//------------------------------//
// Reflection Eighteen: Signs 
// Story: Fallout: Equestria- The Last Sentinel 
// by Adder1 
//------------------------------//

                                                                                                                         Reflection Eighteen: Signs


“There’s something in the air...”



Change was in the air again. My lifestyle, I felt, had been a roller-coaster ever since I was “Hothead Hokkaido.” The art and power of words, my empire, the takeover, the takedown, my magic, the Northern Lights Festival, Hummingbird, my Way, and now... Luna... I was in a relationship with Luna- still early on perhaps, but... nevertheless I was in a relationship with her! I felt young again- or at least younger- and it felt great. I could love again, and thinking back on Pinkie's words, I felt that it would, in fact, end in sunshine and rainbows for me.

The storyteller slowly frowned and glanced away.

Folks, I spent a lot time so far on how things used to be without even touching the darker days ahead. Remember what I showed you, what I told you- about me, about the Northerners, about Manehattan, Ponyville, Canterlot, Avalon, the griffins... and the princesses. Think of all that... all that beauty, all that wonder, all that music and magic. Think of how incredible all those places, all those faces were. That's the world I grew up in, the world I came to love for all that depth and complexity and wonder. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, and here I've spent so many words and so many hours just hoping to paint a proper picture, to tell a proper story for you, to take you back to those olden days, golden days.

He leaned back, drew a deep breath.

“Money makes the world go round.” I don't know who said that, but it was true back then. The world ran on capitalistic ideals, that everyone did what he or she thought would best benefit his or her own interests. It's what drove people to dream, drove people to hire and pay others to make those dreams become reality, and it's what drove people to work to get paid to make their own dreams reality. Everyone working for his or her own interests.

So what happens if there's a conflict of interest?



* * *



“My father is Diamond Ki Dust, and my mother is Natural Chouju Cure. My father has a bad hindleg from polio, and my mother has progeria, so please excuse them,” I said. “Act natural. It's not good manners for us to practice our customs with visitors, so don't worry about any code of conduct. Just be polite, and you'll be fine.”

“Yes, yes,” Luna murmured quietly.

It was a feeling so familiar to me by now- slowly shuffling among the ground, craning my neck to peer over the sea of afternoon arrivals awaiting their family, friends, and guides. I felt a bump against me and thought it to be some oblivious passerby, but I instead found Luna- in disguise of course- glancing about nervously, biting her lip as she kept close to my side.

“You alright?” I asked, raising my voice over the din.

“Yes, yes, just...” She looked about anxiously. “I've never been so close to so many ponies since my return. Maybe a few dozen during Nightmare Night, but there must be hundreds here in this station...”

“Thousands.” I corrected, rubbing her shoulder and flashing her a smile. “It'll be okay. Just stick close and take a deep breath.”

Luna inhaled sharply and let it out slowly. “Alright. Alright. So, remind me again- we're looking for your friend, yes?”

I nodded. “That's right.”

“And he's a zebra?”

“Yes, that's right.”

She looked at me oddly. “How did that happen?”

“Well look around you,” I answered, motioning to the crowd. “Manehattan's full of people, not just ponies. It's certainly not unheard of for interspecies friendships, even couples.” I squinted my eyes as I peered over the crowd, spotting a familiar shape that made the corners of my muzzle turn up. “Come on, this way.”

Zoleks wasn't the first to spot me this time. No, this time, I managed to circle around him with Luna at my side, clearing my throat loudly. He glanced at me and promptly did a double-take as he realized I was there. From there, all formal pretense dropped and we hugged one another tightly as all old friends did. “Hahahaaaah, you sneaky sonuvagun!” he laughed in that jovial tone. “How was the trip? Oh, and where's your hat?”

I glanced back at Luna as we released one another. “Mm, I was convinced to try going without it for once. As for the ride, smooth as usual. Anyway, introductions are in order!” I stepped out of the way of my friends and motioned. “Nightingale, this would be Zoleks. Zoleks, Nightingale.”

“Pleasure,” Luna said with a sheepish smile as they shook hooves.

Zoleks nodded. “Yeah, same.” Then he eyed me. “'Princess Luna,' huh?” he snorted. “Beer goggles?”

“In my defense, she does look the part, and I did have good reason to drink,” I nickered.

The storyteller huffed softly.

Clever alibis, lord of the flies...

“Well hey, you have a marefriend again- plenty enough reason for me!” Zoleks flashed a friendly smile as we headed for the exit. “So, ever been to Manehattan before, Nightingale?”

“Well, no, not really,” she replied. “It's... still quite a bit jarring for me, all the po- people.” I could only smile as we left the station, watching her eyes widen in wonder as we stepped out into bustling downtown with its flashy advertisements, the sea of pedestrians and powered wagons alike, and the music- oh, the music. It was good to be home. “My word... especially the people.”

“You know, Zoleks, I think this might call for a proper welcome,” I chuckled huskily.

“Jeez, it's been a while hasn't it?” he laughed. “Ah, sure, for old times' sake!”

“Forgive me, but what are you two talking ab-wah!” Luna started to ask before I pulled her along as we started to sing:

“Welcome to the city that never sleeps!
Work's expensive and fun is cheap- yeah!
There's clubs that'll have you grinning from ear to ear- yeah!
C'mon baby-girl, lemme take it from here...”




* * *



“Whew!” Luna chuckled as we trotted on alone, Zoleks swinging back to his shop. “Now that was fantastic! I think I might have that tune stuck in my head for the rest of the month!” The black-furred unicorn merely chuckled softly, then started looking around. “Hm. We’re in the rich part of the northern quarter, it seems.”

I nodded. “Yep.”

Luna eyed me for a few seconds. “You mean to tell me your parents actually live here?”

“Mm-hm.” I smiled now.

She huffed softly and looked over the impressive rows of mansions as we passed by. “They must lead very profitable careers.”

Still smiling, I merely replied, “We've been very fortunate, yes.”

The old unicorn's eyes twinkled and he smiled slyly.

Well, I didn't lie, did I, folks?

“So, moment of truth, yes?” Luna breathed out.

“Oh, don't worry about it.” I tilted over and nuzzled her gently. “They're not the stereotypical austere Haysian parent type.” I checked myself. “Well, not as bad.” We finally reached our mansion and waved a hoof to it. White-washed with thick, strong columns and a tiled driveway, it radiated with power, prestige, and pride. “And here we are.”

“Forgive me, but how old are your parents?” she inquired.

“My father is pushing sixty-eight, and my mother just turned sixty two months ago,” I replied.

“And do they maintain the house themselves?” she inquired.

I nodded. “Yep, all by themselves.”

She looked over the lawn and the well-kept façade. “Incredible. They do well for their age and disabilities, pardon the choice of words.”

“Have to hoof it to earth ponies,” I chuckled huskily as we stepped up to the door. I rang the bell, and now became the waiting game. It was a mansion, after all.

Father opened the door slowly, warily and looked between me and Luna. I merely smiled. “Hello...” he greeted tentatively.

“Hello, father,” I greeted in turn, motioning between them. “Father, this is Nightingale. Nightingale, my father.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Mister Dust,” Luna said.

“Yes...” he murmured. “The same. Frost, are you and her...?”

I nodded, smile growing.

Finally, my father smiled and opened the door wider to let us in. “Your mother is going to throw a fit about her not being green.”

Home sweet home. It was a good feeling walking into the foyer again, feeling the cool tile under my hooves. Luna lingered behind me, and I looked back to her in question only to follow her gaze to the centerpiece- a stylized design of the two royal sisters chasing one another's tails.

We made eye contact with another, and she chuckled somewhat uneasily. I merely smiled and led her to the living room where my parents awaited. For the first time in a long time, I had the feeling that everything was going to be okay.




* * *




The storyteller smiled softly.

Went as expected. Mom did, in fact, bring up the whole “green” thing. Asked her quite a few questions, all of which she and I answered as we discussed before. Had the whole thing planned out in advance. Definitely as good a liar as I was- if not better. Had dinner, had a nice conversation. My parents were happy.

So that left us a night on the town.

I just guided her along, remaining silent but wearing a shit-eating grin- pardon my Prench- as she took it all in. Her eyes twinkled in amazement and she wore a smile that would have sent Pinkie Pie rocketing around.

He sprouted an ice arm and held up three fingers.

Three things, folks. Those three things I'll always miss about Manehattan- the lights, the people, and the music. And then and there, Luna was basking in it all. There we were, heading down Meridian Main Street into downtown, crowds of people going every which way to revel in the nightlife, to eat, drink, and be merry. To party and play, to laugh and love- all under her night sky. She was happy, so happy.

“Come on,” I called to her. “Before we hit the clubs, I want to show you something.”

I took her far away, away from Meridian Main, away from downtown, all the way to Manehattan Harbor out to Ellis Island. There she stood- the Pony of Friendship in all her glory. We made our way up the spiraling staircases, wound our way up into the torch. Then, after I was sure nobody was looking, I pulled myself through one of the windows and scrambled up over the top out of view, using my ice arms to help pull Luna out with me.

And after that, I merely swept a hoof to display the sight before us.

Manehattan, City of Lights and Legends. You could see it all from up there. All the quarters, all the places, all the landmarks. The Institute, the Lights and Legends Building, the World Trade Center... you could see everything from up there. And all the lights... all those lights, reflected back in water like so many sparkling stars. As the wind whipped our manes, I could only grin proudly as Luna just watched in awe. All this, all this during her night. All this. She held a hoof up to her mouth, weeping tears of joy.

“I...” She gulped, trying to find the words. “It's... I...”

“There's nothing else in the world quite like it,” I said to her over the wind. “Nothing else. Maybe Las Pegasus. Maybe. But I tell you, you can't get nearly as good a view as this without wings. And yes, it's always like this. Every night of the year, every year. The city that never sleeps.” I just watched her as she beheld it all, unable to tear her eyes away. “You know, we can stay up here as long as you like.”

“Yes... that would be nice...” she said quietly. “Won't we get in trouble though?”

“Nah,” I answered with a grin. I conveniently left out how the security guards were once on my payroll.

Quite some time passed by, us just sitting there, enjoying the view- close to half an hour I'd say. It was peaceful to sit there, one of the few slow, quiet places in a city full of speed and sound. There were only the moving shapes of distant ponies, music from the speakers below, and the rush of the wind- and the scenery itself, of course.

Finally, she turned to me and spoke, “Frost, thank you. Really. This is amazing, and... if possible, now that you've shown me something dear and special to you, may I return the favor?”

“How do you mean?” I inquired, jarred out of the near-silence.

Luna smiled. “Have you ever flown before, Frost?”

“Well, I've tried to years ago,” I replied. “Ice wings don't work out too well, apparently.”

“Yes, yes, pegasi magic...” she murmured, nodding. Then she glowed a brilliant white and shapeshifted back to her majestic alicorn form. “Then how would you like to experience it for yourself?”

I gawked at her, my heart racing at the prospect. Flying? Flying?! For real? “Wait, won't people notice?”

Luna merely smiled and said, “I assure you that they won't.” She held her hoof out to me. “Shall we?”

Still panting in anticipation, I eagerly took her hoof and she smiled wider, turning away. Her horn fired up and the world tinted an icy-blue as she surrounded me in her aura. That old childhood discomfort of being lifted up in a telekinetic field seized my gut once more... and then promptly turned into something completely different as she slipped off of the Pony of Friendship and carried me with her. The statue's green form zipped by as the wind whipped past us, and I let out a panicked scream. At the last moment, we veered up away from the ground, soaring over the heads of ponies just starting to disembark off of the ferry to the island. As we skimmed over the sparkling waters of Manehattan Harbor, fear turned to exhilaration. I could only let out whoops of joy as we skimmed over the waters, Luna chuckling and trailing a wing in the water to cause a wake of ripples. In spite of serving no purpose, I held out my forelegs as if I was in control. I was not, unfortunately, as Luna sent me into a barrel roll. Immediately, I cut off mid-cheer and groaned as the world continued to spin long after she straightened me out.

“Urgh... gently, please,” I griped.

I could only hear her giggle at my expense, but she nevertheless obliged and guided me gently through the acrobatics. As for her, she held nothing back as she pirouetted in air and over water, one time sending a splash toward me.

“Ah ah ah!” I sneered at her, using my hydromancy to suspend the water and send it back to her. Luna let out a surprised shout, even if it was only a bit of water. “Hey, now, fair's fair!”

“Ohhh, you,” she nickered as we skimmed past a barge.

“Ohhh, me,” I chuckled huskily. “How come nobody's noticing us?”

“I have some tricks up my sleeves, figuratively speaking,” Luna answered with a grin.

“What, can't even tell me?” I huffed.

She arced her brow and smirked. That expression, hoh, just sends my heart racing. “That would ruin the surprise.”

Pinkie Pie, your influence knows no bounds.

Soon we flew up and away from the waters of Manehattan Harbor and out over the city itself, basking in the glow of its millions of lights and millions more people. Like Luna before me, I felt my own breath being taken away, feeling the warmth of all those nocturnal revelers. But then we started flying higher, higher, higher still.

As the people of Manehattan shrunk into tiny ants, I turned to the dark-blue alicorn beside me and asked, “Luna, where are we going?” I watched as she too enveloped herself in a magical aura. “Luna?” I looked down and gasped as I realized we were going very, very high. The clouds whipped past us and the earth fell away, and eventually the lights of Manehattan became but a part of the tapestry of lights illuminating the hemisphere. “Luna?!”

“We're going to my special place, Frost,” she said calmly, turning to me. “Relax. We'll be safe. Trust me.”

I let out a deep breath and steeled myself, looking up as we soared upwards at impossible speeds. We were above the clouds now, and now only the blackness of space and its ocean of stars greeted us. The wind that whipped by us slowly grew quieter and until it- and all sounds for that matter- ceased to be. We weren't just looking into space- we were in space. Her magic was keeping us from freezing solid, being turned inside-out by the vacuum, and otherwise shielded us from the many dangers of outer space. I looked to Luna questioningly, but she simply remained focus and veered us to the side. It was then that I realized what her special place was.

It was her moon.

