//------------------------------// // 19th: Bygone Days // Story: The Rule of King Cocoon of the Changelings // by Hooves Like Jagger //------------------------------// The Rule of King Cocoon of the Changelings There is no structure more fair in all of Equestria than The Castle of the Royal Sisters. These painted white pillars of the basilica have a fair glow to them in this midday sun. I’ve walked this cobbled pathway many a time, in spring, summer, fall, and winter. Spring is the best season, for it is in the spring that the flowers of the front gardens start to bloom in yellows and white while the fruit trees bud with green leaves. Ponies chat at their leisure in this public space, enjoying this most pleasant change in the seasons. Walking into the throat of the castle, I am greeted by the smiles of even more ponies. This corridor, painted like precious, soft marble, also glows in the spectrum of colors flowing in through the arched, stained glass windows. The passing of each pony is met with a bow and a casual “how fare thee?” A group of ponies lounging by the statue in the oculus flag me down to ask me how my journey was. We laugh and swap stories of our final winter days before I bid them good day and continue on my way. I walk out in the the wide, peristyle garden of the castle. From here, it is only a short walk from the patio to my quarters, but I’ve no doubt that I won’t be getting there anytime soon judging by the crowd here in the garden. Servants carry appetizers about on platters for all the guests gathered around the fountains or relaxing on the benches and enjoying the first blooms on the rose bushes. I guess this is some sort of party, by the looks of it. I’m certain that today isn’t anything special, but then again I’m not certain I remember what the day is. Remembering things has never been my strong suite. I move around the partygoers, stopping every minute or so to catch up with a delegate or soldier I haven’t seen since I left at the start of winter. Even Princess Celestia herself, busy chatting up the members of her court, gives me a brief smile as if to say “we may talk later.” I’m glad to see she hasn’t loosened up while I was on my little haitus. Princess Luna, in contrast, does far more than smile at my approach. As she says a hasty goodbye to the guests she was entertaining, I can’t help but think I’m glad to see she hasn’t straightened out. I guess three months is not much time to change. “Oh, we are ever so glad to see you are returned and well!” Luna says, not hesitating to break ceremony in order to give me an energized hug. I swear, she could snap me in half with that strength of hers. “We missed your presence, yet we did not shrink from our studies, wise mentor!” “I’m glad to hear that, but didn’t I specifically say your highness could take it easy whilst I was away?” I ask her. Luna pushes me away with a shocked expression on her face, the exact same reaction I got when I purposed the idea in the first place. She really needs to stop being so rough with us aging folks. “Neigh, we perish the thought of being lax!” Luna stamps a hoof and pouts like a child, not very befitting of a princess. “We hoped thou would praise us for our efforts.” “I did, did I not?” I think I said something along those lines. Bah, I can’t remember. “Your highness is powerful and skilled enough as it is. Even before my help you could raise and lower the moon as you pleased. My training is just fine tuning in comparison.” “And finely tuned we are becoming,” she says in the Canterlot voice as she tends to do whenever she becomes excited, angry, indignant, happy, sad, annoyed, sleepy, or a menagerie of other emotions I can’t be bothered to list at the moment. “To truly bring peace and happiness to our subjects, we must master all aspects of magic!” “Most aspects,” I tell her, correcting her once again. “Which brings me to another reason I want you to keep thy magical exploration to a minimum whilst I am away: I don’t want your highness using any magic she should not. There are many helpful tomes in my library, but there are also dark, twisted tomes that con-” “Contain chapters of corruption and volumes of violence. They are powerful indeed, but there is more to magic than just power. We must hold control above all else.” Luna finishes my shpeal for me, but if she knows what I’m going to say I don’t understand why I need to keep saying it. “We know this, mentor; however, we have been diligent in our studies and you yourself have said we harness an astounding aptitude for control. We are not the reason you have made this rule, so we think it is unfair our studies should be limited because of it. We can handle it.” My eyes can’t help but dart over to where Princess Celestia is seated. She represents my hesitation, but it would be unfair to say she is the only source of my hesitation. I am no stronger than she was then, and I’ve never met anypony as powerful as she’s ever been, sans her sister. Perhaps that’s why her