//------------------------------//
// Nine Numbers 
// Story: Diprosopus 
// by WritingSpirit 
//------------------------------//

	"They're so adorable!!"

"No doubt about it, sugarcube," Applejack responded to Sweetie Belle.

All of them were circled around Rainbow Dash, who grinned with motherly pride at every peering face of wonder at her two identical, newborn daughters through the window in each minuscule bed, quietly napping in the incubators of Canterlot Hospital. Her hoof was entwined with the stronger, supporting ones of her husband, fatigue having overwhelmed her during labor and her transfer from Cloudsdale at the request of her friends. The cloud city is a too great distance from Canterlot for help to come quickly if attacked, not to mention the unintentional harboring of other ponies that don't possess the pegasi-born ability of cloud-walking. Of course, a guarantee of safety is presently out of the question.
Soarin' wrapped a wing around his wife, nuzzling her snout tenderly once the mare requested to settle down and catch a breath. It was admittedly rare for the usually brash pegasus to lean against his shoulder or his chest even, and to snuggle up with the father of her children, and vice versa, felt more comfortable than before.

He remembered clearly the first time they met officially: at the Grand Galloping Gala all those years ago. Despite how embarrassing it turned out to be, their second opportunity of a meeting wasn't far behind when she joined the Wonderbolt Academy. Being the only pony that stood up to hard-headed, all-out commander Spitfire in place of her usually compassionate side while on duty, it really was a discussion that lasted through the night; one which the mare involved wasn't exactly pleased on. It only made their - and particularly his - admiration grow for Rainbow Dash and, secretly reserved only to himself, affections as well.
They had hung out a while: racing around the tracks, getting a bite at the local diner and the usual whatnot. There were a few 'alone times' they had together, where the mare would usually fall asleep during one of their lengthy conversations. It was not after Fenderville, when they had reunited from the tricks of Pinkie Pie, that they decided to take it to the next level.

"Now look where we are..." he muttered quietly.

"Hmm?" came the voice of Rainbow Dash, glancing up at the colt. Her usually hasty tone was soft, sincere even, and the stallion couldn't help but laugh a little at that.
"What's so funny?" she asked, the annoyed rasp in her voice coming back in again.

"Nothing..." he replied.
"It's just... it's been awhile that you and I were just... mates, y'know? Before the 'soul' of soul-mates came in and have a party and whatever."

"And?"

"Remember?" the Wonderbolt began, holding his wife's hooves.
"We had our little talks and stuff? Like the time you said how over-obsessive I am about pies?" she giggled at that, "or how you saved us all during the Young Flyer's Competition? That was some serious stuff back then."

"Yeah, I guess..." Rainbow softly replied.
"What about it?"

"Not much. Just that..."
Soarin' sighed, which confused the already bewildered mare even more. The energetic, joyful bounce of the stallion had left him, leaving a somber shell, deprived of enthusiasm and excitement that every Wonderbolt should have, which somewhat made her worry.
"You..." he started again after a moment of hanging silence.
"You were the best mare I could ever ask for."

Rainbow just stared at her husband with wide eyes at his admittedly-sudden compliment, before smiling and pecking his cheek, laughing softly underneath her breath. Of course she wouldn't understand, Soarin' said to himself, forcing out a smile of his own and hugging her tight. She didn't know about that night.
A small tap on the shoulder made them both turn, meeting the beaming face of Spitfire. She gave Rainbow a congratulatory hug, much like the rest of her over-excited friends.
"They look just like their mother," she remarked.

That was the third time somepony said that. The first one to mention about it was Twilight, who started blabbering about how impossible of its occurrence, or their appearances were strange from the point of genetics and some sort of science gibberish. Despite looking identical at first glance, Firefly had her mother's amethyst eyes, while her younger sister, Mayfly, had her father's emerald ones. Whatever that caused it was less of a bother to Rarity, who was next in line on commenting how similar they were to Rainbow as well as offer her sincere blessings. To be precise, they only had their mother's signature mane; their coat color was of paternal inheritance.
"So, Soarin'," his captain continued.
"Wanna hang out a little? We hadn't had a small chit-chat ever since Rainbow got... ahem, dashed, if you know what I mean."

"Y-Yeah," Soarin' replied bashfully, scratching his mane.
"But RD, she might... you know, need her husband around."

