniors, though there were extraneous circumstances leading up to it. At least this gives me an excuse to send him back to officer training. And by officer training, I mean a two-week survival exercise at the borders of the griffon nation, where ferals frequently roam. It’ll surely ground him quickly. “The detainee Goldfish, pegasus-class, is nowhere to be found, N-Nightmother. I assure you we’re searching and will notify you post-haste when-“ I hold up a hoof, and he silences himself while I consider what this means. Goldfish has escaped? Not long ago I would have considered stripping his rank and making an example of him for his failures before the rest of his subordinates, though the ponies of this age do not respond well to such approaches. The fact of the matter is that a very important prisoner has escaped, and she needs to be recaptured. If she roams free, she’ll surely return to Star Swirl, or at worst attempt to harm Twilight Sparkle. I turn to my retainer, and she stands at attention, wordlessly awaiting my instruction. This is how one of my rank should present themselves. “Juniper, arrange a chariot for my departure to the Everfree, with haste. I shall attend this matter personally.” “Right away, Princess Luna.” They start to gallop away within seconds, but after a short consideration I call out to them, “Rouse the Thestrals, their speed shall be most beneficial!” I stand as well and don my hoof regalia, preparing to leave. Night court is oft silent, and so I allow myself to be comfortable without them whenever possible. “As for you, Mindful Gaze.” I address the stallion as I descend from the throne and to the open floor below. “Yes, Nightmother?” He responds, tensing up as if I’m about to strike him. “You are dismissed as overseer until such a time I see fit to forgive such egregious errors on your watch. Your detachment is now without their leader amidst a crisis, you ought to have sent a messenger and aided them yourself.” He stammers for a moment, then bows deeply before turning and trotting away, tail literally tucked between his legs. A far cry from graceful, though he has the good sense to accept my mercy of not making an example of him, despite my better judgement. Perhaps my ranks do need a reminder of the commitment required to hold authority under my banner. I make my way swiftly to the departure bay just detached from the castle’s barracks, paying no mind to the stares of the Day Guard while I do so. So late into the night, the scant few still awake are either the seedy and corrupt ones, or neck-deep in hard cider. When I arrive, as expected Juniper is standing by with my saddlebags while two Thestral fliers finish strapping into their harness. I lift the pack from her with my magic, and quickly detail the route to the fliers. A box chariot would be more comfortable and would protect me from the elements, but the traditional open platform is less than half the weight, and a third the size. Making the choice to sacrifice comfort to arrive nearly twenty minutes faster is no choice at all, which is why all my retainers no longer bother to ask. Once we’re in the air I stoop down and duck behind the front lip of the chariot for some cover against the buffeting winds. Sister knows a charm to aid in such things, though I never bothered to learn it, as I usually prefer to feel such a vicious wind rather than use magic to shield myself from it. I dig around in my saddlebag looking for one of my several notepads, specifically one from my lessons with Sister several months ago. If I’m lucky (which, to be fair, I’m often not,) I could make use of one of those scrying spells she’s so fond of when we arrive to divine her location. Normally I would have asked her to simply search for her personally, alas she’s likely either being rebuked or consoling her student. Both are believable outcomes where those two are concerned, though I have good faith it’s the latter. We arrive in just shy of thirty minutes, on account of the impony speed my Thestral guards provide. The strength of a draft pony, and the wing power of a wonderbolt trainee make them excellent endurance fliers. Due to their oft heightened pride, however, they are reserved for important or grandiose trips. For scheduled or leisure travel, the castle’s pegasi are instead employed. During our descent I see a couple stray members of my guard searching the surrounding area in packs of two, as is procedure anywhere in the Everfree due to its’ inhabitants. They see my chariot and quickly return to the grounds, and by the time I make landfall there’s half a squadron waiting in the courtyard for my command, their superior having left them with inadequate orders. “You two, continue circling the perimeter. You three, approach Ponyville by sky, and keep an eye on the horizion. She is a pegasus, she’ll likely have exploited that to escapee the forest’s many perils. You, and you, on