As we approached at what must have been thousands of kilometers per hour, unhindered by any friction, I couldn't help but notice how sad the moon looked. It was pockmarked with countless craters ranging from the tiny to the downright enormous. It was bruised and battered, and yet it remained at its post.

The storyteller smiled.

Like a lonely sentinel.

We decelerated quickly and touched down gently on its surface. I couldn't feel anything, shielded so by Luna's magic. She stepped closer and merged our protective auras together- in order to speak and touch, I realized.

“Here we are,” she said with a soft sigh, looking about aimlessly.

“This... is your special place?” I asked. “Why?”

Luna smiled softly, perhaps a touch sadly, and pointed. I traced her hoof and... there it was.

Our world. A tiny marble of blues, whites, greens, and browns- so tiny in a sea of black. So incredibly tiny, so incredibly... alone.

“That's it,” Luna spoke, sitting down beside me. “That's all of us, everything we've been, everything we've done. All of our triumphs and failures, all we've created and destroyed, our beginnings and our endings. Everything that makes us... us. All those strange and wonderful things, everything. We tend to take it all for granted- I do at times, too. I'm only equine, Frost.

“It was when my sister and I decided to aid the unicorns in controlling the cycle of the day and night that we realized what our destinies were- its keepers- and secured our place in Equestria as something others saw and still see as near-divine. We earned our cutie-marks, our thrones, and even our new names. Everything just went by so quickly. The big things became so little and the little even smaller.

“One of the first things I did was fly out here, the first pony, the first person in our world to set foot on a celestial body. It felt like still another crowning achievement, but when I looked back to the earth- as you do now- and saw all that and then looked the other way...”

Luna turned, and I did the same. The great void and its cold, distant stars greeted us. I felt the little warmth I had drain from me as if sucked into the blackness, so desperate it was for warmth.

She looked at me and said, “It was sobering, realizing that that tiny pea, pretty and blue, was our world. I put my hoof up and shut one eye...” She did so, “and my hoof, my mere hoof... blotted out our world, our home. Our world is so tiny, so alone, so... insignificant. If something, dare I say, were to happen to our beloved home... it'd be nothing. No matter what happened on or to our world, not even the faintest echo would be heard out here.

“You might think me spinning existentialism or nihilism or some other philosophy. I'm not. Save for this- after defeating the greatest monster in the history of equinekind, becoming a goddess-princess of the new Principality of Equestria, and being the first person on the moon, I didn't feel like a giant, looking upon that tiny little world we called home. As I blotted it all out with merely my own hoof, I felt so very, very small- but most importantly, humbled.”

Luna inhaled softly, then coughed, “A-At least until... well... I'd rather not get into that.

“My point is that all that we are is extremely fragile. Our world... is fragile. We have to take care of it. We have to do right and make things right. Because we only get one world, Frost.”

Now it was my turn to stay silent and watch, trying to make sense of all that I'd just learned while recovering from the great shock of it all. Do right, make things right... I was headed that way, an equinpologist and a historian, a true philequinpist. That was my Way. That was what I how I was going to lead my life and do right. I looked at the mare beside me, so very, very small just like me in this great abyss.

And as she turned to meet my eyes with her own, so full of everything, and smiled, I knew that I truly loved her.

And still do.

“Luna?” I whispered.

“Yes, Frost?” she whispered back.

“I'm sorry. Because I'm about to be cheesy. In Naponyyyyy where love is king, when boy meets girlllll, here's what they saaaaaay.” And with that, I tilted forward as far as I could and touched my eye against the surface of the moon as much as I could within her protective magic. Then I sat back up and sang:

“When the moon hits your eye
like a big pizza pie,
that's called amoréééé...”

Luna stared at first but then broke into a fit of laughter and we leaned against one another, singing to the blackness:

“When the world seems to shine
like you've had too much wine,
that's called amoreéééé...”




* * *




In the next few days leading up to the Northern Lights Festival, yes, Luna and I did enjoy the clubs, and yes, we did have a blast together- and everybody was none the wiser of who she really was. Even made sure to lock our bedroom door with a little extra ice to make sure our little secret stayed our little secret.

Waking up that morning with Luna snuggled up against me... it reminded me of that day years ago, the first Festival with Hummingbird. For a moment, as I woke up early and gently stroked her mane until she stirred awake, I couldn't help but see that green-on-green mare in her place just for a moment. I reminded myself that I found- hopefully- my true special somepony as unbelievable and unlikely as it was, and then I started making preparations for the day ahead.

It was a familiar feeling, all of us heading out together into the chilly morning with our cookware, tables, books, and memories- a morning bereft of the lights of Manehattan for just these few days out of the year. Under an overcast sky and amidst gently falling snow, a stream of Northerners and a few friends and onlookers in their light coats carrying saddlebags and drawing carts ran together into a mighty river millions strong, all bound for Meridian Main. I was long used to the experience, a veteran of ten years.

Luna wasn't so familiar.

“Relax, Nightingale,” I said quietly to her over the steady crunch of hooves in snow. “You're alright, you're alright.”

“I know, just... I didn't expect this many here,” she whispered, biting her lip, snorting softly. “And don’t treat me like some skittish puppy.”

“Sorry. Don't worry, though. I've been in your horseshoes before. It'll be good for you. Just take it easy.”

It all went as normal. My family met with Zoleks', and then we all gathered and sat down with enough room for the all of us- again, herd mentality, folks. Long lost to Wastelanders. Then I watched as a distant unicorn mare stood atop a small platform.

“Welcome, Northerners and guests alike,” she spoke with her gently amplified voice. Again came the whispering din of family and friends translating for those who couldn't fully understand Equestrian. The mare- Kindling... she sounded older. As she spoke, I couldn't help but wonder how many years she had left. “We are gathered here for these next three days to hold vigil to our past lives in the Far North, for no matter the different names we may have for it, it was and still is our home. And our bond to it will never be severed.

“Today, we must be reminded of the terrible tragedy of the Great Exodus thirty years ago. For many of us, even after so many years, scars still linger. Old wounds wait to be reopened. Many of us have tried to move on, started new lives, started new families. I'm one of them. There is a new, third generation of Northerners joining us now, and like the second, we must pass on our heritage for it is our duty to uphold our tradition so that it may be remembered. We've already lost enough to the Exodus. We don't need to lose any more. We need to have a future for our people, but in order for that to happen, we must invest in the present, and the present is built on the foundations of the past.

“That is why here for these next three days, we invite everyone to partake in this vigil, our festival. Be not suspicious or wary, but instead welcome them into your circles and share your tales and experiences with them. At the same time, I must ask that all guests and visitors please remain respectful and not press for information as always. Again, the Exodus was a great and tragic moment in our lives, and for many of us, it still haunts us to this day. Please be mindful and understand that there are some places we don't wish to revisit.

“And so today on the first day of the Northern Lights Festival, we shall share our cherished tales and memories of our past lives to pass onto others.” I smiled softly and looked over to my father at that. He too smiled proudly in his ancient suit of scaled armor. “We are not eternal, and so we must pass the torch onward and forward to new generations. You have already been informed where the Northerner peoples will reside for the duration of this festival, and there will be markers and posters up. Don't be afraid to mingle and explore other cultures. We all share the same kinship, and we always have more to learn from others than we have to learn of ourselves.

“And so begins the first day of the Tenth Annual Northern Lights Festival, the Day of Remembrance.”

Like so many times and with practiced coordination and precision, a group of pegasi shot into the sky from among the crowd, weaving dynamically and pulling back the curtain of clouds to reveal the glowing morning sky above. Luna gasped beside me and fired up her magic, lowering the moon just in time to make way for the rising sun. The yellow-orange glow was reflected in each flake of falling snow, glittering majestically. The team of pegasi drifted downward and then zoomed back into the air as the unicorn mare fired a magical beam up with them, which burst into a rolling, ribbon-like aurora that shimmered with the countless snowflakes falling from the sky. Gasps of awe filled the morning air, and like so many years ago, I again felt wetness at the edges of my eyes. I turned to Luna and saw my own expression reflected in hers.

“Let the Festival commence.”




* * *




For the most part, the Day of Remembrance went as usual. Cuisine, customs, and culture. It was a time of plenty with more than enough food to feed those millions of Northerners and visitors- of which I noted there were far more this time. My father once again participated in the Changing of the Guard ceremony with the other Hokkaidan Palace Guard and their descendants, reliving those brighter times when the Pearly Palace still stood.

After the sun dipped below the horizon and the snowflakes glinted in the moonlight looking like the stars themselves falling to the earth, something was different. This time, Mother wasn't going to be the one telling the stories.

“Go on, Frost,” she said to me from her cooking station. “You've heard those stories dozens of times by now. You remember them, I know you do.”

“Nopony and nobody can tell them like you do, though,” I said.

“Well somepony has to make the hangetsu,” Mother nickered. “And with your cooking, it's certainly not going to be you.”

Luna looked to me in question. “What does she mean by that?”

I coughed, embarrassed. “Let's not get into that.”

She looked at me with that expression. “Well are you going to tell us a tale?” She nodded to the circle that had gathered in anticipation of my Mother. Zoleks and Namira were already there, waiting.

“I-I don't know, it's not exactly something I've done before,” I said even as my heart went aflutter.

“Come now, everypony has to start somewhere. Besides, didn't you want to become a teacher someday?”

I let out a misty sigh. “Well, you got me there. Alright. I'll give it a go.” I put on my confident face- it's all in the façade- and strode forward into the circle. “Evening, folks,” I greeted. “Konbanwa. My mother's a bit occupied with preparing more food, so I'll be taking over this year.” From the murmurs and looks the small crowd shared, they didn't seem to object. A few of them didn’t look exactly pleased, however. Luna sat down beside me and gave my shoulder a gentle rub with her magic. I smiled gratefully back at her and readied myself.

“This is a favorite of mine,” I started. “It's called 'The Mountain that Loved a Bird.'”

Nightingale grinned. I knew she was grinning. I didn't have to look look. I just knew. So I took a deep breath, tried to find the right words.

The storyteller smiled softly.

Well, folks... this is where it all started.

“There once was a great, barren mountain that alone ruled over a great, barren desert. So craggy and dry were its peaks and slopes that no plant could grow on it, and no animal- not even the lowly, hardy ant- could live on it. The sun warmed it, the night chilled it, but the only other touch the mountain knew was the touch of rain and snow. Nothing else.

“All day and all night, the mountain only looked to the sky. It knew the path of the sun by day and the course of the moon by night. The constellations held no secrets from it. Only the billowing clouds continued to surprise the mountain with their wild, fantastic shapes as aeons ticked past. There was simply nothing more to see.”

I paused for a few seconds. This was... this was actually not too bad. Maybe thinking back on my memories of my Mother's storytelling helped to inspire me, but when it came right down to it, it was just the right words, the right way. Not to convince. Not to persuade. Not to bribe or blunder, sneak or swindle. Just to entertain. It felt liberating and sent my heart soaring.

“But then one day, there was a speck on the horizon. The mountain was surprised, astonished by this strange new thing. And it was growing. Not by much, but it was growing! No longer was it a speck, it was a shape, no longer a shape...

“... but a bird.

“She flew in a circle above the mountain, then landed in a crevice to rest in the shade. The mountain felt the dry grasp of her tiny claws and the softness of her feathers as she sheltered herself from the intense heat. The mountain was amazed, astonished that such a thing came from the sky it had known for countless centuries.

“'Who are you?' the mountain asked in a dry rasp. 'What is your name?'

“'I am a bird,' she answered softly. 'My name is Joy, and I come from distant lands where everything is green and warm. Every spring, I fly far and wide in search of a home to build a nest and raise my children. As soon as I've rested, I will continue my search.'

“'Must you?' asked the mountain, aching deep inside. 'Couldn't you just stay here? I have never seen anything like you before.'

“Joy sighed, 'Birds are living things. I have to eat and drink. There is nothing for me here. No seeds or insects, no ponds or streams... I can't stay.'

“'Will you come back, then?' the mountain pleaded. 'Please?'

“Joy sat and thought for a while. 'I fly far and wide every spring, but no mountain has ever cared whether I came or went. I would like to return, but I would only be able to come back during the spring when I must build my nest, and it can only be for a few hours with no food or water around.'

“'Even just a few hours a year would be enough,' the mountain said, put at ease.

“'But... there is one more thing you should know,' Joy said, casting her gaze downward. 'Mountains like you last forever, but we don't. Even if I visit you every year for the rest of my life, those visits will be very few. Birds don't live that long.'

“'I see,' said the mountain, feeling that ache grow inside once more. 'I will be sad when your visits stop but I would be sadder still if you flew away never to return.'

“Joy sat still for a while, nestled in that shady crevice. Then she sang in a crisp, bell-like song. It was the first time the mountain had heard anything like it- music. When she finished, she said, 'Since no mountain had ever cared about me so much, I promise that every spring for the rest of my life, I shall return, fly over you, and sing you a song. And because my life won't last forever, I will name one of my daughters Joy, and I will tell her how to find you. She, in turn, will name her first daughter Joy and teach her how to find you. Each Joy will have another Joy so that no matter how many years pass, you will always have a friend to greet you and to fly high above and sing to you.'

“Her promise filled the mountain with bittersweet... joy. 'I still wish you could stay, but I am glad you will return.'

“'And now, I must go,' said Joy as she took flight. 'It is a long way from the lands that have food and water for me. Farewell, until next year.' And then she took off, becoming a speck once more. All the while, the mountain watched her until she became a speck and finally disappeared in the distance.

“And then it waited.

“Year by year, spring after spring, a colorful bird would fly over the mountain, singing, 'I am Joy, and I have come to greet you.' And for a few hours, the bird would soar overhead or nestle in the shade of a crevice, singing.

“And every year, the mountain would always ask, 'Isn't there some way you could stay?'

“And Joy would always answer, 'I'm sorry, but I can't. But I will return next year.'

“Each year, the mountain looked forward to Joy's visit more and more. And each year, it grew harder and harder to watch her go. The mountain ached deep inside, and the years dragged on and on as he waited. Ninety-nine springs came and went. On the hundredth, as Joy was about to leave, the mountain asked once more,

“'Isn't there some way you could stay?'

“And Joy answered as she always did- politely. 'I'm sorry, but I can't. But I will return next year.'