"What are you talking 'bout, Soar?"
Rainbow Dash placed her head on his shoulder, giving him a smile that practically made his heart flutter, what with her glistening eyes and streaking mane. The rest of them snickered at her sudden affectionate actions, which prompted her to shoot a stone-dead glare at them, humphing with resentment.
"Just go on and have some fun time for once," she continued.
"I'll be fine with these guys around me. Plus, it's your captain wanting to have a talk with you here."

"Fine," came his reply.
"But don't go do any flight stunts yet. Doctor's orders."

"Whatever."

Soarin' shook his head and groaned, with Spitfire laughing at his burden as they both stepped out of the hospital, leaving Rainbow to be willingly swamped with the chatting of her friends. Their Wonderbolt instincts guided them closer to the sky, and proved itself once again, leading them up a flight of stairs and onto the roof, the gentle whip of a breeze blowing their manes in the sunset.
Both pegasi trotted towards the edge, resting their heads on the ledge as they stared into the growing, rural landscape of Canterlot. They were in the suburban parts of town, where among the articulately-designed architecture of spiraling towers and houses, there were shabby apartments and worn stacks of buildings, topped with chimneys rippling with gray smoke that could rival a steam-train. Heck, some 'smart' ponies even named this rural area 'Little Manehatten' due to its resemblance, with many these days suggesting it to be the lair of the Masque himself.

"Ah, Canterlot," Spitfire murmured.
"Remember our days at Canterlot Uni? Damn, those days were awesome!"

"Y-Yeah..." Soarin' began with a grunt.
"Awesome."

"Cheer up, you little grump!"
The mare gave him a nudge, strong enough to budge him a little. With a rustle of her wings, Spitfire soon trotted to the side, glancing at the palace standing in sheer brilliance amid the Canterlotian scene. Of course, the stallion followed suit, curiosity drawing him when he saw his captain close his eyes, relishing the wind gently flowing through her neck.
"Remember, Soar?" she began again, albeit more reluctantly with eyes still shut.
"What day it is?"

"For Celestia's sake, do we have to go through this again?"

"Really, this matters a lot to you, and to Rainbow Dash," she snapped, turning to him and opening her eyes. There was a reason his mood was droopy, and she knew why. Defiance governed her like how rage was governing him, and both forces clashed through their fierce glares, wanting the other pony to stand down.
"Just think for a minute," the mare prodded onward.
"What if she found out about the night I found you? What if she knew you did something wrong that night; something any of us weren't sure of, and she would just decide to leave you--"

"Nothing happened that night!"
Those voices in his head returned: screams for mercy; pleas for sympathy; cries that go 'spare me, spare me' over and over like a jackhammer drilling into his head and heart. They always return on this specific day and no matter how hard he tried to cage it, it would always come crashing back to him.
"She's nothing to me..." he continued coldly, suppressing his tears.
"So what if today was our anniversary. She decided to ruin it in the most horrendous of ways. She made sure I finished it. She deserved to die."

"Soarin, please..." Spitfire pleaded.
"I need to know what happened that night. I'm your best friend, right? Best friends can share secrets--"

"You don't even CARE!!"

A small gasp escaped from her mouth, her shocked eyes staring down at the panting figure that is her best friend and partner ever since high school. She bit her lip, turning away slowly and allowing time for Soarin' to realize his rueful mistake, his frown softening to a look of regret.
"S-Spitfire...?" he called out to the trembling mare.
"I-I'm sorry, okay...? H-Hey?"

Soarin' was suddenly yanked forward, and in that dazed second, he felt his lips forcefully mashed against hers for a short moment. The shocking realization of his best friend's abrupt act prompted him to break it apart by pushing her away, collapsing backwards onto the floor as a result.
The mare would've expected him to yell already, though all that came was a small, shivering pant of a sigh. She hesitantly watched as he glanced up, steeling his face with fracturing confidence and asked:

"W-Why?"

"Because I cared," was the soft reply.
"You've done so much for me for so long, and when I lost my husband and foal, you still stuck by my side and comforted me. Whatever happened all those years ago just made me wish that I could protect you, but then I remembered I denied your request for asking me out..."

"So... y-you loved me?"