me. I require guarding while I prepare a spell.” They all bow low for no more than two seconds before breaking off and darting to their posts. Two Earth Pony/Unicorn pairs patrolling the grounds, the three Pegasi whomst were still on castle grounds to Ponyville, and two Unicorns with me for my preparations in case I require additional casters or for one of them to act as a relay. I lead my impromptu group through the familiar halls and passages towards the dungeon, suppressing the ever-present desire to stop and reminisce. We arrive within minutes, and sure enough at the back of the cell Goldfish was in there’s a crumbling hole in the back wall, leading to a small dirt hole along the outside of the stone to the surface, where newborn starlight shines through. The ground is wet, and the wooden platform that is meant to serve as an elevated sleeping platform has been disassembled from the wall, and is leaning up next to the hole. There’s a plank missing, likely what she used to dig out the tunnel. Sticking my head into the hole, a small droplet of something lands on my nose, and I quickly shake my head and clean it off with a hoof, observing what seems like a speck of wet clay. I’m curious how that came to be, but then the situation comes together. The water on the ground, the platform, the stonework. “Clever.” I mutter, stepping into the vertical tunnel and jumping up onto two legs, craning my neck towards a loose feather caught at the exit, and bringing it back down into the cell with me. I bring it over to a dry section of the cell, and levitate several minor spell components and some chalk from my bags. ‘Alas, not clever enough.’ - - - - I’ve been flying my ass off for thirty minutes and ten seconds. I’m small, but even though that means I’m not that heavy, it also means my wings don’t displace as much air as everypony else. All that to say: I am not an endurance flier. Tight turns, high speed? I’m your mare. Triathlon? Nope. Two problems: One, if I stop now and descend into the treetops below me, it’s extremely likely I die to one of any uncountable threats that linger this deep in the forest. Problem two: I’m heading directly away from Ponyville, since it’s the closest settlement, and likely the first place they’re going to look for me. That means if I stay airborne and one of those guards happens to stumble on my flight path, I’m double screwed since I’m already out of stamina. “Mauled to death by a freak of nature in the Everfree Forest, or get caught and go back to the castle to get tortured by Luna and her cultists?” I grumble with strained breath. I choose the lesser of two evils, slowing down to a glide and descending into the trees, keeping my eyes and ears open for anything that might want to eat, main, dismember, assimilate with, or otherwise inconvenience me. Thankfully I don’t see anything that looks hostile, so I settle onto a thick branch jutting out of one of the trees that stretches a bit higher off the ground that the rest, and perch for a few minutes to rest. My mane and face are caked in dirt from digging my way out of that awful cell, and my hooves are still cold, sore, and damp from splashing the water against the same segment of crumbling wall over and over until it finally gave. I’d love nothing more than to close my eyes and take a nap after taking a quick shower, but I’ve got zero showers and negative zero confidence in my safety around here. After about five minutes after the five minutes I planned on taking, I decide it’s best to not stay still for too long. I start to ascend, and suddenly there’s a massive yank on my brain, like one of my migraines is finally about to return. ‘Come on, just one day. Just one, dammit!’ I hover midair and grit my teeth through the sudden onslaught of pressure. This feels different than the pain I’m used to, this is something from outside my brain trying to get in. ‘Red Divination? Some kind of geas, maybe?’ I think between mental pushes back against it. Whatever it is, it wants in my head, and it wants in it now. Unfortunately for them, I’ve been through way worse in my own head. I’ll push them back out. This is the first time I’ve had my own head to myself, and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let somepony or somecreature take that from me. I push back, but the intensity grows again twofold. I drop back down into the tree branch and brace against the trunk, biting down on a mud-caked hoof to keep myself from crying out and alerting any nearby predators of my presence. The struggle continues for another minute, and I can feel the strain in my mind grow stronger and stronger with each passing second. My vision begins to darken, and my limbs tremble as I fight off whatever it is. It takes everything in me to keep it from breaching the walls in my head, but I refuse to give up. It pushes and prods and assaults me, looking for any vulnerability, but with another final shove against the intrusive entity, it recedes, letting the stillness rush back into focus while I recuperate. "The hell... Did they do to me...?" While I cradle my head, I hear the sound of wind being displaced just above me; Snapping my head up, I catch the trail of wind from a low-flying Pegasus, flying northeast to southwest. 