//------------------------------//
// Prologue 
// Story: Socialite 
// by TwizzleDragon 
//------------------------------//

He played it in his head over and over, that disappointing look on his face. I wasn’t close to him, but I knew him enough to know when he was near his end. He had been defeated, not by any means of becoming a martyr, but by a child, and her dream. I didn’t know exactly what had happened, some of the other overseers tell me that the child somehow killed his pets, others say she escaped, and other rumors that she insulted him in ways unimaginable. I couldn’t tell which were true, but it didn’t matter. Our lives were basically over, at least, the lives we were accustomed to. Change hadn’t come to our lives much. The best I knew of change was Taskmaster Un’s new toys. This was a different kind of change.

There were a few of us in the room with the Preceptor. Fera was there, her father, and a few commoner overseers. We never spoke a word, so our council here made little sense. There was no need for force or protection here, the last of the carnival ponies were either burned alive, exiled, or sent to Un. I was usually working with Un before the collapse, but when we needed to get rid of them, they sent me towards the stake. I was never proud of my mask, I hated it, but in those moments, when I was forced by… allegiance… to set their bodies aflame, to listen to their screams of agony, that was the only time I liked my mask. There was no pony to see the face of their murderer, and I could simply turn my head away and not see theirs. It still made little sense to me why we were even here, the populace here was all dedicated to the star, bound by blood and oath, there could be no traitor here, why did they need us to protect them?

The Taskmasters were debating something with the Preceptor, though I heard very little. After some altercations between Octavian and the Preceptor, the Taskmaster took his daughter and left.

“Imbecile!” Preceptor yelled, throwing a mug at the door as it closed on Octavian. Minutes later, after he had calmed, he turned his attention to the few of us still in the room. With the disbandment of the Carnival, we had no need to be here anymore. Taskmasters were only meant to train for entertainment, overseers were meant to carry out and protect them. That was it, as the Preceptor explained. We no longer held rank here anymore, not even the Preceptor. Without purpose, without reasons to be fed by our hierarchs, we would be better off in exile. Instead, the Preceptor explained to us of our accommodations separately. Some of us, demoted to broadcasters in the city, scrap work, some were to be positioned at guard towers within the many cities, but of I and another overseer, we were given an odd request.

The next thing I know, I’m given a train time, a station, and dismissed. This was very strange to me. I was nervous, no, I was afraid. To whom would I protect? They didn’t give me the name of the city I was being sent off to, I had never learned to read, so the charts at the station would be of no help. When the train arrived, I was greeted by something peculiar to my expectations. Usually, we would be guided by a low ranking star pony, like myself, but instead I found myself meeting with a small pony in a extended mask, with not a star, but an apple. This was very odd to me, seeing as how so many star ponies had been reassigned, why was there a shortage here? Nevertheless, the pony kept quiet for the most part. It did not try to converse, which was great, since as an overseer, I am to be silent until the air is forced from my lungs. We boarded the train, and the thing sat next to me as I picked the middle section seat. I was not its parent, nor would I protect it as my own kind, and if the thing touched me I would probably smack it if it weren’t my guide. Still, I kept watch out the window, looking as the metal cave soon turned to flat desert, and then, to a burning, sick forest, and once more to small mountains. I couldn’t see much out when we entered the mountain valleys. Darkness seeped in, not by night, nor by cave, but by ash. It was raining, or snowing, I could not tell. The sun was blocked out for the better. I assumed we were nearing our destination when the bastard went to the front of the cart and opened some kind of box, taking out a suit, and handed it to me. It was similar to its own, except in color. Mine was of a purple tint, while its was ragged in brown and a dark red. Next was an extension to my mask, some sort of filter to attach to my mask. I figured that whatever city I was being assigned to must’ve had its walls punctured, or perhaps a coastal city with a large port opening, even though we couldn’t use the sea for anything anymore, not for decades. The train began to slow, even though I couldn’t see the city yet, as I had finished putting on the anti-caustic attire. I was ready for my new life, even if I didn’t want it.

When the train had finally stopped, all I could see outside of the frozen windows was the blurred rim of light from a lantern at the station. The tunnel must’ve been very dark on occasion, but the cold was almost unbearable. The door unlatched and steam sprayed into the cart, sanitizing the air inside I think. When I could finally see the world outside, I was shocked. I had never known that a city had a station without walls. They had me dropped in the middle of some disgusting little cornfield. The bastard went forward, and I followed without command. Of all the things hidden, I had wished for something better to be forward. Instead, I found myself in a shanty town. I was confused, I had no idea why a star pony would be placed here. Agricultural villages were never accompanied by stars, only by clouds, they didn’t need a leader to teach them how to plant, all they needed were soldiers to keep them from running away.

We came upon the gate to the village, barbed wire, ten feet tall. There were two cloud guards in front, and three behind. The village was bordered with towers every fifty feet. The guards opened the gate. When the child approached one of the guards, he was met with a kick to the side. The filth fell to the ground and they dragged him off to a quarterhouse. The soldier nodded at me as I entered respectfully. He directed me to head towards the large building in the center of the town. After walking ten dreadful feet into the village, I could see the terrible outline of it. It was rusted, tall, with a balcony. It was like a guard tower mixed with a broadcast station. The ridiculousness of it was strange. It had no door, no windows. There was an entrance hole, with rigid edges. I entered, to find myself in the presence of a large cloud pony. I assumed he was in charge. His mane was pure white, and his mask dressed for war. Fear was his aura, and he used it well.

“Greetings, Socialite.”

He sat down, reading a letter from the council, drinking a mug of something fierce in smell, and taste too, probably.

“Come and sit, sir.”