~~~~~
Two ponies and a little baby dragon sat around a table in the middle of a library somewhere in Ponyville.
All of them sat silently, shifting about in their seats as four cups of tea congealed in front of them. Half-drunk and stone cold, they had been resting there for the good part of an hour while words were thrown and things were explained until one of the group decided to leave for a visit to the washroom, where she had a long stare in the mirror and a long think about life.
Every so often there would be a cry and a crash, perhaps the frustrated thrusting of a hoof into a wall. Snippets of words like ‘book’ and ‘alive’ came floating out from behind a closed door, often punctuated by a groan of frustration and general chants of disagreement.
It wasn’t that the others were trying to eavesdrop, but even if they were muffled, her frustrations came loud and strong and filled with emotion, and it was those drops of emotion that nailed themselves into the hearts of the three who were sitting around the table.
This left them in an uncomfortable muteness, not because there was nothing left to say but because there was too much.
The privacy was a bit of a blessing, however, and the looks on the faces of two of them betrayed their intention.
Twilight Sparkle looked from Spike to Rainbow and back again, clearly not wishing to interrupt what their expressions clearly told her.
Rainbow was mostly looking away, a chin propped up in a hoof. Every once so often, she’d glance over to Twilight but turn away instantly once she saw that Twilight was regarding her back with a sort of patient curiosity.
Spike simply looked worried. It was a little easier to read him.
The clock on the wall thundered at them every time the second hand shifted.
“Um… Twilight?” the dragon muttered.
“Hey, Twi…” Rainbow coughed out with a gravelly voice.
The pony at the other end didn’t know who to turn to first and so satisfied the situation by tilting her head quizzically.
“I’m sorry,” the both of them said simultaneously.
Twilight raised an eyebrow.
Rainbow and Spike stared at each other, both of them hovering over their words.
“I just wa-” Rainbow started again.
“Twilight, I-” Spike uttered at the same time.
“Oh, uh… go on, Spike,” Rainbow said, motioning for the dragon to continue.
“Um… that’s okay. I think you’d better go first,” Spike excused himself, wincing from the bad timing.
“Oh… right. Well,” Dash muttered. Being put in the spotlight by the tiny little dragon was just what she needed. “Yeah. So. I’m sorry, Twilight.”
“For what?” Twilight asked, genuinely in the dark.
“Well, I wasn’t… you know. Being real nice this morning,” Rainbow said, waving her hoof around in the air. She looked away again, frowning as if she were annoyed.
She probably was, Twilight reckoned, but only about how difficult it was to say this, and in that did Twilight find the gesture incredibly sweet.
Twilight smiled.
“Not a problem,” she said. “You were upset. I understand.”
“Yeaaaah, but. You know…” she continued in a low grumble. “I was being a bit of a jerk. I was just, you know… you know?”
“I know, Rainbow. It’s okay. Really, it is.” Twilight continued grinning softly. It was something she picked up from one of her other, pinker friends – always wear your intentions on your face, and no one can be mistaken. A smile worked perfectly for this situation.
“Thanks, Twilight. You’re a good friend. I really mean that.”
“And Spike,” the unicorn continued, slightly more motherly. “Why are you apologizing?”
“Um…” Spike grinned sheepishly, playing with his claws. “Well, you know how I was lying in the library just now, after the spell went funny, right?”
“What about it?” Twilight asked. “You fell off the ladder. I’m just glad you’re not injured!”
“I wasn’t… maybe… not really… hurt.”
Twilight raised an eyebrow. It was that eyebrow Spike had expected to see. It was the eyebrow that suddenly turned Twilight from a nice, loving friend into a very frightening mare indeed. Spike winced again.
“Go on, Spike. Don’t worry,” Twilight encouraged him firmly. “I’m sure whatever it is, you had a good reason.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t help! But it was all loud, and… things were happening and everypony was screaming and I was just really, really confused!”
“Well… I suppose that’s forgivable. But still, it doesn’t explain why you were pretending to be knocked out, Spike,” Twilight noted.
“Maybe I was kinda… trying to hide.”
“Why?”
“I… um… maybe... caused it…?” Spike half-asked, hoping that turning it into a question would make it less true.
“You what?” Twilight charged, voice raising.
“I think this whole thing with Daring Do is… mayyyybe… my fault?” Spike grinned through the guilt. “Um… I’m really sorry.”
“Wait… but… how is this…” Twilight’s attention flew to the washroom, where a figure, eyes heavy and face sullen, staggered out. “We’ll talk later, Spike. Don’t worry, alright? I’m sure there’s a good reason why you think you caused it, but I’ll need your help to figure it out.”
“Alright, Twilight,” Spike smiled a little, a bit more hopefully this time, ever glad for his boss’ forgiving nature.
But their minute apologies were cut short as Daring Do returned, her hat slung over her back and her grey mane dishevelled. She looked like she had been through much worse than a mere volcano, and there was a dullness in her eyes that showed just how distant she was.