failure bothers me the most. “Famous last words, my princess.” If there is anything I’ve learned in my life in the court, it is that in discouraging a Princess one must employ no small amount of guilt. “Is your highness ungrateful for the aid I’ve supplied you? If my teachings are unsatisfactory, I could perhaps direct thee to the nearest witch or warlock to sate your thirst for forbidden knowledge.” “Neigh, mentor! This is not what we imply!” “No, no, it would be no trouble for me.” I idly cast my gaze up and away from her. “The hardest part will be finding one who isn’t sealed in a stone or simply defunct…” “We do not desire a perished warlock for a mentor!” Luna shouts in her royal voice, causing nothing short of a large disturbance in the party. Most of the guests just roll their eyes, having become accustom to these sort of outbursts. From where I’m standing I can see Celestia staring up at the heavens and shaking her head. Most ponies would lower their voices after all this, but Luna isn’t most ponies. “Forgive us our transgressions, mentor! We meant no disrespect!” “I jest, your highness,” I say in an attempt to calm her down. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving your studies in the hooves of a pony who would abuse your power or convince you to abuse your own power.” Luna smiles brightly again, pleased to have her mentor back no doubt. She strikes me as more of a puppy than a Princess, really. “Thank you, wise mentor. We shall not breach the subject again!” That’ll be the day. “All is well, I assure you. I would ask you, your highness, what you have been studying while I’ve been away?” “… Refining the skills you taught me, sir,” she says in her normal speaking voice. Luna forces a smile while her eyes dart about. She pins her ears back, completing a look that I’ve seen far too many times. “You’re making that face again, your highness.” “Nonsense!” Luna continues making that face. “You’re a terrible liar, Luna. You may as well come right out with the truth.” I wait for her to respond while she continues not making eye contact. I stare long and hard, willing the information out of her. She cracks just as a bead of sweat starts forming on her royal forehead. “We attempted the time-traveling spell!” She cups her hooves over her mouth as if somepony else had answered instead of herself. I don’t know what I’m going to do with Luna. She is capable, but she is still so childish sometimes. I don’t want to be cross with her, but situations like this require me to be firm. “And the truth comes out. See, your highness, lying will only delay the inevitable. Did you really think I-” … “Time Travel?!” “We offer our most sincere and genuine apologies, mentor!” Luna resumes using her full Canterlot voice. “If it alleviates our transgression, we were not successful in performing it!” “Do you have any idea how lucky you are right now? Time isn’t a plaything! You can’t bandage time back into place if you mess it up! You’re lucky your mind wasn’t turned to cornmeal in an unstable tachyon field!” “… So we have done well?” She is a puppy, not a princess… “There are consequences for dangerous actions like these, young lady.” I watch as Luna’s eyes drift to the ground. She knows that when I pull out “young lady” I mean business. “There will be no shortage of work to be done for your studies, starting immediately.” At the mention of studies, however, she brightens back up. “Yes, mentor! We are ready to work hard!” “Good! You can start by writing a report on my dissertation on Magi-Medical Procedures for Non-magical Ailments paying particular attention to the section on Tactile Silencing so you can outline how advances in that field have advanced the practicality and affordability of invasive field surgeries. You will also prepare alchemic recipes with complete elemental distributions for no less than five autonomous creatures without the use of mannequins. Considering I wrote Not-So Natural Nature’s Alchemic Almanac, I will know if you copied out of it. In addition to those I want you to write a spell that will analyze the contents of any goblet and identify any of six distinct liquids and simultaneously reveal the volume. I want this spell written in Magi Exact and not Equus Arcana which means I expect to see notes at the start of each phase shift and you will utilize only a small number of circuits and absolutely no aggregate circuits! I want this all done before the end of the week, understood?” “... B-but mentor, I was hoping our punishment would involve more practice instead of theory,” Luna says, ever hopeful with her innocent smile. I wouldn’t say she’s dependable, but she sure is predictable. “Practice is good for power, but theory is good for control. If your highness can’t keep from using spells I’ve explicitly told her to stay away from, I believe some exercises in control are in order.” Luna heaves a sigh, acknowledging her defeat. I send her back to the party with one last instruction to take it easy and a