It had been nearly a century since the empire of Equestria had tamed its continental frontiers. The east and west had always been bounded by the vast oceans, and the northern border abutted the cold and desolate Frozen North which rose to mountains inhospitable except to transhumance tribes of yaks and goats. The southern border, however, had been Equestria's insecure underbelly for centuries, until a very recent effort to fortify long borderland with garrisons and pony settlements. Since then, Equestria had turned its attention overseas, creating frontiers for itself in Griffany, Chitin, or Zebrastan- Exotic lands more lucrative than the undeveloped swaths of the southern Equestrian continent.

But one frontier within Equestria remained: The Everfree Forest. An enormous, preternatural jungle in center of the nation, the Everfree was synonymous with many bad things in the minds of the Equestrians. All overland traffic and trade made huge diversions north and south to avoid the impassible Everfree. The forest became more hospitable on its northern fringes, which transitioned into the Greentail and Canter forests, but otherwise it was a territory completely bereft of ponykind.
Or so they said. The village of Ponyville directly abutted the vast Everfree, and there were sordid rumors that the ponyvillians made incursions into the jungle for unknown purposes.

If Twilight Sparkle had watched from her window but a little longer, she may have been able to confirm or deny those rumors; Happenings at the edge of the Everfree would have been hard to miss. Alas a the dark of night wore on, a mortal drama gone unseen.

Deep within the ancient jungle an evil was birthed anew:
Hidden by vines and the canopy, the bleached bones of a shattered civilization sat in silence, receiving the building glow of dawn. There were small signs of recent activity: Disturbed vegetation, a smear of blood on the collapsing stone walls, a weapon lodged in a crack near said smear. The ruin awaited the approaching daylight in peace now.

But the Moon still held some sway! A brief flare of blue-black light, a corona of darkness, very briefly fought back the rising sun. Just as quickly, the moon dipped below the horizon as was expected of it.
A shudder went through the aged Everfree Ruin.
An entity emerged from the shadows, who had not been there before.

The entity could have been mistaken for a pony at a distance, but it was not a creature of flesh and blood, more akin to the evil light that had emanated off the Moon. Its shape wavered, as if it were a distorted reflection on a rippling pond, as the entity accommodated itself to its surroundings.
After a while the entity settled into a fully pony-like proportions. It opened its eyes, the multifaceted compound eyes of an insect. Then another pair of eyes opened, then another, until one by one a dozen pairs of eyes had opened across its featureless head. Then the surplus eyes closed, until the first two remained. The pooling dark light around the entity began to coalesce into the impression of a mane and tail as it slowly swirled about the moon-born being.

It took in its surroundings, just one of the overgrown rooms of the derelict ruin. Satisfied it was alone, the made its way through other parts of the ruin- It did not walk, but drifted as light as a cloud, its hooves trailing slightly against the ground. It examined the ancient decorations, the cracked mosaics, the moss-covered statuary, the tapestries whose enchantments were little match to centuries of wear. The entity's eyes lingered on the faded burgundy-dyed flags whose masts had rotted long before their magic threads, half-covered by detritus and rubble. A stylized crescent moon could be seen, intricately sown a millennium before.
At last the entity came upon the place it was unconsciously drawn towards: The grandest space of the ruin, still vaguely recognizable despite having been rent by ancient violence and time. The room was grand, voluminous, with a central area flanked by massive columns that held up the remaining roof. Morning sunlight was beginning to stream in from the holes in the walls and roof, from which the entity shied as it proceeded. Two thrones presided over the colossal wreck, and between them was an altar most heinous, displaying none of the age of the rest of the lost palace: A smooth squat obelisk of black stone.

The entity had no eyes for the majestic thrones, only the obelisk. Witnessing it sent a thrum through ones bones and a ringing in ones head.
"Moon." A silver crescent developed on the entity, forming into a mouth from which it spoke in a resonant, crackling voice. "Moon. Moon! I am free, Nightmare. Was it by your consent?" The entity stepped back from the monolith and peered into the sky in vain to spot the long-since set moon. "And no other than I? I am free and you are not?"
The entity laughed.

In a swirl of dark light, the entity settled itself fully into the expected physics of a pony. Its mane, tail, and fur were defined, all different shades of black. Its hooves touched the ground.

"Moon, old friend, you are where you belong, and I am were I belong. Stay in heaven, or on those banners, until I've had my fun. Perhaps I will come back for you." Saluting the black obelisk, that profane altar, the pony-shaped entity trotted out of the ancient throne room. "I won't be hanged in Dneighper Crypts again, oh no. I will find my kicks in ol' Canterlot, Moon." It's voice too had become pony-like, the tones of a hoyden mare. Its camouflage was complete. "Gods willing, I even find purpose there. Ha, imagine!"
Smirking, the entity began to gallop. With tireless haste it burst from the ruin into the surrounding jungle heading due north towards the distant shape of the Mountain and Canterlot. The sun had fully risen, but the creature was not afraid of its light anymore as it pursued its goal of reaching the capital of Equestria.

Rarity jerked upright, nearly falling out of her chair. She had only meant to rest her head but had ended up falling asleep at her desk.
Still a bit rattled from her sudden awakening, Rarity turned to the voice that had roused her.

Rarity's filly sister was silhouetted against the doorframe. She was wrapped up in a blanket she had pulled down with her. "Rarity, I had a bad dream."

Rarity rubbed her eyes, trying not to think about how bad her mane must have looked. "Me too, Sweetie. Would you like me to put you back-"

"No I'm fine... It just scared me." Sweetie Belle said, voice trembling. "It's not real, right?"

Rarity closed her eyes, trying to catch glimpses of her own dream, its details rapidly slipping away. She could only see a menacing figure of mare, but they stepped back into the shadow and out of her grasp. "Nightmares aren't usually real, Sweetie. We're perfectly safe. We can go and have good dreams now."

Sweetie Belle did not seem convinced. "But, the good dreams aren't real either, right?"

Rarity made to stand up, but was put back in her chair by the ache of her bandaged cuts and bruises, and she remembered why she had chosen to rest downstairs. Her first aid supplies were mixed in with sewing tools on the table. Her head throbbed, and not just from the beating Applejack had given her: Her night had passed in darker purpose, for which she was being rewarded with such frightening visions.
"Sadly, Sweetie, you are right. The good dreams aren't real either, usually. But we have them anyway, and we want them so badly." Rarity said, a wistful to her voice. "We have the nightmares so we can have our beautiful dreams, and it is the same in life too."

"Okay... I guess I'll go back to sleep." Sweetie Belle turned around and went back toward her room, blanket dragging on the floor behind her.

Rarity took a few steadying breaths. She couldn't be angry at Sweetie for walking her up. She lay her head back down, hoping to return to sleep herself, and glimpse the strange dream entity again. But her cuts itched, and she sat in miserable silence until the sun rose further and she was obliged to begin the day.

Night Light had found his first couple days in the Chateau la Garde to be uncomfortable and cold. The 'chateau' was a guardhouse fortification first and foremost, and its retrofit into a residence fit for a noble First Student was laughable. Fancy furnishings, wall hangings, and other amenities did not cover the blocky utilitarian nature of its construction, its imposing dimensions, and its drafty interior spaces. The half-dozen city guardsponies posted at the actual portcullis gate structure seemed more at home than Night Light felt.
Still, he hoped he would get used to it with Twilight Velvet at his side.

But striding into the greathall, expecting his breakfast, Night Light was instead greeted by the previous day's unexpected guest instead. Seacrest Blackhorn was at his table, noisily inhaling several mornings' worth of meals. Velvet stood over Seacrest's shoulder, watching him eat.

"Oh, spent the night did you?" Night Light asked, more to Velvet and the maid than Seacrest.

“Good morning!” Seacrest said theatrically, mouth still full of food. Velvet cringed away somewhat from the poor manners, wholly unbecoming of a noblepony. "How famished I am, and was. My cross-country travel deprived me of a good meal for several days. And your little mis there was quite insistent that dinnertime had already passed by the time I lodged here past afternoon." He said, throwing a glare at the maid.

"All the same, lord, I do not think we have been properly acquainted yet. I have only my wife's words to go by." Night Light said.

Seacrest nodded, setting his utensils down. "Not a bad reference, though, aye? I could hardly criticize your judgement of character, Lady Velvet."

Velvet stepped in between them. “Nighty, this is indeed his Lordship Seacrest of house Blackhorn. My lord, this is my humble husband, Night Light.”

“Wonderful, wonderful!” Seacrest exclaimed happily. “How charming your family is Velvet.”

Night Light remained silent. Velvet trotted to him and kissed him on the cheek, and whispered in his ear. “The lad Sel Lech is already here, looking lost and in need of directions. He's downstairs, so go chat. We head into town soon."

"We. To strike while the blacksmith is dead." Twilight Velvet said. She swatted at Night Light's wither, sending him off.

Though feeling a bit embarrassed and emasculated for being visibly sent around by Velvet, Night Light was going to get back at her in turn.
As he passed Seacrest's seat, Night Light paused and nudged his chair. "Have a wife or mistress, Lord Blackhorn?"

Seacrest froze up a bit. Night Light would have liked to look the scoundrel in the eye to see him rapidly develop the narrative. "Sir, it is an issue of priorities." Seacrest scoffed. "I have been devoted to the duties to my heritage, the ancient Blackhorn ties to Canterlot, which necessarily must come before romance!"

"Though should you pass without an heir what would become of the Blackhorn claim, my lord?" Night Light said, feigning intense concern.

Night Light chuckled to himself, turning away under the angry dagger gaze of Velvet. She would probably make him regret his horseplay later.
Passing out of the greathall, Night Light proceeded down the short hallway to the foyer space. The unicorn youth Sel Lech Sabonord was waiting patiently, sitting in the corner.

"Good morning my lord." Sel Lech sheepishly trotted to meet the older stallion in the center of the room. "I would have waited outside if your housekeeper had not bade me wait here. I don't know your court hours and I-"

"Sir Sabonord, this is not so much of a palace to hold court in. This is a heap of stone which, while well engineered, holds no candle to Castle Magoria. Nor to any of the wall-castles or South Canterlot mansions for that matter." Night Light leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Nor least of all the Canterlot Castle."

"Yesterday we only hinted at the kinds of things my lady wife and I would ask of you. Have you come to help us, Sel Lech?" Night Light asked.

After a moment of consideration Sel Lech nodded. “My lord I can not lie to you. I came here grasping at a chance to elevate my lot above playing bottom-rung courtier to Lord Flux, laughing at the unfunny jokes of more senior nobles, doing alienating errands." Sel Lech said. "Flattering a lord such as yourself is a gamble, and perhaps I may meet and flatter rising stars such as your children in its course. I have come today having done the deliberation already, and I lay it out before you hoping you appreciate my clarity of mind, my lord."

