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// Chapter Five: Idiomatic Novelty 
// Story: An Investigation Into Chaos 
// by Forgoten Null 
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It’s humbling to consider how much my life has changed in the last few years.

Everything is so different than I remember it, of course I would be the first to say that my recollection of the past isn’t exactly spotless or even remotely complete but nonetheless this is different. It never ceases to amaze me that despite all the things I have seen and done in my absurdly long life that I still manage to run headfirst into things I’ve never seen before. I would think by now that I should have seen everything.

Then again, perhaps I’m just ignorant of the patterns playing out around me.

Perhaps I’m just repeating the same mistakes I made millennia ago without even realizing it.

Or maybe I’m even repeating the mistakes of an older and wiser Draconequus happens to be looking back and scowling at what an idiot he used to be?

Of course it could be that the world we live in simply refuses to abide by the laws of logic and probability, at that point I wouldn’t be able to bring myself to blame it.

After all, what fun is making sense anyway?

As I was saying, I find myself partaking in a surprising amount of novel experiences as of late. For example, in our little “investigation” into the falsification of the report I have developed a very interesting dynamic with a one Dual Vision.

I am Lord Discord, Spirit of Disharmony and Chaos, whereas he is but a humble Earth Pony working under my employ; however, he shows no sign or inclination of subservience, reverence, or fear towards me whatsoever and I don’t feel the need to subjugate or to really direct him in any capacity.

I suppose you could say that we share a sort of mutual respect for each other. 

Mind you I have worked closely with others in the past however it has always been a mutually exclusive beneficial relationship, “quid pro quo” as they say.

Though when I work with Dual Vision, and we are both working towards the same goal, we become the very definition of collaboration. This is new ground for me, I suppose I would still consider Fluttershy a friend and I do appreciate her effort to tolerate my presence; however, this is the first time in as long as I can remember that I actually a commonality with someone, somepony even!

I believe the term for that kind of relationship would be peers?

I never would have imagined a day where I would consider a Pony my equal in any pursuit; though in all fairness I suppose that my perspective of Ponies in general may have been just a bit skewed.

Can you really blame me though?

In a world populated by Dragons, Griffons, Minotaurs and all manner of strange and fantastic beasts it’s easy to say that Ponykind is meek and powerless by comparison. In all honesty I was surprised that they had even managed to survive at all before coming to me for sanctuary, as far as I was concerned they were just weak and helpless by design. They have no claws, no fangs or canines to speak of, that’s not to mention the fact that they aren’t exactly grand in stature. Mind you I wouldn’t really like to be kicked by one of them but even that isn’t much when you consider what they are up against.

From a purely utilitarian standpoint the race of Ponies is some sort of cosmic joke, though, luckily for them, they do have at least one redeeming quality to their name.

Talent!

As far as I can tell, most Ponies can’t even fight their way out of a wet paper bag; however, if they happen to have a wet bag fighting cutie mark you have an entirely different story.

Then I feel sorry for the bag…

The point is that I was mostly unaware of the real significance of a Ponies cutie mark and their respective “special talent.” Until recently I didn’t think much of it but now I’m beginning to understand how much potential these little Ponies seem to have, in the right light.

I suppose it was a bit narrow-minded of me to assume them all to be relatively useless, though to be fair I never had the distinct pleasure of spending time with one of them when they were “in their element.”

That is, until I started working with Dual.

Dual told me that his talent manifests itself as an intuitive understanding of “Analytical Ethics,” or something like that. The technical side of it seems to be completely lost on me, as his explanation of “Divergent Likeness.”

Despite not understanding it completely, I think I can explain his talent set relatively well.

Essentially, Dual is has a brilliant legal mind and he is a prolific historian; he applies these skills in conjuncture, making him a masterful investigator. I’m not even ashamed to admit that he far surpasses me in this regard.

Sure, for a while we worked as a pair, it was just him and I against the entire aristocracy and it was glorious. First we set out to create a sort of map that would lead us straight to our culprit, a wide net of information that would drag in every stallion, mare, and foal that had even the slightest possible connection to the crime. Then we quickly marked out sources and leads to every kind of data you can imagine. By the time we were finished we had some sort of a tab on nearly every single Pony in Canterlot.