"Not anymore," Spitfire continued awkwardly.
"When I saw you and Rainbow being so happy together, I saw the real you. The reason I wanted you to join the Wonderbolts is because you have that passion for flying, and I admit, I wanted to get closer to you after so long and hopefully make you much more than the weather pony you were. But when I got Rainbow into the Academy... I could see it in the both of you. You two were perfect for each other and.. I don't want to get in the way of that. I kissed you because... I'm your oldest friend whom you fell in love with back in high school, before all of that, and honestly, if I had a second chance... I would be glad to return your feelings again. But I know it's not meant to be anymore. If I had said yes, m-maybe you wouldn't be with her all those years ago, if she was really that horrible..."

Soarin' was left speechless, cheeks already becoming as red as her friend's. With a gulp, he trotted forward, holding his breath with every nearing step towards his captain. She watched patiently, waiting for him to open his mouth and speak, though it seems speech is silver this time.
The gold mare let out a gasp; a more surprised one at that, when she felt her comrade hugging her tight. A grand tint of red filled her face, her heart hammering in her chest once she saw his overjoyed smile, which tingled her eyes with tears. Embarrassingly, she was the first to gasp out a sob, regret flushing through her nerves in the embrace of the stallion she once loved.
"I-I'm sorry..." she whimpered.

"Don't be," he whispered.
"We were always the best of friends. You know that very well. Even the rest of the team knows it. Just because we don't love each other anymore doesn't mean we can't be friends, right? And plus, you did nothing wrong. None of us did."

"I j-just missed it," Spitfire admitted suddenly.
"How it feels like, I couldn't remember..."

"How what feels like?"

"The way he holds me. How he tells me the sweetest things, his voice..."

No wonder she gave him a kiss, Soarin' figured. The feelings of their troubling past, all returning back on the same day and concerning relationships that were shattered and broken, with no way of letting it out. He had Rainbow Dash by his side, but she? She lost it all. And no one was there to help her.
"Who knows," he began.
"Maybe... maybe next time there would be somepony who would understand you like how he did. Maybe he would love you for the same reasons that he did. Maybe someday you might meet somepony that knows you like Rainbow Dash knows me, and if it happens, just know I'll be there to help you. Friends help each other, right?"

Spitfire started to smile; one that Soarin' knew suits her best. There goes the sappy, vulnerable mare she was a few seconds ago, and back comes the harsh, disciplined captain in her happiest of moods, made evident when she nudged his shoulder.
"Friends help each other, alright," she declared with pride, sniffling the last of her insecurities away.

"Especially the best of friends."




O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O



"Every pilgrim is accounted for, Your Highness."

"And that again is a feat you achieved, Master Plow," came the voice of Princess Terra, flowering with lithe grace and rich with fertile kindness that outmatches the soil beneath their hooves and the overgrown trees shading them from the blazing sun. She sat on a throne of intertwined snakes of wood with a bedding of flowers and leaves cushioning her slender figure. It was etched with unbelievably detailed etchings of flora and fauna; the type where one would question the time taken for the woodcarver to finish such an intricate job. Then again, it probably took a millennium to build the cathedral they were in. Her Cutie Mark suited her well: a small daisy with a butterfly perched above it.
She was certainly a motherly figure, from how she pertained to the animals gathering around her like eager children waiting for the prospect of storytelling and the wise yet eager smile she was wearing as she was tending to them, to the gentle gestures of her hoof like grass in a spring breeze. If grace were a pony, the alicorn would be the perfect pony for its place.
"I trust you would do a great job by the next pilgrimage," she continued.
"I hope as well that you can please me with the results, Master Plow."

"The pleasure is mine, Your Highness."

Of course, the caravan (with the exception of Brutus, who was still unconscious from his injuries) stared in utter confusion. From their conversation, it seemed Parish was of a higher status than the Princess he was reputed to serve under. Their eyes flitted in awkward silence among the group, though it was not enough to avert the attention of the princess herself.
"You must be wondering why the term 'Master', my little ponies?" she asked, to which they nodded.
"It's a formal greeting of my servants and I. We treat each other as equals and cooperate with each other with equal respect, for I don't rule a nation, only a belief of nature."

"So Your Highness controls nature?" Phoenix asked.
"Like how Celestia controls the sun and Luna controls the moon?"

Princess Terra gave a small, firm nod, making the caravan chatter with glee. So there was more to these alicorns than just the two regal sisters themselves! It was quite captivating really, how the forces of the world revolve around these beings. It was exciting enough to trudge into the domain of an alicorn, but to meet one face to face, especially at such a remote place?
"Luster told me all about you!" Pinkie exclaimed, the mentioned spirit dancing fervently about her princess.
"You have a really, really nice home! There's so many plants and so many animals living here!"