"There is nothing I appreciate more than clarity. There is nothing Twilight Velvet appreciates more than a pony who wants more." Night Light said. "The cause you're championing with us is your own cause. Or at least, that is what I hope it will be, though not out of selfishness, rather of a shared... apotheosis."

Sel Lech appeared to appreciate the florid turn of phrase. "I feel a question coming."

Night Light beckoned Sel to join him at one the small sitting rooms off the foyer. "What job begins without an interview? What new life begins without the Sun and Princess speaking it into being?" The two stallions sat across from each other across a coffee table. "What do you want for the future, Sel?"

“Wow, spring a question like that on a pony with no time to prepare.” Sel laughed nervously. "I can only reiterate what I have already said. I am unhappy. I try damn hard for no improvement in my lot!" He sighed. "It would not be so bad if I had different company. Ponies tell me I'm privileged, being a noble and all, but from where I sit that is bunk! Sure, ponies pretend like there's always a new opportunity right around the corner, but this city is fixed against ponies like us, the 'petty nobles'. Even commoners can get fat and happy off trade or loaning money. My caste-anointed opportunity is choosing which ennobled backside to kiss. I am as much a whore as the sods shuffling into the satanic mills of Baltimare or Manehattan, a solder in another pony's war."
Sel Lech gradually worked himself into a silent anger as he spoke. "And what a war it is! Endless squabbling, noble feuds, politicking, Imperial Court drama, positioning for the useless Estates..."

"We live in a time of enormous material and moral deterioration, Sel Lech." Night Light agreed. "But I asked you for the future, not the present."

Sel hesitated again. "There are many kinds of ponies who have ideas for this society's future; The reformers, the revolutionaries, the anti-monarchists, the salon philosophizers of all stripe."

"And you can't chose between them. Why? Because you don't have the clarity (there is that word again) to determine which of those groups would do best by you." Night Light smiled thinly, his eyes narrowing. "The Equestrian system of government is supposed to be by and for us the nobles, but it has cheated you out of your fair share! You are not getting what you deserve, you think. But the alternate systems have been dreamed up by commoners, liberal nobles, merchants, and workers. They are the ponies accusing you of being privileged, you say." Night Light's smile deepened. He had Sel Lech Sabonord pinpointed. "You came to Velvet and I because you think we have a different vision that can elevate you to the position you deserve: We are the redemption of the alienated petty noble."

Sel Lech gnawed his lip. "We are not of too different background, my lord. As you strive to 'apotheosize' yourself, it would make sense you would uplift your class compatriots."

"And all the reform, violence, or revolution other idealists conjure up, you expect to be wielded for your own advancement instead." Night Light said. "When phrased that way, you could even consider yourself selfless."

"The coy turn of phrase is why you are the lord, and I the knight." Sel Lech demurred.

Night Light shook his head. "This is my daughter's castle, Sel, but this is Velvet's and my cause." He tapped the table. "But what if you discover our mission is not what you expected? What if we use you and toss you away for cynical purposes?"

Night Light shrugged. “You know it is a possibility. Where the winds of profit blow, so soon too does action."

Sel averted his eyes. "Then... It's up to me to be the profit you need me to be. Everything I need and want for myself, I have to deliver a hundred times more for you. I must be indispensable, so that when you rise, so do I."

"Then you accept that you will be working with a threadbare of information, and expected to do what we ask thoughtlessly and thanklessly?" Night Light asked.

Sel licked his lips as he mulled over Night Light's words. “I hope your plans are good, or I will look very silly for perishing for them.”

Night Light was liking Sel Lech more and more. The young stallion was lucky he and Velvet had tapped him before a more abusive master. “Today begins without perishing, Sir Sabonord."

Sel jumped into a standing position. "I am at your ear, my lord, truly!" He bowed his head. "Thank you so much for giving me this opportunity. When you approached me yesterday..."

"One day ago is hardly time enough to get caught in reminiscences." Night Light stood up too. "Sir, we must discuss today's plan."

"It is with great regret that I must inform you that the backside-kissing is not over for us. But this time, they are the mark, not you." Night Light said. "Your cousin Seacrest is in town, and we will be introducing him to the noble courts and societies of Canterlot."

Sel looked very confused. “I don't know of any cousin of mine named Seacrest.”

Night Light shook his head. “That hardly matters. What matters is that he adores your cousin Countess Glori Sabonord, and will probably adore you. This is helpful because he styles himself Lord Blackhorn of Canterlot.”

Sel balked. He opened his mouth to say protest, then closed it again, speechless. He glanced up and down the foyer as if a passer-by might hear a vital word. Night Light allowed the unicorn his time to think.

“This is as dire as it is amazing.” Sel finally said. “A Blackhorn pretender still alive? Of course Glori would have had a lost prince in her back pocket, the smug donkey. If you think I have his ear, or even his adoration-"

"We stand to gain greatly. And yes, we have more than his ear. We have his...” Night Light rolled his hoof rhetorically. “Attention.”

“I was ginned up for violence and revolution barely but a minute ago and I'm already pulling back. Estates will be in chaos!” Sel bit his lower lip nervously. His eyes unfocused for a minute as all the possibilities ran through his mind.

Night Light patted him on the shoulder. “Let Velvet handle the Estates. Your job will be Seacrest. To begin with, at least.”

“Nothing unhewn yet. Be his friend for now, act like you've heard about him and his great character from Glori. Be deferential, but offer advice on little things, so that he will be comfortable listening when your words become important.” Night Light said this with practiced ease. Three decades of marriage to Twilight Velvet gave a stallion an aptitude for discreet affectation. “Most importantly, don’t let anything he says surprise you. If he grew up in Prancia county with Countess Glori he may have taken up the decadent character of their nobility. Take everything in stride.”

"No, Equestrian. He has a bit of an accent, but it is hard to recognize it as Prancian." Night Light paused. "Fair warning, this Blackhorn prince might be a fake."

"What difference does it make?" Sel said. "Besides if he fears discovery of his ruse, the more easily he can be shepherded; As long as the most credulous, stupid, and powerful nobles are convinced by him."

"Yes, you're a devious little colt." Night Light grunted. "If you want to solicit as well as pamper the Blackhorn Prince, then go for it. You surely know what it is the Canterlot lords like. Make sure Seacrest Blackhorn is a suitable article."

Voices carried through the castle. Seacrest and Velvet entered the foyer, the latter laughing at something the former had said. Night Light gave Sel Lech a nod, and Sel rose and trotted over to the pair. Night Light stayed out of earshot of Sel's introduction, but Seacrest looked quite pleased with him and the two began to talk.

Velvet took the opportunity of the cousins' conversation to break away.
“I'm finding this more tedious than I expected. Fortunately Sel has taken it quite well.” She whispered.

“Probably not.” Velvet said dismissively. “I’m sure he had lots of practice as a court rat.”

"He has ego and ambition and only has stunted ways to express it." Night Light reported. "Since he hopes to express it through our work, he has the potential to be both an effective and loyal ally."

"So we pat him on the head and give him a treat now and then, and we see if he can fetch. There will be no need to keep him around if he can not." Velvet watched Sel out of the corner of her eye.

The day's new introductions were far from over.
The entry doors of the Chateau la Garde were pushed open slowly, and a new pony entered. He was fully concealed under a black cloak and cowl, like a gothic monk or artistic rendition of Death. The pony stood in silence as the doors slowly swung shut behind him.

Velvet looked the new arrival up and down. The concealed pony turned its cloaked head towards her. How blinkered its vision must have been to have to look through the heavy fabric.

"Velvet, who the hell is that?" Night Light whispered. He could not see a millimeter of the pony's fur, just parts of its white mane and blue tail.

"A very expensive fulfillment order." Velvet said. She turned back to her two guests. “My lord Seacrest, yesterday I requested a very special servant to assist us!”

Seacrest boldly approached the arrival as Sel Lech hung back. “Oh? How was this pony meant to assist us when he was not here! Psha! Took his time, didn't he?" Seacrest waved an accusing hoof at the concealed pony. "What do you have to say for yourself?”

Seacrest looked momentarily shocked, then began to laugh. “Ha! A mute servant, how novel! Glori would always threaten to cut her servants' tongues out.”

“A depreciating factor indeed.” Velvet agreed. "As a claimant to Canterlot you are a stallion in need of discretion-"

“Cousin Glori gave me a mute dog for my tenth birthday. Well, he wasn't mute at first, but he barked too much. He was the most lovable tramp, but he developed a bit of a biting problem.” Seacrest reminisced. He turned back to the servant. "And the rags? Is the rest of you as gutted as your vocal cords?"

Velvet spoke up. "As I was saying, you must be careful of the company you keep, if you are really to challenge the crown for your rights to Canterlot. Hence this mute. This servant has no other choice but to be devoted to us, Lord Seacrest. The world is cruel to whose with disabilities, but as long as assistance is loyally rendered we will be gracious to them."

"We are constantly gracious, Lady Velvet." Sel Lech chimed in, earning an approving nod from Seacrest.

Only Night Light remained off-put by the concealed servant. "Can he write his name?"

“I wouldn't worry about that. He's nopony special. Blind service is his name, for all intents and purposes.” Velvet said.

“Well then I'll call him Moler, after that old dog I mentioned.” Seacrest turned to the newly dubbed Moler. “Though if you develop a biting problem I will have to ask Velvet to put you down.”

Though acting outwardly cheerful while Seacrest was looking, Sel Lech's expression turned to restrained disgust once the prince's back was turned. Night Light shot him a sympathetic look.

"You are a very thoughtful mare, Lady Velvet." Seacrest grinned ear-to-ear. "I could never regret coming to Canterlot now."

"Excellent.” Velvet said, starting for the door. “Now let us be off. We have many more introductions to make today.”

The other ponies filed out the door to Velvet’s waiting carriage, but Velvet herself hung back for parting words with her maid. "Why is that 'servant' showing up today? What is the Guild Mistress playing at?"

Velvet pondered it for a while. "Playing the double game with the Musician's Guild is easily the most deadly part of this plan. I was glad to hear about Deeper Fellowship convulsing on his floor the other night... But if it is found out I hired the same rogue assassin I ratted on to the Guild, I expect the Guild Mistress to send me a different kind of present."

"The assassin you hired may have some rapport with the Guild Mistress we did not know about." The maid speculated. "Still it would be wise to look the gift horse in the mouth."

"Obviously." Velvet said. "If we are lucky, the solution to several riddles has fallen into our lap." She mimicked the sound of a latch coming undone.

"Above your magnificent wits and beauty, the Sun has blessed you with luck, m'lady." The maid bowed again. "Is that all?"