“The mountain watched as she disappeared into the sky it knew so well, and it could bear the ache no more. Its heart broke. The hard stone cracked and split, and from the deepest part of the mountain, tears gushed forth and rolled down the mountainside in a stream.

“The next spring, a colorful bird appeared and sang, 'I am Joy, and I have come to greet you.'

“This time, the mountain did not reply. It only wept, its thoughts consumed with the knowledge that she would soon have to leave and the long months before she would return.

“Joy rested on her ledge and looked at the stream of tears. Then she flew above the mountain and sang as she always had. When it was time for her to go, the mountain was still weeping bitterly.

“'I will return next year,' Joy promised softly. And then she flew away.

“When the next spring came, Joy returned carrying in her beak a small seed. The mountain did not notice, still weeping its stream of tears. Joy carefully tucked the seed into a crack in the hard stone beside the stream. Then she flew above the mountain and sang to it. When the mountain did not reply, she flew away once more.

“In the weeks that followed, the seed began to send down tiny roots that reached into the hard stone, little by little spreading into yet smaller cracks, breaking through. As the roots found water and drew food from the softening stone, a shoot rose from the seed and unfolded its tiny green leaves to catch the sunlight. The mountain, however, was still deep in sorrow, blinded by its own tears. It did not notice a plant so small.

“The next spring, Joy brought another seed, and the spring after that another. She placed each one in a protected place near the stream of tears and sang to the mountain.

“The mountain still only wept.

“Time passed. As the years went on, the roots of the new plants softened the stone near the stream of tears. Where once was hard rock, now was fertile soil. Moss grew in sheltered corners. Grasses and little flowering plants sprouted in crevices and hollows near the stream. Tiny insects carried to the mountain by the winds soon scurried among the leaves.

“Meanwhile, the roots of the very first seed went deeper and deeper toward the aching heart of the mountain. Above ground, what had started as a tiny shoot was now growing into the trunk of a young tree, its branches holding a bounty of leaves to the sun. At last, the mountain felt the roots reaching down like gentle fingers, filling and mending the cracks in its heart. Sorrow soon faded, and the mountain noticed the many wonderful new changes that had been taking place. Tears of sorrow became tears of... joy.

“And each year, Joy did return, bringing another seed. Each year, more streams ran laughing down the mountain's sides, and the ground grew green.

“Now no longer overcome with sorrow, the mountain began to ask once more, 'Isn't there some way you could stay?'

“But Joy still answered, 'I'm sorry, but I can't. But I will return next year.'

“More years passed, and the streams carried its gift of life into the great, barren desert around the mountain until finally everything was green as far as the mountain could see. From lands beyond the horizon, small animals flocked to the mountain. As they found food and shelter among the slopes, the mountain suddenly felt hope rising within. Opening its heart to the roots of the trees, it offered them all its strength. The trees stretched their branches higher into the sky, carrying a song of hope from the heart of the mountain into every tree, every branch, every leaf.

“And sure enough, when the next spring came, Joy returned. This time, she wasn't carrying a seed... but a twig. She flew straight to the tallest tree on the mountain, to the tree that had grown from the very first seed. She placed the twig on a branch in which she would build her nest.

“'I am Joy,' she sang, 'and I am here to stay.'”

The storyteller grinned.

Not bad, am I right?

“So what did you think?” I asked Luna, grinning as we took a break for dinner.

“I'd say... not bad for your first,” she answered with a chuckle.

“Oh come on, you have to give me more credit than that,” I huffed.

“No, I'd still say it wasn't bad for your first.”

“Fine,” I nickered, crossing my forelegs. “Be that way.”

A felt a peck on my cheek and grumbled, cracking a smile. “But I appreciate the flattery,” she said.

I grinned and leaned against her. “Okay, I feel compensated now.”

Luna laughed softly and settled down with me as we ate. “One question, though- I, ah, saw sleeping bags among the items you and your parents packed.”

I nodded and paused to swallow my mouthful of hangetsu. Smiling, I replied, “Oh, yeah. We all sleep outside in the snow during the Festival.”

“Outside.”

“Mm-hm!”

“In public.”

“That's right.”

“Around... millions of people.”

I realized where this was going and frowned.

“I also couldn't help but notice the, ah... number of sleeping bags.”




* * *




Luna did like the solution. Just like before with Hummingbird, we shared a sleeping bag together. Thankfully, it had a hooded portion and thus she could worm her way deep enough so that nopony could notice who she really was. That was the good news.

The bad news was that it was horribly uncomfortable in our position. And she told me I would be getting no feather treatment that night.

It also meant that I could hardly sleep. At least Luna seemed well off enough.

I glanced over and noticed Zoleks still very much wide awake, working his jaw and looking up in a worried expression.

“Psst,” I shot over to him. “Zoleks. What's wrong?”

He looked over at the sleeping form of Namira and made sure she was, in fact, sleeping. He let out a deep sigh and replied, “You sure, buck? Don't want to dampen the mood.”

“It's the Day of Tears tomorrow,” I whispered back. “Look, it's bothering you a lot, I can tell. What is it?”

Zoleks sighed again, then turned to look at me. “It was breaking news today, and I didn't want to ruin the mood. The minotaurs hit the oil processing plant in the Persano Gulf.”

I widened my eyes a little. He had my attention. “Isn't that...?”

“Deep in Zebrican territory? The largest oil processing plant and oil field in the world? All of the above.” Zoleks thunked his head back against his sleeping bag. “That was, like, this morning. No new information since. And that's bad.”

That sensation of being watched crept back.

“Bad how?” I asked.

“Buck, since when does a first-world nation have a complete press blackout?” Zoleks asked, shooting me a look. “Whatever's going on there, it's pretty bucking bad.” He let out a sigh. “Well, that, and it's going to jack up gas and oil.”

“Hey, look, you've been through rough patches before,” I said to him. “You saved for a rainy day, right?”

“Well yeah...”

“Then just relax,” I said, offering as comforting a smile I could. “It's not like you to be a pessimist. You'll be fine. We'll be fine. Look, get some rest, Zoleks. No use worrying about it.”

“Yeah, you're right,” he murmured. “You got it, boss.”

“Don't call me that.”

“Sorry, habit.”




* * *




The Day of Tears. It's been a while. And yet... so little had changed.

Twenty million dead, eight million still unaccounted for. “We cannot allow such a tragedy to be forgotten in time,” the unicorn said, I remember. “To forget it all would be the same as killing all those millions a second time.” And so it became our burden to carry the memory on, to ensure that they are never forgotten.

By day, the older generation reminisced their loved ones, friends and family. By night, we lit our candles and slowly filed north.

The Wall of Faces. All those countless eyes of the dead upon you. You walked, and you walked, and you walked for ages past all those proud ponies at graduations, all those pouting newborn foals impatient to return to play, eyes turned red by birthday candles, faces faded, faces tarnished. So many faces, close... close like so...

The storyteller solemnly reached out as if to stroke an unseen cheek.

There were no new photographs to put up. There were only tributes to those we would never see again. Flowers, jewelry, stuffed animals, drawings- sometimes so childish. Mother, a new wreath. Father, a new charcoal painting. And then we held vigil in the snow, in the glow of the candlelight. We held vigil under the eyes of the innumerable dead, all looking at you, all looking through you.

Luna was silent the entire time, bearing no expression. I could see it in her eyes, though, those eyes full of everything. I knew what she was thinking. She was still in exile during The Great Exodus, all those hundreds of thousands of miles away.

She felt guilty because she could not help any of those millions.

I took her hoof in mine and squeezed gently. We locked eyes wordlessly. She gripped mine harder.

And then as one, we all rose.

Somepony in the crowd uttered, “Vivat Ultima Thule.”

“Vivat Ultima Thule,” echoed the Thulians of the crowd.

Another. “Lenge leve Horge.”

“Lenge leve Horge.”

Another.“Hàyzhōu wànsuì.”

“Hàyzhōu wànsuì.”

Finally. “Dai Hokkaidō banzai.”

And I repeated. “Dai Hokkaidō banzai.”

Long live the Far North.




* * *




The storyteller breathed out a misty sigh.

The Day of Hope did exactly as advertised in washing the melancholy away. Food, festivities... fun. If it weren't for the Day of Tears, I would have liked to have invited Pinkie Pie.

Over a cup of Mother's Thunder Brew Sake, however, I finally decided to ask her about... that. “So, Nightingale, I'm curious.” Once I was sure sure I had her attention, I nonchalantly said, “I've been having this weird sensation of being watched ever since that night we first met. What exactly is that?”

Luna blinked and then made an 'oh' expression before replying, “That would be my... escorts.”

“Escorts,” I parroted, not understanding.

“You know... ponies who look after me,” she clarified with a brief shrug.

“... ah.” I coughed into my hoof. “So, they've... been watching this whole time.”

“Not this whole time, no,” she answered in a chuckle. “But most of it, yes.” I opened my mouth. “Don't ask what they were watching.”

“Well... alright then,” I murmured. “So, I was wondering... after the closing ceremony, did you want to hit a favorite club of mine?”

Luna cocked an eyebrow and smirked. “They're going to be watching.”

“Is that supposed to be a warning?” I chuckled, heart racing.

“Just a joke,” she chuckled, giving me a kiss. “So where are we headed?”

I grinned. “The Lazy Dog.”




* * *




I knocked hard on the back door this time. Hopefully someone would hear me.

“Are you sure we should be using the employees’ entrance?” Luna finally inquired.

“Trust me on this,” I said to her. “Used to work here. Plus, we’re a little old for a juvie-joint, so I’d like a more private corner if possible. Skipping the line is just a bonus.”

“A ‘juvie-joint’?” she asked.

“Oh, it’s what we call a nightclub for younger folks here in Manehattan,” I explained. “Teens to twenty, I’d say.”

“And this is your favorite club?”

“Favorite since I was a foal,” I chuckled heartily. “Nothing else comes close. Not even Blaring Beats.”

“Ooh, a bold claim,” Luna huffed softly as a griffin finally answered the door, dull thumping bass audible from further in.

“Uh, not to be rude, but…” He tapped the ‘Employees Only’ sign.

I pouted. “You wound me, Kory. Don’t even remember me?” I… smiled. Then I reached up to tuck down an imaginary fedora with my hoof.

For… you know.

Emphasis.

“Oh…” Kory stared at me. “Oh! Heh, s-sorry, didn’t recognize you, uh, heh.” He stepped aside with a nervous smile. “Go on in. Silva’s on stage right now. Should I let her know you’re here?”

“Nah, she’ll find out,” I said with a shake of my head. “Come on in, Nightingale.”

After we left Kory behind, Luna questioned, “What was that all about? Dear me, it was like he was afraid of you!”

“I used to be his boss,” I answered. “Used to own the place. It’s why my parents live in a mansion now, you know.”

“And this is your favorite club,” she nickered. “I smell a hint of bias in the air.”

“Hey, now, I loved this place before I owned it,” I snorted as we reached the door to the dance floor. The music was only just dulled so, and I had an idea of what Silva was playing. “And now you’re gonna find out why.”

The storyteller pursed his lips.

Music makes me a different pony, folks. Don’t ask me why, but I thought Luna would love Silva’s remix of “Absolute Territory.” You folks probably haven’t heard it before, but the lyrics are rather…

He coughed.

… suggestive.

Of course, the possibility that this might put Luna in an uncomfortable position was at the back of my mind as I opened the door and rocked it hard to the music. Luna did too for the first few seconds, but then she slowly opened her eyes and slowed down to a complete stop. Then my midnight-black mane in disguise turned into a scarlet mare in disguise.

“F-Frost, maybe we should leave!” she explained.

In the midst of my music high, I just laughed, “What, too racy for ya?”

“Quite, quite!” she squeaked and grabbed my hoof. “Please, may we leave this place?” I grinned and pulled her in closer, cutting off her surprised shout with a deep kiss.

Remember waaay back when I first told you all about “Her” and how we always kept our kisses tender and loving?

The storyteller glanced away with a guilty grin.

I lied.

When I pulled away, leaving her a very scarlet mare in disguise, I said, “You know, for the Mistress of the Moon, you seem awful skittish about the notion of certain nightly ‘activities’.”

Yep. Feeling of being watched again. Definitely not getting on their good side right now.

Luna, meanwhile, looked like she was just about ready to slap me. She took a deep breath and hesitated, cheeks still crimson. “Only because it is being sung in public,” she grumbled.

“Welcome to the modern world!” I laughed, leaning in close. “Come on, you like the beat, don’t you?”

“Well… admittedly,” she answered, glancing away.

“Stay a lil’ longer and dance, babe,” I said to her (Don’t call her that.). “I promise the next tracks’ll go easy on ya.” I raised my hoof and hooked it to the side to grab Silva Hound’s attention. I grinned at the silvery pegasus mare, and she grinned right back. Turning back to Luna, I asked, “So whaddya say?”

“Well…” she murmured almost inaudibly over the music.

“Or I guess I shouldn’t treat you like a normal mare…”

Luna stared at me in utter shock, then slowly cocked that eyebrow and flashed me that smirk. “Oh, I’m staying now, Frost!”

Yet another lesson from How to Make Friends and Influence People, folks. If you aren’t getting results, make it a challenge. Soon we were both rocking it hard, partying the night away- even if that pink tinge remained on her cheeks.

And yes, she absolutely loved “Yellow Line.”




* * *




Of course, she realized I had tricked her into staying.

“Unclean,” she murmured into her pillow on the other side of the bed with a furious blush. “So unclean.”

“C’mon, you totally enjoyed it!” I protested from my side.

“Which makes me so unclean!” Luna shouted into her pillow. “Let us never speak of this again.”

“But-”

“Never! Again!”

I sighed in defeat. Every couple had its arguments, I guessed…




* * *




Definitely had its arguments.

“Really, Luna?”

“Yes, quite. I strongly feel I must endorse such a business in this manner.”

“But you totally enjoyed The Lazy Dog!”

“Never. Again.”

“Ugh…”

“Besides, I enjoy this place so much more, and thus…”

Luna, in all her royal regalia, burst open the doors to Blaring Beats with a dour expression, hoof still extended and wings outstretched in intimidating fashion. The effects were immediate. The music halted, the lights went on, and everypony in the room gawked at Her Majesty. Vinyl even let her shades droop out of place.

