Where Loyalties Lie: Ghosts of the Past

by LoyalLiar

II - The Lies We Tell Our Friends

        "Are you certain you wish to do this, Captain Ink?"

        The stallion nodded with a cocky grin.  "Afraid I can't defeat a crippled unicorn, Princess? Haven't you heard about what happened when Frostbite tried to fight me?"

        "That isn't what I mean."  Celestia's gaze showed obvious concern.  "You're hesitating."

        "I never hesitate."

        "Red Ink, I have been around ponies longer than you can possibly imagine.  Your wings alone could tell me something is wrong."

        Ink sighed and shook his head.  "I... I just don't see the point, honestly.  What difference does it make if the body is under the headstone or not?"

        Celestia's brow rose.  "What corpse?"

        The pegasus took a moment to consider his answer. "My little brother, Polnoch. She killed him five years ago, and we never found his body.  Father wants me to ask her, and I'll do it for his sake.  But for my part, there's only one thing left before Polnoch can rest easy, and it isn't his body.  I won't take long, and I won't hurt her unless she tries something."

        "Can I trust that?  How do I know you won't react to her as you did with Soldier On?

        "Because if you didn't trust me to control myself, I wouldn't be captain of the Honor Guard."

        Celestia considered for a moment, and then nodded in acquiescence.  "I will return for you in thirty minutes.  Be waiting for me here again.  The door does not open from within."
        
        "Right."

        Celestia's horn opened the door to the enormous cavern that served as Canterlot's deepest dungeon.  Red Ink descended, and the heavy door shut firmly behind him.

        "What's wrong, Rainbow?  You look like you've seen a ghost."  The stallion brushed his clearly broken wing past Twilight as he strode into the technically public library and toward the mare who had briefly been his partner.  He looked almost identical to the way she had last seen him, from the shards of broken glass in his blood-crusted empty eye socket to the cuts, burns, and mud stains that decorated his safari shirt and the sheath of his machete.  In fact, the only changes she could note beneath the thin layer of grime and salt covering his body were a lack of the wrinkles and graying hairs that had previously dominated his coat and mane.  Instead, he was a much more lively forest green, and his head was topped by an almost wooden brown mane.

        "Wait, Rainbow, is this–" Twilight began, only to be cut off.

        "Dead Reckoning," the pony answered for himself, before Rainbow could recover from her shock.  "Or 'Deadeye'.  Or 'Reckoning'.  Just–"

        "–not Dead," Rainbow managed to finish perfectly in sync with the formerly sixty-something year old stallion.  "But I saw you die!"

        "Actually, if I remember correctly, you saw me fall off a cliff.  When the hay does that ever mean somepony died?  I figured you'd have at least learned that from all those Daring Do books you kept telling me about."  Reckoning shook his head with an almost derisive humor , and then turned back toward the door.  "Come take a walk with me, Dash.  With respect, Ms. Sparkle, we do have some private things to–"

        "Hold on!" Rainbow shouted, grabbing the attention of both other ponies, the baby dragon, the tiny phoenix, and the formerly sleeping owl who filled the room.  "Reckoning, I want answers, and Twilight should hear them too.  Did the princess do this?  Why are you here?  How are you here?"

        Although Rainbow could not see the motion, Reckoning rolled his remaining eye.  Then he turned, and without asking grabbed one of the cushions Twilight kept as seats spread around the main reading room.  "Okay, Rainbow, there's no need to get your mane in a knot.  I'm here because of the princess, but she didn't do anything to me.  I'm actually on my way to Canterlot to report back in, but it didn't sit right with me leaving you in the dark.  If you don't want me here, I can be out on the first train to the capital."

        "No, it's fine Mr. Reckoning," Twilight spoke up.  "Given that we both attended your funeral service, and some other issues, it's surprising to see you here."

        "Heh, 'Mister'.  Please, Twilight–do you mind if I call you Twilight?–you make me sound like I'm seventy years old or something."

        "Aren't you seventy-years old?" Rainbow asked.

        "Sixty-eight.  Well, maybe sixty-nine, now.  Has it been Hearths' Warming yet?"

        "It's January 20th, 1453 in the Age of the Sisters."

        "You mean the Age of the Sun?"

        "The Princess changed it three weeks ago," Twilight explained rather light heartedly.  "I take it you missed your birthday?"
        
        "Bah, who cares?"  Reckoning shook his head.  "Every year, Crack gets me a bottle of Blue Ribbon, and Marathon buys me a new glass eye.  I guess I should probably go bother her for one of those soon, but…" He slowly realized that he was rambling and shook his head again.  "Sorry.  The point to all that was that I was almost seventy years old.  As for how I got here, well…"

        Never had Dead Reckoning had more clarity of thought than he did in the process of plummeting into the depths of Grivridge with a broken wing, unable to steady his fall.  There was shouting coming from above him, no doubt originating from Rainbow Dash's lips, but he ignored it totally in favor of the pressing threat to his life.  The mist that filled the enormous canyon soon swallowed him whole, and in the heavy fog he had no idea how long he had until a sickening landing ended both his fall and his life.

        He threw out his still-functional wing, and discovered he could steer his fall, though even gliding to lose momentum was mostly beyond him.  He pitched the wing up and down, experimenting with direction, until the ridge's sheer wall swung suddenly out of the mist and smashed his body against his now-crippled wing.  Reckoning kicked away from the wall to spare himself the pain interrupting his thoughts as he struggled for an answer.

        His bags were gone, and with them, any rope or cable that might catch on the wall to stop his fall.  Only his torn and bloodied shirt and the sheath for his missing machete remained.  Neither would do him much good.  

        He could feel the sweat of his stress flying off his brow even as it mixed with the droplets of mist congealing into water on his shoulders.  He hated the discomfort of the damp more than anything, but it somehow seemed a fitting companion to his impending death.

        Most ponies claim that when one is about to die, their life flashes before their eyes.  Reckoning's needed more time.  Without knowledge of when his life would pass, his mind conjured up his most valued memories, earliest first.  They could have filled a story all their own, but they ended with a thought of Rainbow Dash's desperate face, reaching after him as he fell.

        A sound like the cracking of bone issued from his chest.  Had he hit the ground?  Was that the end?  His soul already left his body, but not quite yet to the Summer Lands?  He curled his neck down, and found something very different.  In his sorrow, a thin veil of ice had built up from the water building in his coat.  He smiled, just a bit.  The fight wasn't quite over yet.

        Steering over with just his one wing was hard, but eventually his hooves found the ridge wall.  The grinding of stone was painful, but it had to be done.  Reckoning focused, and cried, and the tears froze alongside his hooves.  It took all his mana, and stole away his memories and sensation.  Darkness seized his eyes in a mix of pain and sheer fatigue.  When he finally woke again, he did not know how long had passed.  He only knew that he was still alive by the sheer excruciating pain racking his body.  The ice had held him, stopping his fall and saving his life.

        He knew he couldn't go back up; that way would only lead to his death at the hands of the griffons again, supposing he even managed to climb the sheer wall.  Down was his only option, into the unexplored depths that were taboo to the griffon people.  They would have called him a defiler of graves, but in their eyes he was already dead.  That was his first advantage.  The other had been given to him in his youth, more than sixty years prior, emblazoned on his flesh.

        "That's it?  That's the whole story?"

        Reckoning shrugged a single shoulder dismissively.  "Unless you want to hear about the three weeks it took me to find a path out of the ridge, and then the four months afterward trudging around in Zebrica trying to find a way back here.  Dodging griffons and walking for days doesn't make for good entertainment compared to what I found down there."