'Heading back towards the castle? What gives?' I'm surprised, but at the same time grateful that I was forced to wait before taking back off. If I were airborne he would have seen me for sure. My dark green coat's decent camo in this shitty forest, but it's not enough to cloak myself from even a half-baked soldier, goes for double with the newly-arrived star that's basically a second sun. They didn't make that just to look for me, did they? No- It was there before I made it out. That's strange, I don't usually miss details like that. I give it until the count of thirty just to be sure there's nopony else trailing behind him, and I bolt into the sky heading northwest. Rickety outskirt town, get my strength up, then reconvene with- Why am I meeting back up with the Timekeeper? I did my part, and I'm a liability now that everypony knows my face. What point is there in going back? On the plus-side I'd get to see Dear again. He probably thinks I'm dead, unless somehow they have an insider on Princess Luna's guard force. While there's a lot Star Swirl can do, I don't think there's a pony alive who could pull a fast one on her. At least not in the realm of espionage. Down-side, he might just put me back down because I'm a liability. I know things, like where his hidey holes are, I wouldn't want me trotting around with anything like that. I don't plan on selling him out or anything, but I've got a few reasons to keep living now, unlike a week prior when I charged into my own lavender death sentence. Maybe I'll cast a memory modification spell, forget everything I've done while I was associated with him? But, that would mean forgetting... No, that's not an option. Not right now, at least. Besides, casting memory modification spells on myself is risky. One neural crossover, one flinch, and I could rewire my whole hippocampus, or cut off my temporal lobe, then i'd be a limp vegetable without anypony any the wiser how to fix me. Likely somepony would diagnose it a coma, or if they really got their practitioners license out of a hay flakes box, brain death. 'I... Could head to Manehattan, Dear's got his assignment with the duchess. If he has downtime looking for SMILE informants, I might pick up his tail at the hole Hot Streak had set up for him.' The idea's tempting. I'd have to clean myself up and find something to cover up with, but nothing too conspicuous to look like I'm trying to hide my cutie mark or something. Overdressing in public spaces is a red flag anywhere but Canterlot, one of the first pointers in my very short lecture on discretion back when I first got brought onboard. Followed by... Well I wasn't paying much attention, but I've remembered it before. It was 'don't overdress,' uh... Something about how fast to walk? I can't really remember. ... I can't remember something. I pull up and give a few mighty flaps of my wings to pull myself vertical and glance down at my flank. Thankfully, my cutie mark wordlessly stares back at me, albeit with a lot of mud and dirt caking my coat all around it. I give it a hard stare for a few seconds, but nothing comes to me. No likely scenarios, no ancient spell that could have disconnected me from my talent, I don't even feel the familiar automatic whirring of the mosaic in my head fitting pieces together to feed me pertinent data. It's just my own thoughts. It's just the quiet. I fight against a shiver that runs through my body, and I start flying again, a troubling mist swirling around my thoughts. Something's different, something's wrong with me, and I can't tell what. I pick up the pace, now significantly more eager to arrive at my destination so I can enlist somepony to help me diagnose the issue. I need to find a unicorn. - - - - “Quite right, Friend. If that’s all, we’ll reconvene soon. And also… My condolences.” I give a deep bow as I back out of the Timekeeper's office, keeping my face level and unassuming. Once the door's closed behind me I stand there for a minute, hoof still resting on the handle while I stare blankly at it, lost in thought. Timekeeper looked confident when I entered, then as soon as I spoke something was off. He lost some kind of insight, some edge he thought he had. When I pushed it, he railroaded the conversation so forcefully that I had to play along, or I'd be betraying some expectation. But what possible expectation could he have set? I hadn't spoken yet, I had no qualms, and out of the blue he implies I need time off. Does he think I'm incapacitated because of Goldfish? Am I? No, I'm fully functional. I'm upset, but I'm moving