Luna then settled down on her hooves, closed her eyes, smiled easy, and cleared her throat. “I am Princess Luna, and this is my favorite nightclub in the Heartland.”

For a whole two seconds, nopony said anything. Then everypony burst into raucous cheers, and the music and dazzling lightshow resumed- this time with Luna joining in.

For the second time, I let out a sigh of defeat from outside, just out of view. As always, the music got to me, and I relented, joining in on the fun. I could only admire her from a distance to keep our relationship secret- I remembered, mercifully- but swaying to the music with the lights reflected in her ethereal mane… she was absolutely beautiful. Even if my pride was wounded, I still had that feeling- that everything was going to be okay.




* * *




But it wasn’t, even after I returned to Canterlot as a student. News leaked out from Zebrica that the Persano Gulf attack caused an unprecedented oil spill. Anywhere between nine to twelve-million barrels of oil were lost over the course of the leakage- the most of any recorded spill in history. In addition, the massive coal reserves at Persano Gulf were ransacked in the offensive as well. Upon initial news of the attack, gas and coal prices doubled. By the time cleanup operations wrapped up months later, they had gone up eightfold. Even as a graduate student, I still found time to return both to Ponyville and to Manehattan. Every time I went, I saw fewer and fewer powered wagons on the road.

The minotaurs were emboldened by the success of the attack. Their objectives shifted from fighting on the frontlines to destroying Zebrica’s economy. Coal mines, oil refineries, petrol depots, pipelines, highways, waterways, truck routes- all those and more suddenly became priority targets in their fight for freedom.

And still Caesar Raj’M’Kora remained determined to win.




* * *




“Why doesn’t he just give them their freedom, Zoleks? That whole war’s tanking the global economy!”

Crackle, sigh. “Ain’t that simple, buck. look, you’re the equinpologist here! Don’t you know how the whole responsibility works?”

“I do, but in this case, enlighten me.”

“The Caesar, like any other zebra, is bound by his responsibility to others.”

“Okay, that I know.”

“Unlike other zebras, he’s also bound by his responsibility to the Empire as a whole. If the minotaurs try to break free of the Empire, the Caesar- the entire Legion, actually- has the duty to either force them back into submission…”

“I’m sensing an ‘or’ coming up.”

“... or wipe them out.”

“But that’s genocide! The U.N. can’t condone that! Hay, I can’t imagine how… one sec.”




* * *




“Luna, why isn’t Equestria doing anything about this?” I asked, swiveling away from my dorm room’s desk.

Ever since my return to Canterlot, Luna opted to visit me whenever her work allowed- that is, almost every night. She answered, “Because we don’t have the authority to do so. The Holy Zebrican Empire holds veto power on the Security Council, and the War Accords expired during the Age of Peace following the Almarinian War between us and Aldorna six-hundred years ago. That unfortunately creates the present situation where any official Security Council action can be vetoed by Zebrica despite it actually being the warring perpetrator. The U.N. cannot do anything officially.”

“What about unofficially, then?” I sighed sharply, hissing out steam. “What about you and Celestia?”

“To declare war on the Legion would not only draw the ire of the international community- it would only cause more bloodshed,” she sighed, sitting down on my bed close by. “And my sister and I can do almost nothing.”

“But you’re the goddesses of the moon and sun!” I protested. “The most powerful ponies- beings, even- to walk the earth! Even if you’re ponies just like us, you must be able to do something!”

“We cannot,” Luna said, shaking her head. “Frost, when Discord turned us into what we are, it made us powerful, yes, but wholly incapable of offensive magic. It wanted beautiful playthings, not rebels that would overthrow it- never mind we did that in any case. Even with the Element of Harmony, we could only petrify it regardless of the fact that the nature of the Elements prevents any notion of killing. My sister couldn’t even use her magic to slay the changeling queen that attacked Canterlot years ago- she only tried to stun her. I couldn’t kill a bothersome fly save for stomping on it. The last time I could was when I… I…” She bit her lip and turned away. “Forget it.”

She inhaled deeply and strode over to me, caressing my cheek. “Frost, love, I know you worry deeply about your friend and his new, budding family, but understand that I have my limits- my sister as well. We are doing what we can.”

I let out another sigh, this time with a cool mist. I picked up the phone again and unmuted it. “Hey, back again…”




* * *




“So what is his name?” Luna asked, snuggled against me in bed. Oh, how I missed having somepony so close to me like that… the softness of her fur, her subtle warmth, her gentle touch… how I missed it so...

“Jorund,” I answered. “After his great-grandfather.” As she smiled, I couldn’t help but ask, couldn’t help but want to sate that curiosity. “Luna… what happened a thousand years ago?” Her lips flattened, and she cast her gaze downward. “... you don’t have to answer.”

“No,” she said, “but… you should know. We’ve been together for over a year now. You should… you should know, Frost.”

The storyteller grimaced.

Folks, I- folks… bear with me. I… I can’t hope to capture the intense sorrow and bitter remorse in her tone. Just… bear with me. Because I’m going to try a second time.

She breathed out a deep sigh. “History books do little justice in explaining just what happened. They might lead you to believe that the conflict between my sister and myself happened over a temper tantrum in which I was sent into the proverbial corner. She did not elect to harness the most powerful magical artifacts in all of Equestria and turn them against me lightly nor swiftly. What she did was not unexpected nor unprepared for. I… I gave her no other choice. She tried everything to reason with me, but I… the Luna you know, was far, far away, only able to witness the horror she created.

“What the history books gloss over and the foals’ tales leave out entirely is that the morning I rebelled lasted a little longer than a week- a true seven days’ war compared to that of the same name.” She huffed softly. “Some also mistakenly believe that, because my sister alone raised and lowered my moon for a thousand years in my absence, she is more powerful than I was- that my exile was petty, almost unnecessary as she could have merely taken control and lowered my moon herself. All falsehood. She could only raise and lower my moon all those centuries because I was not there, as- and I do not boast, Frost- I am the more powerful of us. It took my banishment to allow her to wrest control of my moon. It took my willpower alone to force her sun to stay down for over a week’s time, and she could do nothing about it.”

Luna exhaled slowly, closing her eyes. “You don’t have to continue,” I whispered.

“I already made my choice, Frost,” she said stoutly, resolutely. And so she continued, checking herself despite those painful memories, despite going back to that time. “I… I just wanted to be appreciated, loved... like my sister. Do you understand? A thousand years ago, we didn’t have electricity. A thousand years ago, we only had fire and magic to bring light to the dark. All equines are creatures of the day. Before we claimed this world as our own through fire and steel, we lived in fear of the nocturnal predator. And so they shunned my night. They feared it, even. I tried to make it beautiful, arranging the nearest stars into fantastic shapes and patterns. I spent… whole years trying to reach them all, abandoning my political seat and its duties just to earn my subjects’ love and adoration. Years, just to be appreciated. Decades. I grew more and more desperate, and then finally… I cracked. I know not what possessed me for at that time, I was still myself. But I thought to myself, if I couldn’t earn their love and adoration of my night…

“... I would force them to endure it.

“The horrible winter that persists in the Far North is… it’s a bitter reminder of what I caused by my actions. Equestria entered a deep winter, and the cold was killing all it touched. Forests, crops, wildlife, livestock... only those who sheltered themselves away could hope to withstand. Ponies everywhere were suffering, starving, freezing.”

And yet the storyteller’s next words- even mimicked through his magic- were all the more chilling.

“I didn’t care. I was in a great rage. And I wanted to punish.

“My wrath was not contained solely to our lands. Before the end, both Aldorna and Zebrica had sent their finest agents to assassinate me. But in my intense jealousy, I welcomed an… unholy presence that bound me and magnified my obsession, my anger, and especially my power. And I could kill. And it spoke to me, whispering and opening my eyes to a new source of strength- the stars. With my magic alone, I forged suits of armor for myself and those who remained loyal to me. And… in order to do so, I had to resort to a magic I was already familiar with.”

For a moment, her irises narrowed into slits. “Discord wasn’t the only expert in amniomorphic spells, Frost.

“First was myself. Then came my loyal guards. Equine beings, turned to monsters. Aldorna’s and Zebrica’s finest stood no chance.

“My sister… knew what she had to do. Not even she could break me of my madness, so strong was the Nightmare’s hold on me. It became too much. As blood was spilled and the land chilled, I could only watch from a distance as my rebellious outcry turned into atrocity beyond words. I was no longer ruler over this weak, puny world. I was a prisoner of my own doing. 

“And even in the end, my sister was not powerful enough nor pure enough of heart to save me. It took others to do that. The Six. There is… there is a spark required to power the Elements of Harmony to their fullest, and it is nigh impossible to generate that spark without the aid of others. Friendship is magic. Magic is might.”

She let out a heavy sigh at last. “Enough. That’s… enough. I regret all of it. That’s all you need to know.”

I said nothing. Just held her close. What could I have said, even with all my speaking ability? What else was there to say? Sometimes, you don’t need to say anything. Hugging her tight, it conveyed everything I could have wanted- “I don’t care. I’m here for you. I love you.” All in the simplest way, all in the best way.




* * *




Things got worse as time went on- and not just for Equestria. I don’t have a copy of the newspaper, unfortunately, but I still remember the headline three weeks later:

“Sparkling Shores Mine Runs Dry!”

Two words ran through my head after reading that- “oh” and “shit.”

Sparkling Shores Mine was the largest gem mine in Equestria, and for it to abruptly run dry in such tumultuous times was like a double-whammy to the global economy. The next largest gem mine was Shattered Hoof Ridge, and even that only had a third of the output that Sparkling Shores had.

“Well on the bright side, you won’t have to worry about that where you’re going too much,” Luna said, peering at the headline over my shoulder with a comforting smile. Still didn’t keep me from frowning.

And where was I going?




* * *




“The Equestrian Protectorate of Almarinia. I’ll be there for about a month for research.”

“Heh, sounds good, buck. Least you won’t have to worry as much about the shortages.”

“Hopefully.” Pause. “Hey Zoleks, how’s things going? Really?”

Crackle, sigh. “We’re pulling through, at least. I’ve had to lay off Axle Grease and Hiziru, but we still get business at least. I’m seeing a lot more of those gem-powered bikes, though. You know, the weak-ass ones you still have to pedal for? Clunky as hell, but it keeps the bits coming in for me. Bo’s happy about how quiet they are, at least. Good for him. Namira and me? We’re still getting the ropes of how to service them.”

“Bet you miss those joyrides on your Hardy, huh?”

“Hoo, like you wouldn’t believe…”

“Eh… so how’s Jorund?”

“Hah! Little troublemaker, him. Loves breaking things. Those child safety brackets for cupboards are a goddesssend, that’s for sure. Least the cartoons on TV keep him happy while we’re working too… hey, uh, Frost, you’ve been with Nightingale for almost a couple years now, right?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You, uh, think she might be the one for you?”

“Heh… yeah, I really think so. Hope so, least.”

“You make it sound like she’s too good for you, buck!”

“Heh… in a sense.”

“Mm… thinking about all… you know. The stuff way back?”

“Mm? Oh, yeah… yeah.”

“Don’t worry. You’re past all that. I know the Way you follow. You’re fine, buck. So! She coming with you to Almarinia?”

“Oh, uh… no, she’s got her own obligations.”

“Ah. Well, hope you two hold out, alright, buck?”

“Yeah… thanks.”




* * *




Almarinia, Almarinia, Almarinia… it just rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it? It was the first Equestrian protectorate to be given a seat in the United Nations and its committees- and for good reason. Quite frankly, it had the economic power to say so.

Fillydephia, City of Smoke and Steam, was one of Equestria’s greatest industrial powerhouses. It was not, however, the birthplace of the Age of Industry. That lofty title belonged to Almarinia’s capital city of Shropshire.

Almarinia was an island that could comfortably hold the entirety of the Equestrian Heartland- and then some. And as the airship dipped below the clouds, there it was- Shropshire. It was as if Manehattan and Fillydelphia had a baby. It was sprawling, massive- a swath of masonry and metalwork, brass and burners. And steam. Lots of steam. Jets of it hissed into the air like smokestacks. It flowed up from the ships in its harbors, it fanned from the airships in its skies. Shropshire looked less like a city and more like a giant, steaming circuitboard. It was like a mishmash of Vectorian Era style and modern technology. I believe the word for it is “steampunk”. Rather appropriate, I’d say.

Just looking at it, I didn’t think I’d need to go far to find out how industrialization affected their society and culture. No, not at all. Industry didn’t affect their society and culture- it was their society and culture. Even the attire of the gentry looked like work smocks with scraps of fancy suitclothes sewn in. Grease and smog stains were worn like badges of honor. It was as if everyone could have gone back to work at the drone of the work bell.

Sorry, was that a question about the use of “everyone”? Almarinia was sitting between Equestria and Aldorna. There were ponies and griffins abound. The country was a fond trading partner with both nations, and it reaped the benefits- especially when it had gem, coal, and metal reserves. Every nation wanted to stay on Almarinia’s good side in such rough times, and it showed.

Technological marvels I hadn’t yet seen anywhere else were everywhere in Shropshire. Clunky, early monorails using parallel sets of gears underneath to pull themselves along tracks, new designs for powered wagons, and even these jittery, vaguely ponylike things they called “motorized stewards”. They were the world’s first mechanical automatons. And…

The storyteller let out a sigh.

It all ran on the hybrid gem-coal system Hummingbird once advocated for the rest of the world to use. I paused in the middle of the worn cobblestone walkway, feeling a pang in my heart. She would have loved to see Shropshire… me, not quite as much. I had to keep myself covered in a thin layer of ice in order to stay cool.

“‘Ello there!” I turned to find a chipper, young earth pony mare with a mottled brown-dark brown coat and a crimson mane- so young, in fact, she couldn’t have been even twenty yet. She wore a work smock with a chemically-treated leather apron on top. A pair of bolted-brass industrial goggles were wrapped around her head, and an odd gauntlet ringed with green-glowing capsules concealed the entirety of her right foreleg. “Mister Windchill, roight?”

“That’s me,” I answered with a nod, sweeping a hoof out to the side and bowing as she did the same. “And you must be… Inkblot.”