The alicorn smiled at her compliment. It was a wondrous home indeed, despite looking abandoned and overgrown with ferns and moss. Take the dining room they were in, for example; the table they were talking over was the stump of a gigantic tree, with smaller stumps accommodating as chairs for each and every one of them to seat as they patiently wait for a fulfilling lunch.
"I'm glad you like it, my pink one," came the gentle reply.
"Although I am a little curious as to why the interests of those foul souls were reserved only for you."

"We're not sure as of yet, Your Highness." Velvet answered in her defense.
"Perhaps the answer behind this absurdity would come to light. As of now, we can only hope but to avoid such encounters."

"Of course, of course."

Even a princess respects one's privacy, Pinkie surmised, as the emerald alicorn soon clicked her hooves instead of pursuing the topic, signaling for lunch to be served. Sure enough, a couple of pilgrims circled the table, serving to them salads of sliced, juicy tomatoes, finely-diced onions and slivers of lettuce with one or two exotic fruits mixed in between, all clutched in the bowels of their respective reed bowls. Ganger himself, despite protests about his injuries, decided it was a great occasion to display his talent of the culinary arts, and with fortunate luck, he soon trotted up and seated himself next to her sister, proudly savoring his own creation.
The feast went as quick as it has begun, before one by one the empty plates were taken away. Conversations soon resumed, ranging from everyday jokes to the caravan's appreciations for the pilgrim's treatment on their wounds.

"Speaking of which," Phoenix said to Parish.
"When you lead the pilgrims into the fog, where did all of you go?"

"Our Holy Mother guided us through the fog," the aged stallion answered.
"We were utterly lost, but soon we have hobby-lanterns like Luster here," he and the said spirit exchanged winks, "showing the way out of the fog, up to the shrine and into a hidden chamber, to hide away from them pegasi until those rogues fled."

"But you left us behind..."

"Forgive me, Master Mellow," the alicorn replied.
"For the aura of your group and those ponies are obscured. Perhaps it was the flaming nature of your tail that contributed to it, but otherwise, I myself am glad that you are safe."

"An apology isn't really necessary, Your Highness," the caravan leader began sheepishly with a dismissive laugh, prompting the rest of the band to laugh along as well.
"It was just a misunderstanding, t'is all!"

Another chorus of chortles, before the members of the caravan stood up, excusing themselves from the table as both separate groups set off to tend to their duties. Pinkie herself felt a little reluctant to leave, however; being in the presence of Princess Terra soothed her qualms somehow.
Her mind wandered to the plans of the caravan. Due to Brutus's condition, they've agreed to have an extended stay in the Duilliúr Shrine, with the permission of the alicorn herself, of course. The rest of the caravan soon tended to their wounds; a result of an ambush from those 'Umbra Fuga' ponies, and Pinkie, being the least injured of the group, could only pray for the sake of her friends, especially the minotaur.

Perhaps what stung her the most was the sight of Selena trying the best not to cry over Ollivander's twisted talon last night. She was practically sniffling with tears dripping down her eyes, hooves shivering whilst wrapping bandages around the gryphon's injured limb, all the while he watched with somber silence, hugging her tight at the end of it all.
She bit her lip at the memory of it, trotting towards the welcoming shade of a tree. Its low-hanging branches and immensely large leaves made it a perfect dwelling of privacy; a solace she could escape from, where the worries of the world won't find her. It was here that she finally settled, resting her curved katana on a nearby rock as she laid her head against the trunk of the giant tree.

"Pinkamena Diane Pie.."

"Wha!"
Pinkie jolted from surprise, staring straight into the beady black eyes of Luster the hobby-lantern, who giggled heartily at her surprised expression. A queer rustling of leaves proved the spirit was not alone, before stepping out of the undergrowth, with a smile that spelled serenity, was none other than Princess Terra herself.
"Y-Your Highness?" she stammered, slightly perplexed.
"Were y-you searching for me?"

"Not at all, Pinkie Pie," the alicorn replied.
"I had a hunch you would be here anyway. It was always the best spot to hide away from the rest of the world and immerse into your own."