She shuffled back to the table, sitting down where she had been a few moments ago and took the cup of tea in her hooves, cradling it as if it were a baby.
A long sip was drawn from the stone-cold cup, but she didn’t act like it was any different from a wholesome, warm gulp of a freshly steeped brew.
The other three dropped their heads low, and once again, the silence of discomfort ruled the room.
“Can I get back?”
The first thing that she said was something delivered over a cracked, worn voice, strained to the ends of capacity, burnt out like a day-old candle.
“Yes,” Twilight replied as gently as she could. “We think so. It’s just a matter of figuring it out, and… we can put you back exactly where you left.”
“I have a city to save,” Daring Do mumbled.
“I understand. We’ll do everything we can and-”
“Please. You understand that I have to return.” She threw a hoof up to her head to rub her temple. She had spent quite a while by herself, but stress was something not easily discarded. The others could only try to imagine the level of confusion she had been going through.
“We’ll do everything we can,” Twilight repeated, patiently. “I’ll go and check the book, and-”
“The book!” Daring cried out, pushing her hooves into her face. “The book! That’s… I just can’t… How could I be from a book? That’s the one thing I just can’t accept!”
“We don’t know how it happened. It’s… magic. Magic is unpredictable and, in many cases, undecipherable. It’s a powerful thing, and what happened was unfortunate, but…” Twilight said.
“Um… Patrician?” Rainbow started, cutting in.
“No, don’t… don’t call me that. Please,” Daring implored, rubbing her forehead. “I’m not… I mean… I’m sorry. I never liked that title. Just call me by my name. Please.”
“A-alright, Daring, I-”
“No, I meant… I meant my name.”
The comment gave Rainbow pause.
“Wait… um… I’m sorry, but… isn’t ‘Daring Do’ your… name?”
“What? No, but… is that what you think it is?” she asked weakly.
“Well, in all the books… they only ever call you that,” Rainbow explained.
“Oh…” the adventurer muttered softly. “That’s rather odd, isn’t it? I mean, it’s a nickname, really. But… I suppose. It’s strange. These books you say that are about me… they tell stories about my life, do they not?”
“Yes. They… I guess they do,” Dash shrugged.
“But they leave out such an important detail?”
“Well… I mean… but all we get to know from our side is what’s in the books. I mean… all anypony knows about you is from what they read, right?” Rainbow scratched her head.
“Surely not. I mean… you’d think my name would be of consequence. Ponies use it all the time. How could it have not shown up even once? I mean… you know eerie things about me. Things that no one should know. Things I’ve done. Things I own… and you don’t know… this?”
“But… I don’t get it,” Dash continued. “I mean, I’m not trying to argue or anything, but… to us, you’re just a character from a book. I don’t even know how all this magic stuff works at all, but… if it wasn’t written down, then how could there even be anything else? This changes so much.”
“Well, maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” Daring stated huffily.
“Rainbow,” Twilight cut in. “Remember what I said earlier today?”
“What?”
“Are the stories any less real just because they’re not written down?” Twilight smiled, giving Dash a suggestive nod. “Funny, huh?”
Rainbow blinked towards the table, thinking back on the conversation they had earlier. Suddenly, in context, the entire thing took on a whole new meaning. There was a strange truth to it that applied in a way that it shouldn’t, and it somehow made things simultaneously more and less clear all at the same time.
“Excuse me,” Daring said, holding up a hoof to the room. “I’m not a fictional character, alright? I’m… real. I have memories. I have a life. I’m certainly not from a book, and I don’t know how I got here, but I can assure you that I’m no less real than you are.”
Rainbow stared at her idol. She was an impossibility, and the prospect of her was frightening on so many different levels. There were so many things that she hadn’t the time or patience to think through. But yet, at the forefront of her considerations was the one single question of what was she?
Dash waved it away. The ideas that rose were far too complex for her mind to want to tackle at the moment, and she was left with just a thought that was far simpler to answer. It was a puzzle that could be solved, and there was something rather comfortable about that. And so it was pursued, and maybe, little by little, this would help Dash to know the pony sitting across the table from her who was nursing a small, cold cup of tea.
“So…” Dash said. “What’s your name, then?”
~ Daring Do and the Heart of Storms ~
Chapter 2 :: The Name of the Rose
The whippoorwills called out to the sky as they took to flight, leaving a dusting of old, discarded feathers and half-eaten grubs to settle on the cobblestone path. The thundering beat of hooves against pavement interrupting their feeding as the fleeing figure cascaded down the narrow alleyway.
Red brick surrounded her, caging her, trapping her in. They rose up against the clouds, and from the alley, they seemed less like the backs of stores and more like a cell.
There were only two ways out, and one path had already been taken.
She stepped back into a murky puddle of stagnant water, wrinkling her nose at the stench. Garbage pails lined the wall, bordering a door that was tightly shut.
Up above, the shadows of the Air Detail blotted out the rays of the sun as they patrolled overhead, keeping a wary eye on the world above.