She grinned. “At your service!”

“Hm, you look a bit young to be a guide,” I remarked.

Inkblot snorted, “You look a bit old t’be a grad student.”

Ouch.

“Touché,” I coughed, grimacing.

“N’ for your information, I’m a proud Clockworks technician,” she huffed.

“Apologies, just didn’t expect somepony so young,” I said as we started along.

“Eh, guess I had t’see that comin’,” Inkblot grunted. “Same as usual for you tourists, especially Equestrians. I’ll have you know, I graduated from high school when I was fourteen! Took five bloody years t’get where I am today!”

“Wow,” I huffed, impressed. “You’re on the fast track, aren’t you?”

“Yep.” She sniffed and spat out a glob of mucus. “It’s good pay, too. Just have t’mind the hazards, all that. S’what’re you here for, anyway, Mister Windchill? And what’s with the ice?”

“Oh, it’s a cryomancer thing,” I explained quickly. “Only magic I can do, made me more vulnerable to heat, long story short. Anyway, I’m here to research the consequences of industrialization on society and cultures the world over.”

“You make it sound like it’s a bad thing,” Inkblot laughed. “Well, you don’t need t’look far! You came to the roight mare! Know the city like the back o’ my hand!”

I blinked. “... hand?”

Inkblot smirked, and the hoof tip of her gauntlet and the glowing capsules flashed brightly. Left in the tip’s place was a spindly, brass hand with its fingers flexing from a system of wiry drawstrings that acted like muscles and tendons. She pointed at me. “Love gettin’ that look from tourists.”

“What is that?” I asked, amazed.

“Transmorgrification gauntlet, TMG for short,” the mottled mare replied. “Earth pony ingenuity at its finest.” As she talked, it transformed into a drill, an industrial claw, a jigsaw, a blowtorch, a rivet gun… “Pretty much all the tools a Clockworks technician could ever want. Weighs a bucketload-and-a-half, but it keeps earthies like me as useful as horns and griffs.”

As she morphed it back to the standard hoof tip, I asked, “How does it work?”

“Well, everypony has magic,” Inkblot explained. “Everyone, rather. Same like you Mancers- and yeah, I know about them. Fast track education, you called it, right? Well the TMG just refocuses the whole cultivating thing we earthies have into a transmorgrification alchemer, and with six o’ these new microspark breeders powering it, no need t’replace batteries or plug it in t’recharge or anything like that! Oh, you should see what this one team’s workin’ on- a TKG! Telekinesis, for anyone who ain’t a horn! Think ‘bout it! Probably years, maybe decades away, bosh. Lotta kinks t’iron out, couple poor saps decommed from injuries…”

“Decommed?”

“Decommissioned,” she clarified. “Blokes who get crippled by machinery or research experiments, the lot. Can’t do typical Clockworks stuff, but they’ve still got bright minds. Can’t squander a resource like intelligence, s’they get put into think tanks or overseer positions. Gotta keep the Clockworks ticking.”

“Which brings us straight to it,” I said. “I want to see where all the magic happens.”

“The Clockworks?” Inkblot grinned. “You got it! C’mon!” An odd, whirring sound went off all around us, and the crowds around us started moving about with determined strides. “N’ just in time. Work shift just kicked in.”




* * *




“Actual name for the Clockworks is determined by the employer,” Inkblot explained as we marched into a tunnel, quickly stopping as a huge line formed. “My case, it’s R-n’-D station oh-nine-seven. Research n’ development, if you didn’t already know.” She looked up as a stallion wearing brass armor plating and what appeared to be an exoskeleton paused by us, eying me behind a multifocal visor. He had an array of back-mounted devices that I did not want to touch, and a system of hydraulics and pneumatics extended a good meter or so above his legs, giving him an almost spider-like appearance.

“N’ who’re you?” he asked in a gruff tone. “Name and business!”

Smiling cheerfully as I could in spite of my nervousness, I answered, “Frost Windchill, here on equinpological research.”

“He’s with me, officer,” the mottled mare beside me spoke up. “He should be set for level two clearance, aight?”

“Just need a valid ID, and you can be on your way,” the police officer- apparently- spoke. I presented him with my passport with an ice arm, and he nodded. “UV, multiprint, microprint, microweave, check-four. Fancy magic there, by the way. Well, please keep your hooves- and hands- to yourself, follow all safety protocols, and listen to all personnel on duty. And for the love of the goddesses, don’t wander off. Stick with your guide. Move along.” He waved us off and strode along with heavy clunks.

Inkblot nodded at him. “Watchtower. Newest addition to Almarinia’s finest. Don’t mind ‘em, they’re more here for our safety than anything else. Just don’t give ‘em any reason t’think otherwise, yeah? People keep thinking the Clockworks are an amusement park, and the whole ‘keep your hooves inside the vehicle at all times’ shebang doesn’t help that image. One wrong turn, one wrong peek into a testing area, off goes a leg or a wing. Anyway, where was I?”

“Being in R-n’-D,” I answered. “And what’s a Watchtower?”

“Eh, if you’re lucky, you’ll find out why. So! Reasons why they call the whole place the Clockworks are one-” She paused to punch in a time card, “because everyone’s on a shedule… sched… shed… bah, can’t say it like you mainlanders. So everyone’s on a shedule. Two- oi!” We approached a large freight elevator crammed to the brim with similarly dressed ponies and griffins. Inkblot let out a whistle just before they were about to head down. “Squeeze two more?” Some of them shuffled to make way, and we edged in. “Ta, mate. Clear the way!” The brown earth pony mare morphed her gauntlet into a hand and pulled a lever. “Goin’ down! Right, reason number two? Well…”

The freight elevator jolted, then chugged downward at a surprisingly fast clip. Rather than using cables, it used two large rails and four equally large gears to move. Very quickly, the walls of the elevator shaft opened up to reveal a massive underground facility where hundreds of workers were trotting and flying back to their stations. I noted that in addition to electrical wiring running about the place, so did huge gears, turbines, crankshafts, rotors, and everything in between. The Clockworks ran not only on electrical energy from coal and oil but mechanical and- as I noticed the gem motors- arcane energy as well.

“The whole bloody thing looks like it belongs in a Jeweled Fern novel!” Inkblot finished with a laugh. “Welcome to the Clockworks!” Already pegasi and griffins took off from around us to beat the crowd of ponies, which hustled to their workstations as soon as the elevator touched down and the rails lifted. “You wanted t’see what industry made us? Look no further! Humble beginnings, Almarinia. Huge mining colony, n’ thassit. Then came Cornwick with his horsedrawn reaper and White Neigh- don’t ask ‘bout that name- with the cotton ‘gine, n’ t’make a long story short, ‘ere we are. Hold up, mate.”

We paused as a unicorn team levitating two carts loaded to the brim with gems and coal rushed past us before she led on and continued. “Aldorna’s always boastin’ ‘bout its innovations n’ all that jazz. We’re humble folk like that. They’ve got their Avalon- which is a beaut, don’t get me wrong- but they’re all tar n’ feathers. Electricity? Us. Powered wagon? Us too. Computer terminal? Well, Aldorna finished the job, but we got most of the way there. Look, griffs made a bunch o’ neat stuff, but let’s not forget the birthplace o’ the Age o’ Industry, yeah? N’ we export almost all of our new innovations, too! Anything that doesn’t help produce more or invent more, we export it. Just look at our whoppin’ GDP. By the way, those monorails? Hoo, tough fight to convince the higher-ups to let us keep those. Helps with the commute.

“Now I respect griffs, Aldorna, Avalon, the whole lot- duck!” Inkblot and I dropped as a pegasi team lifting a powered wagon swooped by.

“Shite!” one of them cried out. “Sorray, Inkie!”

“For Sparklesake, overcompensate next time, wouldja?!” she shouted after them. “Sorray about nearly getting your head taken off there. Sky wagon. Still tryin’ t’make the spark ‘gine more efficient- y’know, so only one pegasus can handle a whole loaded one by hisself rather than a whole team nearly killing a poor pair o’ ponies here, yeah? Should be headed t’world markets by next year, hopefully. Roight, griffs. I respect the lot o’ ‘em, but it’s a real competition thing going ‘twixt us. Who makes the next big thing, y’know? So that’s why- n’ finally tyin’ it back t’your research- Almarinia and Shropshire especially’ve devoted so much to industry.” She nodded to a colt using a TMG to work on what looked like a spark engine. “Hullo, darling. Doin’ alright?” The colt, without looking up, waved back. “Alright, alright, keep it up, you!” She turned back to me and said, “Twelve years old!”

I stared. “You’re foaling me.”

“Dammit, I’m thirteen next month!” he shot back from behind us. Inkblot merely nodded back toward him.

“Is that legal?” I asked incredulously.

“Yeah, n’ there’s younger,” the mottled mare said. “Most only do simple maintenance n’ stuff like that- something t’build their resumé. But long as you’re certified by the Board of Industry n’ pass the Occupational Health and Safety Exam like Junk Punk over there, you can do stuff like me. Like I said, Almarinia’s almost wholly dedicated t’industry. Minimum five years o’ education t’work- no summer recesses like you spoiled mainlanders- n’ an accelerated curriculum for the gifted. Then the Clockworks’ your oyster. Yep. Think you’ve got enough research material, mate?”

“Well, if that’s the case, this is gonna be a very short research trip,” I huffed. “So what’re you working on?”

“C’mon roight this way,” she said, waving me to follow her. We navigated past numerous technicians, some working on solo projects while others collaborated on devices I couldn’t hope to comprehend. Inkblot led me across a series of catwalks that bridged over an underground waterway populated by steam-hissing barges.

Eventually, she led me to a testing area overlooking one of the loading docks for the waterway. A pair of technicians- another earth pony mare wearing a TMG and a griffiness- were already at work on a suit of some sort lined with valves, switches, and more of those microspark breeders. The left fetlock area featured a bulging monitor akin to a small television or old terminal screen with dials and buttons on the side. There were plenty of cooling vents and pipes running from the device as well. It appeared to be designed for a pony.

“What is that?” I asked.

“‘Ello Jane, ‘Ello Widget,” Inkblot greeted the others. “This, Frost, would be the beginnings of a mobile computer terminal.”

I stared at her.

“Now, I know what you’re thinking,” she said, proceeding to pantomime me in an excessively satiric manner. “‘But Inkblot! We already have portable terminals! N’ they’re sleek n’ light! What’s this on about?’ Bosh. The thing ‘bout portables is you can’t make ‘em all that powerful without shellin’ out the bits- more than you already do for a portable in any case. It’s because they need t’be portable, which means a lightweight, small package. Which means you’re gonna have cooling problems with such a confined space. It’s why a desktop terminal’s always better. A portable’s gotta have its components underclocked in order t’keep from fryin’. The limited power supply’s also another problem. Even if you have the most powerful portable terminal in the world, it ain’t lasting too long on a six-cell battery. 

“Now, this is obviously a prototype given how much stuff is here, but we’re tryin’ to fix that problem. Proper cooling means more faster clock speeds, n’ a microspark breeder power supply means you have all the power for it. I’m gonna say it again- prototype. Hopefully we can scale it down a little.”

“Think there might be any practical use for it?” I inquired.

“Of course,” Inkblot chuckled. “Right here in the Clockworks, what with technicians meanderin’ all over the place on a constant basis. Especially overseers. Engineers, mechanics, repairponies- any job that needs powerful computing n’ mobility both. Hell, never know, maybe even those zebras down under might find military applications for-”

A rapid, clanging alarm sounded off from below, and I looked about in confusion. While I panicked, the others halted their work, lifted their industrial goggles, and peered down below. 

“What is it?” I asked, trying to maintain an even, calm tone.

“Heh, you wanted to find out who the Watchtowers were?” Inkblot grinned. “Well here you go.”

I trotted over, looking out the window to the docks below, watching as a pair of those “Watchtowers” gave chase after a trio of people who appeared to be masked by hooded sweatshirts and balaclavas. Their exposed legs gave them away though- they were zebras. They were shouting quickly to one another and were hastily trying to cast off in a motorboat burdened with lashed crates while the Watchtowers ordered them to drop where they stood, their helmets powering up and casting bright spotlights at the zebras. Then one of them brandished something with his muzzle, and off went a sound that would stay with me for the rest of my life. It’s… that clatter, you never forget. Something that just stands out over every other kind of noise, even from afar.

Gunfire. Fully-automatic gunfire.

“Oh, shite!” Inkblot belted out as we winced and ducked down from the window- as did the others.When I peered back over, the closer Watchtower had keeled over while the other rushed forward, steam hissing from the hydraulic joints that ran above his legs. The rods suddenly shot downward, propelling the stallion into the air until he was towering over the scene at least ten meters off of the ground on these spindly legs that deployed sturdy claws at the end- almost like a spider. The gunner fired erratically into the stallion as he rose up, sparks visible where the bullets pinged off of his armor, raising a hoof over the eyes as the spotlights blinded him. Then with a sharp hiss of steam and the grind of metal, one of the legs shot forward and clamped onto the zebra, knocking the wind- and his gun- out of him. Then the Watchtower whipped him into the air and slammed him back down to the deck with a cringe-worthy thud. 

By now, the remaining two zebras were shouting in panicked tones and were starting to accelerate from the dock. The Watchtower turned toward them, his spotlights casting the surface in a white pallor before lancing out with a stilted leg into the engine compartment before it could peel off, the impact actually causing the bow to bob- and the crew to fly- a good meter or so into the air. Wood splintered, and and a sharp bang went off as the engine blew. The Watchtower then hoisted the motorboat back toward the docks and used another clawed leg, joints hissing with steam, to tear off the cabin roof and expose the two zebras. One of them brandished a firearm, but the Watchtower was ready when one of the mechanisms on his back deployed and fired off in a rapid trio of sharp spits of steam. The zebra toppled to the deck limply. The Watchtower then loomed over the remaining criminal with his pneumatic weapon and spotlight aimed threateningly down at him. He wisely laid down flat on the deck in surrender.

“Open a line topside!” the Watchtower boomed in an electronically-amplified voice. “Three suspects apprehended, one officer down! Get a doc over here!”

“And that is why they call them Watchtowers,” Inkblot said, turning to me. “World’s first mechanized police force.”