        "Wait, you mean the Fountain of Youth?"  Rainbow's jaw dropped.  "So you're actually alive?  Really?  And your Cutie Mark is really a map?"

        "Well, what does it look like?"  Reckoning's wacky grin was no less amusing on his youthful, thirty-something face than it had been when he was an old stallion.  "I mean, apart from the fact that I probably look like crap?"

        Rainbow smiled, unable to sustain her skepticism any longer, and then lunged forward and hugged him.  "Oh man, Deadeye, I can't believe it!"

        "Neither can I," Twilight added with considerably less optimism.  "The princess would know if you were dead, wouldn't she?  If she hadn't let you into the Summer Lands, why did she say you were dead and hold a funeral for you?"

        Rainbow shot a very unhappy look in Twilight's direction.  "She doesn't exactly have the best record telling the truth about who's dead, does she Twilight?  

        "Rainbow!"  Twilight answered with an obvious distrust of her own.  "Maybe you think I'm being unreasonable, but this is different!"

        "It's not different at all!  I–"

        "Mares, please."  Reckoning brushed off the threadbare breast of his shirt idly.  "I'd forgotten how nice it is to be young again, and have mares fighting over me.  But now really isn't the time.  I still need to talk to you, Rainbow, and then I have to get back to Canterlot as quickly as possible.  I don't have too much time as it is.  Twilight, right now I'm asking you to trust that I don't want to hurt your friend.  I'm not sure I could, anyway; I have a crippled wing and a missing eye, and she's the fastest pony in Equestria.  I certainly won't keep her long."

        Though her face still showed a healthy hesitation, Twilight nodded at his reasonable manner, and stepped out of the way.  As Rainbow and the now surprisingly young stallion passed, she shot her friend a cautious glance that the pegasus either missed or ignored.

        Outside, the snow had stopped in the sky, but it crunched with a healthy chill underhoof.  With the passing of the storm and the coming of morning, foals and families were out building snow ponies and tossing snowballs.  They danced amongst thatched roofs dusted with snow and crunched their way through white streets.  Walking together, Rainbow and Reckoning blended right in, though the latter's notable scars drew a few curious glances.

        "So your Cutie Mark is really a map to the Fountain of Youth?"

        Reckoning chuckled a little as he nodded.  "Yeah, I guess the griffons were right. Why do you care, though?  You're only, what, twenty-six?"

        "But it's so awesome!  You're, like, stallion Daring Do!"

        "Thanks, I think."  

        The scout held out a hoof to stop Rainbow's steady forward gait as he lowered himself to the ground.  Clouds of steamed breath escaped his nostrils, and then were sucked back in again as he took in the scent of the air.  His wing flared, and his neck moved toward his machete before hesitating.  She recognized his combat stance, though it seemed out of place far from the jungles of Zebrica.  His ears twitched, and directed themselves toward the semi-distant bakery that was Sugarcube Corner.  A moment later, a pink blur overtook the stallion.  He grabbed it around the waist, flipped it over, and suplexed it into the snow.

        "Wow!" said Pinkie Pie.  "Never thought that would happen again.  Hi!  I'm Pinkie Pie!"

        Reckoning glared at her with his sole eye as Rainbow attempted to restrain him.

        "Hold on, Reckoning!  This is Ponyville!  We're not in Zebrica!  She isn't a griffon!"

        "Well, duh, Dashie, I'm a pony!" Pinkie yelled, unaware of the danger she was facing.

        Rainbow was terrified for her friend’s life up until the point that Reckoning broke out laughing and stepped off of Pinkie's prone form.  "I'm fine, Dash.  You can let go."  With a sigh of relief, Rainbow let go of the stallion, and he in turn lifted Pinkie out of the snow.  "Sorry about that.  Old instincts die hard."

        "You have old wrestler instincts?  Cool!"  Pinkie smiled, before a pensive look appeared on her face.  "Oh, right, I almost forgot.  I had a knee-twitch, ear-flop, tail-twist a few minutes ago, so I came looking."  Her hoof shoot into her poofy mane, and returned with a rather well-made black eye patch.  "This is for you.  I keep them stored all around Ponyville, in case of eye patch emergencies.  Now, you're new in town!  What's your name?"

        Rainbow, seeing an impending disaster, stepped in.  "Pinkie Pie, this is my friend Dead Reckoning.  Deadeye, this is Pinkie Pie."

        Pinkie inflated with a shriek (a reality which would later wake Reckoning in a cold sweat), and then grabbed him in a tight hug.  "You're Deadeye? Dashie said you died!"

        "Yeah, well, I guess she was wrong.  Listen, uh, Pinkie Pie… I'd really like to stay and chat, but I'm in a hurry.  Maybe next time I come to Ponyville?  For now, I need to talk to Rainbow privately."

        "Oh, sure!" Pinkie answered.  "I'll have to throw you a double party though, to make up for the wait!"

        "Fine by me."  Reckoning's voice carried an obvious hint of mental fatigue as he fastened the eye patch over his left eye socket.  "Thanks for the eye patch, by the way."

        "No problem."  The mare ran off in pursuit of more fun, leaving the two alone again.

        "Well, that was fast.  Okay, Reckoning, you wanted to say something?"

        "I'd like somewhere more private, honestly."  Reckoning glanced around.  "Know a restaurant or something?"

        "Well, Sugarcube Corner has hot cocoa."

        "Sounds great, if you're buying.  Bits aren't much good in the jungle."

        Rainbow laughed and nodded.  "I can cover a cup."

        When Celestia opened her enchanted door again at the appointed time, she had to dodge out of the way of a furious hoof.  Red Ink rolled forward as the doors opened, landing with a heaving body and a desperate look.

        "What is wrong?" Celestia demanded.  "Are you well?"  As she asked, her horn scanned the stallion for fell enchantments and illusions, but she found none upon him.  "What happened?"

        "She's gone."

        "What do you mean 'she's gone'?  She got out of the cell?"

        "I searched the entire cavern," Ink answered.  "I don't know how, but she escaped.  You and I need to go, now."

        Celestia was awestruck as Red Ink outright sprinted up the spiraling staircase, barking with a militant focus as he went.  "I'll have Armor and Flag secure the castle.  A large scale deployment will be best, and we can scan for her illusions on anypony who comes near you."

        The princess, who was merely walking briskly at the benefit of her long slender legs, didn't hear him.  Her thoughts were waking horrors and nightmares of a far different variety.  "Luna…"

        "Where is she, Princess?"

        "I can't let this happen again."
        
        "Where is Luna?" Ink shouted, shoving Celestia's chest with a hoof to gather her attention.  For a moment, her hooves struggled to gain grip on the smooth stones of the stairway.  The captain's face lost much of its intensity as she recovered with the help of her wings.  "Forgive me, Princess, but if I intend to catch Masquerade, I'll need to know where she will be heading."

        Celestia's concern evaporated from her face in an instant, replaced by the determination and focus of the ageless ruler.  "Take Captain Armor, and catch the next train to Stalliongrad."

        Thankfully too occupied to flash his usual anger at the Equiish name for his home that seemed to bother him so, Ink instead raised a different issue.  "With respect, Princess–"

        "Take him and go!  Flag and Crack will serve to guard me for now, and I will be on guard myself.  But I will not risk Luna's life again."  Ink opened his mouth to protest, but Celestia cut him off.  "Go!"

        "…and Tia agreed that we could hold a new Great Masked Ball this year at the Grand Galloping Gala.  Perhaps even in the future, if it serves to make the event less drab for her.  I'm so excited!  Oh, how terrible the thousand years that have passed since I had a chance to really dress up in such a manner.  It shall be a most glorious night!"