She ruffled her feathers. This had been a wrong turn. This had been a mistake. She didn’t know this city as much as she boasted, and this was not the first time this had happened, especially when she was being chased by him.
Many moons ago she had stopped expecting that he wouldn’t arrive, and almost as if the thought brought the world to life, a familiar shade of brownish blue appeared at the corner of the alley.
Familiar grey mane. Familiar worn swagger. Familiar blue leg-band that boasted the rank of Staff Sergeant of the Fenwickshire Constabulary – something that he had earned entirely through merit and efficaciousness.
And that was something she knew from example and not hearsay.
The winged mare narrowed her eyes, her crisp, bright wings the colour of a glorious sunrise ready to propel her off into the distance, to whatever direction she desired. Her hat rested uneasily on her brow – a pith helmet, something that she had acquired during one of her many jobs.
The stallion thumped in, a tired, pointed gait carrying him across the uneven stones toward the mare. He looked at her with eyes that looked past the scene, eyes that betrayed the future.
He stopped just after the entrance to the alley, his presence more than enough to provide the final wall to her cage.
“Good afternoon,” he said, sullenly. “Fine day for a walk, isn’t it, Lady C-”
“Ah… ah, ah,” the mare chuckled, despite her weariness, her response the last arrow in her quiver. “No real names in public. You know the rules.”
“We’re alone,” the stallion responded, looking around quite deliberately.
“Still, though.” The mare panted, catching her breath. “Rules.”
“Speaking of rules. Card?”
The mare tossed her jet-black mane up to the skies. This was always the annoying part.
“Must we do this every time?” she asked, tired smile breaking through like the last vestments of sunshine across an aching sky.
“Yes. Rules. As you said. Don’t throw that at me if you aren’t going to follow yo-”
“Fine! Don’t tire yourself speaking,” she said, pushing a hoof up the brim of her hat.
A small rectangle of thick card was retrieved, ‘Guild of Acquisitions Membership Card’ displayed boldly across the top in gold emboss. A mug-shot of the mare balanced itself in the corner next to details of her involvement in the guild and her current rank within – ‘Lady’, as the card so stated.
She flashed it at the officer as she took a glance at the back, four red stamps bearing the Constable Crest filling in four out of ten printed boxes.
She sighed a long sigh. This capture would be her fifth. Unless, of course…
“Go on. You’re knicked. Why don’t you come peacefully?” His voice broke her out of her focused thoughts as she stared down the alley in search for ways to get away. “It would be a lot simpler.”
“Maybe if this was my first time, Sergeant Jameston.”
“Staff Sergeant,” he corrected.
“Staff Sergeant. Yes. But we’ve been around this block five times, and you know we only get more tenacious the more we’re stamped.” She waved the card at him once more.
“And you know we never give up our quarry.”
“So, here we are, at an impasse, my dear. I suppose… I suppose you’re going to have to come here to get me, aren’t you?”
The officer rolled his burgundy eyes, looking upward into the brim of his bobby’s hat. She always made it annoying.
He lifted his leg, and the chance happened.
The chance came in a matter of a moment, and was a chance as opposed to an opportunity due to the very nature of what it was.
But the Lady was a rather smart mare, and a rather quick mare, and she took that chance like a kingfisher plucks prey from a lake full to bursting.
There was a click off to her left at the very moment the Sergeant took a step forward, and that was enough.
It was far more difficult to change speeds as one is in mid-step. It was a rule of life. It was a rule of the world. And it only gave her the barest of seconds, but that was enough to take that chance.
The back door to the grocer shop lay where the noise was made. A grocer, bringing a heavy crate full of scraps out to discard, unlocked the door and pushed it open.
Pushing off the very air, the pegasus flashed her feathers and darted toward it, diving, swooping, all along the alley floor, as the grocer leapt out of the way. She crammed herself into the narrow crack between door and wall, escaping into the shoppe.
Staff Sergeant Jameston landed his hoof, picking up his pace to quicken to a slight trot and nothing more. He stepped over to the grocer, on the cobblestones, picking up his boxes in a daze as vegetable ends and root tops lay scattered across the ground, above whom he stopped, staring at the doorway.
“Pardon us for the mess. The Fenwickshire Constabulary appreciates your cooperation,” he told him before passing by and carrying onto the door.
With a great tug of a well-worn foreleg, he pulled the door open, strolling in as calmly as he had strolled into the alley itself. He nodded at the two constables who stood within the back rooms of the store, keeping watch of their bounty.
Like a rabbit caught in a mess of brambles, the quarry lay tangled up in a thick mess of cord, woven together in what looked very much like a net made from old sweaters.
The Staff Sergeant stepped over her, looking down over the crest of his muzzle, and only then did he finally turn up the side of his mouth in a modest smile.
A card was pushed through one of the many uneven holes in the net, which Jameston snatched up and kept away firmly.
“Thank you,” he said, nodding at his team to release the Lady. “I told you it’d be simpler if you just came with me.”