“Did… did he kill those zebras?” I asked, still fixed on the scene below.

“Kill?” Jane, the griffiness huffed. “Nah. Probably broken some bones, maybe cracked that ’un’s spine.” She pointed to the first masked zebra. “They’re scary as hell, but they’re still policeponies. Pneumatic repeaters with rubber rounds.” She now pointed to the Watchtower’s ‘battle saddle,’ as I later found out. “Nowhere near as lethal as gunpowder, but it’ll break bone.”

“Who were they, those zebras?” I inquired, still shocked- less by the fact that one of the Watchtowers might’ve been killed and more by the use of an actual firearm.

“Gem pirates, I think,” Inkblot clicked her tongue. “Been seeing more n’ more o’ ‘em since the Sparkling Shores went dry. Basterds, tryin’ t’take what’s ours. Not like the Clockworks run on pixie dust! Got what’s comin’ to ‘em.”

“More of them, you said?” I turned to her. “How much more.”

“Well, we’ve had to bring Watchtowers down ‘ere,” she huffed in reply. “Think that says enough. Feckin’ hell, though, that’s the first time I’ve seen a group armed like that.”

Heart still beating, I looked over the scene from above with a new feeling growing deep inside. For once, I didn’t feel that everything was going to be okay.

Things were about to get worse.




* * *




“Sixteen of those incidents with the gem pirates,” I said to Luna as we made our way out from Canterlot’s skydock. “Sixteen. In two weeks.”

The disguised mare grimaced. “So that’s why we’ve been hearing less and less about it in the mainland. They’ve been going to a third party.”

I turned to her, shocked. “You mean they’ve been doing it here, too?”

“So surprised?” she sighed. “Yes, there have been gem pirate raids, although we’ve immediately tightened up security at the ports since. You’ve been away from Manehattan Harbor for a while after all. Now we have isolated incidents out at sea, which means that our trade vessels may require escort… hm…”

As we neared school grounds, I finally asked her, “It’s not going to get better anytime soon, is it? It’s only getting worse, isn’t it?”

Luna inhaled slowly and then rubbed my shoulder with her magic. “Just leave the international crises to the mares charged with seeing them handled. Right now,” She turned to me, “I’m glad you’re back. I missed you.”

And yet even with those three words, I wasn’t put at ease…




* * *




Though perhaps a particular mare helped in that regard.

Beep. “Hello?”

“Omigosh, Frost, thank you thank you thank you! This is so amazing! I-I mean… hand! Hand, eeeeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeeeeee! Oh! Yes! So metal!”

Distantly, “Lyraaaaa, stop playing with that! You promised to help me get ready for Taffy Tuesday, right, right?”

“Oh, shoot, right. But thank you thank you thank you, Frost! Please come back to Ponyville soon! Oh, I’ve got to arrange free sweets for you somehow…”

“Heheheh… no problem, Lyra. Take care.” Click. “Ahhhhh… looks like I am gonna have to take out that loan…”




* * *




“So, how was it?” I asked.

Sitting across from me at his desk, Professor Egan pursed his lips and nodded slowly as he set aside my final draft- a good two-hundred-eighty-six pages’ worth of research from multiple visits to industrial hotspots and bust towns the world over- from Avalon to Messologi, Shropshire to Sootstop, Canterlot to Fillydelphia. And it all came to this “Not bad. Not bad. For what’s there, it’s pretty good. I still wish you could have gotten something from Zebrica what with the whole complexity of the culture there, but…”

“They still have the war.” I finished.

The mule johnny frowned. “Yes indeed, and we can’t do anything about that, can we?”

“Could always add an addendum after things settle down,” I offered.

“We’ll have to make do with that,” he sighed. “You know, it’s been… what is it, ten, eleven years since we sat here like this? Ahhhh, how time flies… do me a favor, Frost?”

I looked up at him.

“Don’t suddenly bomb the final, alright?” he chuckled. “I want to see you at graduation.”




* * *




“Heyyyyyy, Frost! Or, heh, guess I should call you Doctor Windchill now, eh?”

“Ugh, please don’t…”

“Hah, just kidding, buck. Just calling to say sorry that we couldn’t make your graduation. Business to run and all that.”

“No, no, don’t even worry about it! Completely understandable! I swear, don’t even worry about it.”

“Heh, thanks. So, where are you headed from here?”

“Been making connections thanks to Professor Egan- you know, my old equinpology professor? Mule?”

“Mm-hm, mm-hm.”

“Well, hopefully I’ll be getting a position soon. Maybe it’ll be low-paying one, but it’ll be at least something I’ll enjoy doing. I just hope the Toadstool Tabletop didn’t get too attached to their summer watercolt…”

“Hah! Yeah, hope not! Heh…”

“Heh…”

“...”

“...”

“So, uh, you and Nightingale have been together for a while now.”

“Four-and-a-half years.”

“Mm. So, uh… have you thought about… you know, proposing?”

“Heh, I have… not sure if I should, though.”

“What?” Laughter. “Well why not?”

Subdued chuckle. “It’s complicated.”

“Oh don’t give me that alibi. C’mon. What’s up?”

“I don’t think I’m at liberty to discuss it. It’s a private matter.”

“Mm, okay… so what’s gonna happen between you two?”

“I don’t know. Only time will tell.” The sound of rippling cloth. “Um, uh, sorry, I’ve got to go now. Catch you later, alright?”

“Sure, sure, don’t worry about it. Heh, reversal thing going on.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Take care.” Click.




* * *




The storyteller leaned back and breathed out a misty sigh.

The sound of rippling cloth. Now, I was packing up my dorm room, maybe, but I honestly didn’t wear clothes. I’d already packed away my graduation cap and gown. So when I heard it during the phone call and turned around to see what it was, well…

First time I’d ever seen any of them up close and in the flesh. A thick fur coat the color of wet ash, amber-gleaming eyes with reptilian slits for irises, odd little tufts of fur topping off pointed ears. And a suit of archaic, gothic, demonic- whatever you wish to call it- design in shades of deep blue and violet- and a gem depicting a faded draconic eye in the chestplate. Hooves encased in sturdy horseshoes of the same material. A helm with an alien fin, and a sharpened sheath for the tail. And he was a unicorn, at that. 

I wasn’t scared- no, not scared. Years of Pinkie Pie had long made me accustomed to ponies popping up out of the blue. I wasn’t scared. Spooked? Definitely. My heart wasn’t racing. Going for a thrill ride? Definitely. “Um, uh, sorry, I’ve got to go now,” I said into my cell at last. “Catch you later, alright? … yeah, yeah, I know. Take care.” I closed it and set it down on the table, showing a measured, calm face to this strange pony in front of me. “And who might you be?”

Roanoke… help me set a proper mood, if you will.

“Dawn Treader,” he answered in an airy, weary, yet smooth and perhaps… dangerous tone. A hint of Trottingham distinction.

[Snapshot. Black-and-white image. Empty hallway. Snapshot. He appears. Snapshot. He sees you. Snapshot. Gone. Snapshot. Close, very close, eyes gleaming, fangs bared.] 

“Lord Protector of Thy Lady of the Night.”

[Snapshot. Luna. Snapshot. He appears before her. Snapshot. Faintest of shimmers on his horn. Lines everywhere. The air is death.]

“And… Lunar Guard.”

[Snapshot. Him alone. Snapshot. The eight appear. Snapshot. Stand attention.]

Thank you, Roanoke.

I grimaced momentarily. Oh. Sharp teeth too, apparently. “Am I in trouble?” I inquired, maintaining my expression.

He clicked his tongue and glanced downward. “That depends.” Eyes back on me, intense. He could see my every twitch, every subtle crease of the muzzle or cheek. Eyes. Eyes so intense, so predatory. Eyes… growling, hungry.

“On?”

“What you have to say,” he answered. He nodded toward my bed. “Well go on. Don’t just stand there over your luggage. Sit. Let’s have a chat.”

Eyes... hungry, thirsty. I kept looking at them as I cautiously, slowly sidestepped to my bed and seated myself- as if I were backing away from a coiled rattlesnake I’d almost stepped on.

Dawn grimaced. “I’d sit too, but… I’d probably be too heavy in all this.” He gestured at his armor and sat down on the floor. Eyes… pulling, come closer. Then they tilted. No, he merely canted his head. “Sorry, is it the eyes?”

Eyes… no longer tilting, listen now. “Beg your pardon?”

The air creased. I blinked, realizing I had canted my head to follow his and look into those… eyes. They were dimmer now, as if I was looking at them through a smoky window. His horn was barely shimmering with the slightest hint of a golden sheen. “There. Better?”

I righted my head. “Yes, what… what was…?”

“Trade secret,” he answered, doing the same. There was something wrong with those eyes. Now he no longer seemed threatening- well! As… threatening. In a way, if he was able to sit on the bed rather than down on his haunches like that, it would’ve almost been like how my father and I used to have discussions.

Then I thought of a more pressing question. The door didn’t open. The window was closed. No teleport flash. There was the sound of rippling cloth, and he was just… there. From nowhere. “How did you get in?”

“Trade secret,” he repeated, grinning for just a moment. Then came the click of the tongue, the glance downward. “You know, back in my day, we didn’t have ‘innocent until proven guilty.’ It was the other way around.” Eyes back on me. “I grant you that right.”

“What is this, an interrogation?” I questioned.

He laughed heartily, “Oh, I wouldn’t call it that!” Yeesh, those teeth. “Well...” He pursed his lips, “not exactly. I’m just here for answers.”

“What for? Did I do something… wrong to Luna? I don’t-”

“Oh, no, not to Luna,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Well… there was that first time in The Lazy Dog. That was pushing it.”

“You were watching,” I said, not asked.

“Lord Protector,” he said with a brief grin. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong to or with Luna. I… understand you may be considering proposing to her- going to that next step,” He motioned with his hoof as if going up a staircase, “if you will. So before anything, this is to ascertain her safety. Because a stallion in this day and age who walks around carrying a pair of highly concealable weapons already sent up warning lights before. Water under the bridge now, though.”

Click, glance. “We’ve been watching you ever since it became apparent you might have been getting into a relationship with Luna. And when it became apparent you were, in fact, in a relationship with her, we decided to do a bit of digging. You’re a good buck. Good grades, good work ethic, a Mancer- quite the intrigue- honed your magic, tagged on an addendum to the Hydronomicon, double major- even if in some rather questionable fields for long-term financial stability- and yet…”

Eyes on me. If looks could kill… “You are financially stable, aren’t you? It’s… rather unusual for a buck- let alone anyone- to simply disappear from public records for six years. Nothing but school transcripts and report cards from ages twelve to eighteen. No… receipts. No… photographs outside of school yearbooks. No… criminal history, no... medical history, no… surveys… nothing. And yet your family went from a high-rise apartment to a mansion. Six years, gone. Nopony, nobody is that shoddy at housekeeping.” He straightened his posture. “And no normal pony is that good at house-cleaning.”

Oh shit.

Blink. He caught it. Those eyes caught everything. “Oh shit.”

What… the… fuck.

Blink. He caught that too. “What… the… fuck.” Dawn suddenly broke into a hearty laugh. “Sorry, it’s… it’s just I’ve seen those little things, those little hints so many times I just know what’s going on inside your head. Sorry.” He coughed politely, straightened up again. “The fact remains, however, that you have six years of your life missing from public eye, and you’re always armed.” He tilted his head downward while keeping those eyes fixed, adopting an almost pleading yet strangely admonishing look. And he did it at a height disadvantage. Oh he’s good. “Oh he’s good- sorry again.” A polite cough. “Again, this is to ascertain Luna’s safety-”

“You keep calling her Luna,” I remarked.

Dawn huffed, “So you noticed. Again… this is to ascertain Luna’s safety- both as her Lord Protector… and as her friend. I want to know why those six years are missing.” His horn dimmed. Eyes… hungry. His horn shimmered mercifully. Eyes sated. “Come clean now.”

I inhaled deeply. “Will you tell Luna?”

“Depends,” the ashen pony replied. “But if it’s six years just gone like that, I may very well have to.”

Inhaled again. “Well, Manehattan is known for…”

“Gangs,” he completed.

I blinked.

“Sorry, were you expecting me to answer with ‘the lights,’ ‘the people,’ or ‘the music?’” he chuckled mutedly. “Lord Protector. Come clean now.”

“Right, well… I owned one,” I said. “Not just any gang- the largest.”

“The Cruds?” he inquired, arcing a brow.

“No. The Mumei.”

“Mm, now there’s a name I haven’t heard of before,” he huffed softly. “‘The nameless.’ Fitting, considering. Sorry, continue.”

“You probably already know that… I have a one-trick horn. No other magic, just cryomancy, hydromancy, atmidomancy, nothing else. Good grades? Maybe academic. Buuuut…”

“Magic kindergarten.” Dawn finished.

“Yep.” I flattened my lips momentarily. Bad memories, that. “So I was the runt, the cripple… and a Northerner to boot. The outcast. Save for my only friend at the time, I was alone, weak, powerless. And then found power, power in words.” I glanced up and down the pony seated beside me. “Power you’re familiar with.”

“All too much.”

I continued. “The moment I first exercised that power, I tasted its fruit and only wanted more. The immediate thought? Start a gang. Start young while I was already building connections and getting ready to move to the bigger pond of high school. I ate my way up the food chain until I was the apex predator- and all without anyone realizing it. No funny stuff, no shady business… I did it all legally, save for some political undercutting and well-deserved backstabbing. Puppeteered a police commissioner into pushing a city ordinance to lower the minimum working age. Prop Four was me. Twelve years old, and I already had my hoof in politics. Built bigger, built higher. Soon, we were the biggest gang- and nobody knew it. Though, less a gang and more a youths workers’ union and a political action committee.

“Then… one of my own inner circle slipped up, tried to rob drugs from the Cruds, fired his sorry ass… and then we showed our true colors as a gang,” I sighed mistily. “All-out gang warfare with the Cruds after that, buying off police to look the other way, all that.”

“Casualties?” Dawn asked.

“What?” I looked at him quizzically.

“Casualties?” he repeated.

“Wh- oh!” I chuckled in spite of myself. “Not that kind of warfare, no. Pies.”