        The younger princess' rant to her diplomatic escort was cut off by a burst of purple sparks beside Luna's head, which congealed into a physical scroll.  It plopped down on the floor of their private train cabin, at which point the Princess promptly opened it and began to read.

        "Dragon fire?"  Marathon asked.

        "From Tia," Luna explained.  "The flame itself belongs to Syn, the son of Lord Krenn.  But it…"  Luna's words dropped off as her eyes widened at the text.  Then her voice rose to an almost deafening level.  "Bodyguard!  Come within!"

        Mirror Image stepped inside almost immediately.  "Yes, Princess?"

        "Seal the portal, Officer.  We must speak alone."  Luna waited until the sliding door had clicked shut before continuing.  "This letter came just moments ago from my sister.  She warns that the assassin Masquerade has escaped her imprisonment.  Even now, Shining Armor and Red Ink are in her pursuit, but we have reason to believe she is in turn pursuing my life yet again.  As such, we must be on guard.  Now, if you will, please show me your marks."

        Marathon and Mirror Image shared a confused glance between one another before they both obliged, shifting to reveal their flanks.  Marathon spoke up as she was studied.  "Uh, what's this for, Princess?"

        "The magic of illusions is potent, but there are some truths that it cannot hide if one knows how to look.  The assassin can place images within our minds, but the shapes she wears over her own form cannot reshape her mark, or recreate another's.  Thus, we study one another’s marks so that if she takes the form of one of you, we might detect her deception."

        Marathon's mark was a winged scroll, while Mirror Image's depicted a pair of mirrors tilted to face one another.  After being satisfied with both, Luna turned her flank toward her companions.  "This is mine.  Note that there are four spots separate from the main 'blot' as Sister is so fond of calling it."  She shot a harsh glance toward the stallion near her backside.  "And Officer Image… should you touch me, you shall find yourself very quickly outside this train."

        Though he had made no motion toward her, Image never the less shied back just a bit.  Luna and Marathon shared a chuckle at his expense before the Princess returned to her not-quite alicorn sized seat.  "Now, we must focus.  Given this turn, things will be most tense in Stalliongrad, and I should like very much not to have our concerns override my talks with Krenn."

        "Uh, Princess…"  Mirror Image expressed a rather obvious concern.  "Shouldn't we at least consider canceling the meeting?  The last thing we want is Masquerade running rampant in front of the dragons, right?"
        
        "Whence hath your sense of valor fled, guardspony?" Luna teased.  "Masquerade would be a fool to show herself in Lord Krenn's presence.  His fire would scorch her to bones and dust before she could even react.  No, though your concern is one of great validity, I have learned that one cannot allow fear to stop communication, lest dark events be made the result."  Luna glanced out the window, where a scorching desert was flying by the car.  "I will summon my Night Guard, though it will take them time to arrive.  They, alongside Shining Armor and Red Ink should prove a most sufficient force for apprehending her yet again."

        Marathon nodded with less than perfect faith.  "I hope you're right, Princess."

        "Of course we are!"  Luna glanced out the window again for a moment, and then turned back to her companions.  "Officer Image, in light of this concern, I shall permit you to pay us company, rather than standing outside the door to spare us the attention of admirers.  Private Marathon was just telling us a most humorous story about her experience as a carnivore."

        Marathon picked up where her story had left off, but she couldn't shake the feeling that Luna was somehow underestimating the risk she was charging blindly toward.

        There is some strange but omnipresent quality in the mixture of company, chocolate, cream, and heat, which causes familiarity and comfort to congeal from nothing on a frosty day.  Rainbow felt this delightful sensation as she stared into Reckoning's younger, eye-patched face, sipping from her piping hot mug of cocoa.  

        "So what's the big secret, Deadeye?"

        He glanced toward Mr. Cake, who was occupied bundling together a box of cupcakes, before returning his attention to Rainbow.  "Well, honestly, I just wanted to get Sparkle out of our manes so we could talk privately, but now I'm a bit concerned.  What did you mean about the princess lying about ponies being dead?"

        Rainbow sighed.  "Well, you know how I flew down that tower in Canterlot to save Luna?  Turns out that didn't work out so well for me."

        "Wait, you mean you–"

        "Died."  Rainbow nodded, rubbing her face with her hooves as an expression of exhaustion.  "The princess brought me back but she didn't think I needed to know anything about it.  She didn't mention that I wouldn't be able to go back to the Summer Lands if I got killed in Zebrica, or that she wasn't delivering my letters to my friends.  Hay, she even said she was going to send me back right away as soon as I was done saving Luna."

        Reckoning was quiet for a very long time, permitting Rainbow to fully finish her drink as he pondered.  "I'm sorry," was all he ultimately managed to say.

        "Not your fault," Dash responded coldly, her demeanor unaffected by the warmth in her belly.  "Just something I have to put up with now.  Luna said she might be able to help, but–"

        "Don't take that offer," Reckoning warned with a sudden steel in his voice.  Rainbow shot him a queer look, and the guardspony deflated a bit.  "Look, this isn't about me and the Honor Guard, or the way we feel about her.  Just, please, trust me when I say that I know what she means, and that you don't want any part of it.  On the other hoof, I'm glad you were able to heal her."

        "Yeah."  Rainbow nodded, letting the corner of her mouth curl up into a hint of a grin.  "It was phage seeds the whole time, too."
        
        "Phage seeds?  What?  That doesn't make any sense!  They aren't poisonous."

        "Not to us," Rainbow answered.  "But it makes the princesses stop being, well, immortal.  They get really old if they don't have their magic.  It was sort of thanks to you that I realized it.  I got the phage seeds out of your saddle-bags when I flew back.  Actually, if you want those back, I've still got them."

        "Nah, they were standard issue anyway.  Nothing special."  Reckoning shrugged.  "Call 'em a memory.  I take it you being around here means you really did quit the Honor Guard, though?"

        "Yeah."  Rainbow shrugged.  "I mean, you're cool, but the life just isn't for me.  Being away from my friends, nearly getting killed by crazy elk and griffons…  I'd rather fly carefree, if you know what I mean.  Work on my way toward the Wonderbolts."  Rainbow shrugged to imply a thousand other thoughts she didn't care to voice.

        "Well, it isn't my place to tell you what to do.  All I can say is that you were a damn good Honor Guard while you were at it."  Reckoning downed the last of his cocoa in a single gulp before rising from his seat.  "Anyway, what I'm here for.  I figured you deserved to know I wasn't dead.  In fact, I'm better than ever.  I guess either Fallaner's crazy stunt worked, or the fountain fixed me, but I haven't had one of my flashbacks in five months.  I'm heading back to report in, and I need to catch the train to Canterlot in twenty minutes."  He gestured to a clock hanging on the wall.  "I should get going.  Which way is the station?"

        "I'll show you," Rainbow answered hopping to her own hooves.

        "Thanks, Dash."  Reckoning took a moment to adjust his machete before trudging out into the snow.

        Their path continued most of the way through Ponyville, until a small and delightfully accented voice interrupted their path.

        "Look, mum, dad!  It's a real pirate!"

        Rainbow and Reckoning both turned as the little pinto colt known as Pipsqueak came barreling through the snow toward the guardspony stallion before his parents could stop him.  "Look at you, mister!  Are you really a pirate?"

        Rainbow was about to correct his mistake, but Reckoning was just a bit faster on the uptake.  "Arr, ye be right for guessin' that, cabincolt.  What be yer name?"

        "I'm Pip!"

        Reckoning smiled and knelt down to the look the small pony in the eye.  His pirate 'accent' was almost painful to listen to, but it put a huge smile on the young pony's face.  "Well, Pip, it be a pleasure makin' yer acquaintance.  What's a salty sailor like you doin' in a land-lubbin' town like this?"

