As everyone else departed and he was forbidden from following, Papyrus found himself alone in Luna's office, with nothing to do but marvel that he was still alive.
It wasn't completely unpredictable. After all, Starlight had spared him too, with only the flimsiest of reasoning. And as Papyrus had learned long ago, mortal logic didn't apply to gods. They could do whatever they wanted. Because they could was the only reason they ever needed. And there was nothing stopping her from sparing him, despite his logically undeniable role in the near-extinction of her children. So, in a way, it didn't not make sense.
But there were fewer better ways to get in touch with your own helplessness and lack of agency in the world than crossing paths with a being whose grace you would live or die by, regardless of anything you could possibly do.
"Thinking deep thoughts, are we?" Egdelwonk asked, lounging against a pillar at the corner of the darkened suite.
Papyrus didn't even jump. "I thought you were off minding your own business after you got tired of my antics."
Egdelwonk chuckled. "Oh, Papyrus. I can get bored, but never tired." He stepped closer, into the bottom-lit path between the entrance and Luna's desk, casting his shadow up onto the ceiling. "Why do you think you're alive?"
Papyrus shrugged. "In the 'why did Starlight bring me back' sense, the 'why didn't Luna kill me just there' sense, or the 'where do foals come from' sense? Because frankly, I can't figure out a grand meaning to any of the above. If you're looking for anything more than 'happenstance of the universe', you'll have to come back another time."
"...Let's do a thought exercise," Egdelwonk said. "Imagine a town in rural somewhere-or-other cut off from everything. No trade, no news, might be barely aware the rest of the world exists at all. In that town is a stallion named Farmer Lenny. Lenny's parents were farmers. His grandparents were farmers. His great-grandparents were farmers too, or at least seven of them were, except for one who was the village drunk and perpetually unemployed as a result. Lenny's children are farmers too, as are his grandchildren, and his great-grandchildren are growing up on the farm and realistically stand very little chance of being anything other than farmers. Then, one day, elderly Farmer Lenny steps on a rake in the grass, is axepoled by the handle, breaks his neck and dies."
He leaned in to stare at Papyrus, his face questioning, his neck slightly longer than it should have been. "What was the meaning of Farmer Lenny's life?"
Papyrus frowned. "He provided food for his family, and perhaps for his community as well. Probably left a lot of progeny, to boot. Seems like a simple and straightforward-enough life. I'd call it a respectable existence. Can't make fun of the one who puts grub on your table."
Egdelwonk nodded along. "Now, let me change the story a bit. I notice you made no mention of the tragicomedic way in which Farmer Lenny met his demise, so let's scrap that. He isn't dead yet, he lives happily ever after, blah blah blah. With that morbid detail off the table, what is the meaning of Farmer Lenny's life?"
Papyrus squinted at him. "You think I can't smell a setup? That's the same question and you yourself admitted the detail you took out wasn't relevant, but if I give the same answer, you'll twist something to make me look like a fool."
"So shrewd," Egdelwonk sighed. "First off, I didn't say the fact or manner of his death was irrelevant, I said you omitted it. And second, those were in fact two very different questions. First, I asked what was the meaning, and then what is the meaning of his life. You more than anyone ought to know why that matters."
"Because I'm still alive," Papyrus swaggered. "Even though I've got no right to be. That where you're going with this?"
Egdelwonk stared him down once again. "Which means...?"
Papyrus returned the stare.
"Fine, then," Egdelwonk sighed. "Let's change the story some more. One day, a traveler from afar arrives in Farmer Lenny's town, and Farmer Lenny - still alive, in this hypothetical - crosses paths with them. From this traveler, Farmer Lenny learns that one week's march to the west is something called an 'ocean' that he's never seen before, nor has anyone else in his village. Taken by the traveler's romantic stories, Farmer Lenny decides he wants to see this ocean before he dies. So, he rallies his resources, gets together a band of able-bodied cart ponies with the supplies and provisions for a journey, gets quite a few in on the endeavor, both his own offspring and other villagers who want to see the ocean too. They set off, and about half a month later they return to the village, carrying wild and incredible stories about an endless expanse of water and all the other fantastical things they saw along the way. The next night, Farmer Lenny dies peacefully in his sleep, knowing that he has collectively stirred his town's imagination even if the exertion ultimately killed him."