"Yup." Velvet glanced over her shoulder at the other ponies waiting around carriage. "Hold it down here. if any other Blackhorns come around, do away with them." Velvet grinned at her unfunny joke. "They are, as they say, surplus to requirement."

Twilight Sparkle partially woke up as the sun came up, and after a little tossing and turning fully woke up and began reading in bed. Since she had chosen sleep over studying all night, she had a lot of information to get through before her day's obligations began.

It was a few hours later when a rustle from downstairs on the library’s entry floor pulled Twilight's attention from her book. She pushed herself off the bed and trotted out to the loft and looked around. The Oak's red door to the outside had been pushed open. Twilight was cautious to reveal herself as she descended the stair, until she could see a familiar unicorn perusing the history section.

“Ah! Good morning Lady Twilight.” Rarity said, returning the book she had been inspecting to its shelf. "You look very pretty this morning."

“Thank you, and good morning to you too Mis..." Twilight scrutinized the mare. The white unicorn didn't look very well rested. "Rarity." Twilight said, finally remembering the name.

"I didn't realize ponies could just come in here. Did I lock the door? Well, regardless." Twilight cleared her throat. "While your'e here, I have a few questions about Ponyville."

"That's marvelous darling. It had crossed my mind that I could help you with something while I return my books." Rarity fluttered her lashes.

"You might have seen the other day when I pulled some of the records out of your abandoned town hall. I was going through those to get a better idea about this village's demographics, you know, to help me get a full picture of this place. Spike and I are working on a map." Twilight explained. "The records are semi-rationally laid out, I'm pleased to say. It lists every pony in Ponyville, their marital status, and the property they own. It looks like more ponies than I was expecting though, far more than I can commit to memory before my ultimate deadline at the Summer Sun."

"I'm pretty good about remembering stuff, especially spells. I'll admit though, I'm better at remembering historical figures than living ponies, even if I meet them. Nevertheless I'm going to try to meet all the Ponyvillians. I have heard it claimed that patron-clientele relationships on a first name basis outperform more formal relationships by thirty percent." Twilight rattled off. "I intend to establish a neighborly, nigh on fraternal rapport with you Ponyvillians! That brings me around to my question."

Twilight did not like the blank look Rarity was now giving her. "How quickly do you think you Ponyvillians will consider me one of your own and be fully willing to participate in my projects in that communal village spirit of yours."

"Well..." Rarity squinted. "My lady, I wonder if you have the right frame of mind for this effort of yours. Your words come off, you know, condescending."

"I think that, to some ponies who won't understand your words in the right context, your statement could be interpreted that way." Rarity said. "While I know and wholeheartedly sympathize with your intentions, some ponies wouldn't. Not from lack of respect mind you."

"Oh you know, the farmers. Traditionally independent, strong-headed, distrustful of outsiders... the farmers would worry you were trying to trick them." Rarity said. "They are a proper sack of potatoes, not even friendly with their neighbors, only friendly with the land. This is not some anti-earth pony screed I assure you, for there are such farmers of all tribes in this region."

Twilight had been tired out just listening to Rarity evasive elaborations. "If you say so."

“I am glad you understand Lady Twilight." Rarity said. "Though, not to change the topic of conversation too greatly, only may I ask, why you have a dress on at this early hour?"

Twilight was confused until she remembered she had on a nightgown. It was just a thinner lighter version of the plain linen dresses she liked. Rarity must have drawn the connection too. "Prefer I wear something you made, to what I brought from Canterlot?"

"No, no." Rarity said apologetically. "I was not thinking straight and imagined that it ran counter to the 'mare-of-the-ponies' vision of fraternal rapport you are espousing."

"Oh so I was being condescending again." Twilight rolled her eyes. "Mis Rarity if I really want to adorn myself in the most extravagant styles of Canterlot aristocracy, it would not look too different to some of the wilder apparel I saw in your tailor shop."

"My lady, you keep getting the wrong idea! I was about to pivot to complementing your natural form and coat." Rarity said.

Twilight sighed. "Thanks, but I'm not that self-conscious about my fur or mane anymore. I'll take fashion advice when I ask for it." After a moment she added. "And when I need a farmpony whisperer, I think I'll ask the actual farmpony I know."

Twilight recognized she had gone a bit too far. Now it was her turn to bake her words. "Oh I didn't mean it like that. Just... You are being very formal, with counsel and flattery, like you were a courtier or something. The fact is, I'm not holding court. I just said I was trying to be unpretentious with your Ponyvillians. I know you are skeptical, but if you respect me you'll play along anyway."

Rarity dwelled on that for a moment. "It is my duty to honor and respect a wellborn mare such as yourself. Especially a representative of the princess."

The mention of the princess made Twilight shiver. "Yes, it's everypony's duty, when it's convenient." Twilight said. "Just be friendly. Don't insult me, don't kiss my ass, and that will be good enough for me. In that spirit, I apologize if anything I've said so far hurt your feelings. I know I was sharp with my words."

"Then I echo that apology, my lady." Rarity said. "Though... you still desired what input I could provide on your 'town planning' project, right? I thought you said as much yesterday."

"Who can remember what they said yesterday." Twilight joked flatly. She moved to the kitchen and began boiling water for tea. "Mis Rarity, this is one thing I would indeed value your input on. If it works out we can collaborate more and more on this, and perhaps other things."

"Just be straightforward with me and say you want a favor." Twilight was not eager to set a precedent. If ponies started thinking they could get bargains from her on their terms, not hers, she might as well give up trying to get respect from the Ponyvillians. She was a noble lady, a part of the feudal hierarchy of Equestria, not a wheeler-dealer merchant.

Twilight brought the tea set to the library and set on the center table. “Go on then.”

Rarity cleared her throat. “It has to do with the other Ponyvillians. Since you spurn my advice, I hope you find another pony to illuminate which mares are trustworthy, and which mares may have ulterior motives."

Twilight knew immediately what Rarity was talking about. "You want me to avoid Applejack."

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Actually Applejack is not an associated with this project yet, due to her objections to working with you.”

“I'm not done yet.” Twilight interrupted. "Applejack WILL be working with me eventually. I expressed my interest, so I will not back down, no, because if I stop pursuing her now it will look like I relented. I want to be a fair pony but I'm not going to be a pushover.”

Rarity's expression turned visibly sour. "My Lady, I have a difficult time connecting your sentences together. Do you think about your sentences before you say them?"

"Oh yes? Are you going to use your royal prerogative to shut me up? I get that impression of you half the time, and the other half I hear go-along-to-get-along charm." Rarity said. "And Applejack, oh Applejack..." Her nose wrinkled. "That mare is not as she seems."

"And what of you, mis Rarity? I hope your boxing match payed out well for you." Twilight countered.

Rarity looked momentarily abashed, shying away and trying to cover her bruises. "Applejack struck me yesterday, you know. Yet her dark cleverness outshines her brutishness." Rarity insisted. "Applejack lived in Manehattan for many years, one of the few ponyvillians to rove abroad. She is a far better manipulator than I am!"

Rarity tapped the side of her head. "That you suspect me and not her should prove it to you. You may think me familiar and antagonistic, but that means I do not hide what I think."

"Manehattan..." Twilight had never been to Manehattan, the largest and most prosperous of the 'Free Cities' on Equestria's eastern coast. It was as important to Earth Pony power and culture as Canterlot was to the Unicorns, so it made some sense that Applejack would seek a fortune there. However, Manehattan (and all the other Free Cities for that matter) was notorious as dens of ambitious tricksters, merchants with ambitions outstripping their finances. “What kind of goals could a peasant farmer have?”

“What all ponies want: Fame, glory, to be recognized across all of Equestria.” Rarity pushed her mane back gesturally. "If you ask her, perhaps she will give you a hint."

Twilight was silent for a while. "I do not think I would be able to put together the pieces as well as you do. Yes... I doubt I'd notice the subtle tells that she was hiding something from me."

Rarity caught on to Twilight's insinuations. She poured herself a cup of tea. "I was horribly tormented by a bad dream last night. I am embarrassed to say I fell off my bed. Then my bedside book fell on me." She explained. "That, in addition to Applejack's assault, is to blame for my dishevelment. It is nothing sinister, I assure you."

"A bad dream?" Twilight also poured herself some tea. "In the last few years dream magic has been coming a long way. We are learning which bad dreams are supernatural Nightmares, and which are pure fantasies of the mind. If you'd like, I could test your-"

"My lady, respectfully, the dream's horror was accentuated by dark reminiscence of a private nature." Rarity said.

It would be easy to assume Rarity was still being only half-truthful, but Twilight glimpsed moments of genuine fear at the remembered dream-vision.
The mares sat in silence as they finished their cups of tea.

Rarity returned her cup to the tea set and stood up. "I should be going now. Any antagonism or annoyance I caused you-"

"No need to apologize. You were just trying to be helpful, and I know I'm not an easy mare to work with in my own right." Twilight said, accompanying Rarity to the door. "As we get to know each other we will figure out why lines not to cross."

Twilight sighed. "Listen, take this however you like, but I am going to try to sort things out between you and Mis Applejack. At the very least I am going to get her to stop assaulting you. I would be mortified if the princess found out the ponies under my purview were brawling with each other."

"Under your purview, are we?" Rarity scowled. "Then arrest the mare. She's a menace."

"I want to see what Applejack has to say for herself before I take any action.”

Rarity's eyes widened. "This is unfair! I'm here now! I have this plan in my hoof! You can't listen to that lying mud-"

"Come back at noon, please." Twilight interrupted harshly. "I like you Rarity, but I have chosen a way to do things."

Rarity let out a hiss of frustration, then she gave a shallow curtsy. “As you wish. I will be coming with some ideas with your Ponyville improvement project too.” She said with eyes afire. She backed out of the library and shut the door behind herself.

Twilight let out a sigh, something she had caught herself doing often. Like she'd insisted to Rarity, Twilight was committed to forcing the two quarreling ponyvillians, Rarity and Applejack, to get along to assist her. But what if things went too far? Having a villager kill another because of her misguided efforts would not impress Celestia in the slightest.
"And forget Celestia, I don't know if I could get over the guilt of something like that." Twilight said to herself.

Who else did Twilight had on her side besides those two? Spike of course, and the two other mares she had met, Pinkie Pie and that yellow pegasus, Futter-something...

Thinking back, Twilight had forgotten to ask Rarity how she was going to offer suggestions without taking notes on Twilight's survey so she could accommodate them. Clearly the white unicorn had her own intentions. Twilight was going to have to wrangle the different visions of the ponies she convinced to help her, separate form the issue of getting their help in the first place! Who was to say she would not have more headache with assistants than doing all the work herself? This was a puzzle Celestia must have intentionally thrown her way.
Twilight wondered if the friendly, helpful mares, Pinkie Pie and that yellow pegasus, weren't the most suspect. What hidden intentions did they have?