        "I don't have a ship of my own," Pip answered with a disappointed tone.

        "Arr, don' let that get ye' down, colt.  Real pirates lose stuff all the time.  Heck, I've lost me ship, me eye, and me captain all in one go.  That last one's what I'm here so far from the salty seas for."

        "You lost your eye?  I thought pirates just used eye patches to see in the dark."

        "Aye, some do, but not me."  Reckoning peeled back his eye patch to reveal the crusty, glass-shard filled socket that lay beneath.  "Lost mine to a sea serpent scallywag almost four years back, if me math is right."  He let the eye patch drop down over his missing eye.

        "Cool!  Is your cutlass real too?"

        Reckoning nodded, then drew his machete, tossed it in the air, and caught it again deftly in his mouth.  "As real as the steel it be made of.  Wanna give it a swing, lad?"

        "Do I?"

        At this point, the amusement on Pipsqueak's parents faces turned to horror.  The little colt struggled to lift the blade that was set before him.  The mare of the two spoke with a crisp and proper Trottingham accent.  "I dare say, sir, I don't know who you are, but you can't let a colt his age run around with a real sword."

        Dropping his 'pirate voice', Deadeye dropped his volume to a whisper and shook his head.  "I don't intend to.  The sword isn't cheap, and I do need it back.  But a colt his age ought to know how to hold a knife.  I had one about that big when I was his age."

        "Drop it now, Pipsqueak!" his mother ordered.  The pinto colt utterly ignored her, slashing black and forth with a blade that probably weighed nearly as much as he did.  "What if he cuts himself?" the mare asked again to the 'pirate'.  

        "Then he probably won't make that mistake again when he gets older," Reckoning answered with just a touch of sarcasm.  "If you're that worried, though…"  He knelt down again in the snow, once more returning to his old voice.  "Arr, lad, I think that's quite enough for today.  I've got to catch me ride soon."

        Pipsqueak spit out the oversized blade, which Reckoning deftly returned to its place at his side.  "Say, what's with the funny bump in the handle?"

        "Well, I'd be saying it lets ya talk while y'arrr holdin' it."

        "Okay, cool!  Well, Mr. Pirate, I'm gonna go find a boat."

        "Smooth seas to ya!" Reckoning answered as the colt scampered off in the snow.  Pipsqueak's parents offered the guardspony a quick, forced nod before following their son.  Once more, the scout and Rainbow were left alone.

        "Wow, Deadeye.  Foals must love you."

        "The zebras always said I was good with kids, but I never got on too well with my nephews and nieces.  My brother invited me to a picnic, once, and I got jabbed in the side with a fork." Reckoning sighed.  "Never got invited to another picnic.  I am glad that colt didn't know too much about sailing.  I've never been on a boat."

        "Never?"

        "Well, it's easy enough to just fly over the ocean."  His shrug seemed odd when only one of his wings managed to heed his motion.  "I'm not a great swimmer either, when all's said and done.  Dry land and clear skies are fine for me."  

        Similar small-talk and hollow words pervaded their journey, until at last the two arrived at Ponyville Train Station, just as the conductor piped up for his last call.  "All aboard!"

        "Well, this is it, Rainbow.  Maybe we'll see each other again, but I make no promises."  Reckoning threw a quick leg and his good wing over her shoulder in a half-hearted embrace.  "Goodbye."

        "Wait, that's it–?"  Rainbow's words seemed unfulfilled as the surprisingly young stallion ran onto the train.  Without waiting, the conductor climbed aboard and shut the door behind them.  Rainbow looked for his face in the windows facing the station, but as the train pulled away, she saw only strangers and loose acquaintances.  Just as quickly as she had left him the last time, Dead Reckoning was gone again.

        It was warm by the standards of Stalliongrad.  This term would be a bit confusing to outsiders.  In Stalliongrad, the term meant that spit did not freeze until after it hit the cobblestone streets.  The concept of the weather being above freezing was, in fact the punchline to a popular Stalliongradian joke.  Natives simply accepted the cold.  
        
        In fact, beneath his heavy garments, the unicorn stallion staring out the twenty-foot tall window at the end of the long empty room hadn't even noticed the chill.  A good few hundred feet below his place of observation, common ponies were out in the constant snow, garbed in archaic robe-like jackets and heavy fur-lined hats.  The stallion saw the lingering stains of the old culture and remembered the strain of his constant struggle to pull his home into the modern day, even if he had to take it kicking and screaming.

        Unlike those ponies, he wore a thin scarf that honestly served as nothing more than a replacement for a necktie or a cravat.  Over it was a heavy but flexible fur trimmed jacket that was cut off just above his flank, made of black silk.  It sat nicely over a cutie mark of an hourglass.  Pessimists would say that half its time was spent, while optimists would instead observe that half remained.  He was neither, as he knew fully that both the hopeless cynics and the blindly faithful were missing the point entirely.  The sand on his mark was flowing up.

          The unicorn turned away from the frosted window and returned his attention to something pleasantly more modern.  The long elliptical table behind him was an excellent subject.  Though he had not laid hoof or horn on it during its manufacture, he couldn't help but feel proud of it as his own accomplishment.  Smooth polished walnut inlaid with mother-of-pearl  sat atop four elegant hoof-carved feet.  It had cost thirty-six thousand bits.  A mere four years earlier, the thought of such an extravagance could only have come from a waking dream.  Since then, it had become not only a reality, but a casual purchase made in the interest of creating a select atmosphere.  The common ponies would likely see it as a sign of corruption, but the stallion knew it to be a diplomatic tool, serving just the same purpose to him as a chisel might have to its creator.  

        His reflections were neatly tucked away as he heard the meeting hall's door's gilded handle being twisted open.  The blunt sound of the entering pony was not his father, but a servant.  He spared himself a glance, and identified a pleasant face.

        "Цесаре́вич Предвидение."

        Sighing at the forced formality, the stallion answered without turning around.  "I appreciate your attempt, Stockyard, but I think we are both going to be much happier continuing in Equiish."

        "As you wish, master Foresight."

        Stockyard was many things, but subtle was exactly none of them.  He had been classically trained as a butler in Trottingham, and Foresight had picked him up in that capacity after trying and subsequently firing three Stalliongradi natives from the position.  The stallion's Stalliongradi was certainly useable, though his accenting left something to be desired by a true connoisseur of the language.

        "Have you brought my reports?"

        "I took the liberty of sorting them, sir.  Your investments in Prance paid their dividends threefold, and average wealth amongst your citizens is up seventeen percent.  Your father will be very pleased."

        "No, he will not."  Foresight shook his head.  "He doesn't understand the numbers.  So long as a frown exists on the face of one of our ponies, he will continue to expect miracles from me.  I am afraid my own supply is quickly dwindling."  Foresight glanced down to where Stockyard was pouring him a tall glass of wine.  Without observing the label, he smelled it, swirled it with his horn, and afforded himself a single taste.  "I'll guess the 1412 Port?"

        Stockyard laughed slightly.  "You don't seem to be running out of miracles to me, sir.  That's two months in a row."

        Foresight shook his head as he opened the door behind his butler and began to walk the frigid halls of the ancient castle he called home.  "I can hardly treat managing this Domain like a memorization game, Stockyard.  What is the temperature today?"

        "Thirty below, sir."

        Foresight's brow rose as his hoof draped gently against a tapestry in the hall.  He had learned since moving into the structure of thick gray stones and heavy shadows that the walls could tell a great many secrets to those who would simply listen.  The temperature outside was but one.  The walls disagreed with Stockyard's information.  "Is that in Marenheit or Saddlesius?"

