//------------------------------// // Chapter III: Wisdom without knowledge // Story: Starry Night // by Corporal Fluttershy //------------------------------// Starry Night By Corporal Fluttershy Chapter III :Wisdom without knowledge. ~*~*~*~*~*~ Government was a curious, multi-headed beast which possessed extraordinary powers of expansion. If not actively reigned in or at least monitored, it quickly gave rise to a self-sustaining bureaucracy; generating almost as much work in simply existing as it was supposed to lift from the shoulders of everyday ponies. An enormous, convoluted pyramid in which information passed upwards; from the many to the few and actions from those same few, downwards. As a result with each step up the hierarchy, the raw incoming data swelled and the decisions made based on that data became increasingly important – with wide-ranging ramifications for every pony making up that pyramid. Fortunately for Equestria, the ponies at the summit of said pyramid were immortal goddesses, with dominion over the Sun, Moon and Stars and wielding magic far in excess of even the great Star Swirl. There was no limit to the information they could handle, no decision too enormous or challenging for them to make. Unfortunately for Equestria, said goddesses were obliged to spend much of their time communing with their little ponies; hearing questions, concerns, grievances and where necessary, redressing them. When it came to the day-to-day running of the Principality a chocolate-brown, greying stallion by the name of Church Hill was their stand-in; their designated executor. Doubly unfortunately for Equestria, he was anything but a god and at times like these – with the surface of his desk rapidly disappearing under reams of panicked interdepartmental memos – he doubted he even had dominion over his own office. Most of the vast machinery of government was hidden from the average pony. It watched and waited; trained, able and ready to react to any incident. Clear lines of authority and seniority meant any incident, no matter how lowly or shattering, would escalate smoothly and speedily to the eye of whichever pony had the ability to solve it. That was the theory. In practice,there were two major drawbacks. Firstly, the system was creaking under the weight of its own bloated size. Secondly … A loud knocking at the door shook Church Hill from his thoughts, a deep frown crumpling his features as he refocused his attentions on the sea of paper threatening to drown him. A second thumping of hoof-against-wood was more than his stretched patience could stand. “I couldn't fit any more reports in here if I started taping them to my flank!” He bellowed. “Find somepony else's wastepaper bucket to fill!” Undeterred, the door nonetheless swung open to admit a tall, pale stallion garbed in the ceremonial gold of the Royal Guard. “ … I'm hoping somewhere in that pile you can tell me something I don't already know.” “I'd love to chat, Captain, but the entire government is quite busy sending me the same report, appended with different cutie marks and varying wordage, telling me precisely the same thing and asking exactly the same question—“ Church Hill abruptly stopped mid-rant, clutching a piece of paper in his mouth and slapping it onto the top of a half-dozen others. “Under-Department for Solar Movements and Timings?! Am I to assume I'll shortly be contacted by the Office of Ice Cream and Party Hats? When did government get so … Unwieldy?” For his part, Shining Armour could manage only a smile. “I believe not long after the military stopped being the primary method for solving the government's problems.” Church Hill Snorted, “A military dictatorship would surely generate much less paperwork!” The Captain of the Royal Guard nodded, the smile disappearing from his features as he moved to the pressing business at hoof. “What do we know?” “Well I don't know what you know,” Church Hill sighed, finally glancing up from his desk. “But I'll hazard a guess that it's somewhere between “Very little” and “Almost nothing”. In all seriousness, we know precisely as much as anypony who sticks their head outside and looks up at the sky. For some reason – some unknown reason – the Sun is shining as brightly as it might on a short afternoon of the longest and darkest winter … In the middle of summer!” Shining Armour nodded. “... And the Princesses?” The old Stallion shook his mane ruefully. “Celestia made it clear, via a particularly terse message relayed by one of your particularly terse guardsponies, that she was not to be interrupted under any circumstances.” “Surely this qualifies as exceptional?” Shining Armour replied with a scowl, earning nothing more than a shrug and the same answer he'd received before from the greying Prime Pony. “Not to be interrupted ...” Church Hill repeated slowly, punctuating each word harshly, “Under. Any. Circumstances.” The Captain of he Royal Guard nodded, settling back on his haunches. “I've recalled all guardsponies to active duty, and have doubled patrols around the castle and Canterlot as a whole.” “Oh, excellent!” Church Hill sarcastically enthused, rolling his eyes behind the iron-framed glasses he wore. “We'll be well placed