He blinked slowly into Papyrus's eyes. "What question am I going to ask?"
"What was the meaning to his life, since he's no longer around to live it," Papyrus pointed out. "And now he's got a bit more on his resume than last time."
Egdelwonk drew back to his own personal space and winked. "And this could be relevant to you how, exactly?"
"If the whole point of your story was to tell me that because I have an extra lease on life, I need to figure out what to do with it, congratulations, you're only a decade and change late to the party," Papyrus scoffed. "I've already thought about it, thank you very much, and odds are I'm never going to stop thinking about it until-"
He was shushed by Egdelwonk sticking a feather in his mouth. "But but but but but," Egdelwonk interrupted conspiratorially. "What if it was relevant to someone other than you, instead?"
Papyrus frowned in confusion.
"You've put a lot of thought into your place in the world," Egdelwonk said, straightening up again. "But you also get utterly boondoggled when others treat you in ways you can't account for. Why did Woona just wander away without bothering to hit you with the hammer of justice for your transgressions against the crown? Why did Starlight chicken out when the time came to finish you off once and for all? Why even did your parents decide to have children?"
He gave a disconcerting smile. "I believe the answer you gave me was 'happenstance of the universe'. An appropriate answer, if you believe the actions of everyone but you to be either coldly logical or inexplicably random. But what if the real reason they treat you so vexingly is because their own heads are just as busy and full of questions without answers as yours is?"
Papyrus rolled his eyes. "Ah, yes, the introductory lecture from Have Empathy 101. Got that one a few times back in the Griffon Empire, not that it seemed to ever stick. Listen, I appreciate your tenacity for trying to drum that into me, I really do." He closed his eyes and sighed, doing his level best to take this seriously, even though something in his chest urged him to shrug it off as usual. "But I just don't see where that gets me. So ponies are complicated and even gods have thoughts and reasons for doing what they do. I certainly did, back in the day. But what's the difference between a pattern that's too complex to figure out and complete randomness? Sure, let me stand back and smell the flowers by appreciating how unique and nuanced Starlight's thoughts must be. Then what?"
He shrugged. "If she's too complex to predict, she's too complex to predict. End of story."
Egdelwonk stared at him for a bit, and eventually started rubbing his goatee.
"Well?" Papyrus asked.
"...You're making an effort," Egdelwonk eventually said. "Honestly, that's basically the only thing that's different about you from before. Old habits die hard, I suppose. But I believe you'll get there eventually. According to many, that effort is the most important part."
"Why are you so interested in me, anyway?" Papyrus pressed. "It can't be just because of the whole sphinx-chaos thing."
Egdelwonk leaned against a pillar. "I suppose you could say I'd like to prove a point to an old friend. You could think of it as... you may or may not have a choice to make in the vaguely-distant future, and I have a vested interest in you choosing a specific outcome that right now, you definitely wouldn't choose."
Papyrus raised an eyebrow.
"In fact," Egdelwonk said, "you might be one of the last ponies in the world who would choose it. But I've got a point to prove, and doing something the hard way when you don't have to does a bit more to drive things home than looking for a cheap win. In fact, I believe that's a philosophy you know plenty about? They do say there's no kill like overkill."
"Ah, so you're looking to stick it to someone!" Papyrus brightened, feeling the conversation moving in a direction that was more his forte. "Figures it would be something like that. Though if I might offer a humble suggestion, have you considered just telling me plainly what you want to do?" He strolled closer to Luna's desk. "Perhaps there's a grand game going on that goes so far over my head I can't even begin to perceive it, but from what it looks like down on the floor, you aren't having much success getting through to me with whatever these interrogations are supposed to drill into my head. On the other hoof, you're stronger than me, and I know exactly how the rule of the strongest works. Give me the script, and I'd be a fool to disobey."