promise that I will tell her all the details of my trip over tea once she has raised the moon. As for myself, my trip has worn hard on me. After socializing with the most eager of my two students, I’m at the end of my rope. I walk just as briskly as I can to my tower, chastising myself all the while for not opting to move my study closer to the castle gates. Halfway between the garden and the door to a soft bed, I stop. The throne room lies to my left, unguarded. I push open the double doors and let myself in, not that the guards would stop me even if they were present. After seeing how lively the party in the garden was, the silence of the throne room is eerie. There isn’t a sound besides my own walking reverberating against the painted stone and the only light comes down in cascades from the traditional stained glass windows. I ascend the stairs up to the twin thrones one at a time. They stand before me now, these great stone chairs. A sun adorns the tip of the throne to my right, but a moon looms over the one on my left. Beyond and between the two thrones is something I forgot we kept around: a mirror. It’s odd… but I can’t see my reflection in it. I should be able to… but I can’t. No… I was able to, but I can’t now? It’s because… … I no longer… and then… will… … ……………….. The dark, blank stone of this decrepit castle is smooth and cool against my hand. I turn and look down at once was a commanding view of a throne room, but is now an overgrown mess of vines and the dishearteningly many, broken pieces of architectural greatness. There is no sun adorned throne anymore, but when came the day it was lost? When came the day any of this was lost? Why does this alien, unfamiliar place give me such a haunting, sinking feeling? Shadows of a memory played out in my mind, and before I realized what I was doing I had come to this place. I can’t quite remember it now, as if I was trying to remember a vivid dream upon waking. The words are muffled, the faces are blurred, and the colors are faded. I’m only certain of a handful of things, but one of them stands out: I’ve been to this place before. This is the old castle in the Everfree, where Twilight and company defeated Nightmare Moon in most recent history. I’m not sure why I remember that event with such detail, but I also don’t feel that memory satisfies why I know this castle so well. Part of my memory has returned to me, memories of what this castle once looked like. I remember the magnificent, Corinthian columns. I remember the reliefs in the frieze of old, famous ponies. I remember the figures depicted in these stained glass windows before they were shattered. It was a beautiful place like I’d never seen before. Now it’s a scarred place I have seen before. “If you’re looking for answers to the reasons why If you want to unscramble the truths and the lies Then go where it’s never midnight nor noon Stare into the mirror between the Sun and the Moon” I remember the mirror… well, more accurately I remember it existed. Between the thrones of Celestia and Luna, marked by a sun and moon respectively, was a mirror. It seems like a viable answer to Discord’s riddle, if it wasn’t for the lack of an actual mirror. I don’t know if this place qualifies as a place where “it’s never midnight nor noon” anyway. … But still… Riddle aside, that mirror was important… or is important. I need to find it, granted it wasn’t destroyed or lost forever. It’s too big of a hit to simply let it slip away. Besides, what else am I gonna do? I’m a little scrapped for options. “…And I suppose I shouldsiasdman I haven’t perfected it, but with a little tiasdslkafis seriously for once in yoausdlajsaf growing near, and I’m-” My mind is being assailed. My senses are being flooded by one voice. “Just your imaginaslkadjere for a reason, right? You kneasjdafklwqoipuxan’t go back now! Tell me hoaqoioxczmut of touch with the ladies I gaowijzoijsijdiction grew and grew until haesiooajklee it has to be this wa-” This isn’t remembering; this is torture. I fully see everything for just a moment, remember for just a moment before it is torn away from me. I feel like I’m going insane as vivid scenes from a life apart rise in front of me for a moment before turning into loud, wild static. “Phla lamtoojsvrgzoojsvrgzkwcsoojslamt.” “I remember.” “Phla wbnazchybhna Bhnaabiozchylamtbhnawbnaphlalamtyzul abiotdphoojs Kwcsoojszchylamthyhyoojshyhy.” “But of course. How could I forget something to important?” “ Uliotdphlamteanabhnazchyyzulphlabhna wbnaphlafamtoojshyhy eanagzqtqtphlamt vrgzoojsvrgzgzqtlamteana.” “Right, but why? Why would she do that?” “Bhnatdphoojs yzulgzqtrxxtoojshyhy eanagzqtqtph.” “That doesn’t make any sense…” “ Bhnatdphoojs tdphzchybhna mttdgzqtlamtnaoogzqtabioabiooojsiovr tdphoojslamt abiolamtqtphoojs phlahyhyoojsiovrabiophlaabioeana.” “And that makes less sense.” “ Phlaabio wbnazchybhna eanagzqtqtphlamt hyhygzqtphlaiovrnaoo.” “An eye for an eye I suppose.” “ Iovrgzqtwbna bhnatdphoojs mttdgzqtlamtnaoooojsabiobhna