“Pyrotechnically Initiated Explosive?” he inquired.

“No, no, pies!” I gestured frantically. “Cherry, lemon meringue, pecan- you know… dessert pies!”

Dawn just stared at me with a flat expression. “I’d say you were foaling with me, but I’m not seeing nor hearing any hint of that.”

“Because I wasn’t!” I nickered. “Pecan, those… hurt. No casualties in this gang war, Da- can I call-”

“Lord Dawn Treader,” he said in a deadbeat tone.

“Right, well… no casualties in this gang war, Lord Dawn Treader. But… it did bring out that power-hungry side of me in ways that didn’t boost my image.” I let out a misty sigh. “So I was backstabbed from that same idiot. Organized a hit on me, and… I could’ve been the only casualty of that gang war. He didn’t mean it, don’t think so. But he didn’t think that a scrawny, magic-less, sub-earth pony like me might not be able to lift thirty pounds of garbage off of me to escape a dumpster. Nor check on why I’d been missing for so long.

“Hot, sweaty during the day, chilly- never cold- during the night. Suffocating, sticky, smelly, dirty, leaky… I panicked for the first time in a long time, and with all the power I had with my words, they meant nothing if nobody could hear them. Weak again. Helpless. Alone. In the dark. And he ball-gagged me, no less. Ball. Gag. I still remember how… sticky it got from my slobber.” I shuddered.

“Three days. I was stuck in there for three days- thank goodness none of them were collection days- and I had plenty of time to reflect on my predicament as I lay dying. When Zoleks- you know him, I know- saved me, bless him… I was a new stallion.”

He arced a brow at me.

“Please, believe me- I changed, Lord Dawn Treader,” I said quietly. “All that power, and what did it get me? I used to go by another name. ‘Hokkaido.’ My people’s name for the Far North. Was that how I wanted to be remembered by? Power-hungry ruler of the largest gang in Manehattan’s history, that had its hooves in every major affair? No, I decided. But I’d left a legacy, and from the moment I realized that, I knew I had to obliterate it. Not just destroy, not just tear it down but completely wipe the slate clean. 

“And so I did. Ten days to bring the Mumei down to its knees. A couple months afterward to wipe all trace of it. The only people who know or remember anything about it are those who lived under me. People… who choose to remember. They stayed quiet, some even helped me erase those records. Because I might have changed names, I might’ve grown older.

“But to all them, Hokkaido built an empire at twelve years old. Six years, and then tore it down in ten days. Mopped up in two months. Hokkaido might have died in that dumpster, but it’s a shallow grave. And if anyone tried to use the Mumei against me, he could easily come back to haunt them.

“I’ve left that all behind me, Lord Dawn Treader,” I said, wrapping up. “Wiped the slate clean. And I hope it stays that way.”

The Lunar Guard clicked his tongue and glanced away. “She’s right. You do make a good storyteller.”

“I hope that answers your question,” I inhaled. “Because I’ve got one of my own.” Eyes on me. “With what I have been, have done and with who I am, am doing now, does it matter whether or not Luna knows about any of this?”

He inhaled. “Yes. But.” He held up a hoof. “You chose to erase the Mumei. Do you want to keep it that way?”

“Yes.” Deadbeat. Straightforward.

“Then so it shall remain,” Dawn sighed. “Come clean indeed, cleaner than me.”

I arced a brow. “Beg your pardon?”

He looked at me. “Trade secret.” There was a knock on the door, and we both turned toward it- him far faster than me. “Mm, good timing.” He turned back to me. “Best not leave her waiting. Pleasure to officially get to know you, Doctor Windchill. Maybe we’ll meet again.”

“Well, alright,” I said as politely as I could. “Farewell.”

“Don’t want to?” he chuckled. “Ahhh, well. Do me a favor? Blink.”

I blinked, not expecting that.

And he was gone, leaving nothing but the sound of rippling cloth in his wake.

I shuddered. “Hoo…” Then I picked myself up and answered the door.

“Hello again, Frost,” Princess Celestia greeted.

Oh dear not again.

“Met Dawn?” she asked softly, entering and shutting the door quietly behind her. “Good. He was just the primer.”

Oh dear yes again.

The radiant-maned alicorn looked sternly at me… then her lip quivered and she burst into chuckles. “Ahhh, apologies, can’t help it- sorry, just… that look on your face again.”

Oh thank godde- well… her.

Celestia was staring.

“I said that aloud, didn’t I?” I asked quietly.

“Belted it.”

“Ugh…” I groaned, sitting down on my haunches.

“He’s taxing, I know,” Celestia said with a momentary frown, sitting down on the floor beside me. “Now, like him, I do have a couple questions, but fret not- they’re far easier than what he asked of you.”

I froze. “You heard it all?”

“Oh yes, but don’t worry,” she said with the best smile I could hope for at that time. “My lips are sealed.”

I fell flat on my back. “Oh thank g- you.”

The regal-white alicorn chuckled softly, “You’re quite welcome. Now, if I may…?”

I jolted back up, energized by my relief. “Oh, go right ahead!” 

“Well, first… any thoughts on where you’re headed in your relationship with Luna?” she inquired.

“Oy…” I sighed. “I don’t know. Have either of you ever been married since… well, becoming alicorns?”

Celestia was still smiling, but there was something hidden in those normally radiant eyes. “Yes, both of us at some point or another.”

“How come there hasn’t been any word of it?” I inquired.

She sighed and let the façade crumble. “Because neither of us have been married for over a thousand years.”

“Oh…” I drew quiet, understanding that I touched upon an unpleasant subject.

“We’ve actually stopped publically announcing our marriages for longer than that,” Celestia said quietly. “Don’t get me wrong- the weddings and ceremonies were always something to look forward to, but… the funerals aren’t. Plenty of funerals in our times.” She sighed softly. “Love is something all people crave- us too. If… that love comes to pass, we agreed, we’d rather it be a quiet affair.” And then like the sun breaking through a small patch of gray clouds, she was smiling again. “But none of that. Any plans?”

I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly through my nostrils, partly from the sudden one-eighty in mood. “I’ll think about it. It’s… you know.”

“A lot to think about, I understand,” the white alicorn nodded. “Second question is easier…” I looked at her. “As you no doubt know, Luna’s birthday is coming up. So… how would you like a job?”

I huffed and grinned at her. “A job? I’m starting to think I’m part of a scheme of yours.”

She chuckled softly, “You have no idea.”




* * *




Click-click-click, shirk-shirk-shirk… shick… shick, click-click-click, click-shick-clack. Just couldn’t break the habit. Just too damn fun. Home sweet home back in Ponyville, reading the newspaper over breakfast. Just waiting… any minute now. AAAAAAny minute now.

Then came the crackle and spark I’d grown accustomed to hearing- teleportation. I smiled and pouched Chrome Cleaver. “Hello there, Lulu. Did you like your-”

She was upon me before I had even set the newspaper down, cutting me off with a yelp and hugging me tightly with both forelegs and wings, the most delightful smile on her face. “Ohhhh goodness goodness goodness gracious!” she exclaimed giddly. “My word, Frost, do you have any idea what my sister got for me? ...Frost?”

Feathers… so amazing…

“Frost?”

“Oh, sorry, no, no idea,” I bumbled. Which was good because it was convincing.

“A school!” Luna squeed- yes, she did in fact make that very sound- as she pulled away from me, hopping excitedly in place almost like Pinkie Pie. “Goodness goodness goodness! It’s what I’ve always wanted ever since my first tour of her own!” She trotted up close. “And now I have my own in the Littlehorn Valley in Crescent Moon Canyon! Oh, the Littlehorn School of of Magic! Splendid, splendid!” She started trotting about excitedly as she spoke. “It has a wonderful crescent moon design in the courtyard, crenulated texturing to all the buildings, and so many towers- my word I love towers. It looks like something straight out of a sprite tale, oh that marvelous Apple Bloom! Like a monastic, walled village! Soon, I’ll have my own students- well, of course in a school under my name rather than under my personal tutelage, but just think about it! They’ll have their own baby dragons and other wonderful pets and companions, and it will be far enough from cities and villages for that natural setting- even far away from Celly’s own school! No rivalry! I must properly thank the Apple family for this, oh… oh… marvelous!”

I just watched, grinning.

She watched me, grinning. “You have that grin. I know that grin. There’s more, isn’t it?”

“Are you ready for your gift?” I asked.

“Yes, yes!” Luna gasped, overjoyed. “I don’t mean to sound foalish or prude or greedy, but what is it?”

I grinned wider. “Well, how closely did you look over the details for Littlehorn?”

“I hardly had the time!” she laughed heartily. “I mean, I had to maintain my royal composure in the presence of guests, but the moment I left the room, I just… immediately knew I had to come find you and tell you all about it!”

My grin grew sly. “You mean you didn’t have a chance to look over the proposed faculty roster?”

Luna froze, taking several long seconds to register what I’d just implied. “No...”

“Yes...” I said suavely as I could.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“You are?!” she exclaimed, positively radiant.

“I am!” I laughed, the same. “Prospective Professor Frostbane Hokkaido Windchill, at your service! Not the head of the history department, unfortunately, since I don’t have the seniority, but-”

The storyteller smiled softly.

That day, I learned just what it felt like to be glomped by an alicorn.




* * *




Except one problem.

My eyes shot wide awake in the middle of the night as I slept beside her as if someone had shattered glass nearby. “Oh dear goddesses what the hay do I do with my first lecture,” I murmured.




* * *




I’m spoiling you folks, you know that? Several mementos in a single installment. Well. I guess it should be that way. Everyone… Littlehorn.

Crescent Moon Canyon was breathtaking. Temperate forests to the north, border jungles to the Zebrican Wilds to the south. Mountains to the east, prairies and badlands to the west. Do you know why they called it Crescent Moon Canyon? It wasn’t because of the shape of the canyon- it was the shape of the mountains that surrounded it on all sides but the west. The mountains were so tall that they blotted out the sun- if not physically, then by the clouds they produced. Luna ordained that the weather be allowed to run free barring a few certain exceptions.

The result? The lighting was breathtaking. Littlehorn was in a near constant state of twilight. The crenulations on the buildings and the high towers casted immense shadows over all the buildings- and we used only natural or magical light, no electricity. It was like something straight out of a sprite tale, like Luna said. Depending on the cycle of the moon, nighttime could have actually been the brightest time of the day, matching sundown in brightness and merely exchanging radiant orange hues with soft blues. Incredible. 

And you know the perks of working at a school of magic as Luna’s lover? Didn’t need to worry about having to move there and leave all my friends in Ponyville behind. Just wake up in time for the teleport.

On second thought, maybe you folks aren’t so spoiled. At least forty years ago in Stalliongrad, I had the setting right- a lecture hall. Because here’s a special treat for you- a glimpse into Equestrian education.

Well, my way, at least. Spent months thinking up how I would do my lectures, considering I hated how it was taught in our school system. And thus...

It was the first time I’d entered the lecture hall not as a student but for students. All chattering excitedly among themselves, or… using a cellphone. Or a portable terminal browsing the web. Mm. Well at least the lighting was nice. Instead of conventional lighting, hundreds of candles gently bobbed in the air, their combined light more than enough to cut through darkness. Luna wanted bioluminescent beetles, but that would, well, discourage a good number of students. Plus, they would make quite a bit of noise.

I turned to my teacher’s assistant, a tan-furred unicorn that carted the projector in. “Thank you, Tiller. We’ll just leave this here for now, alright?”

“Right,” he said with a nod. “Meet with you after to discuss tutorials?”

“Sounds good, and contact Shine, Husk, and Volley- tell them to come, too, and on time next class,” I answered, then looked over the crowd of tiered students before me, high-school age. I prefer older students- or at least more mature ones. Oh, and this wasn’t just a school for gifted unicorns. That wasn’t in the title. Princess Luna’s Littlehorn Academy of Magic. Everyone has magic. Anyone who had the talent could attend. Ponies of all kinds, griffins, mules, donkeys, even a buffalo. Oddly enough, no zebras. Unfortunate that they all seemed to be consistently spooked with being so close to the Wilds- and for good reason. Our friends in Zebrica needed gems to hold it back, as did we. But… more on that later.

Moving away from that train of thought, I looked over near the top and spotted the familiar form of Nightingale in the back. We made eye contact and smiled at one another. I then looked at the distant wall and spotted the clock. Eight A.M. Showtime.

I merely stepped into view and smiled, just standing there in the middle of the floor. A good number of students caught on and fell quiet, a few shushed the others around them. Most kept doing what they were doing. So I waited patiently, rocking and leaning a bit to get the message across. Eventually, the rest… or most of them… caught on and I smiled brightly to them.

“Good morning!” I greeted, then looked about with a frown. “Really? Really? Come on, I said good moooooorning!”

“Good moooorning!” a good number of them shouted right back.

I grinned. “There we go. Let’s get straight into it. My name is Frost Windchill. Pleased to meet you. Now, you’re all here for Equestrian History Honors, section twelve-A right? ...well alright, then! Any Manehattaners out there?” A good number of hooves and claws of all species went up. “Heh, and they call us an uncultured bunch. Let’s get right to it, shall we? First things first, have you all read the course syllabus? A few hooves and a claw shot up.” I slumped and rolled my eyes. “Of course nobody reads the syllabus. What was I expecting?

“Right, let’s start with that, then. It’s not a long one, so this shouldn’t be too bad.” I turned on the projector with a hoof rather than using my magic. No need to spoil the surprise. “First off, I should start with this- no cell phones. Uh-uh. No way. No cell phones. This was a ground rule since elementary school for a reason. Keep them packed away, and keep them on vibrate- or better yet, silent ringer. You’d be surprised by the acoustics in this lecture hall.