The pink mare started to blush at that, to which the other pony chuckled. With steady calmness, Terra soon settled herself next to her, tucking her hooves in and extending a wing around Pinkie, who giggled at the brief tickling of feathers that paved the way for warmth. Luster zipped about for a second, before nestling herself into Pinkie's cotton-fluff of a mane, purring at its softness.
"So I've heard that you couldn't remember your past," she began, to which Pinkie reluctantly nodded.
"It would surely be an inevitable struggle you have to face, but a struggle you would overcome otherwise. There were many ponies like you who came here, lost in the world, with nowhere to go, but all they need is a path to put them back on track again."

"Really?" the pink mare asked. The thought of ponies that went through and struggled in the same delirium as her never came until now, provoking her head and, simultaneously, her voice, to ask:
"What happened to them?"

"They went looking for their true selves. Their direction in life."
The princess inhaled slowly, letting the chirping of exotic birds fill in the small gap of silence she had made when she stared into the distance. Pinkie just stared at her in slight puzzlement, unsure of what to do except to glance around and counting the bountiful leaves on the branches, with Luster basically rolling her eyes at her ridiculous decision to do so.
It was about a minute when the alicorn suddenly sighed, halting her in her pointless counting. Hazel eyes stared back at her, where beneath all of its perplexing nature that she was looking into, came a question:

"How many leaves?"

"What?" Pinkie asked, confused.
"Can you ask again, if you don't mind, Your Highness?"

"How many leaves did you count unto?" the alicorn repeated with more clarity.

"Five-hundred and ninety-seven."

The answer was simple, yet whatever motives did Princess Terra inquire for it was much more of a puzzler. It was easy to pick up from where she had left; if she had lost count or ended up at the same leaf, she could just pry out the exact number and position held by the previous leaf and resume from there.
Pinkie would've smiled proudly with glee if not for the alicorn's inquisitive stare, which was at the very least intimidating, if not disturbing. Insecurity soon swept from underneath her hooves when Terra broke her gaze, closing her eyes in studious judgement.
"I see no lie in your eyes," she spoke, her voice hardening.
"Proof enough that I can trust you."

"But what is it for, Your Highness?" Pinkie couldn't help but ask.
"Is it really important?"

"For you, yes."
Princess Terra beckoned her hoof, picking up a gentle wind that blew her, much to the other pony's amazement, a sheet of paper and a peacock quill. Horn glowing a faint caramel, she soon scribbled on the parchment the numbers one to ten, which somewhat only confused and intrigued Pinkie more.
"Let's say I use these numbers in place of your leaves," she continued.
"Now I ask: how many numbers do you see on the paper?"

"Um... ten?"

"Good. Now assuming I wipe out the number 'nine' from existence," and she did so by smudging it away, leaving only the clean surface of paper, with a few black stains remaining, "meaning in this world, the number itself, the symbol representing it and even the knowledge of its existence would be wiped out. Now with that said, how many numbers are there?"

"Nine!" Pinkie replied confidently.

"Correct. However...!"
The alicorn beckoned her closer, hoof gently pinpointing towards the smudge.
"As I have said, the number nine does not exist anymore." she reminded, and Pinkie widened her eyes with realization. With that, Terra and the unusually silent Luster watched as the pink mare pondered, trying her best to retain her persistence as she did so.

"I don't know..." she finally exclaimed, sighing after a few minutes of silent wondering.
"It's impossible! Nine comes after eight, and it also comes before ten! If nine does not exist, how can we count from eight to ten?"

"Exactly," Princess Terra replied.
"Numbers need every digit to be present for mathematics to work. Time works in a similar way: we need the past for the present, and the present for the future in turn. The past needs the present so that we realize it's the past, and similarly the future needs the present for it to become known as the future. When you know your past, you know why you are the pony now. You identify yourself and connect yourself with others. For example, if the past event of you meeting Luster would've been erased, would the two of you be the friends you are now?"

Pinkie glanced up at the mentioned hobby-lantern, exchanging similar grins and giggles as they simultaneously gave the exact, same answer with a bubbly cheer in their voices:
"No!"

"So there must be a reason why you had three balloons as a Cutie Mark, right? What about the way that you smile, or the way that you use your blade for example. It's all these little things that tell us who we are and, in turn, what happened in the past."

"But you can't really tell, right, Your Highness?" the pink mare asked.
"There must be more than one reason that somepony must be happy, angry or sad!"