"I'm afraid that would automatically make me lose," Egdelwonk apologized. "While I can give you all the nudges and guidance I please, actually threatening you or trying to put an answer in your mouth would make it my choice, not yours. And that doesn't count."
Papyrus grew a silly grin. "Did you just say you're not allowed to threaten me?"
Egdelwonk's eyes glowed red. "Only in matters pertaining to one teensy little thing you don't have the knowledge to identify."
"I kid, I kid!" Papyrus waved his wings and backed off with a disarming smile. "No need to take things so seriously all the time. Anyway, do you suppose I should wait around here until the princess gets back with my minions, or go skulk off somewhere and make myself useful in the meantime?"
Egdelwonk pulled out a stack of papers and perused them, muttering to himself. "Well, according to the script, they're going to be gone for a while doing nebulous spoilery things to extend the useful lifespan of Nehaley's body - yes, it says that's her real name now, you can stop calling her Larceny, thank you very much, I'll have you know that's even a note written in the margins so I don't forget to tell you. And they'll be gone a while longer securing a Writ for dear Floria, since she's somehow the only member of your group who doesn't have one yet, and they've got to arrange for an airship to get you to the border, yadda yadda yadda..."
"What are you reading?" Papyrus leaned in, trying to get a look at the papers. "Where did you even get that?"
"No! Bad." Egdelwonk pulled the papers away, still reading, and pushed Papyrus back by the nose. "If you read the script, you'd just wind up breaking causality and probably cause a time vortex or some other behavior that's currently undefined because it's not going to happen. Hmm, this says you're supposed to get bored and wander off into the city where you'll have an encounter that 'furthers your character arc', but honestly, it doesn't look too interesting. What do you say we skip that and I give you a ride back to Felicity's place so you can spend your time tormenting Floria instead?"
Papyrus made a show of yawning, looking out the panoramic window at the Manehattan night skyline. "Whatever you say, chief..."
Egdelwonk pulled out a tiny wastebasket, motioned toward it, and bowed. Papyrus stepped toward it, his thoughts beginning to turn towards new ways of annoying Floria coupled with plans for how to get the most information possible out of their first few hours in the Empire, now that it sounded like the roadblocks for that endeavor were falling away. But before he could let Egdelwonk's lecture slip completely away, push it fully out of mind, he stopped to wonder if he had really learned all he could from what the dumpster deacon was trying to teach him.
Not that he had learned much, save for a snippet about Egdelwonk's motivations and end goals. Not that the lecture had covered much new ground, or engaged with things he hadn't thought about before. Not even that he trusted Egdelwonk to have a point to make, and not just be screwing with him for fun. But Papyrus had changed. Brushing off well-meaning advice because he thought he knew better was something High Prince Gazelle would do, and Papyrus did know better than to waste his time on things that didn't pertain to him... or, at least, thought he did.
So, on the off chance he was wrong and Egdelwonk had an important point, Papyrus filed that lecture away in the back of his mind, and made an effort not to forget about it completely.
After a solid two days of not making trouble, I felt like the crew on Rhodallis' airship were warming up to me.
Not warm, warm. It was plain for me to see that not one of the ponies on this ship was here because their life was going well. Everyone seemed to have a bone to pick, and the best-adjusted ones were simply the best ones at hiding it, though with my talent for perception they all stood out anyway. But even though I was a stranger in a cage, no one had bothered yet to take out that ire on me.
In fact, it was starting to reach the point where I felt confident enough to draw attention to myself.
"He's lying," I said from my cage in the cargo hold, wearing the blanket they had given me as a makeshift cape. I tried my best to make it look like I actually deserved a cape, and wasn't just self-conscious about showing my body in public. No one had called me out on it yet, so perhaps it was working?
Across from my cage, a trio of pirates sat around a barrel, using the makeshift table to play cards. I wasn't familiar with the rules of the game, but the griffon with ripped forelegs and an absurd blond pompadour had just made a play, and I was confident enough in my ability to read people that I knew it was some sort of bluff.