Twilight almost laughed at this thought. In her haste, she was pushing tasks onto perfect strangers and expecting results. She lacked the groundwork of a real organization! Twilight had studied plenty of organizations, historically speaking, but hardly organized something herself on a larger scale than a study group. Ponies didn't just respond to orders, but to guiding principles, duty, and drive. What did she actually have to offer the mares she was trying to hire? Yes, even if she did convince them, complaints, factionalism, chaos, and collapse was all that could result.

But like she had said, Twilight was still committed. "I'm not going to rationalize myself out of hard work. I have to do it because it is hard!"

Twilight told herself that getting over her ingrained antipathy to other ponies was already half the battle. So, since she had accepted she needed them, the rest would be easy, right?
Though with different rationalizations and strategies bouncing around Twilight's head, just like Rarity had snidely observed, Twilight was not convinced of her latest plan either. Doubt weighed heavily on her.

"How did the ancient conquerors solidify power and permanence? My ancestors on my father's side were among the classical unicorn warlords of Foal!" Twilight wondered to herself. "Did ancient princes, who had massive warbands hanging on their word, whose blood is in me, doubt themselves before the decisive moment?"

"But enough talk!" Twilight rapidly pushed away thoughts of Celestia again. Action!
And that action, like she had promised, was to stick herself between the feuding mares, Rarity and Applejack. Rarity, a clever but cagey aspirant who reminded Twilight of so many courtier hangers on. Applejack, a seemly archetypal farmer of honest stock, but whose defensiveness and unfriendliness gave credence to all suspicions.

Canterlot ponies were rarely so forthright with their recriminations, nor did they so openly display their distaste for their peers. For every insult there was a ceremony, and for every controversy there was a committee. Yes, Twilight had disliked her law classes, but perhaps there was opportunity in for Twilight to make her own law: All in the name of the contradictory pursuits of justice, neighborly fraternity, accommodation, hard work, and conquest. Simply put, she had to bridle and harness those troublesome mares.

It wasn't until five minutes before he was supposed to speak to his compatriots that, Blueblood, noble of Canterlot, put two and two together, finally realizing that his last meal with his ally Deeper Frie Fellowship had been where the late unicorn had been poisoned. Deeper, found too late by a mistress in one of his Old Town flats, had been pronounced dead in the early hours. Cause of death had not been posted yet. Rumor said it was an overdose of some stimulant, taken in anticipation of his mistress's visit. Some cynical ponies said poisoning.

"Poison. The meal that pony gave him." Blueblood gnawed on his hoof, slouched in his office's chair, staring at the floor. "I watched him kill himself. I didn't stop him. But... No, he would have laughed me off. And how could I have known?"

Blueblood and Deeper had not been especially close, exemplified by the latter blowing off his ally on many occasions to pursue side projects. Still Blueblood had known the weighty stallion well enough to understand his likes, dislikes, fears, and ambitions. They had been in the same racket.

"Who the hell would kill him though? The poor fool wasn't a threat to anypony. An angry buisness partner he never told me about?" Blueblood rocked back in his chair, sighing deeply.

Blueblood, stage alias "Prince Blueblood", was a white unicorn, stout, with golden hair and a compass rose mark. He very infrequently spoke at conversational level, dancing between demanding shouts and snide whispers in public. Everypony knew he was not a very capable politician- He had no instincts for dealmaking, nor when to press an advantage or back down when outmatched. However, he was charming to a particular kind of proud noble, who saw in him a vehicle for their own interests in Canterlot. He knew how to make friends and promises, and how to make ponies forget when he failed those promises.

But how did a pony like Prince Blueblood go in front of his allies and lackeys in the Black Horn Council and not voice his suspicions about Deeper's death? Under normal circumstances he would never doubt his ability to put on a performance, to go in front of his modest organization and act mournful, hopeful, perhaps even resolute, in the face of their compatriot's passing. But could he do it now?

There was a knock at the door of his office. A mare poked her head in. "Prince Blueblood, ponies are getting worried." She stepped fully into the room.
In world of noble hierarchy, title was paramount. But Aurthora Airy, Viscountess of one of Canterlot's wall castles, looked to Blueblood with deference, not for his un-bestowed prince rank, but because she considered him more senior in the Black Horn Council. Viscountess Aurthora was a mighty mare, physically imposing in height and musculature. She was brown (unflatteringly, mud brown), with a jet black mane that she let grow. She had few friends, no callers, no courtiers, letting the Black Horn Council serve as her social nexus in the Canterlot web.

Blueblood, for his part, respected Aurthora more than most of the degenerates in his club. Looking past her, to the hallway filled with the kind of opportunists and charlatans attracted to the Black Horn Council, he was tempted to invite her in to share his dark suspicions.
But what kind of suspicions would that give to the others?

"They have the right to feel however they want." Blueblood cleared his throat and jumped up from his chair. He put on his cockiest smile. "Come on then, let's hold a successful meeting, aye?"

"Oh, we'll talk about Deeper, though we shouldn't make a huge deal out of it. Carrying on with Order buisness is the best way to honor him." Blueblood assured her. "Ponies come and go from our hall all the time. We remember them all fondly. Those that deserve it, anyhow."

Aurthora silently accepted his words. She preceded him out of the office. "Alright everypony, into the meeting room!"

Meanwhile, a merry band was making its way through the Old Town streets towards the Blackhorn Council's hall.

Fancy Pants starting to feel better about the state of things in Canterlot since his embarrassing meeting with Lady Twilight Velvet. Falling back into routine imperial work, he assured himself that his agent Lyra Heartstrings was progressing on her mission, and that all the tools of Velvet's containment would be on his desk once he got around to it.

Sir Pants was outside the castle library, consulting with one of the castle's pages about a finer point of feudal law relevant to an upcoming Imperial Court meeting, when a messenger galloped up to him.
"Is it something sensitive, that must be kept private?" Fancy Pants set aside the document he was examining and folded up his reading glasses.

"I don't think so sir." The young messenger said. "It is from Lady Upper Crust in Old Town."

"Ah." Fancy Pants nodded. Upper Crust was a minor noble adjacent to Estates politicking. Fancy Pants had met her a few times, where she had expressed interest in supporting the Imperial Court against Estates interference, for the right price. "Yes, I doubt she has anything to say of national importance, requiring secrecy." He said, drawing snickers from the pages helping him with the documents.

"Yes, sir." The messenger cleared his throat. "Lady Upper Crust wished to relay that certain friends of her ladyship were attracting big attention in the Old Town, spending large amounts on clothes and jewelry, and generally being ostentatious. She believed this was worthy of your interest, sir."

Fancy Pants scowled. "Is this a joke, or infantile code? What does she mean by saying 'certain friends' of hers were attracting attention to themselves?" He tapped impatiently. "That wasn't rhetorical, lad. Tell me what she meant."

"Well, sir, I was called into the room at the tail end of Lady Crust's deliberations on her message. I think she was talking about her majesty the princess's student." The messenger said.

After a moment of silence, Fancy Pants sighed and pushed away his work. "No, the other damn Twilight." He didn't know the scope of the issue yet, but he still mentally cleared away his schedule for the rest of the day. If Twilight Velvet was attracting so much attention that an unobservant amateur like Upper Crust noticed, then Fancy Pants worried about an event of Canterlot-wide significance.

"I won't be making the court meeting today boys. Hope you can make do without me." Fancy Pants apologized to the pages. "And... let's put together an Imperial Council meeting in an hour, just for good measure."

When Velvet entered the Black Horn Council hall, their meeting was already in progress. They met nearly every day, since the dedicated members and leaders had nothing better to do, though a rotating band of nobles, shopkeepers, artists, troublemakers, and idealists attended every so often to keep in touch. The Black Horns represented, in principle, a mostly harmless challenge to Celestiaan rule of Canterlot, and those who blamed their failure on the status-quo heard things they liked in the message of the club: Canterlot should be run by the local unicorn elite, not the lethargic imperial administration that had a whole continent to govern.

Velvet had been to several Black Horn Council meetings, mostly in her youth when she had rapidly cycled through several idealistic beliefs, home rule for Canterlot being one of them. At the time, the Black Horns had been led by stuffy and out-of-touch nobles who kept out commoners out of membership. Now they were eager for any and all members, which had given the club a much less refined culture and approach to Estates politics. Of course casual elitism and classism was still entrenched, as it was in all of Canterlot. Plus the debauched criminality of the Black Horns had likely gone down with the inclusion of commoners.

Looking around the room, Velvet could see her fellow attendees looked positively bored. That day they were mostly of the urban nobility, unimportant and uninfluential, with a few exceptions. Velvet supposed most of them had been driven to the Black Horns out of a misguided belief that they could improve their lot. Devoid of responsibility and loyalty, the urban nobles held frequent gatherings and led many varied causes. While most smug nobles held society parties, the less distinguished nobles joined political parties. The multitudinous petty nobleponies where ponies of pastimes.
Velvet remembered herself being drawn to it and similar organizations, and every day her zeal for action and confrontation had cooled, until she realized she had to play the long game and petty social clubs pretending to be subversive would do nothing for her.

Velvet wished she could be the icon of those bored looking ponies. She knew she could voice their unformed anxiety much better than anypony, and could wield them better than they could wield themselves.
But who was Velvet? A minor noble from a minor family, married into a dying ancient dynasty. Even her well-placed children didn't give her much legitimacy.

Legitimacy! Velvet knew she had the will and power to lead, to implement her designs for the world. Only, Equestria did not recognize her right to rule yet. They did not see her for what she was yet. They would, in due time.

Tuning back in to the meeting conversation, Velvet listened to them discuss the Estates and the Speakers.

"... so, with the preliminary procedural meetings coming up in the next few weeks, we want to have several motions ready, so we can know how to lobby during procedures." Blueblood was at the head of a table, glancing between his meeting minutes and random ponies around the table. "We need a unified position this time. We can't have members working against each other again just because they're not communicating and not on the same page."

"Sabotaging your compatriots is grounds for expulsion." Aurthora Airy, immediately to Blueblood's left, added.

Blueblood leaned back in his chair. "Well... Let's be careful about- You know, we want to make sure its sabotage and not an accident." He cleared his throat. "But yes, if you're messing around, we won't."

Nopony at the table was buying Blueblood's tough words, their attention wandering the room.

"Anyhow, we have our very own Plenty Song here today, Lady Countess of Lower Whitetail! She's here to represent herself in the Estates instead of engaging with a Speaker next session." Blueblood tried to sound adulatory. "Lady Song has been contracting us to provide her feudal title with Estates representation for several years. A few of us have stood as her Speaker, myself included. We are very glad that she is joining our meeting during her precious time in the Capital."