        "The latter, sir."

        Foresight shook his head slowly.  "Seeing as we are striving to emulate their economic and political success here, Stockyard, I would encourage we use their system of measures.  It will also likely make Princess Luna more comfortable when she arrives tonight.  Did the packages from Manehattan arrive today?"

        "Last night, actually, sir.  Two coats, three scarves, and one of those amusingly brimmed hats the mares are so fond of these days.  All sized to her build."

        "Good.  I've finished my own preparations for Krenn's quarters, so now all that remains is making sure the imbeciles my brother left behind do not start a war."

        "You wish Master Ink was here, sir?"

        Foresight actually laughed at the comment.  "Not at all, Stockyard.  Then we'd be guaranteed another war.  That being said, with him present, we might at least stand a chance of winning it.  Do you know where my father is?"

        "Last I heard of him, sir, he was arranging the installation of that statue he'd ordered."

        Foresight rolled his eyes.  "While Steel Lining has my fullest respect as a stallion, perhaps father might simply erect a temple and be done with it.  It would certainly save us money."

        "But thanks to you, sir, the city's treasury is fuller than it's been in forty years."

        Foresight stopped suddenly, turning a calm and instructive gaze on the pony who was at least twenty years his elder.  "We have to remember that wealth is not an excuse for frivolity.  Money is like a doctor's scalpel.  Used carefully and precisely, it can have miraculous effect, but its overuse and its misapplication will both prove fatal to the patient without exception."  Foresight took a deep breath, and then closed his eyes in pensive focus.  "Write a letter to Hoity Toity agreeing to his investment proposal at a five percent return, rather than his four-and-a-half.  See if you can sell our Bitalian cloud investments, and then offer our support as investors to Councilor Silver Lining of Cloudsdale.  Tell Molot to put an extra squad at the Flame Gate, and then have two of those crates I ordered from the griffons brought up to the Palace kitchens."

        "Shall I have the chefs prepare something with them?"

        "No.  Have the chefs clear out.  I'll need the space."

        "You'll be cooking?  Sir, if I may, why–"

        "Because the chefs will not be willing to touch the contents of those crates.  I will be preparing a meal for Lord Krenn and his escorts, as well as Father and myself."

        Stockyard grimaced.  "Surely you don't mean to share their diet for their visit?"

        "I won't judge you if you're disgusted to learn that I've been training for this meal.  However, I have no intention of risking an offense."  Foresight decided the pause he had spared was too long at that point, and continued on his path toward the castle's heavy doors.  "Much like the dragons, I prefer mine 'rare', although I don't quite have the stomach for the gems that are meant to accompany such a dish."  Despite its poor taste, the stallion chuckled at his own comment.   Stockyard was held quiet by its implications.  After a moment, the heir of Stalliongrad reached the edge of his stone fortress, and directed his attention one last time toward his butler.  "I have the utmost faith in your efforts, Stockyard.  Once your tasks are done, go ahead and set aside a few books for me, with some wine and cheese.  I'll spare you the rest of the night off to rest.  I fear we will both be running ragged by the time the princess arrives.  Now, I must go to Father."

        "Sir, wait!"  Stockyard lunged in front of the door.  "You'll need a jacket, at least!  You'll freeze out there in that light of garb."

        Foresight smiled as he shook his head.  "No, in fact I think you'll find that a pleasant summer breeze accompanies me in the streets.  I've made quite a bit of progress on the spell for the Obelisk, and now I must test whether it can weather the weather."  The wordplay brought a fleeting grin to the stallion's face.  He turned back to the doors, and flared his horn for only a split second.  They dragged slightly, continuing in motion after he had stopped his spell.  When he walked through into the light snow and the strong wing, the doors turned around and shut behind him despite a further lack of magical input.  Outside, the unicorn stallion smiled, ignited his horn, and embraced the warmth of a summer breeze.

        Being made of huge amethyst crystals over gilded silver plates, Platinum's Ward was a cumbersome suit of armor.  Its mass did nothing to assist Shining Armor as he struggled to keep up with his Honor Guard counterpart through the snowy streets of Canterlot.

        He'd heard a short explanation, but it only left him with more questions.  Masquerade had escaped, he had been told, but how?  To best the lodestone ring was feasible, but to leave her cell was an impossibility.  He knew that perfectly well; nopony else had experienced the drain of Sombra's black crystals so closely.  And even beyond that, Celestia's door was an unbeatable ward.  Part of Shining screamed to turn back and investigate the palace, though he knew that if the assassin was already ahead, they had no time to lose.

        Those questions were unfit to be shouted after the pegasus flying ahead, however, given the presence of listening civilians.  There was another question to be asked, though.  

        "Ink, where are we going?"

        "Stalliongrad," the native answered.  "Luna is on her way there now."

        "Why wasn't I told about this?"

        Ink snapped his head back without ceasing his flight.  "The Honor Guard protects the Princesses.  You protect the civilians.  Don't get our jobs confused."

        Shining growled.  "And what happened to the transparency we agreed on?"

        In a surprising display of tact, Ink answered with a placative response.  "I'm sorry if I've bothered you with this, Shining, but now really isn't the best time.  I don't want something coming between us when we're about to head out."

        Shining's jaw dropped from the simple audacity of the statement.  "You don't want… Look, Ink, I don't know what you expect, but just saying 'sorry' isn't going to cut it between us!"

        "Another topic to discuss when we're on our way," Ink responded bluntly, before folding his wings in midair and dropping a half-dozen feet to land at a run in the crunchy snow.  The train was ahead, its previous passengers nearly emptied.  Ink forced his way past a young couple, shoving the stallion into the snow.  The conductor let out a shout of protest, but both guardsponies ignored it.  The Captain of the Royal Guard found his way aboard a moment later, after brushing past a young pony with an eye patch.  He spared a quick glance back as the pegasus with the crippled wing gave a slight salute, and then wandered off into the city.  It would have to be a mystery for another day; Shining's mind remained on other things.  Once more, the hunt was on.

        
        Dead 'Deadeye' Reckoning signed off his completely informal salute to the Captain of the Royal Guard, and then turned around and promptly ignored him.  Some might have claimed it was a failure of his duty, but the scout considered his mission just as important as whatever urgency might have driven Shining Armor, if not more so.

        His hooves carried him toward the palace in ignorance of the strange stares that his appearance earned him from the Canterlot nobility and the countless tourists.  The chill of the snow on his hooves was completely absent, and the wind only tickled his feathers; it left his coat alone.  He pondered the curious lack of feeling for a moment; though not new, it was still fresh enough to leave him with curiosity.  Despite the wandering of his thoughts, he soon reached the palace gates.  It was there that his liberated thoughts and his casual hoofsteps both stopped dead at the business end of six Royal Guard spears.  One such spear point, which was connected to its shaft by gold rather than plain steel and bolts, clearly marked the leader.

        "The palace is closed, civilian!  What are you doing here?"

        Reckoning made sort of grumbling noise in his throat, which he then reflected was much less imposing and satisfying than it had been when he was sixty-eight.  "I'm not a civilian, guardspony.  Corporal Dead Reckoning, Honor Guard.  I need to see the Princess immediately."

        "Badge."