"Indeed as well."
Princess Terra rose from the ground, flourishing underneath the splendor of nature: her creation. With only time to ponder, Pinkie watched as she slowly strode away, Luster following along like an entranced firefly, willing to do her bidding.
"I recall that Phoenix mentioned of a pony in Valewood?" she piped up suddenly.
"A friend of one of your companions? The one he said will aid you in your troubles, if I am correct? I had met him personally before," the pink mare stopped to blink in disbelief, "where he was in the same situation as you: lost, confused, with no goal he could face. He knows of your condition and, hopefully through the method he used to solve his, you might remember a bit of your past from him as a result. I myself recommend that you go for it."

Pinkie nodded reluctantly, prompting her to continue:
"Just remember that this might be a chance to find out who you really are, and that it's not what happened, but why it happened and the results it gave to you that matters. Nopony would stop you if you decline the offer. Remember that."

With that said, the alicorn soon trotted out of her view, the words slowly squirming through the nerves in her head. Despite feeling a little disappointed about establishing such a small conversation, it was, to her, fruitful in some ways, beneficial as a whole.
Pinkie glanced to the side, the parchment with an empty number left behind along with the quill. Sighing softly, she slowly drew the missing number back and, although not the best imitation of Princess Terra's articulate style of writing, it somehow gave a sense of completion. A fulfillment in emptiness. A restored hope.

And suddenly, the distant lights of civilization seemed to grow brighter.




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"So you're suggesting that Professor Page have connections with his captors?"

"Not entirely correct," Twilight Sparkle rebounded, glancing at the faces.
"From what I can see in his journal entries, Professor Page knew what he was up against, but he has no clear idea of whom his captors were. There were references to power and unity with malicious intent: an indication that Janus is gathering forces from many nations, be it bandits, ruffians, scavengers and the like, which shows that he is certainly amassing an army as we speak."

Every ministers' heads nodded at her explanation, some jotting down her words, some waiting patiently to hear more. Among those ponies were other species as well, with examples such as gryphons, minotaurs, cervines and even changelings, to name a few. Ironically, the one she was most acquainted it was the one her mentor was most intimidated by, which was none other than the representative for the Sovereign Federation of Draconis: Kane himself.
The dragon was in the center of the room, his dignity held high despite him presently wearing a look of palpable annoyance. Applejack did mention of a particular interrogation in this very exact conference room, with the same pair of eyes that once cowered from his grand size now staring up to him, greeting him as yet another friend.

"And no other mentions of his captors?"

"Only about the ways he was dealt by them."
Twilight flipped through the page, the disturbing chronology of the deceased professor's tribulations flooding back from the fading text into her memory. She'd rather not say it aloud, lest it would disgust the ministers who usually compromised in none of these affairs.
"To my belief," she continued her hypotheses.
"Janus probably finished searching what he wanted in Saddle Arabia, and decided to release the professor so that he could escape to Canterlot. There might be a chance that it was intentional: that he wanted Professor Page to be dealt with here to 'prove' how the Ministry aren't handling things properly."

"But wouldn't that mean..."

"That Janus has discovered what he was searching for, yes."

Her assumption (and a dangerous one it was) incited a flurry of murmurs, some tinted with fear, some with anger. She herself would be appalled if Janus actually did find something of such major importance for his siege on Equestria. Already he was feared by ponies; the thought of him obtaining something possibly powerful to aid him would've caused mass hysteria in the streets.
"We can't possibly be sure what is is," she began.
"Hopefully Professor Page had made a reminder about it somewhere, perhaps in the later pages I have yet to read. For now, we need to be sure how Janus abducted and settled with the professor in the first place. We know that the professor was killed by the so-called 'plumber' and the weatherpony, the latter having been paid to do so. As of now, we need to know his connections in the Saddle Arabian populace."

"What of his other contacts?" one minister quipped from the upper circle of benches.
"Like the Masque of Canterlot himself? Surely this Janus pony must have a way to obtain enough bits that rival the Royal Vault. Wouldn't you think that the Masque be funded by him to steal the priceless items, sell it and send the money to him?"

"I don't think the Masque has any involvement in this."
The minister's claim was nothing short of ridiculous, at least, in Twilight's opinion. She knew him (unbeknownst to them) long enough to know that there was no way he had any associations with Janus. Plus, she and Scootaloo had a talk about him and, although both said they didn't know his true identity, both agreed his intentions seem beneficial. After all, without him, she and Scootaloo wouldn't even have a chance to communicate and share a few laughs as well.
"Both of them operated differently," she continued.
"The Masque leaves traces to indicate he has struck. Janus, on the other hoof, would never do that. He doesn't taunt us and if he does, he shows them in the form of murders. If the Masque murders somepony, don't you think it would tarnish his image in the suburbs as a hero?"