should the order come to prepare to invade the Sun and show it the error of its ways!” Shining Armour chose not to take the bait. “Princess Luna?” “What of her?” Church Hill muttered bitterly, “I imagine at this time of day – though it barely qualifies as such – she'll be fast asleep. Even were she wide awake and standing right in front of us, I imagine she'd be of limited use given her reluctance to get involved in … Well, anything much. At all. Haven't you anything more important to be getting on with, Captain? Didn't they give you a desk? Why isn't it overflowing like mine?” Shining Armour shrugged his shoulders, a ghost of a smile playing across his muzzle. “Other than reading an incident report from a patrol near the Everfree Forest, it's surprisingly empty. I have a junior officer take care of most of the paperwork.” “Hmph!” Church Hill grunted, “Chance would be a fine thing! Most of this stuff is too important, apparently, to be dealt with by anyone other than me. An incident at the Everfree Forest, eh? What transpired?” “I didn't have time to read the whole thing before … Well, whatever it is that's happened to the Sun happened, but I caught the gist. Two ponies broke the Royal Edict banning entry into Everfree without permission, apparently to help themselves to the stone making up some of the ruins deep inside the forest. Working for a Salesbury, one of those property magnates from Manehatten or so they said.” “Oh, I know of him,” Church Hill sneered. “Desecration of restricted stoneworks? As good a reason as any to throw out his dangerous, greedy development and put it to bed once and for all! How'd you come across them, anyway? I wasn't aware patrols venture very far into Everfree.” Shining Armour shook his mane. “They don't – the pair came galloping out, almost crashed into a half-dozen guardsponies on hoof; gibbering about magical explosions and stone righting itself back into the ground after they'd bucked them clean over. Didn't make a whole lot of sense. We're holding them while they calm down and we can get a straight answer out of the pair ...” An awkward silence descended between the two stallions, one looking thoughtful as the older one continued to frown and pour over the papers on his desk. “Where is Princess Celestia, exactly?” “What?” Church Hill grumbled, glancing up at the Captain of the Guard as if only just noticing his entry into the room. “Oh, the Royal Archives, I believe. First Circle Collection, no less. Whatever it is she's looking for, we can be sure nopony since Star Swirl has seen it either—“ Another knocking at the door interrupted Church Hill, who sucked in a lungful of air to blast a volley of choice words at the newest interruption. The lashing died on his lips however as he spied the yellow band tied around a scroll, levitating in the air as it was delivered through the door by a unicorn of the Royal Guard. Equestria's Prime Pony snatched the scroll from the messenger, who paused only long enough to salute his commanding officer, Shining Armour, before about facing and trotting from the office; taking care to close the door with another bout of unicorn magic. “It's from Celestia ...” Church Hill announced as soon as his eyes caught up with his mind, dropping the open parchment to the desktop and reclining on the cushion he sat upon. “Prepare to receive visitors to the castle, Captain ...” “ … Your sister and the Elements of Harmony are paying the capital a visit.” ~*~*~*~*~*~ Twilight Sparkle didn't love books; it was an annoying generalisation that seemed to follow her around as surely as the eight-pointed star on her flank. What she craved, desired – loved even – was knowledge. Some ponies got their thrills from swooping and soaring on the breeze … Like a certain rainbow-haired mare she knew. Some took joy from a good (and honest) hard day's work … Like a certain farmer she knew. Still others found it in a smile, or helping pull a thorn from a bunny's paw, or designing yet another marvellous dress. Information was Twilight's guilty pleasure. It just so happened that the biggest, most accessible sum of pony knowledge could be found in the form of books. Quite coincidentally, the largest repository of books just happened to be a library, which she happened to live in and thus, unavoidably, spent most of her free time in. Twilight Sparkle didn't love books. They were just convenient. She could stop reading them any time she wanted to. As if an inanimate object, just paper and words, could hold any kind of power over her. The very idea was preposterous! Slamming the book below closed with a touch of magic before levitating it to join the dozen or so dusty tomes piled high beside her, Twilight wrinkled her nose in a frown. If her interest in books was only because of the information they contained, then the lack of knowledge they were providing her right now meant she positively hated them. Maybe this was all just a waste of time. Still, she had to be sure and that meant more reading. Shrugging her shoulders, Twilight guided down the next thick volume from the rapidly emptying shelving above her horn. It always paid to be thorough, after all … And hate was such a strong word. Ears pressing against the