        "Badge?"  Reckoning was utterly confused by the question.  Did he have a badge?  Had he ever had a badge?  If so, it was likely buried beneath a dozen feet of Zebrican mud or quicksand.  "Look, kid, I don't know who you–"

        "Kid?"  The leader lifted his spear, but gestured for his subordinates to keep theirs at the ready.  "Boy, in case you've gone blind, I'm a good ten years your elder, so watch who you're talking to.  Get out of my sight, or I'll–"

        What the guardspony would have done was never revealed, as a thin gray shape chose that moment to drop out of the sky in the intervening space between him and Reckoning.  "Calm yourself, stallion.  He is who he says he is.  Let him enter."  The voice was completely mundane despite the way that it set Reckoning's coat on end.  It belonged to a Night Guard mare, whose slitted eyes and wild, muscular wings seemed far more ferocious than the fanged but otherwise charming smile she offered.

        "I can't just–"

        The mare placed a hoof on his breastplate, directly beside his neck.  Reckoning barely caught the motion for its incredible speed.  Her head inclined to place her muzzle just beside his ear.  Though she could very easily have whispered quietly enough to speak to the stallion only, her words were loud enough.  "We didn't ask, Lance Corporal.  That order comes directly from the Eldest Sister of the Night Guard, and if you'd like to disobey it again, she can certainly arrange for the rest of the Night Guard to see to your punishment."  Then she licked his ear, in a way that wasn't so much sensual as brutally carnivorous, holding him as he squirmed in discomfort.  After a pleasant moan, she lowered herself back onto all four of her hooves.  "We'd like that."

        Without a word of response, the wall of guardsponies in front of the palace doors shot aside, creating something of a tunnel for Reckoning and his new escort.  He gave her a distrusting glance, but progressed forward nevertheless.  The doors of the palace opened to the same wide foyer that Reckoning recognized from his last visit, years prior.  He walked without word toward Celestia's throne room, only to be stopped by a surprisingly powerful, less-than pleasant hoof on his shoulder.  

        "Wait, Corporal Reckoning.  Eldest Sister directed me to speak with you."  Reckoning elected to ignore the unwelcome voice, only to find himself held back by an unnaturally strong hoof on his shoulder.  "She said she knew you would not wish to speak to her personally."

        "I don't want to talk to any of your kind, honestly.  Even if I did, we have nothing to talk about.  My mission doesn't concern you."  Reckoning rocked his shoulder to steal away from the mare's grip before pacing forward toward Celestia's throne room again.  This time, he was stopped not by a calm hoof, but an outright tackle as the mare pinned him to the floor.

        "This is not up for discussion, Dead Reckoning.  You can deny or ignore us if you wish, but our mistress left us with a message that we are to give you before we depart for her side."

        Reckoning struggled to free himself from beneath the mare, before finally nodding with a defeated sigh.  "If you insist."

        The mare smiled, once more baring her fanged teeth, and then stepped off him.  "Walk with me, and I will speak as I was told."  She folded her wings calmly, turned with stiff legs, and then began a slow pace toward a nearby doorway off the main foyer.

        Observing the path, Reckoning knew that they were headed for the Honor Guard quarters and offices, below the main level of the palace.  As they walked, at first in silence, the stallion's eyes glanced to the machete at his side, and then back up at the mare.  Her purple armor glinted with unknown magics in the pleasantly lit hallways.  It certainly wasn't a horror setting, yet he still felt the omnipresent threat.  

        As if sensing his discomfort, she spoke up.  "The assassin told our mistress that the stallion you seek was delivered, alive, to the boars of Suida.  Have you ever faced a boar warrior, Reckoning?"

        "Once," the stallion answered, stifling the rest of the answer.  It had been half a lifetime earlier, and a hard-fought battle besides.  "I don't intend to fight many."

        "Perhaps not, but you will face some."  The mare glanced back over her shoulder, continuing her pace down the side halls of the palace without needing to look at her path.  Reckoning couldn't help but notice how empty the structure seemed.  "You are a skilled warrior, if Eldest Sister speaks the truth, but you will need more.  Our mistress has granted you a boon that might aid your quest."

        Reckoning grumbled.  "If it'll help…"

        "Your young body does not disguise your true age," the Night Guard taunted with a rather haunting laugh.  "But it does give you the strength for your task.  Who do you intend to accompany you?"

        "White Flag and Mirror Image, ideally."

        "The latter is serving as our mistress' bodyguard, and cannot join you.  I cannot speak for the other."  
        
        They reached the spiral stair that served as the true center of the palace for the Honor Guard.  It led down to the Commander's office, and if one so required, up to a secret door behind a suit of armor in the hallway where Celestia had her bedroom.  It was far enough away not to prove a security risk, while close enough to give rapid access if necessary.  Reckoning had never used it, and so found himself surprised when the Night Guard mare began to lead him up the stairs.

        "Where are we going?"

        "The Roost.  Our home."  Reckoning wasn't quite sure if the plurality was meant to include him, but he hesitantly followed regardless.  Up and up the stairs went, spiraling in a tight loop until at last they came to a flat wall of thick stone blocks, and a rather obvious door that was only disguised on its other side.  The Night Guard ignored the door however, placing her hooves on the rough wall.  It took a moment of force, but Deadeye was surprised to watch as a second, far better hidden door slid open to reveal further ascending stairs.  The shock wore off quickly when his frightening guide continued up the stairs, assuming him to be following.

        The stairs finally opened without a further door to reveal a surprisingly tall chamber of purple stone and glimmering blue arcane torches.  Amidst pillars and balconies, he could see slitted eyes watching him from above.  The feeling put a heavy stone in his gut, and found him with his functional wing pinned very tightly to his side.  He was given pause, however, when another of the Night Guards dropped down from some place in the shadows overhead to land a mere few feet from his face.  "Deadeye.  It's been a long time."

        "Not long enough," the stallion answered the mare, agitated at her presence.  "Give me whatever it is Luna had–"

        "Princess Luna," the newcomer interrupted.  "It will be given in good time.  Fourth Sister, return to your rest.  We fly east at moonrise to find her side."

        No word was offered as Reckoning's original escort darted up into the overhead shadows and faded from view.

          With a terse urgency and a spite in his voice that had not been present even in his previous conversation, he turned back to his escort.  "So, Captain, what do you want me for?"

        "Call me Eldest Sister.  Or just 'Big Sis', honestly.  These ones of mine could do to learn a bit of casual language.  I'm here to show you something.  Follow me."  She walked across the room without disruption by the other Night Guard hiding overhead, making her way to a hallway carved out of the stone on the opposite wall.  Reckoning followed tentatively, forcing his head up and his spine out in order to keep his fear from showing under the watchful eyes of Luna's monsters.  Their fanged mouths glittered in the blue torchlight, and their shadows danced wildly on the walls.

        Soon, view of his fear was cut off by a short and narrow hallway of slender, shallow cells.  There were at least a dozen doors, all tightly shut.  He stopped at the sight of the first.  "What is this?"

        "Our dungeon.  We have a prisoner for you."  Eldest Sister gestured to the cell farthest from the central room.  Reckoning's hooves were hesitant to follow.  His gut wasn't quite sure whether to expect a horrible monster within the cage, or an innocent foal.  Instead, to his surprise, there was another pony.  His hooves were held to the wall by a set of four heavy manacles made of the same purple metal as the Night Guard's armor.  At first, he seemed asleep, but then Reckoning made the mistake of leaning against the barred door.  The prisoner jerked upright suddenly, and his bloodshot eyes locked on the two ponies outside his door.  He opened his mouth to scream, but no noise was released.

        "What did you do?" Reckoning asked, suddenly realizing his mistrust of the Night Guard once again.

        "Justice," Eldest Sister answered, as casually as discussing the weather.  "He killed a family of five near Manehattan.  I claimed him and marked him, but at the Princess' request, I offer him to you."  

        "What?"  Reckoning whirled to face her with a mixture of fear, anger, and confusion.  "What is that even supposed to mean?"