All heads, even Kane's, nodded understandingly, leaving the unicorn to sigh with relief. It just doesn't feel right to involve the Masque in these political mess, it just doesn't! She never knew why; it was some sort of twinge in her gut that told her that.
"Until then, this is all I could obtain so far from the professor's records," she said, signaling the end of the short conference.
"Twilight Sparkle. Out."

It wasn't necessary for the conference, but more for the recording of it for confirmation. Twilight wasn't surprised that with all the chaos happening these days, the Princess wants every meeting to be recorded and archived, so as to make sure of any changes that took place from conventional laws.
She strode towards the desk, where a small stack of books, including the journal, were placed, along with quills, scrolls and the like. The ministers were already shuffling out slowly, with the ambassadors soon following. Kane was the only one that gave her a congratulatory pat on her back, to which she happily appreciated; she wasn't used to presenting her work, and when she did, she always ended up shaking and sweating like a washed-up cat!

All in all, Twilight was, as expected, the last to finish tidying up. Placing the last of her quills in the satchel, she turned back to glance at the current focus: the tattered journal itself.
Snapping open its golden latch, she squinted down at the obscured handwriting, shaky and crooked as the spirit of the pony who wrote this at that time. She had been disappointed for a while and, putting on her glasses, was wishing for a different and more fruitful outcome this time, as she turned back to scan the scribbled wall of text.

"I suppose I s'ould zank you..."

The lavender mare yelped in surprise at the all-too familiar voice, turning up to the higher benches to see a caped figure placing his hooves at the banister, clapping slowly. He rose from his seat, striding down the stairs huskily yet smoothly with his mask still intact, shimmering slightly in the plain daylight. Twilight gulped as he approached her, his Venetian Bauta mask designed into a twisted, yin-yang-esque black and white.
"Thank me?" she asked, his previous sentence finally coming up to her.
"For what?"

"For securing my innosenze," he replied, surprising her.
"I watched ze whole zing, and I muz admit, you were brilliant up there."

"Um... y-you're welcome, I g-guess..."
Twilight wanted to smack herself: was she actually blushing? Was she so flattered by the comment of some anonymous pony who happened to be the most wanted pony in Canterlot? "Get a hold of yourself, Twilight Sparkle!" she screamed in her head, fumbling with her glasses. "You're not supposed to get acquainted with a criminal in the first place!"

"Which reminds me," the stallion spoke suddenly.
"How's ze filly? Scoo Zer Loo, ai-je raison? Is that her name?"

"Yeah. She's fine now."
The mare bit her lip, watching as he nodded, staring at the daylight streaming through the windows and muttering inaudibly underneath his breath.
"Thank you as well," she muttered.

"Hmm?"

"For Scootaloo's sake," she explained.
"She told me you came to her on the day she saw the body, after we were all gone. She said you listened to her and it was with your words that she wanted to apologize to me. There's nopony else to thank but you for that."

"Not a problem, mademoiselle. But you must return ze connection as well."
With a glint of his mask, he soon hopped towards one of the windows, opening the shutters up before turning back to her with a small grin, reminding her before hopping out of the window into the dazzling light of the afternoon:
"Remember zat she needs an ear to listen to what she 'az to say."

"If z'ere is none, zen z'ere shall never be true companionship."




O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O



"Was this suppose to mean something?"

"Of course, Spike," Rarity answered.
"To begin with, this was an excerpt from the journal Twilight obtained from Fancypants. She figured she needed a little help, what with her conference and all, and you were suppose to be helping her as well, you 'number-one dragon assistant'."

"And here I thought I was going to take you out for dinner."

With a sigh, the dragon plop himself onto the bed, his burly weight submerging into the soft mattress with his green eyes fixated onto his marefriend beside her. The sound of snickering left his mouth, prompting the mare to turn to him with a puzzled look.
"S-Sorry..." he mumbled, softening the last of his giggles.
"You look cute when you're concentrating on something."

Rarity just rolled her eyes, rereading the entry she and Twilight copied from the journal to study on. She had already scanned through the writing for the fourth time and she doubted her fifth would be any more fruitful, even with Spike helping out right beside her. Then again, it doesn't hurt to try.
"I don't quite grasp what the professor was trying to tell us," she quipped.
"Mind if you take a look?"