The Lady sighed. This was going to be another long day down at the station and another long day back at the guild, filling in paperwork.
She hated the paperwork.
~~~~~
The two of them sat at a desk, the desk in the middle of a busy, noisy station, the station on the end of a street down one of the main thoroughfares of downtown Fenwickshire.
Jameston raised his hoof, shaking off the tiny, little stamp he had tied to the end of it and looked at his hoofwork. A new stamp lay next to the others, printed freshly in a slightly lighter shade of red.
“Can I have it back yet?” the Lady asked, tapping her hoof impatiently on the table. She reached out and flicked at a quill that stood in a wooden quill-holder, at which Jameston stared before flicking his eyes back to her.
He slid the card back across the desk to the Acquirer, as they were called.
“May I go?” she asked, grumpily, shoving the card back into her hat.
“You can. But I’d rather you stayed awhile. We’re still filing your reports. You might as well hang about, just in case. You know how these things are. Don’t want to have to come back in a couple of days because of some idiot clerk error, right?”
“Yeah. I guess.”
“So, what was it this time?” Jameston started on his documents, leafing through them. “What did you want from the… ah… the Museum of Natural History? Really?”
“What, they didn’t tell you?”
“No, actually. I wasn’t on duty when the call came in,” he wrinkled his nose, as if he smelt something rather foul. “But really. The Museum? That’s a different target. Who hired you?”
“Eh. It was internal this time. Another guild.”
“Hm.” Jameston raised his eyebrow. “Curious.”
“Yeah, that’s what we thought. And you know. I don’t have the best track record. Five strikes and only a Lady. They pawned it off on me. Got me to do the ‘weird’ job,” she continued.
“You sound like you didn’t fancy taking it.”
“Well, not really. I mean… like you said. It’s the museum. It’s one of those places you don’t wanna really mess with. You always hear funny things about the Collectors’ Guild.”
“Yeah, you do. But you took it anyway.”
“Girl’s gotta eat.” The mare shrugged.
Despite bearing the title of ‘Lady’, she was neither ladylike nor elderly. The title was merely bestowed as a rank of the carefully named Guild of Acquisitions, but she was much more youthful and foolhardy than was suggested.
She sat there on a small cushion across from the slightly older Staff Sergeant, blinking her bright red eyes at him in the most scathing way that she could.
It was the little things.
The officer sighed. Somewhat similar to the little thief, he was a lot younger than his title suggested. But once in a while he dropped his harsh exterior to get to the soul of a subject. And this was one of those times.
The officer sighed.
“Don’t start,” the mare interjected, holding a hoof up to him. “Just don’t.”
“I have to.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Do you do this with every pony you drag in?” she asked, staring at him.
“No.”
“Just me, then.” She frowned slightly at the insinuation.
“I don’t.”
“I heard you!” she yelled out, attracting the attention of the owners of the two desks beside Jameston’s.
But he was already caught in a bubble and didn’t pay them any mind. His scrutiny was given solely to the mare who sat in front of him.
“Why’d it have to be you, anyway? Why not… Berkley over there?” The mare griped.
Berkley waved, grinning nervously.
“Uh… I… I don’t know. It just happened.” Jameston shrugged. “I don’t control these things. There are few things I have control over, and I can’t count the life of a young girl amon-”
“Oh, don’t give me that. You’re not that much older than me.” The thief snorted. “You sit here all high and mighty on your… whatever… constable cushions and tell everyone else how to run their lives.”
“Well, no. This… all this is just the job.” Jameston pointed to his hat and then to hers. “But that’s why we have the rules, right? Thing is, you’re halfway to getting discharged from the guild. And I will catch you five more times, Caspia.”
“Don’t use my real name!”
“We’re not in public.”
“See, if it had been Berkley the-”
Berkley waved again.
Jameston frowned him back into his paperwork.
“... If it had been anypony else…” she grumbled.
“Maybe. Who knows. Maybe I just want to catch you.”
“Why?” Caspia asked, slowly.
“Because I want you to change.”
“You don’t like who I am?” she said, looking up at him again, locking eyes to scratch out the truth.
“I… want to know you differently,” Jameston finally answered, after a moment’s pause.
They both fell silent, the Staff Sergeant shuffling papers all over his desk.
“Listen,” he picked up again. “I… You can go. But please take this.”
A small leaflet fell to the table – a brochure for one of the oldest guilds in town. It advertised it, brought forth its qualities. It told the world of its nature and showed its features in bright colours and flashy pictures.
“They started accepting conversions. They’ll allow you to start at equivalent rank in their guild as you have in the Guild of Acquisitions. It’s… worth thinking about. And it’s similar enough to what you do now that… well. Whatever it is you get out of acquiring…”
“The thrill of the ride, I guess. All our lovely meetings.” She plucked the leaflet off the table, flipping it over to scan the information detailed on the back before tucking it into her hat. “I’ll… I have to go now.”
“Yes. As you were. If there’s anything else… I’ll give you a call. But I’ll try to make sure your paperwork’s processed correctly.”