side of her head, Twilight gave up the pretence. She wasn't fooling anyone – especially herself. She loved books like she loved making checklists. Glancing up from her books and her monologue, Twilight came face-to-chest with a very familiar, alabaster-coated pony. A very important, very familiar pony. Eyes widening, she struggled up to her hooves, overturning the heavy book and sending it crashing to the floor from the desk. “Princess!” Offering a small smile, Celestia dipped her head – doing her best to ignore the heavy mane that now draped over her shoulders, robbed of the ethereal wind that usually carried it so invisibly and so easily. “My Faithful Student … Have you made any progress?” Glancing at the pile of books by the desk, Twilight hung her head, a sigh escaping her lips. “I'm sorry Princess; I've only been able to get through twelve of the forty-eight volumes on the Combined Illustrated History of Equestria, Preceding States and Neighbours.” “Twelve?” Celestia chuckled, her eyes widening slightly as she surveyed the empty space on the shelving above the desk. “My dear Twilight … You've read twelve volumes already?” “Twice!” She admitted, levitating the fallen thirteenth book back onto the desktop. “In case I missed something on my first read-through.” “Then I dare say your efforts have surpassed mine,” The Princess of the Sun soothed. “What did you discover?” Pushing the nervousness that gnawed on the pit of her stomach even further down, Twilight fell back on her tried-and-tested talent for the organisational, the logistical. Whenever her mind struggled with the endless intricacies of socialising, it could always be relied upon when it came to facts. Sweet, cold, black-and-white facts. No interpretation, no exposition. Just read and repeat. She sucked in a lungful of air and launched into her answer. “At first I focused on the study of Solar – that is, I mean – your magic; ponies have been trying to understand its subtitles for almost as long as they've been writing books. I hit my first dead end there, I mean, how is anypony supposed to learn anything really specific about how you do what you do with the Sun? There were hundreds, thousands of articles but none of them went into any real depth.” Twilight pursed her lips, scanning her eyes around the books scattered around the main pile she'd accumulated. “Then I got to thinking that instead of going through the entire ponywork on Solar Magic, I should just find the greatest unicorn expert on it and go from there.” Finding the book in question, she quickly levitated it up into the air and span through its many pages. “Unsurprisingly, Star Swirl the Bearded was that unicorn. He wrote a book … Actually four and a fifth as an appendix, Called “A Treatise of the Magic of the Alicorn of the Sun”. It was really quite a fascinating read, I mean, did you know he theorised that you share a symbiotic relationship with the Sun itself? Well, I suppose you did know – do know. Anyway, what's important is he was sure the health of Equestria was irresistibly linked to the Sun and the Moon.” Taking a heaving breath in-between, Twilight leapt on. “Beyond that, Star Swirl never mentioned anything specifically regarding failure or weakness of that magic. That was my second dead-end, and I realised that I should be looking for possible historical accounts of issues with the Sun. Obviously there was the incident with Discord's release of a few months ago during which the cycle of day and night was disrupted. I believe that was due to the Elements of Harmony no longer being under the control of yourself and Princess Luna, rather than a failing of your magic in itself.” “Historical accounts of Equestria are fragmented,” She grumbled. “Virtually nothing factual survives from before the first defeat of Discord and the beginning of the Second Equestrian Renaissance, except Old Mare's Tales and–” “Like the Mare in the Moon?” Celestia interrupted, her expression unreadable even if the tone was warm enough to assure Twilight she hadn't overstepped the mark. “I suppose there's always some truth rooted in mythology ...” The Goddess of the Sun's small smile returned. “Ponies told stories long before they committed them to pages, my faithful student.” “I'm sorry Princess,” Twilight sighed, her horn igniting in a flash of magic as she began to pull books from the shelving. “I must have missed something, somewhere … I couldn't find any mention of anything like this happening before. I've only double-checked around a tenth of the Royal Archive! If I work through the night I might find something useful, something you can use–” Celestia's own horn shimmered in reply, freezing the books where they hovered and sending them neatly back into their places. “Twilight!” She began firmly, commanding the small unicorn's total attention. “You have already proven yourself to me and the whole of Equestria countless times. Even in a simple task like reading, you've gone beyond what I thought possible. I had hoped, of course, for a surprise but I think I always knew the answer to this wouldn't be found in the Archive. Besides, I believe the Sun is locked high in the sky. There won't be a night, tonight, to work through.” Turning