"What?" All three of them turned to me, though it was the pompadour griffon who spoke. "Now why would you say a thing like that?"
"Just a hunch." I shrugged. "Take it or leave it."
"Gaston always acts like he's bluffing," said the second pirate, a mud-green stallion with sunken eyes, a blocky jaw and a bandanna that failed to hide his lack of a mane, his refined accent suspiciously out of place. "That's his default. You can't be too certain..."
The third pirate, a lanky mare with extraordinarily tall ears, beady eyes and a facial structure that didn't seem quite right who probably subscribed to the same manestyle publications as Mother, leaned over the barrel and shifted a card. "Eh. I'll put a bet on the newbie. See if she's made of anything."
Gaston drummed his talons together villainously and gave her a wide, flashy smile.
She didn't flinch, keeping her teeth on a corner of the card as both players looked to the bandana stallion.
He shook his head. "Hold."
They flipped their cards over. Gaston's expression drooped in defeat, and the mare blew a raspberry at her competitors as she pocketed the winnings - Ironridge currency, I noticed, even though we were in the Griffon Empire. Even though I had made the call, she didn't bother to share.
"Well, friend, either you're skilled or lucky," Bandana Stallion said to me, putting on an affable smile that was also at odds with his criminal countenance, looking as if he could be Gaston's weightlifting partner. "Perhaps if you're feeling like gambling, you might go out on a limb and... tell us about yourself?"
"You haven't heard what I discussed with your boss the other day?" I asked, sitting up. "I'm a traveler, and I'm looking for a friend. Specifically, the filly in the ice block you were trying to sell at that castle."
"I did hear as much from the rumors making their way around the ship," Bandanna Stallion said, his voice polite and airy. "Something of a pity for you you had to get attached to one of His Eminence's pawns like so. Unless you happen to have resources, as he's always willing to barter..." He sat back and closed his eyes, still smiling.
"So what's with you and the new guy?" the mare asked, stepping in to fill the silence as bandana stallion mused and Gaston sulked. "Perplexed Rondo? The rumors all say you know each other."
"Perplexed?" I frowned. "Yeah, we've got some history. But why do you call him that?"
"Not too familiar with how things are done around here, are you?" Bandana Stallion asked, breaking from his musing. "What's your name, if I can be so bold? Halcyon, they say?"
Well, Rondo already knew, and then I straight-up told Rhodallis with several of his crew listening, so if I was planning to lie about it, that ship had long since sailed. I nodded.
"Good, good," Bandana Stallion went on, nodding courteously and sounding half-focused. "A good name, Halcyon. Have you ever met anyone else named that?"
I thought about that. No, not in the way he was probably intending, but I had needed to differentiate between two other versions of me in my head that both also had a claim to Halcyon, and if they were right about our history then Halcyon had originally been a completely different mare whose name and appearance I was merely borrowing in the first place. That seemed like reason enough to nod.
"See, there's the problem," Bandana Stallion said. "You can't be the Halcyon if there's nothing stopping any old someone from using the same name by accident. And we can't strike fear into the hearts of our enemies with the sound of our names alone if those names could belong to just anyone. Hence, everyone has their epithets. There could be dozens of regular Bernards in the world, but I am the Sad Bernard, just as he is the Turnpike Gaston and she is the Melodic Lethe."
"What he said," Gaston interrupted, leaning in. "How about we start calling you Killjoy Halcyon for good measure?"
I blinked at that, and my ears went further back. "Do I get any say in this? Because that one might not be the greatest."
Lethe - or, the Melodic Lethe - chuckled. "You can take them. You can give them. But you can't escape them. Not unless you get stuck with something else. Though, I think Moneymaker Halcyon might be more appropriate."
The Sad Bernard nodded. "Two against one. I'm afraid that puts you on the loser's side again, Gaston."
I shook my head. No, I wasn't going to mentally add the in front of their names if they didn't even always include it when addressing each other. Probably a sign of familiarity, or something... "Well, what about Rhodallis?" I asked. "What's his epithet?"