“That would be very much appreciated,” Caspia said, turning to leave. “And…”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
The mare walked out of the station, deflated and tired. Many things weighed on her mind, so much so that even Staff Sergeant Jameston could see it perched on her shoulders.
“Hey,” a voice called out.
“Yeah,” Jameston said, eyes following Caspia as she strolled away.
“Hey!”
“Yeah?”
“Staff Sergeant Doudemelle!” the voice yelled.
“Sir!” He snapped back to attention, facing the station’s captain and standing rigidly straight.
“Stop flirting and get the hell back to work,” he ordered gruffly.
“Yes, sir,” Jameston H. Doudemelle replied.
~~~~~
“No!” Caspia cried out, cradling the wooden statue in her hooves. “Noooo!”
“Drop it, I said!” Jameston yelled up at her with annoyance, sweat beading on his brow. “Come on! It’s not worth it! Just… let’s not keep doing this!”
“No! I… No! Just, ‘no’!” She yelled back. “I got this fair and square, James!”
“Cassie!”
Her name echoed off the cavern walls, carved stone dragons spitting fire across the enclosed chamber. Silver-gilt reliefs of Hayztec pictograms decorated the borders, and square pillars kept the crumbling roof aloft.
It was a huge cavern, only able be called a room merely by the function it provided, rather than its architectural nature. But it was filled with traps and death and poison, all to prevent the wayward fool from reaching —
“I found it, James! I actually found the Coltese Falcon!” she shouted, waving the small wooden figurine around with her free hoof. “Can you believe it?”
“Cassie! I can’t get up there, you know! Just throw that thing down, and-”
“No! Mine!”
Caspia hung off the edge of a rocky outcropping, body pressed flat, face-first, against the natural veins of marble that ran across its surface. It was a ledge that was rather impossible, as if somepony had simply cut a small cap in the rock and left it there. It once opened up to a corridor of sorts, but one of the nefarious traps had pushed a rock through, and like a natural piston, shoved everything else out.
Bad planning and tectonic shifts had meant that the rock didn’t move all the way to the edge, leaving a few precious centimeters for Caspia to cling on to. But she had been pushed through decades of cobwebs – the one decoration that the corridor had – and the silk of the Sassifry spider made for a rather sticky situation indeed.
Caspia swayed in the breeze that cascaded through the underground cavern, her back and legs bound by a veil of webbing, the tough, glue-like strands keeping her wings in check.
A spider crawled across her face, silently judging.
Below her was a drop into pure darkness. It didn’t matter what else there was.
“Cassie! Just… this really isn’t as bad as… did you call me here just for this?”
The mare waved the statue around again. It was the only thing she could do. One hoof was busy keeping her alive. Everything else was stuck together with organic paste. She used the beak of the wooden falcon to hit a button on a small device that was tied to her vest – a radio of sorts, just to show Jameston how she had done it.
Jameston’s radio crackled with static as the button was hit.
“You’re not supposed to… I told you before, Cassie. Constable business only. I’m supposed to be working, you know!” James shouted exasperatedly. “Stop calling me to help you with your things!”
“Oh, James! I… eek!” she screamed as a particularly large waft of warm air hit her in the face, causing her to sway back and forth like a pendulum. “Please! I… just… need the points! I’m moving up, James! I just need this! This is ten points right here. Ten!”
“Ten?” James raised an eyebrow. “That’s… quite a bit, actually. Not bad. And you’re at, what was it? I forgot, but that’ll put you over the rank, wouldn’t it? Is that why you’re-”
“James!”
“Oh, right!” The Master Sergeant said, stroking his mustache. It was a new thing. Caspia hated it, but he had wanted to try. It gave him something to stroke while he was thinking.
He looked around the area. He stood on a small outcropping somewhere far below and off behind the large wall that Caspia was hanging from. Being a pony of earthly persuasion, he wasn’t in the position to be able to change his stance on the problem. The wall went on for ages. Crawling along was not going to be an option if she refused to relinquish the treasure, and flight was certainly out of the picture, given her current web situation.
And by right she shouldn’t give up the prize. He would never say it, but he admired her tenacity.
Above and behind him was another cliff face, one that hung above the ledge upon which he stood.
Somewhere in the distance, a dragon carving spat out another fireball.
“Right,” he muttered.
“James! I’m slipping!” she yelled.
“No you’re not.”
“Yeah, I’m not, but hurry up, okay?” Caspia whined. “Just think of something!”
“Not a problem!” he said, calmly. He was always calm. Very collected. Very patient and focused. It was the only way to do things. “Right. First of all. All the webbing on the wall over there? How strong is it?”
“I can’t unfurl my wings, James! What do you think?”
“Right. Sticky. Strong. You’re already trapped. Why not?”
“Why not what?” Her question echoed throughout the cave.
“Cassie, how mobile are your legs right now? All four of them?”
“Well… uh…” She tested it out a bit, moving them around as much as she could. “Pretty… pretty mobile? I mean, my rear legs are tied together, but I can still swing around, I guess!”