abiogzqt abiooojsiovrhyhy tdphoojslamt bhnafamtoojsyzulyzul.” “That’s why I’m starting to remember, isn’t it? What about her?” “Hyhyoojsuliozchyeana phlabhna phlaiovroojsrxxtphlaabiozchykwcsyzuloojs.” “Where does that leave me?” “Lamtoojsuliogzqtrxxtoojslamtphlaiovrnaoo.” “And after that?” “Hyhyoojszchyabiotdph.” “No! I don’t want that! Why does it have to be that way?” “Eanagzqtqtph vrgzqtphbhnaabio lamtoojsvrgzoojsvrgzkwcsoojslamt.” “I can’t! I’m already forgetting what you’ve told me!” “Wbnatdphzchyabio eanagzqtqtphrxxtoojs abiogzqtyzulhyhy eanagzqtqtphlamtbhnaoojsyzulmttd.” “Who?” “Phla lamtoojsvrgzoojsvrgzkwcsoojslamt...” “No, I don’t… I can’t… what was I-” “Your majesty?” Just like that, it’s gone. The voice of a lone changeling standing behind me turns the lights back on in my head. I can’t remember what I was on about, just that my head hurts and I still can’t remember why I remember this old place. I had been wondering about the mirror, my head hurt, and now I can’t remember when this changeling scout made his way up to me and saluted. He stands there, waiting for me to respond. “I’m sorry, did you say something?” “Yes, your majesty,” the scout says. “I welcomed you to the Everfree Hideout.” “The Everfree Hideout?” I ask. I get a nod from the changeling in response. “You mean the changelings are set up in this castle? There’s a swarm here?” “Under the castle, your majesty. It is not a swarm hub but a treasury.” “Changelings have treasure?” I can’t quite imagine what items of worth changelings would be keeping around under a dusty old castle. I’m not even sure if I need to concern myself with it. Now that my brain isn’t swimming in static, I remember Dnaglefreed mentioning changelings at the old castle looking for me. Treasury or no treasury, it seems I’m back on the changelings’ radar. “Yes, your majesty.” I’m already getting tired of being called “your majesty” again. “The Queen and many in the swarm are here now to dedicate your armor to the treasury.” “Hold the phone.” “The what, your majesty?” “I mean, you mean that Chrysalis is here right now?” I ask him, very much unable to believe the coincidence. Much to my surprise, he nods. Chrysalis, and no doubt many other changelings, are here right now. I’m not exactly sure what this could mean for me, but I can tell the best choice for me right now is to go to where they are. I need their help, even if it’s just one last time. I get the feeling that it will be just one last time. “What’s your name?” “Gulletswatch, your majesty,” the changeling responds with a sharp salute. “Can you take me to where Chrysalis is?” “Very well, your majesty.” The “your majesty” bit is already wearing on me again, but I don’t have time to sweat the small stuff. Heck, I’m not even sure what my next move really should be. I follow the Gulletswatch for the time being, but in my mind I can already see where the path I’m taking may very well lead. I just hope I’m wrong, but I’m probably not. I’ve got a nagging feeling I’m in for those “I hate it when I’m right” moments. Around the back of the dilapidated castle, Gulletswatch leads me to an inconspicuous pile of rubble. This is, of course, the perfect place for the changelings to hide the slimy, damp hole that leads to whatever kind of outpost this place is for them. I said it once and I’ll say it again: I don’t know why the changelings would need a treasury. After sliding down into the depths of the treasury, we enter a dim, torch lit passageway. It is here that I realize the significance of this place. The hallway is lined with armor. Sets of wicked, chitin encrusted armor stand empty on either side of the passageway. If what I’ve been told is true, these must commemorate the dead changeling rulers who came before me. I can tell there are little plaques on each of the displays, but I’m unable to read them. I can only read the dates, and that certainly tells me a lot. I walk slowly, both admiring and pondering the vast differences between each suit of armor. There were kings with long, scorpion like tails. There were queens with impressive, thick beetle horns. Some rulers had two heads while others had more legs than seems practical. Looking around, I feel a little less like a freak. Despite all the differences, none of these rulers stayed on their throne for very long. The average is only about seven or eight years, but there are few reigns that went on much longer or shorter. I can’t say I know anything about the history here, but I can’t help but wonder. Why did changeling rulers spend such a short time on the throne? Were they all hot heads who died in battle? Were they hunted down by their enemies? Maybe it’s just a matter of not gathering enough love. I’ve walked a mile in their shoes, so I can say for a fact their burdens were not light ones. I didn’t last much more than a month, so I respect superior ability. Advantages and inner desires aside, I’ve got nothing to be proud of compared to these monarchs. One plaque makes me