on fine. Few weeks down the road and I'm sure I'll be past it. What's bothering me is the tone shifts, the offensive play, the stronghoof play for seemingly no reason. Nopony backed out, he was lying clear as day to assuage my concerns that he'd lost faith in me. He has no reason to, I've performed well on every mission. Exemplary, even. What could have possibly changed for him to have- Time magic. Something between the Alpha timeline and whatever he was expecting changed. That wasn't the first time he's been to this point, but it's the first time it's gone that way, meaning only something minor changed that affected my meeting with him. I had my point of discussion prepared before entering the room, so it would have had to be something between entering the safehouse and standing in his room. But what could possibly cause me to show signs of grief in that short of a timespan, and without delaying my arrival? 'My condolences.' I keep replaying that in my head, scrutinizing it over and over, but there's no tell. Should I confront him abou- Absolutely not, that's idiotic. If I question him he'll feel as if I'm pushing for more information than I need, which is dangerous. I shouldn't be overanalyzing this. I'll eat the mandatory time off, and be back to working my magic by the 20th. "Yo Dear, you good?" I pick up my head and whip my body towards Hot Streak, putting on the usual friendly smile I let slip in the few seconds I was stalling at the door. He's sitting behind his U-shaped desk, guarding the lobby of the old office space we've commandeered. His bright yellow coat and mane almost remind me of Spitfire, the Wonderbolt captain. If he dyed the edges of his mane and put on some muscle, he could almost be a gender-swap double. "Yeah! All good. Turns out the plan's a bust for now, so I've got some free time until the 20th. Think you can get me in with that Cutie Alterator tonight? I'm gonna need to cover my flank for the next few months, and this face is burned." Hot Streak's the assistant, scheduler, logistics guru, and all around yes-pony for whatever we need between tasks. Usually unicorns do clerical work on account of the horn, but Hot Streak's meticulous, fast, and efficient. If he were born with a horn, the world would have been his oyster... And I have a sneaking suspicion that's why he's here in the first place. Everypony working for the Timekeeper wants something, they need something. Some are more self aware than others, like myself for instance- I know he's using me for my gift, and he probably thinks he owns me for picking me up from a life of mediocrity. The thing is that I'm out for myself. While I acquaint myself with everypony he needs on his side, I get that much closer to the inside, where I can start pulling strings, deciding what information goes to who. I'm no mastermind, but when I have everypony on your side, I won't have to be to come out on top. I just need to commit to my stories. I need to believe my own lies, or I'll be figured out the instant Star Swirl takes me to a Beta timeline and beats my agenda out of me. I need to be willing to die to keep my secret, because the truth is I probably already have. "Man, too bad. First I'm hearing 'bout it, but whatever. I'm sure he's got his grand plan whatever going on. Fixer's booked weeks ahead, but I'll follow up, see if I can't pull in a favor. Him and Suzie Q just hit the lattice, didn't go too smooth if ya' catch me." I don't. "Damn, gotta be rough." I say instead, pretending I understood half of that and shaking my head in what I hope looks like genuine pity. "Don't play any cards for it, but I'd appreciate if he can see me before the week's out. Think I'm gonna do some reconnaissance, rather have a new face on before I go so I don't have to bother with the whole hat-n-glasses shindig, y'know?" "Heh, yeah, I dig." He huffs a little laugh through his nose and pull out his quill with one hoof, the other pulling open a filing cabinet to his right and producing a manilla envelope with the word 'FIXER' written in the tab, all while still looking right at me. "Hit up Mace for some new rags before ya' go, yeah? Twenty minutes and I'll have your appointment. Usual place if I can swing 'em." "You're a lifesaver, Streak." "I know." He gives me a shit-eating grin, and I give him an award-winning eyeroll back. Cocky, but he backs it up well enough. I trot out of the lobby area and down the hallway leading to our side rooms. Left's for storage, not much special in there except scrolls and quills, with the occasional grappling hook and improvised explosive. The door on the right is what I’m after, and thankfully the door’s half-open, and I hear the sounds of a sewing machine whirring away excitedly from inside. I press my shoulder against the door and press it open, stepping inside and looking over at Iron Mace as she feeds the machine a delicate ratio of fabric and