“Alright. You’re going to have to jump.”
“What?”
“No, not jump down! Jump back!”
“Back?”
“Yeah. Push yourself off the wall, and try to push… you know! Backwards!”
“I repeat, James. What?”
“There’s a wall behind you,” Jameston pointed. You could probably get to it if you jumped far enough. I’ve seen you make longer leaps, so this should be fine. And the webs…”
“The webs!”
“Yes. Always remember, Cassie. Put what you have to work for you. Remember two years ago? The very last time I caught you before you finally decided to switch jobs?”
“Stop bringing that up!”
“Yes, well. I created the opportunity for you. The door, as you will. And you took it, because… well. It’s what we both had, and we both needed to use it. I turned my weakness into a strength. And that’s how I caught you. So you need to do the same, and always do the same.”
“Now’s not the time to teach philosophy!”
“It’s applicable!” Jameston shrugged, even though he knew Caspia couldn’t see. He knew she felt it, though. And that was enough. “Look, just jump, alright?”
“Fine!”
She sighed, looking at the medium-sized wooden statue. It sat there in her grubby mitt, the final goal on this long and arduous path. She gritted her teeth. It was all that was left.
She flew.
She was like a rock let free from a sling, her powerful spring propelling her across the air as Jameston watched from below, a slightly concerned look on his face. But the look replaced itself with one of minor accomplishment as he saw his plan come to fruition.
Caspia hung off the wall above him, stuck fast like a stamp. The statue remained in her tight grasp, even though the landing had taking some of the wind out of her lungs. Her hat slid off her head, falling with a thunk on the floor next to Jameston.
He walked over to casually pluck something from the band on the hat.
“You really ought to take better care of this,” he remarked, fiddling with the Adventurer’s License in his hoof. Her name, overlaid with rainbow foil, bore the words ‘Caspia H. Lightbrush’ at him in glints and glimmers, followed by the rank of ‘Principalia’. “So, with this statue thing… that’ll push you up to Patrician, huh?”
“Y-yeah,” Caspia responded from behind a daze. “U… Am I alive?”
“Yeah, you’re fine. You should be coming down soon.”
“Wh-what?”
“Gravity. Gravity’s your friend. Just roll with it.”
“R-roll with… wh-?”
As sticky as the silk was, it wasn’t enough to keep her splattered up on the wall indefinitely. She started to peel away as the forces of nature took over, tugging her away from the rock.
“N-no! Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!” she screamed as she started to roll, tumbling down the side of the wall, the sticky webs always keeping her attached but momentum forcing her progress downwards. Like a child rolling down a hill, Caspia rolled down a vertical face as the world spun around her like she were stuffed into a washing machine.
She stopped moving when she hit bottom, a thick layer of rock dust floating up into the air and scattering itself ceremoniously around the fallen figure.
Jameston walked over, placing the hat back onto her head as she left her face on the floor where it landed.
“There, then. All’s well! I have to be back on patrol now, but… well. I’ll see you Saturday for lunch, yes?”
“Mrefgh,” Caspia responded.
“Good then! Enjoy, and… oh, congratulations on your impending promotion.”
With a smile, the stallion left, walking back to the entrance of the cave.
The rock dust, undisturbed for ages, fell in gentle sprinklings over the still form of Caspia, scattering themselves all over her stilled form. They twinkled in the light of the fireballs of the cave, the scattered flashes reflecting off their reflective surfaces, and in the darkness and gloom, she was rained upon by the stars.
~~~~~
The confetti fell, blinking brightly in the sun, dancing in the air, and trilling on the breeze of that warm, bright Spring day.
Jameston, bare-faced and handsome, all done up in his best suit, stared into the eyes of Caspia, who was wearing an ornate white gown.
It was all nice and all, but the real treasure was that he had actually shaved for the event, something she was trying to convince him to do for over the past three years now.
“You may now kiss the bride,” somepony said.
It wasn’t important who it was.
It was only important that it was happening.
Jameston swept her into a tight embrace, the bouquet of daisies falling to the ground.
They were surrounded by all their friends and family in the procession that took place in a little gazebo at the edge of the lake. The walk up had been decorated with white lace and a white carpet, and everyone was there. Everyone.
Even Berkley, Jameston’s best friend and work partner, gave a little nervous wave when Caspia looked over the crowd through moist eyes.
Small clockwork devices fired rice and confetti into the air – those things had started to pop up everywhere, and were slowly taking over the land as the future technology. Everything now, trended into clockwork.
But some things still remained very traditional, and small refreshments were passed around by hoof, as guests were waited on by the very best of service.
Their parents roared with laughter and shared stories over a drink or two. Tales were told, anecdotes were passed around, and the couple found themselves floating on air.
It was like taking a ride on a carousel – one can spin around on a sea of colours before realising that the ride stopped a few minutes ago and one has to move onward. And so it was for the couple as they retreated back to their home on the waterfront – a small house, a modest house, but something they put their money into with thoughts lying firmly in the future.