The so noted mare, Countess Plenty Song, stood up and bowed. She didn't wait for any claps (not that they were forthcoming) before sitting back down.
Velvet appraised the little countess. She was not much to look at, befitting her joke of a county, smaller than most viscounties or particularly large backyards: Pale blue coat topped by a marshy green mane. She had the look of being badly emaciated, so thin and sullen was she. She was a match for the rest of the losers in the room, but because she had the county title, she had the right of membership or representation in the Estates of Equestria.

"Lady Song, I hope to help and guide you ably during the Estates. It can be an intimidating event for even experienced Speakers." Blueblood nodded to the countess. "Um, yes, let's see..." He read over his notes. " We have three other Speakers under contract with lords across Equestria. That places us squarely in the middle, in terms of clubs or orders organizing for the Estates. Despite our recent setback concerning our friend Deeper Frie Fellowship, we're very proud of the progress we're making in Canterlot."

"Oh, yes, I just remembered, I drew up examples of the kinds of motion we should be preparing before the procedural meetings." Aurthora chirped. She fetched a scroll for her bag and passed it to the next pony over. "It's a motion I made for last session that didn't get elevated, but I'm still rather proud of it if you want to give it a read."

Blueblood paused. "Yes... That would have been good to bring up earlier, because I wasn't done talking about- Well, nevermind. Just pass it around the room. Anypony interested in writing a motion for the Black Horn Council to submit should give it a quick read." None of the attendees were even bothering to unroll it to look at it, just passing it along. "Also, let's learn from past mistakes. No grammatical errors, no grease stains, no overt disparaging of Pegasi or Earth Ponies. None of that, everypony."

The scroll made its way around to Velvet, who actually bothered to examine it. It was near nonsense, a motion that the Estates should 'honor Canterlot' as a city of Equestrian splendor. Waste of ink, she thought.

Blueblood was droning on. "If there are no objections, I would like to go over some of the highlights of the last Estates; What factional lines formed, which Speakers had sway, which motions moved up and down the body. We have more funding to play with this session, so I think we could bring a few Speakers to our side from other lords we don't have on contract."

Velvet wrinkled her nose. It was getting nauseous to play along. She stood up, knocking her chair away.
"How about you use that money for something useful." She said, her voice overpowering Blueblood's and echoing around the hall.

Blueblood stopped mid sentence. He met Velvet's gaze, examining her for several moments, then exchanged whispers with Aurthora. "Lady Twilight Velvet, of house Twilight-Bright.” He said for the benefit of the other ponies. “I did not notice your presence or I would have made a point to welcome you.”

"Blueblood, I am a mare fonder of history than committees like this. I know the Black Horn Council best as a knightly order, loyal servants to house Blackhorn, ready to lay their life on the line in the name of chivalry and their liege." Velvet said, slightly chiding. There was no question she was embellishing history, not that any of the audience knew or cared. "The Blackhorn dynasty of Canterlot ruled a proud and independent principality. Yet the order, this Black Horn Council once organized for their honor... obsesses over meaningless points of procedure in the Imperial Estates."

"Lady Velvet, you are a learned mare and your point is well made, but it is not relevant. Do not be upset for I will explain. The Black Horns stand as the representatives of Canterlot! We are still true warriors of this grand city, and we are the only ones who fight for Canterlot's rights. It is our duty and privilege to fight for her sovereignty and that of her unicorn inhabitants.” Blueblood cast a critical eye over the crowd. "That is how we serve the memory of the house of Blackhorn."

“I'm not upset, and I did not come here for welcome, but for business.” Velvet struck a confident tone. “My business is Canterlot too. Dare I say, I aim for a much greater transformation than you do.”

“You came here for Canterlot?” Blueblood asked, though he looked confused. "Uh, Sorry but, um..." He exchanged whispers with Aurthora again. "Ahem, lady Velvet, I would love to talk with you after the meeting. This is time where we, you know, handle our administrative stuff."

“Yes, but what emptiness there is behind those reflex motions, when it's not serving your real goals?” Velvet said, rolling with it. Blueblood was capable as a socialite and a speaker, and his instinct was to assuage a higher ranking noble. But where did a fake prince rank against the mother-regent of a viscountess? The ambiguity pulled him out of his element.
“If you were committed to the duties of a member of the Black Horn Council, you would be shedding blood every day to restore Canterlot and its ponies."

"Would you not die for your cause, like your late friend Sir Frie Fellowship did?" Velvet demanded.
Obviously, most of the attendees had no intention to work up a sweat for a cause, let alone shed blood. But with evocative enough language, Blueblood's tenuous authority over them could be bent.

Blueblood exchanged yet more whispers with Aurthora. “What you voice is the same as what we want, my lady. You don't need to remind us that Canterlot deserves more power and status. Again, I do not wish to upset you, but you seem to have come just to cause a scene.” He looked around the room, and was dismayed more ponies were looking at Velvet than at him. "Lady Velvet, please take your leave of the meeting. We should talk later."

“Not without revealing the truth, Prince Blueblood. The truth begs to be spoken of, relished, followed. The truth I speak of is Canterlot's status as seat of house Blackhorn.” Velvet paused for dramatic effect. Oh, how the fools around her salivated about ideas like truth and righteousness. “Behold your redemption.”

At that signal, the doors to the meeting hall where thrown open, and a shaft of light pierced the gloomy space. A pony's silhouette darkened the doorway, and as the light equalized the countenance of a unicorn could be distinguished.

Velvet had made certain Seacrest looked every inch the charming and ambitious unicorn lord. It had been no small feat, requiring hours at spa, salon, tailor, and Sel Lech's constant intervention to placate the whiny lordling. Seacrest Blackhorn's glittering robe and cyan coat rippled in an imagined wind. His mane had been braided in imitation of the old Blackhorn princes, as had his tail. The arrogant smile and posture was all Seacrest.

“A Blackhorn has returned to Canterlot.” Velvet intoned with near religious reverence, enrapturing the attention of everypony present. “We are inaugurating a new age for Canterlot. Were you a real knight of this order, you would bow to your prince!"

Near every member of the Black Horn Council rose from their chairs as though in a trance, and kneeled. They were drinking it in! They were tired of the same old same old, and their foggy minds willingly submitted to the lie, in the name of truth.

Velvet trotted around to Seacrest's side. She noted with some satisfaction the ponies were now kneeling towards her as well. No, she told herself, they WERE kneeling to her even if they did not realize, for without her words, the pony beside her would have been met with scoffs and mockery.
“Wasn't it worth it? I told you I'd handle this.” She whispered. She could hardly contain her grin.

“Oh yes, I love this.” Seacrest responded gleefully. “I'm so glad I have you here to guide me on such things. I won’t doubt you again, Lady Velvet.” He buzzed with excitement.
Stepping forward he continued. "My dear friend Lady Velvet is correct. I am Seacrest Blackhorn, none other, heir to the ancient Blackhorn lineage. Son of Cascade Capter of Blackhorn, son of Muer Blackhorn, am I. And above all, rightful claimant to the Principality of Canterlot."

But his strange Prancian accent pulled some of the ponies from their awed revere. Velvet knew Seacrest's narrative of a backwoods upbringing would be enticingly exotic to some, off-putting to others. The ponies wanted a leader they could identify with.
Velvet had to downplay his foreignness. “The Blackhorn dynasty has faced betrayal and repudiation before, when capricious vassals turned their back on their lord. Do not turn your back on a stallion whose unbridled love for Canterlot led him here. Abandoning safety and secrecy, he welcomed the anger of the Imperial administration so that he could help you restore honor to our city."

“What is this?!” Prince Blueblood and Aurthora Airy approached slowly and cautiously. “The Blackhorns have all died.”

Before Seacrest could give his life story, Velvet interjected. “You don't seem happy to see your new lord, Blueblood.”

Blueblood face twisted in confused horror. He looked around again. Not a single pony was looking at him. The poor stallion must have been feeling a soul-withering embarrassment and humiliation.
"Ahh..." He squeezed his eyes shut. "This..."

Velvet bore a vicious grin. The poor socialite didn't have the wherewithal to take back the initiative. He should have stood tall, called Seacrest a fake and drowned out any objections with accusatory bluster. The assembled ponies wanted strength and action. The last few minutes had been Blueblood boring them with Estates tedium, and Velvet giving them a show.

Watching Blueblood for a minute longer, making sure he would not rise from his slouch, Velvet leaned down to whisper in his ear. "I am gracious in victory, 'prince'. I do not want to poach your membership, nor your leadership."

"Whatever I need." Velvet said. "I need bodies, warm bodies. Either yours or theirs." Her eyes flicked up to the other ponies. "With or without you."

“A- A thousand thousand apologies, my lord.” Blueblood's heart and pride burned with every word.

“He is Blueblood, my lord.” Velvet repeated, earning herself a glare from the titular prince.

Seacrest looked from Blueblood to Aurthora and the rest of the ponies. “Very good. You may direct anything else to Twilight Velvet. I tire of standing around.”

“We shall not waste a moment, Lord Blackhorn.” Velvet nodded, stepping between Seacrest and everypony else.

The rest of the little entourage Velvet had brought for Seacrest filed in: the mute servant Moler, Sel Lech Sabonord, and Night Light, entered the hall. Seacrest withdrew, and the meeting attendees began to press forward with questions.

"Settle down, sirs and madams." Velvet tried to calm them. Despite her prideful thoughts, she was much more intimidated addressing the crowd when they were in her face. "We shan't be recklessly hasty with answers or actions."

"Does the princess know?" One asked, setting off a few fretful rumors. "What if Sir Blueblood was right, you should have brought this up more privately! You're going to bring down imperial retribution on us!"

Blueblood began to exert a modicum of control over his onetime followers, and pushed them back. "And you should express your doubts in private. The Black Horn Council has always been forthright in its mission! To not openly welcome our lord, a true Blackhorn, is ghastly treason to our cause and Canterlot." He said. "If you have questions, you go through me! Burdening Lady Velvet with our ignorance is equivalent to letting Lord Blackhorn down. We should be serving him, not the other way around."

So the hubbub subsided, and the attendees backed away to speculate and chatter to themselves, sharing fevered ambitions and ideas that they were sure were vindicated by the revelation of the lost Blackhorn.
Blueblood circled the room, talking to all of them, before returning to the front of the room to face Velvet again.

Night Light moved from the entrance to stand by his wife's side. His demeanor was stoic where Velvet's was predatory. "If rumor is to be believed, you were preparing to challenge our daughter's right to the Chateau la Garde."

Blueblood nibbled his lip. "A villain like Deeper. He was going to make a stink about it in the Estates, and demand the gatehouse complex be put under Canterlot stewardship." He muttered. "I may even have his draft motion in my office."