double take. I recheck my math before I check it one more time. Once I’m sure the numbers aren’t lying to me, I take a look at the armor above. The shape is reminiscent of a pony, but the more spindly and awkwardly tall. I look up and down the length of the notched, curved horn atop the helmet. For such extraordinary dates, the appearance is disappointingly ordinary. “Who is this?” I ask my guide, who has stopped next to me to look up at the armor as well. “Her majesty, Mother Mantis,” he answers. I look up at the armor of Mother Mantis, full of questions. I feel like a child staring at his great-grandfather’s headstone. My time here in Equestria has been so short, it is impossible to think about the great stretch of time Mother Mantis sat on her throne. She was changeling royalty like I am, so it is possible I could have sat upon the throne. At least, this plaque tells me so. “Did she really rule for two hundred years?” I ask the changeling beside me because I have to be sure. If I could really live for two hundred years, it would come as a bit of a relief. That would be plenty of time to figure out how to return home. If I only had seven or eight, I would be more justified in panicking. “Yes, your majesty.” If she could do it, why not me? What makes us different, aside from the obvious? The real question is this: how did she do it? “What can you tell me about her?” “General things, your majesty,” the Gulletswatch answers. He pauses a moment, probably to recall whatever history lessons he’d received in his short lifetime. Two hundred years must be a lot for him as well. “She was our greatest monarch. Under her benevolent rule, the changelings flourished in size and power. She was organized, well-respected, and a master tactician. There are legends that say she had unnatural powers that she gained by worshipping a dark god.” “… A what?” I wasn’t aware Equestria acknowledged any sort of gods. If anyone or anypony does, I imagine it’s a primitive sort of thing. It makes more sense that changelings would think there are “dark gods” or “good gods” than a pony. To ponykind, Celestia and Luna are probably what they consider gods. Discord would probably be a dark god. Now that I’m actually thinking about it, the whole concept doesn’t seem so far-fetched anymore… “It is only a rumor, your majesty.” The changeling turns back down the hallway, prompting me to follow behind him and resume our journey. “It’s been two thousand years since her rule, so it is impossible to know where such claims even came from. There are stories that she would go into her chambers and lock the doors where she could be heard whispering to something, often begging or pleading with it. Other stories say she made a deal with a demon in Tartarus and later laid an egg without consuming one of her subjects. The most popular theory is that she was trained by King Sombra before either of them took their thrones, but these are all baseless and without proof. What can be proven is that she ruled long and well, and that is all you really need to concern yourself with.” His warning comes at the perfect moment; we arrive at the end of the hallway where the air is buzzing with activity. I only have to take one look at the group of familiar changelings to figure out what they’re doing: putting my armor on display. At my approach, each head turns and looks up at me. I’m pretty sure this is pretty surreal for all of us. I’ve barged in on them essentially erecting my tombstone and they’re now face to face with the king they were in the middle of saying good-bye to. It’s silent for a few tense seconds. “Welcome back, your majesty.” Bloodbuzz is the first to speak up, of course. I don’t think he has it in him to break ceremony, not now and not ever. Plundergrub is here as well, along with Bragback and Hellwire. The others are still reeling from the shock to greet me, except one changeling who has no sense of protocol. “You’re still alive, sir!” Swerve scuttles over and hugs my leg. His choice of words confuses me a bit. “Am I supposed to be dead?” “Any king who would give up his throne is as good as dead,” Chrysalis chimes in, buzzing her way over with a stern look on her face. “Even if you’ve changed your mind, there’s no way I’m letting your irresponsible butt back into the throne.” “I’m not interested in being King again.” I watch the disappointment set into Chrysalis’s face, indicating that she was hoping to punish me for what I did. For her sake, I hope she’s got a Plan B; however, I have more pressing matters to attend to. “I’m looking for help with a personal matter,” I tell her, trying to be as courteous as I can. “Oh, so you don’t want to be king, but you still want us to help?” Chrysalis says with a derisive snort. She raises a hoof to her mouth and cackles in her little voice. “We’ll leave you like you left us: hung out to dry! You can see yourself out.” She turns her back and hovers in the air just in front of me with her nose upturned. I find Chrysalis’s dedication