All too eager to comply, the dragon glanced down at the paper hovering within an aura of pale blue, squinting his eyes as he began to read:






Seems the desert sands are catching up to me.

Deciphered another portion. Text are as follows:

To quench the thirst of a bleeding fox;
Close to death, parched and lost.

To maim the woodpecker's beak in twine;
For feathers becometh wood, naught in its mind.

Hopefully, this find would give me a lead.







"What?"

"Exactly," Rarity murmured, smiling when she saw his befuddled expression.
"From what he wrote, it was as if he discovered a scripture of some sort and was translating it. At least, that's what Twilight assumed."

"To quench the thirst of a bleeding fox..."
Spike hummed with a spark of intuition, emerald eyes sieving through the words in search of whatever crude meaning those words would hide. In the five minutes of their thinking session, the mare watched with amusement at his restless changes of posture, sometimes sitting up, sometimes lying back against the bedpost, yet his expression was always fixed in a questioning, discreet frown. The gears in both their heads turned and turned, trying to force out an answer from the text before them, to no avail.
"I give up," the dragon said suddenly.
"It just doesn't make any sense. Don't even mention how bloody wrong it sounded."

Her mind (and stomach) agreed, and with a hopeless sigh of defeat, Rarity let herself fall back onto the bed, carefully lowering the paper onto the table while closing her eyes. There seemed to be dead ends with every option available, almost as if Janus had intended it to happen, knowing how calculative he is. Yet they must persevere. For the sake of Equestria. For Pinkie Pie.
"So..." she began, mind settling onto other things. For now.
"You were saying something about dinner?"

"Thought you weren't keen on it," Spike replied with a chuckle, staring down at her.
"I was wondering if we could have a small dinner. Just two of us alone, y'know?"

"Why the sudden choice of privacy?"

"Just thought it would be better to talk about... us. How we're going to go from here, things like that. You know how ponies see me as and I... I just don't want it to... get into your way..."

"Dragons are an arbitrary race too," she replied nonchalantly.
"To be fair, every one of us, no matter species or class, is arbitrary. It just takes a little budging out of their comfort zone for them to accept every surprise in life. They had faced the return of Princess Luna, the acceptance of Discord and the re-emergence of the Crystal Empire, to name a few. Why not my unrequited love for a dragon?"

"You make it seem so easy," Spike teased, the tip of his claw grazing the underside of her chin. In return, she giggled, pushing his playful arm away before rising from the bed, meeting snout-to-snout with the dragon. He brushed her mane to the side, revealing more of her snow-white face, her sapphire eyes staring longingly into his.
"So you think one day they'll just accept dragons and ponies being together? Just like you, me, Applejack and Kane? None of those rude comments about how disgusting we are and stuff like that?"

"Hopefully, Spike," she replied, clutching his arm.
"Now, about dinner..."

"Yeah... 'bout that--"

"I was hoping we could join the rest tonight."

Spike widened his eyes in surprise at that, and just as he opened his mouth to speak, Rarity gently placed a hoof on his lips, plunging him into silence whilst wearing a deceptive grin.
"It isn't necessary for us to talk alone about this," she whispered.
"They are our friends, after all. I'm sure they can help us in any way possible. Reminds me, when did Twilight say they were about to head out?"

"About two hours more," the dragon replied, glancing at the antique clock.
"That's a pretty long wait, if you ask me."

Rarity said nothing, instead lying down, resting his head upon his chest, her breathing slowing down to match his as she closed her eyes. A small, serene smile grew on her face once he realized her intentions, and as she hugged the dragon tighter, his arm instinctively wrapped around her, bringing her closer into his embrace.
Sure enough, they drifted off into a deep sleep together. Strange, the solace of sleep, which was instead a refuge to them. Away from all the slurs of pony and dragon alike concerning their relationship; away from all the chaos conjured by the dark puppeteer; away from puzzling pieces of parchment that spelled out only nonsensical and mangled scenes which only its creator would've deciphered. For now, they were in the calm, quiet ocean, whatever qualms ceased to be, especially to the mare. It was one of the most comfortable naps she ever had, for she had Spike hugging him that gave not only warmth, but a sense of freedom: a free, dreamless sleep, where the nightmares that resided t'was diminished in his arms.

"Spikey-Wikey..."