thread. She’s a heavyset mare, probably borderline obese by Canterlot standards, with a deep pink coat and a flat, stringy blonde mane and tail. She’s not much to look at, but she’s a gentle giant if she likes you. A rare case of Cutie Dysphoria, born into an Earth pony family of jousters and show combatants, but her heart’s always been in being a seamstress. And to top that off, her parents weren’t the greatest to her. Kept her locked up in her room most of her life, since they couldn’t be bothered showing her how to live if it wasn’t fighting. She doesn’t talk much- Or more accurately she can’t- but she understands everypony just fine. Helluva temper though, definitely a mare you want to stay on the good side of. “Heeey, missy Mace! How are you holdin’ up in here, beautiful?” The machine stops and she turns towards me, knocking over her chair in the process as her face lights up. “Aa…!” She trots up and wraps my front half in a massive bear hug (to her credit, being careful to not fracture anything this time.) She takes a step back and I give her a friendly smile. “Well, you look pretty happy today! Boss got you working on something special?” I look her up and down, and she nods her head vigorously, pointing an unsteady hoof at the sewing machine she’s taking a break from. She points a but to the left, and there’s an elaborate dress design on the table. It looks almost like a ballroom getup, but a little less formal. I can’t tell the proportions from where I’m at, but it’s definitely designed for a petite mare. “Oh wow, you’re gonna give Suit and Taylor a run for their money if you start branching out. Careful, we don’t want too many eyes, you know.” She lets out a deep, brassy giggle at the compliment, then nods her head towards the far wall, motioning for me to follow. I do, and alone on another folding table she saves just for my outfits is an emerald-green dress shirt with a black jacket and tie, and there’s a pair of matching dress pants with sparse green accents and a second set of beige-colored casual wear, likely meant to compliment my coat and mane. “Streak said you made some new rags, not a designer fit! Nice going Macey, looks like you really outdid yourself with this one.” I pick up the shirt with my hooves and roll it over itself, feeling the smooth fabric and the seamless stitchesholding together. I embellish a lot when I talk to Mace, she enjoys the attention, but I really mean it this time; This is top notch stitching. I’d probably have to pay over a hundred bits for this quality from any name brand, maybe five in Canterlot or Manehattan. She basks in the praise for a little bit with a massive blush on her cheeks and ears. “Mm!” She turns away and starts poking around clumsily in a large box under another folding table, pulling out a few accessories and a new bit pouch for me. She drops it all onto the pile and then shovels it into an empty saddlebag for me, nudging it over and nodding her approval. “Hey, thanks again. I’ll try and remember to get something from Joe’s next time I’m headed back here, keep doing what you’re doing for now though. You’re doing great.” I say my goodbyes and leave her to her work in higher spirits. She’s humming something to herself as I leave which is rare, but I take it as a good sign. I take the new outfits to one of the side offices that have been repurposed into sleeping quarters, trying on the casual wear in place of bare fur. I always liked wearing clothing. Something about the way it encompasses you, makes you feel sleek, suavè, and important. It’s a shame it’s reserved for upper class and social occasions, I’d love to trot around anywhere I went in this suit, alas that’d be too much attention for one undercover stallion to handle. Maybe eventually, when I climb my way back up the ranks and rejoin high society I’ll go back to my Armoneigh and Rolex roots, but for today beige khakis will have to do. My mission might be postponed, but as long as I can get an appointment with the Fixer, I can still be productive in plain sight. Fixer’s a living legend in identity magic, illusory facial manipulation, Cutie Mark Repression, mane and tail behaviors, the works. I’ll have a new identity passable everywhere from Appaloosa to Baltimare if all goes well, and if Streak can pull his strings tonight, I could very well be in Manehattan before next sunset to start gathering leads on SMILE informants. … The wind’s knocked out of my sails as I take a step out of my thoughts. It’s just me in the room, and there’s a stillness to the air I haven't felt in ages. This is where she would have told me to ‘Knock ‘em dead’ or something. Even before I brought her into the fold, I told Goldfish I was doing important work. Even with varying amounts of ribbing, I’d always get some form of a ‘good luck’ before I left… It’s silly to linger on that, though. I’ve got work to do. … Just as soon as my hoof stops shaking.