"Do you even need to ask?" Gaston blustered. "Pirate King?"
Oh. Right. That... I didn't know why I didn't think of that.
"So if you're giving me an epithet," I said, trying to change the subject, "does that mean you're planning to induct me into your crew?"
Bernard folded his meaty hooves on the barrel-turned-table. "Well, that depends ever so much on you, Moneymaker Halcyon. Do you want to?"
"Don't you think it's a little early for me to make a judgement on that?" I tilted my head. "I don't even know what your goals are yet. I've just had plenty of shady groups try to hire me before, so it's my default assumption for what's going on."
Bernard chuckled. "Are our goals not obvious? To be the one and only, the most important version of us, the ones people think of when they hear our names. To suffer no other to lay claim to the things that are rightfully ours. Once, before I joined up with this crew, I ran a... legitimate business establishment in that many-named llama city, before getting ran out of business by competitors who had better luck picking the right side to back in local politics. They left me destitute, and more than a little angry, you understand. That was my business, my fortune, my clientele, my turf, my life, my everything. So what are our goals, you ask? To dispense with the interlopers, clear the stage and become the only ones known for what we are known for. For the world... to know our names."
I frowned, trying to process that. So Rhodallis' goal was... to get rid of anyone he believed to be infringing on his identity, sharing aspects of who he was? And he let anyone who had a similar bone to pick come help him, presumably so long as none of them tried to copy anything another one wanted to be known for? But what did that have to do with Coda? Unless the prisoner he was trying to trade her for so he could kill them was... like him, somehow...
And then it clicked in my brain: Rhodallis might not have been solely focused on Ironridge, but he certainly paid a lot of attention to it. And Ironridge had a lot of changeling bishops, just like he was.
Well, that sure was awkward. I wasn't the only version of me in a much more literal sense than these pirates were probably imagining. And I was a lot more concerned with finding more things to define me than preventing others from sharing those things, too.
"I think I get it," I said, not ready to put anything I had just realized on the table quite yet. "What about the rest of you? Same stories? Someone else tried to crowd you out from what you did, and you want to make a name for yourself to push back?"
Lethe gave me a hooded look. "You can probably guess from the name what I used to do."
Lethe, Melodious... "Songstress?" I guessed. "Or, performer?"
"The world's most eminent llama heartthrob," she droned. "Made it to the front of the stage on multiple occasions, but then this little thing happened they call getting too old. I didn't feel like being forgotten in the face of the next generation like so many before me."
A llama? Huh. So that was the reason for her proportions looking out of whack. I blinked, realizing this was my first time ever seeing one.
"And I was the fastest race griffon of the century," Gaston snorted. "Framed and kicked off the track for a cheating scandal, even though still none are faster!"
"He wasn't framed," Lethe added to me, ignoring Gaston's look. "Paid for a hit job on his fastest competitor's wings. Impossible to hide when the merc who did it is on this crew too."
I tilted my head. So... this was a support group for disgraced professionals who were caught playing dirty?
"As you can see," Bernard said, nudging his companions aside with a smile, "we're not a home for genteel types with easily-offended sensibilities, nor for anyone flimsy enough to fade quietly into irrelevance. Although, from the look on your face, I can guess you fit into one of those two categories..."
It wasn't so much that I was revolted by their ideas as I hadn't even processed yet what following that philosophy would mean. Would being the only, definitive version of me involve getting rid of Procyon and Faye?
...Yeah, okay, that was definitely not happening. Even if Procyon could be weird, unhelpful or completely absent most of the time.
"Just doesn't sound like the place for me," I admitted. "I've got big enough things I'm chasing already without trying to build a reputation big enough that the entire world will acknowledge it."