Velvet snickered. "How convenient that he bit it, and you are absolved at your rapacious snipe at my family. You are lucky I don't hold grudges."

Blueblood struggled to sound civil, as anger resonated through his voice. "it was merely politicking, nothing substantial. T- This reprisal is uncalled for.”

“Nothing substantial is an apt way to put it." Velvet nudged her husband, and he obliged her with a small laugh. "Gods be praised, his lordship will whip this band of fools into shape. It will become a tool of his enthronement."

Blueblood shook his head. “No games, Lady Velvet! I'm not sure where you two pretentious paupers had to slum to find that fraud, but he is no lord of mine.” Blueblood pointed to Seacrest, attended to by the mute servant Molar while the youth Sel Lech Sabonord politely fended off a few of the ponies. "For gods' sake, what is that accent? Tsch, how am I to have pride playing along with such a far-fetched charade."

“I thought you'd be happy. We're breathing new life into your organization. Seacrest is new and exciting, and will captivate everypony's interest right up until he opens his mouth.” Velvet laughed softly. “Look at you, Blueblood. Does it really give you satisfaction to preach to drooling inbreds? On the way here, I fielded countless questions by intensely curious bystanders. A mere whispered hint that he was connected to house Blackhorn sent many of them fainting. I have found just the right kindling to set the tinderbox of Canterlot alight."

"Sir, is it not for us to use and craft the resulting bursts of energy which result?" Night Light asked.

"You idiots. Do you actually want to push a confrontation with the Imperial administration? We get by because they know we're not that serious about Canterlot autonomy." Blueblood hissed, cautious not to talk too loudly.

"We live and die in the imperial institutions. If Canterlot actually achieves home rule, all the funding we get from nobles hiring us as Speakers, or coastal industrialists and merchants hoping to get small imperial boons, it all goes away." Blueblood emphasized.

"If Canterlot achieves home rule, far away nobles or industrialists will be the least of your preoccupations. Small minded stallion. You're compatriot over there was not far off the mark: We are aiming for something revolutionary and dangerous." Velvet said.

"Bloody hell." Blueblood looked at the floor. “I've put years of my life into the Black Horns.”

“With not much to show for it.” Velvet said sardonically. "I've proven I can whip away your membership to nothing if I felt like it. Be a good little figurehead and I'll reward you."

"You have been very mean to Blueblood, you know, and have hurt his feeling. Out of respect for you lady daughter, the princess's favored, I will be patient with you." Aurthora stepped between Blueblood and Velvet.

"Do you want to run the Black Horn Council, Lady Aurthora? I bet I could rally a vote right now and have your boy-toy tossed from the building. I don't need Blueblood specifically to do our bidding." Velvet rolled her eyes.

"Fine. Fine. I'm yours, Lady Velvet. Or, Seacrest's, or whatever you need." Blueblood sighed in resignation. "Treat me a little nicer and I might be awed too. I would aspire to reflect your virtue, my lady, of not holding any grudges."

"Treat him nicer, Lady Velvet, and you shall have my awe as well." Aurthora insisted. "Your project intrigues me greatly."

"Your reputation for loyalty and grace is well deserved, Lady Airy." Night Light bowed. "My wife may be rough, but truly we intend to bend the future to justice and purpose for ponykind."

"Enough blabber. If you agree to take orders, then take them." Velvet said. "First things first is aggressively recruit off the imminent news of Seacrest Blackhorn's presence in the city."

“We are not beggars. We do not ask for members, we grant them.” Blueblood blustered.

“Pshh, I know the way you solicit your lordly clients for money, so combine those skills with your rhetorical skill. Advertise the club, and will attract more members than you could ever hope to pointlessly sacrifice.” Velvet pointed back to Seacrest. “Like I said, new and exotic. He is a blank canvas for the imaginations of the listless ponies of this city who are hollowed out by the status quo. The fire for the tinderbox.”

Blueblood's scowl dissolved at the same rate as his energy. "How am I going to muster any enthusiasm for somepony else's mission." After a few second, a sad and tired stallion was left. "I bet you did in my mate Deeper too. You are an evil mare."

"Disgusting parasite. You have floated on the top of society, sucking down resources, and produced nothing valuable in return. Not one moment of your life has been in service to a higher calling, but rather devoted to atavistic gluttony." Velvet's tone turned from mockingly playful to savage. Her volume rose to attract the attention of some of the nearby ponies. "You were born to a caste of elites that privileged you to do nothing but think, yet you haven't thought one good thought in your entire life. Dishonest curs like you deserve to die. You should be weeping at my hooves for offering you salvation."

Blueblood was clearly terrified that Velvet was going to murder him right there. Who would have his back if the ferocious mare set upon him? And what could Blueblood himself do against her righteous savagery, when his passions were so much less than hers?

"L- Lady Velvet, Velvet, this isn't how you should treat an ally." Blueblood pleaded, shrinking away from her. "Or a servant."

"You will be fine, sir." Night Light consoled him, nudging Velvet back. Velvet, silently appreciative of her husband's intervention, withdrew to talk with Seacrest.

"It would be preferable that we work under you, honorable lord, toward this mission." Aurthora said flatly. "Can it be denied that your wife has a temper, ill suited to us?"

"I am not interested in being anypony's master, so you should learn to get along with Velvet." Night Light advised. "She is really sweet once you get to know her."

"I see nothing to substantiate that." Aurthora shrugged. "We have been forced into a face-saving position, but it would be childish to fear for our lives."

"If we are going to obey, we should start thinking about recruiting tactics." Blueblood sighed.

While Velvet and Aurthora continued to chat, Night Light approached the one pony who had remained sitting at the table, Countess Plenty Song. Her eyes were half lidded, and it was unclear to him if it was because of the mare’s blasé reaction to Seacrest, or that she was tired.

“Good afternoon my lady. I believe we met at one of Duke Flux's parties last month.” Night Light asked.

Night light nodded. "Second cousin, once-or-so removed. Any inheritance is out of consideration."

"And isn't that always the consideration." Plenty Song nodded along with him. "Thus the second sons of second daughters go and do damn fool things to earn their castles."

Night Light had not been looking for an argument. "If something is the matter you should say so."

“Lots of things. I was very engaged with your wife's speech there. Only, I am not of Canterlot like everypony else here, so my heart is not as stirred by the impassioned rhetoric." Plenty Song said. "I'm a Countess out in the west country and I have no interest in disputes between random 'princes' and the crown."

"Protecting landed noble lords' interests against imperial prerogative is in your interest though." Night Light pointed out.

"Some landed lord I am, with barely enough land to feed myself." Plenty Song scoffed. "I want to convert my title into political capital, and for my purposes a mercenary outfit of agitators like the Black Horn Council is ideal. But, if you actually whip the Black Horn Council into shape, and begin challenging imperial power, they become much less useful for me."

Night Light felt a bit smug despite himself. "I suppose you should have found your own Blackhorn prince and had him say things more useful to you."

"Tsch. Don't play ignorant." Plenty Song leaned forward in her chair. "I know you lot are just tools."

"I spot that irascible youth, Sel Sabonord over there, and heard the accent that Blackhorn put on. You've brought a Prancian Sabonord plot to the capital." Plenty Song accused. "Countess Glori Sabonord is funding you to thwart me."

"That..." Night Light had been expecting a less bizarre accusation. "My lady I can fully assure you we are acting on nopony's vendetta-" He glanced back at Velvet, who was lording over Blueblood again. "against you."

Plenty Song pushed away from the table and stood up."I won't forget this insult. Not for a second." She promised.

"No landed pony has expressed more vehement opposition to the capital than Countess Glori. By harboring pretender princes and throwing things into confusion, you suite her aims perfectly. Meanwhile all friends of peace and political stability suffer." Plenty Song explained sharply. "Who do think benefits from anarchy? The powerful lords who tyrannize their neighbors. It is the vulnerable who suffer when our domestic tranquillity is threatened."

Night Light had to admit she had a point. "Our intention is not anarchy. Besides, while Lord Seacrest is coincidentally from Prancia, he is not Countess Glori's puppet."

" You are not convincing." Plenty Song said. "But what if you are telling the truth? Is it not easier to blindly hate? You've frustrated my plans, and therefore I must frustrate yours."

“That’s your right, my lady.” Night Light bowed. “I will warn you away from this path. If you attempt to attack my wife she will respond in kind."

"Thank you for the warning. See you on the battlefield." Plenty Song trotted for the door.

Things were less exciting just a few kilometers away, under the city, in the cold dank catacomb where the pony Pon-3 was locked up. In fact things were agonizingly boring- She had been abandoned for the moment by her jailer, left to contemplate her grim surroundings.

"Phyte! Phyte! Could you give me a book or pamphlet to read?" Pon-3 called out for the absent Musician's Guild mistress. "I don't even need a lamp or anything, my eyes are good enough. Please! Like, surely a bit of paper won't help me escape!"

Locked into one of the iron birdcages, there were thousands of letters just out of her reach. Anything to keep her occupied, so that she was not left watching candle wax drip, or worse, left with her own thoughts.

"I've been in worse places. In Grifany, in Os, I sat out an entire siege in a snowy bell tower. Had eat a chap who'd died of frostbite. Not good eats." Pon-3 reminisced. "And bumming around in the colonies... Gods, I was imprisoned and shanked more than few times. But I bounced right back."

Life had been nothing but misery and deprivation for months at a time during her exile. The wide world had many unpleasant fates for unwanted ponies like her, but she rejected them all. She kept soldiering on because of a single idea that kept her warm in the winters of sorrow: The pride of the task. She escaped many predicaments because her oppressors underestimated her. Phyte was not so careless, Pon-3 knew.

"Accursed hag! Not just Phyte, but Octavia, that perilous temptress! And the mewling Lyra Hearstrings who saw them truss me and stood by doing nothing! I'll have special words for that teal bitch!" Pon-3 stroked one of the bars of her cage, mimicking polishing a knife. "I have nopony to rely on. I welcome it! I relish it! Only, if I didn't have somepony relying on me."

She wished so badly to be free, to continue on her murderous crusade to knock out the ponies on the hit list given to her. Not just for money, or notoriety, but for purpose! She was designed to be a weapon. A weapon denied its purpose was little but ornamentation. A weapon denied its freedom was hardly more than a police baton.
There was only one thing anypony ever really had to do, and that was die. The moment death itself was pointless, as fleeting and forgettable as the rest of pony life. But the transaction of death, to act to hasten the demise of another, was the instrumental nature of Vinyl Scratch. In youth, she had relied on Phyte to lead her for such things. Now she was a weapon fully grown, the sword destined never to be returned to the sheath.