away from the seemingly endless rows of bookshelves, the Princess called out over her shoulder. “Come – it's time your friends and the other Elements of Harmony learned of what we know and what we don't.” ~*~*~*~*~*~ “The Princess is currently indisposed,” The gold-clad Pegasus flanking the doorway repeated. Again. “Her Highness will arrive with Miss Sparkle shortly.” If the Guardspony was cool and aloof, the reply he received did its very best to test his temperament; stricken as it was and pleading, complete with a hoof-against-horn sigh for dramatic effect. “So you repeatedly enthuse! Whilst I would never be so presumptuous as to question the business of Royalty, I simply must return to my boutique at the Princess' earliest convenience! Whom else can carry the heavy burden of spearheading Fancy Pants' summer wardrobe?” “Um … Rarity?” “Of course I'm not insinuating that special treatment should be directed my way! Oh my, of course not! It's just I'm a very busy pony—” “Excuse me, Rarity … I just …” “— And I simply cannot spare a moment, let alone a day, away from my work and Sweetie Bell. Oh my, Sweetie Bell! It's not that I don't trust her; she's my sister after all, it's just that she often gets these fanciful ideas about helping me—” “What Fluttershy here is tryin' to say, a might too nicely,” A drawling voice interrupted, “Is that you ought to sit yer' preenin', fussin' flank down before you spin yerself silly worryin' 'bout nuthin at all!” The Pegasus guarding the doorway cleared his throat, in the closest his duty would allow him to a nod. Rarity gasped, spinning around on her hooves with a look of hurt etched upon her features. “Applejack!” “You were worrying … A little bit,” Fluttershy sort-of-but-not-really agreed “… Hardly any, I mean.” Face almost entirely hidden by the weather-worn hat pulled down over her eyes, Applejack chuckled. “You'd surely think a pony as fancy as Rarity would be thrilled, being whisked to Canterlot and such, even if she were terribly busy. The rest of us simple ponyfolk, what with our easy lives buckin' a field or six of apple trees from sun up to sunset … Well, we're just plain-up lovin' this unexpected downtime.” “Well ...” Rarity grumbled, upturning her chin and doing her best to look put out. “You were snoring rather loudly earlier, dear. I simply don't believe you could have been any more relaxed.” Applejack shrugged, and tipped the brim of her hat even further downwards. “Like I said, sugarcube; Sun up to sunset. The Princess and Twilight will be right on through just as soon as they're ready to see us. In the meantime, why don't you just sit yourself down and see how long you can bare the notion that the business of Equestria don't revolve 'round you.” “Discretion is the better part of valour I suppose ...” Rarity conceded, moving the discussion onwards. “Where is Rainbow Dash? I assume her presence was likewise requested and required? Applejack?” Glancing over her shoulder, the Dressmaker rolled her eyes at the sight of the sleeping mare in the straw hat. “How rude!” Fluttershy offered a weak smile. “Uh, I think I saw her flying around the castle … At least, well … I think it was Rainbow Dash; it was mostly a blue blur but I'm sure I recognised her mane.” “Oh, marvellous!” Rarity snapped irritably. “At least she's getting on with something! And Pinkie? Where in Equestria has she gotten off to?” “Surprise!” The very mare in question yelled, leaping out from behind the same gold-clad pegasus that had been the source of Rarity's earlier repetitive conversation. Letting out a most unladylike yelp Rarity scattered across the room; galloping through a cloud of coloured confetti that slowly drifted downwards, landing on top of the table Fluttershy had sought refuge under. Coming to her senses at the same time she realised her mane was thoroughly ruined by the unimaginable twin acts of running and confetti, Rarity wheeled around on her hooves. “Pinkamena Pie! What have we discussed regarding unannounced entrances!” Sticking her tongue out, eyes rolling up towards the ceiling, Pinkie hummed and hmm'd and otherwise strove to ponder. After a few minutes spent recalling, the party pony cracked her forehoof against the stone floor; sending Fluttershy back under the table she was just emerging from. “They're reserved for Princesses and Monsters!” Pinkie smiled proudly. “ … Quite,” Rarity sighed. “Well, where in the name of Celestia have you been?” Pinkie settled on her haunches. “I heard a rumour about a special department of the government. Really secretive, really important and you know how much I love mysteries!” “Secret department? Sounds dangerous ...” A muffled voice squeaked from underneath the table. Blowing her drooping, candy-floss mane up and out of her eyes, Pinkie's grin grew even wider. “Nothing to worry about, Fluttershy! Using my super-duper powers of sleuthing and detecting, I discovered it doesn't really exist!” Rarity frowned. “What doesn't?” “The Office of Ice Cream and Party Hats. Hey! You don't think that's why the Princess called us here, do you? To solve this mystery?” Fluttershy and Rarity exchanged mutual glances of total confusion, before the Dressmaker simply nodded. “Whilst I