It was family land, but belonged to Jameston now, and his parents had no problems with him refurbishing their old summer estate. After all, the Captain of the local precinct ought to have a home befitting of one in order to provide for his family!
It was only right.
His parents had graciously allowed him to remodel a single room, and remodel he did over the next few weeks, for they were deep in preparations for a single thing, and it was soon that the luxurious wallpaper, designed with patterns of fleur de lis and cursives, was torn down and replaced by a wall-to-wall mural of the map of the world.
A cot was soon built out of solid oak, and no expense was spared to make sure the room was proofed adequately for its future inhabitant.
And they installed, to the ceiling of the room, a brilliant, glorious light that took up centerpiece of the nursery. It spun slowly on a chain, every continent of this marvellous world lit up from behind, every ocean hiding a story and every crest of land hiding an adventure.
And in under a year, the cot was filled.
Two loving parents looked down at their child – a beautiful daughter who had her mother’s brilliant yellow coat dulled slightly by her father’s, a black mane with streaks of grey running through, and eyes a blend of both of her sires’.
Her mother would kiss her in the cot every day, promising her the finest schools and the best education that they could afford.
Her father would stand sullenly by, promising the world of support and the adventures that they wish they could have for themselves.
The hat was placed by her cot, with the promise that she would one day wear it herself. It was a gift from them, to inherit what they were.
And they had it embroidered with her name.
A name which took from either parent, just as she had in her appearance, but also bequeathed with a name that, in a foreign tongue, spoke of bravery and truth.
And so did that young filly grow, and live and play, and have adventures, and live her life.
And so did she, one day, speak her name to a band of strangers in a brave, new world.
Rainbow Dash looked at the rough-shod stitching on the inside of the brim of the hat. Not once, in any book, was this ever mentioned. She ran a warm hoof over it, mouthing the words to herself.
“Haley Waleria Doudemelle,” she read, looking up at Daring.
“Just Haley, please,” she replied. “It was my mother’s middle name. And my middle name means something along the lines of ‘the brave one’, if I am to recall it correctly. The last name is my Father’s. It’s not conventional, but my family wanted me to have a piece of them in name. It made us… rather close. We were tight-knit, growing up.”
“So… where are they now?” Rainbow asked, sliding the hat back to Haley.
“My mother moved to the NPS. My father still works for the Constabulary, but as a consulting detective. They’re both always travelling a lot. But that’s fine. I travel a lot as well.”
“The NPS?” Twilight asked.
“The National Preservation Society.” Rainbow explained slowly. “It’s one of the top guilds in Fenwickshire. They oversee the transfer of relics and things like that. Have a lot of influence with the Adventurer’s Guild. It was in one of the books.”
Twilight blinked. If Rainbow had started the day with a lack of enthusiasm, this was Rainbow completely drained of all starstruck peppiness.
“So, you followed in your mom’s hoofsteps, huh?” Dash turned back to Haley, quietly asking the burning question.
“Yes, I do suppose I have,” Haley muttered, as she played with the cold cup of tea that had not been refreshed by request. “I…”
She had stopped. She cut herself off in mid-sentence, trailing off into a wordless mime of discomfort. Her eyes closed for just a moment, opening once again with a slowness that showed just how heavy the thought behind it had been.
“Haley? Is everything alright?” Twilight asked.
“Am… I going to see my parents again?” she asked, softly, the unmistakable glimmer of sadness in her eyes.
It was a tough question. Twilight had no way of answering it comfortably. After all, she could always just be honest and hopeful, but right now, this was a situation that required a better approach. Still, words ought to be said, and thoughts were gathered.
It came to a shock to her when the response came from someone who wasn’t herself.
“Yeah, of course you are,” Rainbow told her, in a voice that matched the sullen dullness of the atmosphere of the room. “Don’t worry. Twilight here’s an expert. Whatever happened, she can figure it out. Might take a while, but it’ll happen eventually.”
“I… do so very much hope that that’s true,” Haley murmured.
“Yeah,” Spike piped up, a little bit more cheerful than the others. “She can do it! She can do anything! She’s one of our world’s most gifted ponies, you know!”
“Thank you, little dragon,” Haley said, looking a little less troubled and a little bit more guilty for the comfort she now felt. “I… I will keep hopeful, then.”
Rainbow nodded. Twilight found herself nodding along as well, even though she didn’t really know why. Rainbow spoke with a decay that this Haley pony might not have picked up, but Twilight had known her for a while, and Rainbow was not merely being sad.
But Twilight agreed anyway. She felt that she was merely swept up in the scene.
“If it is alright with you three, I thank you very much for the hospitality, but I would like some more time alone. I need to think about things. I am afraid that I am still very much in… Well. I’m shocked, I have to admit. Would any of you mind if I retired to a quieter spot if you happened to have one around?”
“Not at all!” Twilight burst in, finally able to add to the conversation. “In fact, I have a lovely place where I go to muse on things myself. Spike, would you show her to the balcony, please?”