After a while, the visions began to start.
Subtle shadows began to rise out of the mountains of letters, hooves and claws fighting their way out from under the mountain of paper. They seemed to triumph for a moment before the struggle exhausted them and they sunk back beneath into their inky graves.
Eyes began to open across the room, from the cracks in the ancient mortar, from the shadows under the torch braziers, in the distance down the enshadowed exit corridor. Round eyes, slitted eyes, eyes with strange rectangular or w shapes. They waited for Pon-3 to blink first.

"I am sinless. I am a pure being. If heaven didn't want you to die, why did her daughters send me to you." Pon-3 argued with the silent specters, twisting around to address a different one every few seconds. "Either the world is just and your demise was good, or it is unjust and I can't be blamed. I was a test of faith for you to overcome, and you failed. You failed!" She gnashed her teeth on her cage, twisting around like she was a carnivore ripping off a chunk of flesh.

Continued with her groaning and growling for hours, alternating between a curled up position and throwing herself at the bars of her oversized birdcage. Gradually, the light of the candles all around the antechamber began to die down, and it became even colder. Still Phyte did not return, so Pon-3 was left to shiver in futile rage.
Ever so slowly, the room went completely dark.

Slowly, a red glow began to fill the room. A dozen pinprick lights grew brighter and brighter until the shadowy figure below them was illuminated. A pony silhouette, formed by absence rather than presence, hovered in the middle of the room.
At first, Pon-3 was certain it was another figment of her imagination. However unlike the other specters she felt no memory connection, no familiarity with the dark figure.

The figure observed Pon-3 for a while, the red pinpricks of light joining and separating like oil droplets on water. Then, losing interest in her, the entity turned its attention to the room around them, and began rifling through the piles of letters. Unlike the visions, this creature could toss the scrolls around.

"Hey. Hey Hey hey." Pon-3 roused. She stood up as much as she could. "You're not one of Phyte's creations, aye?"

"!" The shadowy entity dropped the paper in its grasp, as if surprised that Pon-3 was able to speak. It drew closer to Pon-3 cage.
Every step closer it took, the haze of darkness solidified, until it stood just above her, fully resolved into pony shape. It was an earth pony, but it was too dark to determine color or detail even by Pon-3 excellent night vision. "Again, please." It had a feminine voice, which resolved from a melodic haziness into the soprano of a young mare.

"Anything. Speak to me." The pony-like entity requested. "I want to hear your voice."

"Gladly mate. I never pass up an opportunity to yap." Pon-3 pressed her face against the bars and tried to touch the entity, but it was just out of reach. "The hell are you? Odds are you're looking for Phyte. Trying to help her, or hurt her?"

"Yes... sorry. It has been such a long time since somepony talked to me. I've been away." The entity said, ignoring Pon-3 questions.

"I've been away too, in exile. A lot of it sucked. Funny how I was just reminiscing about that." Pon-3 was slowly coming around to the idea that the entity was dangerous and pulled back to the far side of her tiny cage. "But really, what are you after? I could help you, you know."

The entity stepped over to Phyte's desk and rummaged through the half-written letters and writing utensils. "What if you tell me what you could help me with first."

The entity was trying to suss out her relationship to Phyte, Pon-3 knew. She had to guess what it wanted to hear. "I can help you steal some stuff but I'm not keen on going up against Phyte, as much as I'd like to take a swipe at her. Just as long as I get out in one piece, I'll be your pall, honest."

"So you won't lead me to her?" The pony-like entity took a seat in Phyte's chair. "I want to talk to her. I only want to see if she remembers me. I met a few of the Stars, back in the day. Phyte was the nastiest to me, but in hindsight I understand why she was so cruel."

"A few of the Stars?" Pon-3 blinked. "How long ago was this? Hey, hey, how old are you?" She shook her head. "You know what, never mind that. Just spring me out and I'll lead anywhere. I'll lead you to bucking Princess Celestia if it's what you want, promise."

The pony-like creature approached the cage again. "And who are you? Why are you in there?" It leaned in close. It's breath produced no vapor in the cold air. "Nopony knows better than me that some monsters deserve to be in a cage. HEEE HE HA hA HEE!" It cackled.

Pon-3 locked eyes with the thing. In pony form, its iris remained dark, swirling with unnatural light of many hues. She saw no emotion in them, no depth. It made every part of her tingle, not unlike being close to Phyte, but heightened. "Bugger me, you're..." She dare not speak a word more, as if revealing the nature of the entity would make it more terrible.

"What you can tell from my eyes, I can tell right back. You've been stitched together real well, but you still fell short of the stars in the sky." The dark pony judged. "Again, nopony knows better than me."

"If you're not going to kill me, free me, or get me a book, buck off!" Pon-3 hissed at the entity. "Go back to whatever fetid hole they had you chained up and and ask to be readmitted. Leave me to the nightmares which to not speak."

"Have something... weighing on your mind?" The dark pony asked seductively. "I can make those feelings, good or bad, just go away."

It was taunting her. All the same, Pon-3 felt a tugging at her heart, surely the result of the creature's magic, that made her want to embrace it. "There is something. I..." She knew every second talking to the creature endangered her soul. "My purpose. I am failing my purpose. My hooves are meant to strike, but I lack the strength. I..." She scotched back towards the bars. "I will whisper it to you."

The dark pony laughed knowingly. "If you strike me, I will be angry with you."' It sat down right next to the cage and turned her head, her ear at the bars.

Pon-3 inched forward. "The ponies... I was given a list of ponies to kill. I must pass them on..." But the revulsion overpowered the seduction, and she fell back, rocking the cage enough to bump the pony away. "No. I can't! I will not give that dream away to you, fiend. It's MY purpose."

"Aren't I pretty enough for you?" The dark pony drew herself up angrily. "The first pony I speak to after a hundred years and she rejects me. I have not born centuries of heartbreak to be played with by a toy pony! Star-sewn puppet! I bet your dreams taste like the stuffing that gives you shape."

Pon-3 was not immune to the harsh words of the dark creature lashing out at her. "Then go away and enjoy your pain in silence like I am."

The dark creature dissolved back into haze and red light. "Next time, you will want me even more. It will hurt, because I know that's what you like." The harmonious feminine voice died away.

"Bite me." Pon-3 settled back on the floor of her cage as her cold isolation resumed.

A lazy morning and mid-day had turned into a cheerful afternoon in Ponyville. Villagers finishing their toils and chores gathered in the market square. A few ponies brought instruments, forming a little band. A drum, a few flutes, a fiddle, a tambourine, a hurdy-gurdy, and a few vocalists. Singing folk songs, dancing, jumping, frolicking, enjoying the warmth of the sunshine, the Ponyvillians let their joy be known.

"My mother sent me,
to the river to launder scarves.
My mother sent me,
to the river to launder scarves.

Oh Dneighper, Dneighper!
Dear old Dneighper, Dneighper!
I feel your cold waters here,
on the edge, the red clay banks!"

Fluttershy skirted the edge of the market square on her way across town. She usually felt out of place among the Ponyvillians. Their traditions and culture were not her own. She was a Cloudsdale Pegasi, but she could not rightly claim she was accustomed to that urban world of toil and strife up in the clouds. A kind of agoraphobia dominated her, a nervous feeling that any large gathering would bring disaster. The vivacious happiness of the Ponyvillians, with their dancing and instruments, was her anxiety. She could not bear the intrusive thought of something befalling them while she watched.
So Fluttershy hurried away.

It was not too far to the small square around the Golden Oak on the north side of the village. She saw light and shadows from behind the curtained windows, sign someone was home.
Fluttershy reached out to knock at the Oaks' red door, but it opened before her hoof contacted the wood. Twilight was on the other side.

“She was meant to tell you to come, not to ask.” Twilight joked. "Come in, come in." She drew Fluttershy inside.

"She, Pinkie, asked me earlier, but I had work I had to finish." Fluttershy said apologetically, avoiding meeting Twilight's gaze. "I saw Pinkie Pie on the way here, but she was doing something else. She implied she was coming here too, but, um..."

"Mis Pinkie was occupied doing what?" Twilight asked as she trotted to the kitchen to prepare another pot of tea.

Fluttershy didn't want to get Pinkie Pie in trouble, if Twilight Sparkle was in fact the kind of pony to give others trouble. Twilight was a noble after all. "Well... playing hurdy-gurdy."

"You don't say. It's fitting with her, you know, aesthetic. It's not an instrument used in court society so I found it weird." Twilight said. "I guess in the same way I find Mis Pinkie Pie strange. It's just because of my upbringing, while to others-"

"No, everypony finds Pinkie Pie weird." Fluttershy interrupted, then winced away with a blush.

Twilight returned form the kitchen with a teacup for them both. "I wasn't counting on her being here for this, so it is all fine."

Fluttershy had not been in the Golden Oak for a while, and it had not changed much, save for a few rearrangements that Twilight Sparkle had clearly just made. Twilight had bisected the library space with a line of chalk, with all the tables and chairs pushed to a side straddling the line.
"Are you planning a volleyball game?"

"That is very funny. Good joke. The Ponyvillians have been very careful about making jokes around me, expect for Mis Pinkie Pie." Twilight said.

"Well, she's not from Ponyville. Neither am I." Fluttershy said. "I moved here when I was still a filly. Pinkie Pie came a few years ago."

Twilight dwelled on that for a minute. "I see. I'd be interested in asking you and Mis Pinkie about your choice to come here, but that should wait." Twilight levitated her cup of tea to a table and trotted towards the open stair. "Spike, my ward, is upstairs keeping Mis Rarity company. I know you are Mis Rarity's friend so you wouldn't mind joining her, would you?"

Fluttershy was surprised. "Rarity is here?" She blinked a few times. "Lady Twilight I don't understand why you asked me to come anymore."

"Okay, I may have invited you and a few other ponies on false pretenses. It will all work out though." Twilight said, the last part as much to herself as to Fluttershy. "I'm sure Spike is really embarrassing himself trying to impress Mis Rarity with stories about Canterlot. Just don't be weird about him being a dragon, you know."

"Dragons visit Cloudsdale sometimes, so I'm not unfamiliar. That's not, um, the problem." Fluttershy frowned. "Once you start being loose about the truth, I won't know how much we should trust you, Lady Twilight."

Twilight did not take that well. "Yes you do know how much you should trust me, because I can ask you to, authoritatively. I am not here just to trick ponies. I have goals and deceit is a tool that I don't want to have to use, but I will if pushed."

There was a loud banging on the front door. Before Twilight could respond, the new arrival let themself in: It was Applejack, closely followed by Pinkie Pie and her hurdy-gurdy.

Applejack's gaze immediately locked on Fluttershy. "I was 'bout to ask if I was late, but I guess I shouldn't bother." She said roughly.