        "The blessing is yours to accept or reject, Dead Reckoning.  Think for a second and you'll realize what it means.  You'll be hard pressed to succeed without it."

        Without a further word, the mare walked away, leaving the scout alone in the near-total darkness with only silent screams for company.

        The skyline of Stalliongrad was for the most part a low mass of snow-covered rooftops and smoke-belching chimneys.  Brick and stone were here and then charred black or crumbled from age or damage.  New, cheaply constructed factories stood side-by-side with ancient waterwheels built on the long-since frozen Volgallop River.  

        The icy waterway ran through a narrow valley, whose short but sheer cliffs wrapped like tight arms around the city's walls.  In olden days, the city had stayed nestled in that tight embrace, but now its walls and its homes stretched out onto the cliff tops on both sides of the river.  Beyond the tall stones in every direction lay deadly wastes of frozen ice for a hundred miles.  In some directions, they were not the only threat.

        Atop the western cliff, there lay an enormous graveyard.  It spread over small hills and tiny valleys, but its every headstone and monument overlooked the splendor of the unbreakable frozen city below.  In one corner of the quiet space, a unicorn stallion approached a far rarer pony.

        "Father?"  Foresight tromped through the snow wearing far too little to protect against the biting chill of the wind.  "What are you still doing up here?"

        "Почему ты обращаешься ко мне на языке чужаков? Неужели и родные слова тебе уже противны, Предвидение?"

        With a slight glare, the unicorn shook his head.  "Our language does not 'disugst' me, Father. I'm using Equiish for your benefit.  Princess Luna will likely be speaking it, and I wouldn't be surprised if Lord Krenn chose the same to speak naturally with her. You don't want to sound like Roscherk when you do."  The sarcasm at his use of the name was potent even over the chill of their words.  "I must admit that I am happy my brother is not here for this meeting."

        "Never wish for the absence of family," the Tsar ordered with a definitive force.  His voice was something of a miracle, and the power his words carried had always been a point of envy to his eldest son.  The alicorn ruler gestured with his long, slender horn toward the headstone resting in the ground in front of him.  Little was engraved.  No dates.  No epithet.  Only an engraving of a thick cloud passing in front of a crescent moon, and the name 'Полночь'.

        "Forgive me, Father.  I only meant my concern for his attitude.  But still, haven't you been out here all day?  Aren't you cold?"

        "I found myself with a preference for space, just as you so often find yourself with a preference for privacy in your books, Predvidenie."

        Foresight scowled and shook his head.  "I don't 'seal myself away', Father.  And when I do stay in my office, it's because I'm working to help the city."

        Watchful Eye shook his head.  "Perhaps it is, but I struggle to imagine how one might know what is best for a city he does not venture into."  The bright crimson alicorn gestured with his right wing toward a huge structure jutting up into the sky from the center of the city.  It alone broke the nearly level field of roofs and chimneys below.  "Will your project work?"

        "Let me show you."  Foresight walked closer, coming to rest a mere few inches from his father.  Watchful Eye's eyes widened in surprise as the omnipresent wind stopped, and the sensation of warm air brushed across his coat.

        "What is this?"

        "The spell I was looking for in the library.  I haven't figured out exactly how it works yet; at least, not perfectly.  But it seems to convert Arcana into Empatha, at least enough so that we can influence the weather.  You can feel that the spell works."

        "You'll have to teach me some time, then."  

        Foresight shook his head.  "I'm afraid it was difficult for me to cast, Father, and it nearly spent my mana simply bringing the field up.  You would need a lot more study to bring your Arcana up to par. It's been a long time since you used this sort of magic.  Besides, you have Empatha yourself.  Why not go traipsing around in the streets with your wings on fire, like Roscherk used to?"

        "I have no intention of encouraging his behavior," Watchful Eye answered, not stooping to his son's biting sarcasm.  "This 'Obelisk' of yours; will it truly be able to break the curse?"

        "Not break it, Father.  I cannot imagine succeeding where the likes of Clover the Clever failed.  The spell will only cover the city.  The wastes will still be frozen.  However, if the Obelisk here is a success, I will arrange their construction across our domain.  Saraneighvo will be thawed as well, and perhaps Trotsylvania after that.  We can finally move into the modern world."

        Watchful Eye shrugged.  "Your work may save the city, but its ponies still fight within.  I would rather your magic find a balance between the gifts of our subjects."

        "Father, you're worrying over a battle we've already won.  This isn't the Age of the Tribes.  Frostbite is dead, and the castes are long gone.  Any earth pony can rise as they wish, and any unicorn can fall just as easily."  There followed a long silence and a sigh as Foresight realized that he would soon be retreading the ground of familiar battles.

        "Then why am I still Tsar?"

        "Because you are the one who freed them, and you deserve their respect.  Now, Father, I will hear no more of this nonsense.  If your fears were still true, you would be a pauper since your magic is pathetic, and I would rule the city rather than merely running it every day."  Foresight offered a cocky grin that was supposed to look humorous and relieving, though it came across with a bit too much ambition.  Realizing the awkwardness of his attempt to raise his father's spirits, the pony looked away to the distant eastern horizon.  "I would never want your position, father.  My dreams are far different in scope.  Now, we should head back to the castle.  Lord Krenn will arrive soon."

        "Give me a while longer.  I'll come when his group arrives."

        Foresight's response was to gesture with a hoof to the snowy haze that marked the horizon.  Two enormous shadows were drawing closer by the moment.  "They already have, Father."

        The Bearers gathered in the Golden Oaks Library, where Rainbow was once again set aside as the object of attention.

        "…and then he just sort of hugged me awkwardly and ran off before I could say anything."

        "But…"  Fluttershy cocked her head in confusion.  "Your friend is alive.  Isn't that good?"

        "It's great," Dash answered.  "I just wish he would have told me what was really going on.  He said some stuff like he thought he wasn't coming back, or at least that he wouldn't see me again."  The pegasus looked from face to face.  "I guess I'm just worried."

        "Why?" Rarity asked.  "Isn't it his job, darling?  I dare say Twilight doesn't fear for her brother's life every day of the week.  And one certainly doesn't live to be his… former age, I suppose, without knowing how to take care of oneself."

        "Ah think Rarity's right, sugarcube.  He's got his life now, and you've got yours.  An' that ain't ta say you can't go say 'hi' or whatever, but it's like ya said yesterday.  Bein' a guardspony ain't for you."

        Rainbow nodded.  "I guess you're right.  I'll just drop it."

        "Now hold on, Dash.  I ain't sayin' that.  Givin' up ain't the same as lettin' him go."  Applejack chuckled.  "An' remember I said that if you ever find a special somepony."

        Rainbow's cheeks grew red as she crinkled her nose.  "H-hey!"

        Before the brewing storm could turn into an argument about Rainbow's 'potential', Twilight cut in.  "Girls, honestly, I'd like to know what's going on too.  Dead Reckoning said he'd found the Fountain of Youth."  She tilted her head toward Spike, who was carrying a huge, rather heavy and worn dark teal book with golden bindings.

        "I found it, Twilight."

        "Thank you, Spike."  The mare levitated the tome, flipped it open to the appropriate page, and spun it so that her friends could see.  "This is Predictions and Prophecies.  The first edition was written by the original Archmage Twilight, thousands of years ago.  Since then, every time somepony has made a really important prediction, it's been updated.  Look at this one here."  Her hoof gestured to the page in question, where a huge body of gold symbols sat on ornate blue parchment set atop the normal paper pages.  Beside the indecipherable writing, a diagram of a strange stone fountain with no water had been copied in plain and still black ink.  

        "Uh, Twilight, none of us can read this," Rainbow observed.