to make sure I know how upset she is touching, albeit frustrating given my current predicament. I know she’s got a good point, but I still wish our relationship wasn’t based on perfect reciprocity. “So… I guess you’re all doing alright?” I ask. I’m not sure where the question is coming for, but at the end of the day I do care about this bunch. I might not have made it this far if it wasn’t for their help. There is a chorus of silent nods from everyone but Chrysalis, who lowers her gaze to the floor. I’m getting the feeling I missed more than my own funeral while I was gone. “Our future is uncertain, Cocoon,” Chrysalis says, her previous malice gone. “We tried to round up the changelings who were with Mangle before he disappeared, but they’re either missing in action or dead. Aside from you, I’m currently the only changeling eligible to be on the throne.” “That doesn’t sound all that bad.” From the looks on the other’s faces, I apparently don’t know what I’m saying. “Okay, whatever. Mangle might be gone forever, but you’ll just rise to power and hatch another heir down the road, right?” “An egg should have hatched when Mangle died! That’s how it works… I think. It’s never been like this. We don’t know what to expect, but things look bleak.” Chrysalis buzzes right down to the ground, kicking a hoof in the dust. “You’re overreacting,” I say, still trying to console her. “I’m alive and you’re alive, so the number of changeling royals hasn’t ducked down below normal levels.” “You just don’t understand.” Chrysalis continues to face away from me while the others stare at their hooves. At the end of the day, I’m still an outsider. I just have to accept there are some points I can’t empathize with them on. “The attack on Canterlot was our last mistake, so go ahead and abandon us. It won’t be your fault if it all comes to an end. You’d make a nice scapegoat, but it just wouldn’t be true. It’s my fault, probably.” It would be easy to say “it’s not your fault” or “no, you’re wrong”. The problem is I don’t believe she’s wrong. It is her fault, through and through. She bet everything on an invasion of Canterlot and now she’s paying the price. The event robbed her of her heir, her throne, and her former age. It was her order that put her into this corner; however, all of this doesn’t mean I think she deserves to sulk. No, I believe the exact opposite. “If you give up, you’re no better than I am.” It’s all I can say, really. If Chrysalis doesn’t want me around I’d best take my leave now. I think I know what I need to do now, and I doubt she’d want to lend a hoof anyway. “You focus on making sure your worst case scenario doesn’t come to fruition, and I’ll take care of my problems.” “Yeah, where’re you going this time?” she asks, nearly turning to look at me. I turn back towards the exit with Gulletswatch in tow. “Canterlot,” I tell her. “I think I can find some answers there.” “Canterlot? Understood, your majesty,” Gulletswatch says all of a sudden. He runs out in front of me and throws me another salute. “As per my orders, I will guide you to Discord.” Even without turning around, I just know everypony is staring at Gulletswatch. Even before I know what I want to question him about first, Bragback dashes up and confronts him. “You, scout! State your name!” he shouts in what I believe the first display of changeling anger I’ve seen from somepony other than Chrysalis. Gulletswatch answers with his name without missing a beat. “You were reported missing in the aftermath of the Canterlot attack. You served under Bilebulge protecting Prince Mangle, correct? After your unit broke off to find a hiding spot for the Prince you were never seen again. Care to explain what you’re doing here now?” All eyes are still on Gulletswatch, who has been frozen in a salute all this time. I merely thought he was guarding this little hideout, but if he’s been missing I doubt that’s actually the case. There is no doubt something off about this changeling in what he has said and what he has done. “I have orders to lead his majesty to Discord should he ever express a desire to go to Canterlot. To achieve this, I have been acting as his shadow ever since he arrived in Manehattan.” “How come you never revealed yourself?” Bragback asks, stepping up with his fellow Hive Mind. “I was told that if his majesty ever came to this place that he would soon set off for Canterlot,” Gulletswatch tells us, but I don’t know how he could have known that. It’s true that being here sparked something strange within me, something that has convinced me that my target is Canterlot based on Discord’s riddle. There is only one other mystery to clear up. “Who gave you your orders?” I ask. There is a hanging, heartpounding pause between the end of my question and Gulletswatch’s answer. Even if that moment had lasted forever, it wouldn’t have been enough time for any of us to guess the answer. “Prince Mangle, your majesty.” It’s the kind of answer that just gives way to more questions.