The majority of these Ponies were eliminated as candidates for investigation almost immediately.

Most individual citizens and even the majority of noble houses would be unable to even attempt something as involved or complicated as falsifying an official government document; as ineffectual as the Equestrian legal system is it does surprisingly good record keeping. Then, of course, there was the question of a possible motive; most Ponies wouldn’t even have any knowledge of the report’s existence, much less a desire to change it.

With this in mind the pool of suspects dwindled down to a more manageable size

Then we began to sort out our catch, suspect by suspect.

After all the obvious suspects and red herrings were fished out of the net, things started to become problematic. The only remaining suspects were shadowy figures with unknown capabilities, all taking their place in some grand conspiracy grand conspiracy. 

Then all that was left were dark shadows shifting under the surface of the water, lurking just out of sight. I was thrown completely out of my depth as I was plunged into an intricate web of assumption and causality, desperately clinging onto any facts or logic I could find like the survivor of a terrible shipwreck trying to survive the wrath of a roiling sea. Dual however was completely unfazed, he dove straight into the dark depths with practice and precision.

This was the kind of thing that someone like him lived for, a chance to ply his mastery on his chosen field, the impossible challenge.

It was inspiring really, to see him working to bring Order to a system so fraught with convolution and inconsistencies.

He was a perfect warrior of Chaos.

As much as I wanted to continue working with him directly, I eventually had to concede and accept the fact that I was fighting a fight that I could not hope to win. I decided that so long as Dual could push forward that I would do my best to assist him in any way I could. 

So I became his envoy, collecting any kind of information he needed and presenting it to him in hopes to expedite his progress in some way.

Lord Discord, Lord of Chaos and Disharmony, Secretary.

As much as I enjoyed being reduced to a glorified errand boy I was disheartened when I couldn’t even do that anymore.

The game had progressed to its final moments.

By then we had all the pieces, I just had to wait for him to solve the puzzle.

There was nothing left for me to do but wait.

Of course, that’s not really my style. So I decided to go out and discuss the matter with a close confidant of mine.





Tea with Luna, sadly, didn’t provide the inspiration that I hoped it would. She more or less agreed with my assessment, that the only thing left for me to do was wait for Dual to find some kind of a conclusion to all of this.

She did, however, remind me of my obligations to Celestia, the ones that I had been otherwise blatantly ignoring. She suggested that it might be a good thing to take some time away from the investigation and find something that I could really sink my claws into, she said it might do me good to get my mind off of it for a while.

I admitted that she probably had a point; perhaps some time away from everything would help me get my old mojo back and let me figure it out my way.

I still needed the authority that the whole “Investigator for The Crown” thing granted to me, so finishing the report about Canterlot was completely out of the question.

And as you can plainly see I am still working hard on the report on the elemental properties of chaos.

So that left me with one viable option.

So I asked myself. “How does one inspire artists?”

I suppose I could have just granted them the inspiration myself, but apparently “insanity” is frowned upon in modern society. I certainly wasn’t going to go around the Empire, posing for prospective artists; as tempting as it was to have my face mounted in every Equestrian home as art, it just wasn’t worth my time.

I asked Luna if she had any suggestions and she said that I should go out and see the modern styles for myself, it seemed as good a starting point as any.

As I took my time wandering the galleries of artwork I tried to focus on the pictures in front of me, my mind constantly wandered back to the investigation. I thought about how close I had come but how far I still had to go. I thought about my own obsession with the issue, why I was so enthralled by the conspiracy. In truth, this in itself was a novelty, I have never before concerned myself with my image as portrayed by others but the false report instilled in me a deep sense of betrayal. I couldn’t explain to myself why I was so compelled to find the answers.

It irked me.

The art in the gallery wasn’t really helping my frustration; I glowered at the artwork displayed before me.

Art never had much of a flair for me I suppose, why marvel at a memory when you can have the real experience? I was always more of a weaver of words than a painter of pictures.