“Of course, Twilight!” Spike said, leaping off his stool, his natural instinct to play Best Assistant taking over. After all, what passed had passed. There was only professionalism left.
“This way if you would please!” He flourished a clawed hand toward the back of the library, to the staircase that led up to Twilight’s private thinking spot.
“And feel free to use the telescope!” Twilight added. “It can be very calming, looking at the sky!”
Haley nodded and followed her host.
“Even though it’s daytime…” Twilight added, under her breath. “Stupid Twilight! Stupid!”
The two remaining watched as Haley disappeared up the stairs. It was only when she was most certainly out of earshot when Twilight darted her head closer to Rainbow’s, which had a rather curious expression on it.
“Rainbow! What’s wrong?” the hushed unicorn whispered.
“What?” Rainbow asked, her mind drifting on clouds.
“That! You know! The whole thing with the… ‘you’ll be fine’, and…”
“Oh, that. She just needed to hear that everything was gonna be alright, that’s all,” Rainbow explained, as if it was something she did on a regular basis.
“Well… that’s remarkably insightful,” Twilight commented bemusedly. “But why are you all just… okay with this all of a sudden? What happened to being excited about meeting your hero?”
“Oh, you know.” Rainbow stared up to the corners of her eyes, clearly focusing on something else.
“What?”
“That closure stuff is pretty powerful, Twilight. You’re right. It’s all I needed!”
“Wait, really? That’s all it took? I was thinking I’d have to do a lot more,” Twilight grumbled with the snarky voice that she pulled out once every so often for specific responses.
“I don’t know, Twilight! I just… I don’t feel sad anymore. I just think she wants to get back home, so… let’s find a way to put her back home! I mean, she’s just a character from the book, and it’s been kinda interesting and all with the story and all that, but I guess… I guess seeing her in the flesh…”
“She isn’t what you envisioned?”
“Yeah. I guess so. I mean, it’s probably just because of how the spell worked or something. Maybe it read the books wrong. I mean, I don’t know where all this extra stuff is coming from anyway. Are fictional characters allowed to just… make stuff up?”
“I don’t know. This has never happened before, Rainbow.”
“Yeah, I know,” Rainbow rolled her hoof around in the air. “It’s cool, Twi.”
“So, why is it that you look like you still have something on your mind?” Twilight asked.
“She’s just… not at all who I thought she was, that’s all,” Rainbow sighed, looking longingly toward the staircase. “I mean, I know she isn’t real, but I was hoping at least that she’d be sorta like… She’s nothing like the books! She’s not… strong… and brave… and loud… And, a name? What’s up with that? What’s all this ‘Haley’ stuff? She’s supposed to be Daring Do.”
Rainbow turned towards the table before she continued speaking, pausing for a few moments to collect her flooding thoughts.
“I mean, in the end, I don’t really feel sad about the ending of the series anymore, but… it’s in a way I didn’t expect. You get what I’m trying to say?”
“Well, keep in mind that this never really was supposed to happen in the first place. In fact, I’m still trying to figure out what happened. Well! No problem, though!” Twilight rapped the table. “I’ll just have to try to recreate the problem with Spike. Gotta find out exactly what was on that brush and… in what quantities… and hm… no issue!”
“You can figure it out, right?”
“I should be able to!”
“Because otherwise I don’t know what we’re going to do with her.”
“Rainbow! That’s not very nice!” Twilight frowned, shocked at her friend’s callousness.
“Twilight, she’s not real,” Rainbow asserted once more. “She’s just something you accidentally pulled out of the book!”
Twilight stared at her friend. There was something remarkably different about Rainbow. She was acting in way that Twilight had not seen before in… well, ever. This was… new. But then again, this whole situation was, and that couldn’t be repeated enough times either.
Rainbow seemed almost insistent to state that the pony they had just met was a fictional creation. It was much like how Twilight repeated things herself. It always brought her comfort, even though they didn’t necessarily reflect the truth.
But if this was the same thing, then Twilight clearly knew what Rainbow was trying to do.
Rainbow was trying to hide.
“I… well. I don’t know about that,” Twilight shrugged, trying to probe deeper. “She seems real, doesn’t she?”
“Yeah, but you know, she’s just a bunch of ink and stuff. Bet that’s all that’s in her, huh?”
“Actually,” Twillight mused, stroking her chin with a hoof resplendent with a thought. “That is a good question. And one that I am, for the sake of science, curious about.”
“What?”
“Is she real?”
“What kind of question is that? We know what she is.”
“Yes, but… well. I mean, physically. What exactly did come out? The use of magic to create life has always been debated, mostly because of the definition of what life is. Is she… well… is she like us? Or does she, as you so eloquently put, have ‘ink and stuff’ on the inside?”
“How are you even gonna find that out?”
“Oh… I have an idea,” Twilight grinned. “Let’s give her some time to calm down first. And then, I think we should pay one of our friends a little visit.”
To Be Continued ––––––––––––>