        "What are you talking about, Dashie?"  Pinkie leaned forward.  "It's written plain as day.  Horseshoe, rainbow, unicorn, tornado, skull, mask, moon–"

        "Pinkie, they're not pictures, they're letters.  This language is called Ancient Equidane.  It eventually developed into more modern Equiish, which is why we still use some of the same letters, but its much more pictographic, and–"

        "The point, Twi?" Applejack thankfully interrupted.

        "Right, sorry."  Twilight's awkward smile lingered for just a moment before she looked down at the book again.  "This is a prophecy somepony–or rather, someone–made almost thirty-two thousand years ago.   I won't bore you with a ton of details, but the end is important."  The mare cleared her throat before continuing.  

        "It rhymes?" Dash asked, incredulous.

        "Of course it does," Twilight answered.  "When somepony makes a prophecy, the magic actually gives you an answer in rhyme.  Nopony really knows why, though there is a popular theory made by Bloomlight the Impulsive which..." Twilight hesitated, realizing she was rambling.  "Anyway, that's not the whole thing.  Let's see…"  Her hoof scanned the page again briefly to find her place.

        The other five bearers looked across each other's faces, before some silent congress let Rarity speak up first.  "Twilight, dear, we have the utmost respect for your studies, but some of us aren't quite as educated.  Could we possibly get that in more modern Equiish, please?"

        "Well, actually, I don't understand all of it myself.  I guess the first part was probably talking about the Twilight War, between Princess Celestia and Nightmare Moon.  The love-seeking tongue might mean the Changelings, but I'm not sure if they even age.  The important part about that first paragraph is that it already happened.  Whoever this 'desperate fiend' is, they've already drained the Fountain of Youth, or cursed it, or whatever this is talking about."  Twilight looked up.  "Get it?"

        "You're sayin' Mr. Reckoning was lying?" Applejack asked.  "Why would he do that?"

        "I don't know," Twilight answered.

        "He's not lying!" Rainbow yelled, stubbornly.

        Applejack put up her hooves defensively.  "Look, sugarcube, we ain't tryin ta insult him.  It's just some things 'bout this seem mighty fishy, and maybe we should take a good hard look at what's goin' on.  Ya' understand?"

        Rainbow growled as she crossed her forehooves over her chest.  "I guess.  If he knew something was happening, that might explain why he was so weird about saying goodbye, and not telling me what was going on."

        Rarity smiled.  "I'm glad you understand Rainbow.  Perhaps there's something we can do, though.  I imagine if Twilight and Spike send a letter, it could very quickly reach Captain Ink.  It probably won't take more than a day or two for him to get back to us."

        "Bah, that'll take forever."  Rainbow shook her head.  "I'll just fly up to Canterlot.  I can do that trip and back before you girls even had time to miss me.  Plus, I don't trust getting a straight answer from a letter.  Especially if it goes through the princess."

        Twilight seemed cross as she spoke up.  "Rainbow, you are not flying all the way to Canterlot.  Not after what happened with the blizzard last night."

        "Oh, come on Twilight.  It's calm out now, and besides, I'm–"

        "The best.  I know.  But please just take the train.  For me?"

        The pegasus sighed.  "Fine.  I'll catch the next ride when it gets in.  But I'm telling you, some silly storm wouldn't put me out of the air."  Rainbow turned to the door of the library and strode out, completely unaware of the little orange ears that had been listening to the entire conversation from upstairs.

        When a disgruntled Departure Time came to the little cabin containing a pair of armored guardsponies, he was tempted to stride right on past.  However, as the conductor of the East Wind Express, he had a responsibility.  In that moment, it took the form of tightening his necktie, adjusting his hat, and stepping into the small space.

        Immediately, he was fixed with a pair of determined glares.  The tightness of the fabric around his neck served well to mask his troubled gulp before he began to speak.  "Pardon me, sirs, but as the conductor of this train, I do have to speak to you."

        The pegasus stallion moved incredibly quickly, leaning forward so that Departure could smell the heat of his breath.   He spoke with a thick Stalliongradian accent, though his words were simple enough to understand.  "Conductor, this is guardspony business.  Ensure your staff cooperates with us, and we'll get along just fine."

        "Ink," his counterpart began, scoldingly.  Departure recognized him as Shining Armor, the famous Captain of the Royal Guard.  "Forgive my counterpart's attitude, though he is right.  We're on an urgent mission.  Once things have been taken care of, I'll arrange compensation for your train line."

        Satisfied, yet still intimidated, Departure nodded hastily.  "Of course, guardsponies.  If you can tell me which stop you'll be likely to be getting off at, I can make arrangements and everything will be in order."

        "Stalliongrad," Shining Armor answered simply, earning a curious look from the conductor.

        "In January?"

        Red Ink laughed, suddenly far less serious than he had previously been.  "We are not on vacation here, though perhaps if you learned how to dress, you wouldn't think my home was so uncomfortable.  Now, please leave us."

        "Oh.  Of course.  Uh, since you'll need to eat, I'll just tell the restaurant car to serve you.  You've got a twenty-six hour trip ahead of you, Stallions.  Good luck with your business."

        As soon as the door to their room was shut, Shining Armor shot Red Ink an angry look.  "What are you doing?"

        "What do you mean, Shining?"

        "I thought you were better than that.  Getting up in everypony's face, intimidating them.  He was just trying to do his job."

        "And I am doing mine.  Now stop wasting time with feelings and listen closely.  I checked before I came to find you; only one train bound for Stalliongrad left between Princess Luna's and this one.  If Masquerade is on the Princess' train, there isn't much we can do, and if she's on the second one, there's nothing we can do but wait to catch up.  However, if that is the case, the Princess will likely be safe until we arrive.  Masquerade won't try and charge into Burning Hearth Castle without a plan.  The third option, though, is what concerns me.  She may be on this train."

        Shining nodded.  "I've been studying her illusions since the summer.  I can do a sweep of the train to try and flush her out."

        Ink nodded as well, giving his agreement.  "That is our best option, it seems.  Head to the front of the train and work your way back.  I'll meet you in the restaurant car."

        "What?  You want to split up?"

        Ink shrugged.  "Even I need to eat, Shining, and a drink would do me good as well."

        Shining considered protesting, but ultimately decided he would be better off not bringing the walking political incident that was his counterpart along as he examined each and every passenger on the train.

        The two stallions left their room and promptly parted ways.  Ink's hooves carried him toward the caboose.  After another passenger car, he quickly found a space filled with small booths and a surprisingly well-sized buffet.  In the corner, a small bar was tended by a mare in a perfect black vest and tie.  She glanced up as he approached, looked down at the glass she was polishing, and then did a double take.

        "Y-you're R-Roscherk Krovyu," she managed to sputter out, backing up into the corner of her little workspace.

        "I go by 'Red Ink' these days, ma'am."  He smiled at her, hoping to appear disarming.  His expression only increased the obvious fear on her face.  "I'm not here to hurt you, Miss…"

        "Uh, Cosmopolitan.  Everypony just calls me 'Cosmo', Commandant."

        "I'm impressed you could say that so quickly, Cosmo.  I take it you've heard of me?"

        "I'm from Trotsylvania, Commandant," she answered quickly.  "When you arrived during the Revolution–"

        "Of course."  Ink waved his hoof.  "Listen, frankly, I'm just here for a drink.  Three shots of vodka."

        The mare turned around, grabbed a bottle from the top shelf of the train's bar, and set about preparing his demand.  "Are you sure this is what you want?  I can make just about anything."

        "Just the vodka," Ink answered with a rather predatory smile, which went unnoticed behind the mare's back.  "Perhaps it’s a stereotype, but it's never bothered me."