"One of the small folk, eh?" Bernard gave me a sad, predatory smile. "Well, never you fret. I, as a legitimate businesspony, feel an affinity for the common creatures, seeing as I'd be nothing without a clientele. And many of us feel the same! These two need fans. As long as you don't step on any of our names, I'm sure His Eminence will let you out of there the moment you're no longer of use to him. And if you happen to have anything worth having, have I mentioned we have some remarkably reliable trading partners on our crew? Some of us could get you absolutely anything you can afford, and it wouldn't even have to be legal."
"Does that mean Coda has a price?" I asked, feeling like it wasn't too soon to stop pushing my luck.
Bernard innocently shrugged. "I'm afraid she belongs to His Eminence, and we couldn't very well form an effective team with our goals if we didn't respect what belongs to our crewmates. Pursuing what we are rightfully owed might be one thing, but it would be unseemly to get greedy."
"You talk too much!" Gaston complained. "Shut up and deal us another hand, I gotta win back my winnings."
Lethe smiled at him. "If I open the cage, the Moneymaker goes to my team. Fair play?"
Gaston pounded his chest and glared at her. "Do it and you'll see just how much money she can actually lose you, I've figured out what makes her tick!"
Lethe smiled harder. "And if she beats you again for me?"
Gaston patted his biceps. "Heh. She won't, if she's smart enough to know what's good for her."
"Ahem," Bernard interrupted, dealing out another set of cards with a flourish. "Not to put a damper on the festivities, but I believe the Moneymaker Halcyon is currently the property of His Eminence. While we might have been expressly given the authority to open the cage on a whim, I believe that does make any winnings she's involved in technically become his property as well? Of course, if that's all the same to you two, then as the most trustworthy creature here I would be happy to act as a courier for delivering him your ill-gotten gains..."
The griffon and the llama both made their plays while glaring daggers at Bernard. I still didn't know the rules of the game, but Gaston was doing exactly the same thing as last time, and the others... Yep, Bernard was trying to rile them to distract from some simplistic and obvious gambit that anyone paying attention could root out instantly. I was sure of it.
Lethe glanced at me for my appraisal.
"Bet against Gaston," I said with a shrug. That would have been my line no matter what I suspected they were doing.
Someone flipped over a card. Gaston kicked the barrel over, and I watched as Bernard pocketed funds from both of them with his polite, unfailing and very unnerving smile.
Gaston got up, marched over and held up two talons. Then he stuck them straight at me, between two bars of the cage.
Then he spread them apart, pushing on the bars. The bars bent a little.
"You aren't safe in there, no-name pipsqueak," he warned, pulling his hand back out. "Next time you cross the Turnpike Gaston, you'd best watch out, because not a soul alive can outrun me. And there'll be nowhere to hide."
I swallowed. Partly because he was actually menacing, but for tough guys like this - especially given the pirates' stated purpose - it seemed like a poor idea to contest their supremacy. Even if I was way stronger than I looked, and potentially immortal to boot.
"Gaston," Lethe lectured, "if you treat her that way, she'll never help you make any money of your own..."
"Oh, I wouldn't worry overmuch about that," Bernard said with a wink. "After all, nothing bad ever happened to anyone from failing to pay off a gambling debt. Now, I don't know about all of you, but I think I best be getting ready for crew duty, seeing as I won the latest drawing of lots. Do try not to draw His Eminence's ire by injuring or disaffecting someone whose cooperation he desires, hmm? We wouldn't want the lack of my stabilizing influence to lead to any regrettable behavior."
Gaston looked slightly - slightly - cowed. Lethe looked not at all discouraged.
"Crew duty?" I asked, hoping to get a last question before the conversation's most talkative member walked out. "You win it as a privilege? Isn't that just work?"
Bernard chuckled. "Oh, pardon my language. It's a euphemism for 'head out with His Eminence and parlay'. Apparently, we'll be making another attempt to pawn off that friend of yours! I can't say I'm optimistic about how this one will go, but where there's a will, there's a way, and we've got nothing if not willpower. Oh, and firepower too, actually. Can't forget the firepower. And money..."
He continued muttering a list under his breath as he walked out of the cargo hold. I was far more concerned with finding a way - any way - to follow Coda.