“Which brings me to my second rule.” I turned the projector off and sent it rolling away. “Well, more like a quirk. I don’t use projectors, I don’t use slides, I don’t use a textbook, and I don’t use mics. You can all hear me, all the way in the back. I know for sure. These lecture halls were all tested. And if you can’t, well, sorry. Make do. I’m a Manehattaner, and if I can hear tick-tick-ticking of those keyboards while I’m talking about just the syllabus… a syllabus, by the way, which you shouldn’t have to be taking notes for.” I looked toward the left portion of the seats until I found a unicorn mare with a prim mane slowly lowering her phone. I looked directly at her, and soon, so did the rest of the hall. “Rule number one.” Her horn winked out as her phone slipped away. “There we go. Now the reason I don’t use any media is because I want you to pay attention. You’re all here at Littlehorn for a reason- and a good number of you are paying out of your parents’ pockets. If it should at least be on moral grounds for you not to squander those bits, at least don’t squander all the effort you put into just getting into this school. No media means you have to attend lecture and pay attention for all fifty minutes. Trust me- it’s in your best interests, and I’ll make it worth your time. And, as the saying goes, ‘time is money,’ so I’ll be making it worth your money by extension.”

The doors clicked open, and a wide-eyed pegasus glanced furtively about as he tried to sneak in. He immediately had all eyes on him. 

“Ah, perfect timing!” I smiled… only for a moment. “Don’t be late for class, pleeeease? No projector, no computer, no textbook, no mic- that means you better be here for the whole thing.” I nodded to the pegasus, who smiled sheepishly before flying about, searching for a seat. “Now, rule three-” The door opened again as a pegasus mare, this time, tried to sneak in and was predictably met with failure. “Ahem! Don’t be late for class, pleeeeease? No projector, no computer, no textbook, no mic- that means you better be here for the whole thing. Rule three-” The door opened.

An earth pony mare peered in this time. “... oh, sorry!” She darted back out.

“... wrong lecture hall then,” I grunted. And then I waited, looking about for a good fifteen seconds. “Okay, that should be- I’m hearing the tick-tick-ticking again, ma’am.” Hello again, Prim Mane. All eyes on you again. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Don’t push it any further.

“Rule three-” One of the students stood up. “... is there a problem?”

“... bathroom,” the griffiness said sheepishly before darting out.

“Rule two addendum, then- take care of your business before coming to class, please.” I rubbed my brow with my hoof. “Rule three- hearing it again.” Prim. Mane. “Now, fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me thrice… I shame you.” I held up my hoof and motioned quickly towards myself. “Cell phone. Now.” Prim Mane scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I mean it, young lady.”

“Well I’m kinda stuck here!” she protested, pointing to herself- namely her location in the middle of the aisle. Canterlot accent. Wonderful.

“Throw it, then,” I said, repeating the motion.

She rolled her eyes, wrapped her phone in her magic, and telekinetically tossed it at me. Everyone watched as it sailed through the air…

And everyone watched as it clattered on the floor beside me, shattering into pieces on impact. 

“Oooooooooh!” went several giddy students in the crowd. I swore Prim Mane’s jaw unhinged.

“And that’s why I still use a Nokia,” I said with a grin. “Right, forgot to mention- I can’t do telekinesis. That’s what these are for.” I fired up my horn with its ice-blue glow and sprouted an ice arm, wiggling the fingers so everyone could see, then proceeded to snatch up the broken pieces and dump them into the trash. Some students outright stomped in applause.

“Rule number one!” I repeated, holding up a finger. “Please!” I sublimated the arm. “Rule number th-” The door opened. “Oh for the love of Luna!” The griffiness from earlier returned from her bathroom break and dove for her seat. “Oh, you. You missed a pretty good moment. See what happens when you forget rule number two? I told you I’d make it worth your time and money!” I looked back at Prim Mane, absolutely steaming with rage. “Not yours, sorry.”

I inhaled. “Rule number three tutorial sections are optional but highly encouraged you are free to attend whichever section you wish as seating permits but it is suggested you attend your scheduled section to avoid overcrowding- bam! Finally! And rule four, no eating. Drinking, fine. It’s quiet. Eating? Not so much. Okay, four rules! That’s it! Now… let’s get started.”

And here, folks, is where the magic happens.

“When I was growing up in Manehattan, there was a silly pop culture song called ‘What Did Washington Say When He Crossed the Delamare?’ It was sung to the tarantella beat of a Bitalian wedding song, and the answer was ‘Mirthe, Mirthe, there’ll be no pizza tonight!’ Silly, right? Everyone knows Gorge Washington only ate cherry pie!

“Well, that December night, Gorge might have told himself that this raid on an enemy camp in Troton, New Jersey better work or else he might be ordering a last meal before the griffins hanged him. But as the general rallied his ragged troops to cross the icy Delamare, one of his actual comments was far more amusing than those silly lyrics. Stepping into his boat, Washington- the plain-spoken frontiersbuck and not the marbleized demigod- nudged forty-hundred-twenty-kilogram General Heavy ‘Ox’ Locks with the tip of his boot and said, ‘Shift that fat ass, Heavy. But slowly, or you’ll swamp the damned boat.’”

I grinned and waited for the chuckles and snickers to die down. That was why I preferred older students. They didn’t have the taboo against cussing. I began pacing the floor much like old Egan did and continued. “According to A.J. Languid’s history of the Border Wars, that is how Locks himself reported the story.” I huffed, “I definitely didn’t hear that version of the Hearth’s Warming Crossing when I was in school. And that’s a shame. It reveals more of Washington’s true, earthy nature than all the tall tales about cherry trees and vigils in Valley Forge- and the physically impossible paintings of him standing poised at the bow of his boat rather than hunkered down like the rest. And that’s the point of my course- most of what we remember about our history as Equestrian citizens is either mistaken or falsehood. That is…” I paused and eyed the crowd, “if we remember it at all.”

And so I resumed my pace. “For all too many Equestrians who dozed through history in elementary and middle school, the Mayflower Compact might as well be a small powered wagon. Reconstruction has something to do with silicone implants. The Bayou Purchase means eating out at a Cajun restaurant. When I went to university, several prominent writers in my prospective field had just enjoyed profitable success by lambasting Equestrians’ failure to know our own history. We’re basically know-nothings according to Cultural Literacy: The Closing of the Equestrian Mind. 

“We’re probably not as stupid as the books have us, but there is an underlying truth to all that- we’re no nation of scholars when it comes to history- our own for that matter. In a recent and highly publicized survey of high school juniors not much older than any of you, a third couldn’t identify the Proclamation of the Covenant as the document that marked the formal union of all three pony races, and only thirty-two percent of the students surveyed could place the Almarinian War in the correct century. These surveys go back and back and back, repeatedly blasting the historical ineptitude of Equestrian students. Part of the problem is that some of those juniors who took that survey are on their way to becoming teachers!

“But why dump on you?” I asked, motioning to them. “Why dump on the kids? While there are constant warnings issued about the yawning gaps in the education of Equestrian students, there’s a deeper question. Would most of your parents or older brothers and sisters do any better? Most might not pass a similar pop quiz. Comedian Jay Lionel routinely demonstrates this on his ‘Jaywalk’ segments of the Tonight show. Adults on the air are incapable of answering the simplest questions about their own people’s history. So the gap doesn’t just yawn for people like you.” I sprouted ice arms and pointed to myself. “It yawns for people like me as well.

“And do you know why we have so much problem remembering history?” I asked, leaning against the podium. “For most of us, history was boring. Many of us- me and you- were taught by a hoofball coach who dropped into the history class to give himself something to fill out the rest of his day and to fatten his paycheck. Many of us also learned about our past from textbooks that serve up the past on a silver platter- or, worse, as if it were a Hollywood costume drama. Come on, you’ve read them, I’ve read them. The warts on our Maternal Makers were neatly retouched. Slavery? Same glossy makeover. It was merely the misguided practice of the rebellious unicorn folk until the ‘progressives’ of the earth and sky showed them the light. Buffalo were portrayed in textbooks in the same way they were in Hollywood Westerns. Donkeys? Mules? Almost entirely left out of the picture.

“And as if to add even greater insult to injury,” I went on, pushing off and resuming my pace, “those gaping holes in our historical literacy have been reinforced by the horror that is… pop… culture. Just look at Pocahontas. Malt Disneigh unfortunately makes a much greater impression on millions of people than a carefully researched, historically accurate, but mind-numbingly dull documentary. Occasionally, films like Glory or Saving Private Rain can stimulate interest in history in ways that few textbooks or teachers can. But those gems are far and few in between when you have things on TV such as… ugh…” I sprouted arms and made air-quotes, “The ‘History’ Channel. Sure. Dinosaurs were wiped out by aliens to make way for harvestable equine evolution. Sure. Keep thinking that, Sue Kale. Just goes to show that mainstream movies and network TV have magnified the myths and makeovers. It’s important to realize that looking past these myths reveals so much more. The real picture is far more interesting than the historical tummy-tuck, and truth… is always more interesting than propaganda.”

I paused and glanced about the room. “I’m getting plenty of that look, folks- that look. ‘So what, Professor Windchill?’ those eyes are whining. ‘Why bother with history anyway? What difference does it make if our kids know what the Proclamation says- or doesn’t say? Why does it matter if most people think the Blueblood scandal at Watershed is just old news?’”

I pointed a finger at them. “The answer is simple. History is the story of cause and effect, the consequences of our actions- large and small. And that… has never been more apparent than today. Anyone know what happened today? Anyone at all? Too young to read the newspaper? Anyone? Silence.” I sighed mistily and headed back to the podium, procuring the front page.

The storyteller held up a yellowed newspaper.

This… front page.

He opened it up gingerly.

“‘Gem freighter missing at sea,’” I read. “‘Dozens feared taken hostage by zebra gem pirates.’” I set the newsprint down and looked back at the students. “History just got a whole lot more interesting, didn’t it? Cell phones away, folks. I think what you’re about to hear is a lot more important.

“History can explain how we got to where we are today,” I said, resuming my pacing. “We can use it to connect the dots from past to present. Take the Pareese Treaty- please! I know, those very words sound- as a friend would put it- boooooring! I can see those eyelids grow heavy as you hear ‘Pareese’ and ‘Treaty’. But consider what that treaty, which supposedly settled the Colony War, actually did. In one very clear and very obvious sense, it partitioned the territories around the world between the great superpowers of our day and age- The Principality of Equestria, The Holy Zebrican Empire, and The Griffin Republic of Aldorna. New colonies, new protectorates. Borders were redrawn, and some didn’t think those borders were fair. 

“Folks, the Pareese Treaty laid the groundwork for another colony war… just twenty years later. They called it the Almarinian War.

“But look past that. You can draw a straight line from the Treaty of Pareese to events of today. Just connect the dots, like I said, from past to present. The Buffalo Nation disputes. The minotaur uprising. The Legion’s response- war. All these hotspots of the past few decades were created in the aftermath of Pareese, when the world superpowers carved up the world into colonies and protectorates they thought they could control.

“Let’s dig deeper into events of today. The Treaty of Pareese also laid the groundwork for EZTA, the Equestria-Zebrica Trade Agreement. But when the dragons got rowdy over the coal mines in their mineral stores during Caesar Bodorok’s reign, the KSV overthrew the dragon king. Nobody thought what it might mean in twenty-five years. At the time, Zebrica was worried about Aldorna and its own oil companies. What did it matter what the dragons thought? Restoring the exiled Rovgard to power in place of a horde hostile to Zebrica seemed like a good idea. Until the dragons thought otherwise and began the first wave of revolutions that eventually ended up in a bipartisan agreement- and disposed of Bodorok. Now we have Caesar Raj’M’Kora on the emperor’s throne- a scholar, a peacekeeper. But… viewed as weaker by the minotaur, so exploited for their oil and coal.

“So then we have the disaster in the Persano Gulf, soon after magnified by the exhaustion of Sparkling Shores. We’ve grown too accustomed to all the comforts of the modern Age of Industry. Powered wagons- running on gasoline. Generators for winters up north- running on gasoline. Boilers and smelters in Fillydelphia- running on coal. Trains scouring the land- running on coal. And across the border, whitefire burners- powered by gems. Magical energy weapons- powered by gems. No scaling back, no conservation. More, more more.

“Which led to coal pirates. Which led to gem pirates. Which led…” I reached the podium and waved the newspaper. “To this. History. Cause and effect, the story of our actions- of many, of few- and our consequences- large, small. The story of our people, of persons- singular persons- who championed causes that would change the course of history. The story of people who lacked those champions, who were smothered by the voices of the many. 

“Welcome to Equestrian History Honors. My name is Frost Windchill. Pleased to meet you.”




* * *




“Not bad, not bad,” Luna smiled at me, giving me a kiss as we headed out of the lecture hall.

“Why can it never be ‘good job’ or ‘incredible’ with you?” I nickered.

“Because for the love of me, I can’t understand why you’d use that phrase,” she chuckled.

“Oh come on, I was already nervous for my first lecture and I wanted to just get on with it already,” I muttered.

“And the whole cell phone fiasco?” the midnight-black unicorn arced a brow at me.

“She deserved it,” I protested.

“Have to agree with you there.” Then she smiled at me. “By the way, quite a few whispers about your ‘sexy voice.’”

“Do you think it’s sexy?” I asked with a grin.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Luna huffed, then grinned. “Now, I think you deserve a reward for that first lecture. Being a pony of my position grants me special favors.”

“What… kind of favors?” I asked.

“Well this summer, I thought you might need some new material for your equinpology classes. So I spoke with a mare who knew a mare who knew a buck who knew a stallion. 

“Well, Doctor Windchill… you’ve been cleared for a research trip to Zebrica.”




* * *



<===ooO Ooo===>




Footnote: Frost- Level Up! Level 18 Reached!
Perk added: The Way of the Equinitarian- A lover of equinekind and all its complexities, you found your Way at last by walking alongside the paths of others and seeing how far they’ve come. With such a keen eye and ear for history and equinpology backed by your knowledge of rhetorical skill, your PER is maxed during conversation. (Note: Any “The Way” perk taken afterward will replace the previous “The Way” perk.)

Unlockables added: Soundtrack- Wonders of the New World

Soundtrack- First Flight

Soundtrack- Her Special Place

Soundtrack- Birth of the Storyteller

Soundtrack- Absolute Territory by Ken Ashcorp (remixed by Silva Hound)

Soundtrack- Luna’s Lament

Soundtrack- Birthplace of the Age of Industry, Almarinia

Soundtrack- The Clockworks

Soundtrack- Dawn Treader Encounter

Character Voice Actor- Sean Connery as Dawn Treader

Soundtrack- Littlehorn