I it’s something to do with the flexibility of it all; the colors of a painting can have meaning but only in context.

Words however are units, each one with their own particular meaning. To make yourself clear you have to bend and twist in just the right way, so that they become something greater.

Perhaps I’m just missing the point of it all?

The gallery itself was lined with paintings and filled with different sculptures. Some of them were perfect, crystal clear, representations of a scene or a place, beautiful of haunting depending on the scene portrayed. Then there were others that were just jumbled amalgamations of shapes, colors and textures haphazardly arranged in some way that apparently gave them some sort of “deeper meaning.”

I might not have had a critical eye for art but I could certainly see a pattern emerge.

There was no middle ground to any of it. Reality exists somewhere between logic and absurdity and while these artists could portray the conceptual extremes of reality they certainly couldn’t capture its essence.

I decided I didn’t like modern art.

Every display showed a unique and one of a kind masterpiece that in inherently disagreed with. It was obvious that the artists had some level of technical mastery in their craft and they certainly had a sense of aesthetic and flair but nothing in the gallery seemed alive to me because there was no sense of a dynamic between all the pieces.

There was no sense of Chaos in the room, just some kind of an implied order. I quickly tired of trying to find my muse and thought of returning to my forest to rest in a more varied setting.

But of course, inspiration is a fickle thing. Sometimes the moment you stop looking for it is the moment it will find you.

The forest was more or less amicable with my request, providing I supplied the power it would need to make the changes required. It would accept a bit of extra variety so long as an overall Order was maintained, a request that I could easily ensure.

I relished the chance to apply my creativity to such a large canvas. It would be unlike the scenes I had painted in Ponyville upon my release; I was in full control of myself now. I carefully prepared myself to bring inspiration to those bold enough to go seeking it.

The premise was a simple one; any aspiring artist would enter the forest and begin wandering. 

The enchantments I had supplied would ensure that they would be cared for as long as they wished to remain, they also ensured that no harm could come to my charge of the forest. Such a venture would be mundane, if I didn’t change the rules a bit.

I left the forest unchanged, more or less; instead of ruthlessly changing the Order of the forest I simply gave it the means to change itself. All life seeks to grow and change at some level, endlessly improving on the design of the last generation through a tedious and brutal cycle of selection.

I just sped up the process.

Dramatically.

I must admit that I’m quite pleased with the results.

In a way, nothing really changed in the forest. Life went on as it always had, just with a more efficient method of revolution.

The result was both universal and asymmetrical, the perfection of it all lied in its subtly. A passive observer, upon entering the forest would notice a typical wood complete with the flora and fauna they would expect; however, it would be an imperfect mirror of their expectations.

In some places the leaves would shimmer like water or perhaps the animals would move from place to place in a blink of an eye. Some places might even seem perfectly normal until the observer noticed that they themselves had been changed, if only temporarily.

Then I extended my nexus onto the forest at large, making separate passages and causeways that would shift and sway to keep the onlookers on their heels. The moment they begin to grow accustomed to their surroundings they would be thrust into a new ethos of the forest.

The forest itself had enough constancy to lull passersby into a false sense of normalcy before the nexus tore that away from them as they took a few misbegotten steps in the wrong direction.

The intent was to make it appear as if the forest was daring them to try to comprehend it, only to taunt them with its newfound complexity and agency.

Finally I decided to place another ward around my home. I placed a ward that could deter unwarranted visitors by transporting them elsewhere in the forest, effectively ensuring my privacy.

Once I was done I proudly proclaimed to all Equestria that all were free to inspect my lands and all the wonders contained within.

At first they were skeptical, but eventually several brave should entered into my domain.

Soon word spread through the community that the forest below Canterlot was a truly place of awe and wonder. Adventurous wanderers would come and trek through the woods for days, taking in the sights and sounds this familiar yet alien place had to offer.

Some of these intrepid wanderers would be inspired to try to capture the magic they had witnessed through art.

Apparently they are calling it “surrealism.”

An apt name if I do say so myself…