don't doubt the importance of your discovery, dear, I'm sure the Princess wouldn't have felt the need to request our collective presence for something so … Well, unique to your skill set.” “Just because it doesn't exist, doesn't mean we can't have one!” Pinkie cheered, donning a party hat with means and from places unknown. Now all we need is Ice Cream!” Peeking her head out from underneath the table, Fluttershy looked on expectantly. Even Rarity, in her best efforts to look detached, couldn't help but subconsciously lick her lips. Ice Cream would be simply wonderful in alleviating the frustration of their long wait, after all. “Ah could sure use some,” Applejack yawned from across the room. “Silly Ponies!” Pinkie giggled. “I don't just carry Ice Cream! Duh; how would I stop it from melting?” Rarity flicked a hoof through her mane. “But of course,” She chuckled. “That would be simply impossible, quite unlike divining the future with tweaks and twirls of your tail, or befriending the grumpiest donkey in all of Equestria. All of those things are quite reasonable!” “Surely are!” Pinkie squealed, bounding up and down as her afore-mentioned tail suddenly climbed up and stood erect as if made from glass. “Oh! Here comes something!” Fluttershy withdrew back under the table she had fortified against all comers, while Applejack climbed to all fours and eyed the room around her suspiciously. Rarity, meanwhile, pretended not to take notice whilst at the same time backing away until her flank brushed against a wall and she span around in fright. All of them had long ago learned the foolishness in dismissing the powers of Pinkie to foretell the future. “Nothing to worry about, girls!” Pinkie reassured. “It's Rainbow Dash!” Several seconds elapsed, until Rarity broke the silence. “Are you sure, dear?” Pinkie nodded, hopping on the spot. “Surely sure!” The seconds became minutes, and cautiously, Rarity ambled forwards. Assuming the brash pegasus wasn't planning on making a grandiose entrance by coming straight through solid stone, she made her way towards the only window in the chamber. Cautiously glancing out, the unicorn could see only blue sky above and Canterlot below. The words forming on Rarity's lips were abruptly replaced by a strangled cry, as the sky above and Canterlot below began to interchange rapidly, along with the occasional glimpse of rainbow and what might have been the ceiling. Tumbling backwards, it took an instinctual flash of her magic to bring the impromptu conflagration of ponies to a safe halt. Jumping to her hooves, wings flaring outwards Rainbow Dash shook her mane from her eyes and bowed, as though the entire room had bust into rapturous hoof-stomping. “That. Was. Awesome!” ~*~*~*~*~*~ The air itself stank, and the trees died. Great palls of sickly-grey smoke coiled lazily upwards, forming hundreds of pyres that together turned the light of the sun a mockery of orange. Soot and ash blew on the winds, as wood was blackened to charcoal and leaves burnt to nothingness. Enormous chunks of twisted, cracked stone lay buried in the ground where they had fallen from a great height; containing the broken shards of ornate, stained windows that more resembled toothy, leering maws. The sweeping citadel that had once stood in the centre of the forest; once marked with jutting spires, arcing buttresses and numerous sweeping towers was naught but a ragged ring of burnt stone and burning tapestries. With every passing moment the terrific fire within fed on incalculably valuable works of art and science, consuming miracles of ponykind as easily as the air surrounding. Dropping from the sky as grotesque parodies of shooting stars, molten balls of precious metals and stone long since exploded free of the citadel rained down. Eventually the flames grew too hot, the smoke to acrid and thick, and a blanket of choking black blocked out the best effort of the Sun. Each tree in a forest of thousands had stood for over a century and each tree, in turn, smouldered, burned and died or was simply smashed asunder by flying stone and mortar. Some were uprooted in a single, titanic action – others sheared in half and left mimicking the once great citadel they had surrounded. Nothing could live here now and see. Some were present but they could neither live, nor see. They were left where they had fallen; muzzles buried into the ash and soot, hoofs still protectively thrown over their manes. Nothing could live here now and see. But one single creature did still live and see. Sporting a coat of black marred only with a splash of purple and with a single, great horn and a pair of wings it stalked through the ash. It walked the perimeter of the burning stone, and it paused before each of its little ponies where they lay. Moon Beam. Sky Light. Sun Chaser. Criss-Cross. Bright Star. Neutron Blue. Star Swirl. … Princess Luna. The City of Ever Free was lost. “Little One ...” Drawing a deep breath into her lungs, Luna composed herself and opened her eyes. The familiar sight of Nightmare Moon stood opposite, green orbs narrowed in concern. “It is more traditional to have your dreams while you sleep.” The Princess looked away. “Sometimes, I am not even sure I am awake.”