"Oh no you don't." Twilight grunted. She reached out with her telekinesis and locked the door behind Applejack. "Please come in and sit down. This isn't going to be easy for us, especially if you don't take my advice."

"Advice?!" Applejack huffed. "Guess I'm under advisement now. Big swing from yesterday when y'all were begging us for help."
Still, Applejack chose a side of the chalk line on the floor and sat down, saving her words for later.

Twilight, satisfied, turned toward the stair once again, but saw Rarity observing from the upper level. The seamstress did not look happy. "You know I had to do it, Mis Rarity." Twilight shrugged.

"I am not sure how to feel that you used your ward to distract me." Rarity begrudgingly descended the stair and seated herself on the other side of the Chalk line from Applejack, trying not to meet the other mare's stare.

Spike followed Rarity downstairs, trundling to the Kitchen to get a snack. "I'm used to being Twilight's diversion, usually when she's poaching books the princess set on restricted lists.

Twilight trotted to one of the chairs at the new 'head' of the room. Now, with most everypony facing her assemblage of tables and chairs, it evoked the image of a throne and court.

Fluttershy, the one still not seated (besides Spike who was watching from the side with a snack), hesitantly joined Rarity on her side of the chalk.

"Later in the afternoon, all of you are welcome to join me in the planning space, to consult on the preparations for Ponyville to host a Summer Sun Fair. That is, after all, my association with all of you." Twilight said. "But I have to deal with this first, decisively. I would be letting the empire down if I let small, solvable issues get in the way of my duty." Twilight cleared her throat. "So I slip into a magisterial role, and adjudicate a case: Accusations of impropriety against Applejack."

"And I hope I get to claim more." Rarity rapped the floor with a hoof. “Impropriety? Try fraud and theft!”

"Settle down mares, please." Twilight raised her voice. "If this is going to be conducted officially we have to follow rules of order and procedure."

"Well, I... I'm going to do my best." Twilight pulled out a loose sheets of notes she had made. "Okay, um..."
After reading the notes she'd jotted out of the few legal books she'd found laying around, Twilight lost focus on the words, her attention wandering. What was the Nightmare Pretender doing at that moment? Was she preparing for her return to the earth? Perhaps the lost Nightmare princess also had to arbitrate disagreements between her supporters; Surely the Nightmare was not as indecisive as Twilight was.

"So, is this things like a trial, hearing, or inquiry?" Pinkie Pie further asked.

"Uh," Twilight blinked. "All those things, as necessary. This is a forum of truth and justice."

"Good." Rarity and Applejack said in unison, both certain they would be vindicated.

"Are you just making up rules? How do you follow rules for all three of those things at the same time?" Pinkie exclaimed. “This is a mistrial. I submit a motion move you let my client go.”

Pinkie Pie shoved a hoof over Applejack's mouth to keep her silent. “Whatever it is, I request it stop. My client has nothing to say to this forum.”

“Holly Moley.” Applejack batted Pinkie's hoof away. “I don't care. Let's just get this over with!”

"Indeed." Rarity rubbed her temples in empathetic frustration. "Let us satisfy the little magistrate so I can get back to my afternoon's work.

Applejack sighed. “All rules are made up. Ah don't care what they are, so long as they're fair.”

Twilight sighed. "Let me ready my notes please, and we can get started. In fact, you can come up and read them too to understand my approach better. I want us all on the same page here."

Twilight suspected that Applejack and Rarity were only willing to play along to convince her how irreconcilable they were. Was there really a magic argument that could convince them both?
"I'm happy to have your confidence, Mis Applejack, Mis Rarity. If I can do something to improve the lives of the ponies here, just two of them among hundreds, that will be satisfactory."

Nopony, save perhaps Fluttershy, reacted to Twilight's words. Either they doubted her resolve or efficacy against their own commitment to be enemies.

Twilight cleared her throat. Spike flashed her a thumbs up.
"I want to hear from everypony present, in due time. For the very first part of this forum, Rarity will be making her claims. Remember, you will be addressing me, not the other ponies here."

"Very good, Lady Magistrate." Rarity said. "To put it plainly, I accuse Mis Applejack of being a thief. By means of a deceptive conspiracy, she stole the homestead, the Sweet Apple Acres." She reported. “And also Applejack punched me. And Pinkie Pie.”

This was the first time Twilight had heard the allegation of theft even hinted at. "Is that all?"

"I will give all the details to support my accusation if it is challenged." Rarity said.

Twilight turned to Applejack, who remained as still and unemotional as a statue. “You may address the chair with your response, in whatever (verbal) form."

“I've never, nor have I ever meant to, commit those crimes. I live as honest a life as I can.” Applejack said. “Though I won't lie neither, that I have hit Rarity and Pinkie Pie, thinkin' it was defending my honor."

"All comments will be addressed to the bench." Twilight repeated, louder. She turned to Rarity. "Mis Applejack appears to be contesting your account."

"I did not think much of Mis Applejack in our youth. We saw each other often enough at Ponyville's old school house. There is not much of a divide at all between ponies living in the village and those living in the periphery. However my family and family friends gently warned me away from Applejack and a few other ponies, and I was eventually to find out why." Rarity began. "The first precipitating event was ten years ago, when Applejack left Ponyville for Manehattan. Her brother, who I knew more closely, explained later she was seeking out her destiny."

“Objection, Lady Twilight, for relevance! And Hearsay!” Pinkie shouted. “And, she's leading the witness!”

Twilight knew Pinkie did have a point despite the annoyance. "Mis Applejack, if Rarity makes any claims that are outrageously false, which you do not want to stand until your general rebuttal, get my attention. Though broadly, trust that I'm intelligent enough to understand Rarity's bias."

After getting a nod to continue from Twilight, Rarity resumed the story. "From what I heard, in Manehattan Applejack stayed with the Orange family, local noteworthies and distant related to her. She was there to learn trades distinct from her Apple-bucking kin."

Twilight counted that as getting her attention. "Indeed Mis Rarity." She interrupted. "Before you go on, explain your relationship to her brother, who you say told you all of this.”

“Big Macintosh, was a dear friend of mine. I knew him only in passing when we were young, but came to know him much better more recently. I will speak on him more soon.” Rarity said.

Rarity coughed daintily. "Ahem. Anyway. I was told that Applejack was a fast learner under the Orange family's tutelage, acquiring all the Manehattanite ways for which they are so notorious: Social and political maneuvering, cutthroat buisness, fast enterprise, and most important of all never being straight about one's intentions." Rarity said. "Then, slightly less than two years ago, Applejack returned to Ponyville. Yes, Applejack spent NINE years in Manehattan. She was raised more there than here!"

Twilight glanced at Applejack. The farm mare certainly did not look like a pony raised in an industrious coastal city. Yet Applejack was still not interjecting. "Mis Rarity, while it is unusual for ponies to move from the city to the country, since the flow is usually the other way, free movement is legal between Free Cities under the laws of Imperial Immediacy."

"Of course. Applejack's family was very happy to see her, and she was happy to be back. Or so it seemed!” Rarity pounded the floor in emphasis.

Twilight was finding Rarity’s melodrama amusing, but she kept it to herself. “Please continue apace."

Though Rarity surely knew that Twilight Sparkle was the only pony she would have to convince of anything, she seemingly couldn't help herself but to look around the room as she spoke, locking eyes with each pony in turn. "The way Macintosh described it, I could tell Applejack had come back just to worm her way into her family and drive it apart. The poor colt didn't see it, and didn't understand why warnings, until it was too late. Applejack ruined her family's harmony, showing typical Manehattanite ruthlessness, and forced her brother and matriarch out of the village."

Applejack interjected for the first time. "You couldn't prove a bad word between my granny and me if ya had a thousand years. She left for the frontier on her own. 'Twas her passion and I had nothin' to do with it. Don't lie." She said firmly.

Twilight hadn't known there was an elder Apple. Applejack saying 'left for the the frontier' could almost be heard as euphemism if it were not a real thing; The southern border had vast lands and was decently fertile, so small towns had cropped up to furnish the garrison posts. Some modest trade had even begun with the unorganized deer, bison, and horse tribes of the south end of the continent.
"Address the bench, please, not her." Twilight chided Applejack. "Still..." She turned to Rarity, inviting a response with an arched brow.

“I have nothing further to say about Granny Smith, everything to say about Macintosh. He ran away before he could tell me, so I had to witness Applejack's villainy myself rather than through him. But why would my friend, a lifelong Ponyville stallion, leave so abruptly without a word to any of his friends? The pattern of behavior suggests, overwhelmingly, that Applejack coerced him!" Rarity accused. "With only herself (and her little sister) on the farmstead, Applejack could have done whatever she wanted with it. She could have even sold the farm to Manehattan cronies."

Twilight saw several leaps in logic there. "I'm not connecting the dots. How much of this is conjecture?"

"Well I- I can't be fully confident why she didn't sell the farm. Maybe she was foiled by other Manehattanites, as part of the endless schemes and rivalries in those trade cities." Rarity said, noticeably less confident. "I have laid out the reason that I hold such ill thoughts of Mis Applejack there. I have seen her act dishonorably and to associate her is to put oneself in ill repute."

"Yup, sure. Come up with any ol' reason why I didn't do something you came up with in your head in the first place." Applejack prodded at Rarity's hesitation. "Might think you're projectin' on me."

"For the last time, address the bench with your comments." Twilight stomped a hoof on the floor. "As I said, I am competent to hear words for what they are."

Pinkie spoke up again. "Where's Rarity's witnesses? Where's her submitted evidence? We're not cuh-razey enough to make a case just off a pony's individual testimony. Like, I'd get disbarred just for trying it!"

“Indeed I was going to raise the point. No witnesses?” Twilight scowled. “No empirical, corroborating evidence?”

"You weave a nice story at the very least." Twilight still somewhat was bothered by the fact that Applejack had contested almost none of what Rarity had to say. "Mis Applejack-"

The roadblock Twilight had feared, Applejack wasn't playing along any more. Her longshot, to find just the right word or phrase to get them to reconcile, couldn't even progress if the Ponyvillians stonewalled her.
Then, Twilight had a bad idea. She knew it was bad right away, but it still delighted her. "Applejack, approach the bench please."

"She gave her argument sitting." Applejack said flippantly, apparently having decided to be confrontational with Twilight. Twilight couldn't blame her, since she'd been tricky to get her there.

"You're refusing to argue. Therefore I want Rarity to question you as a witness." Twilight said simply.

“What? To be questioned by her?” Applejack was not immediately more outraged because she thought she had misheard.

“You have been taking snipes at Mis Rarity, so you should appreciate this forum giving you a platform for it." Twilight said. Basically, I'm going to hear your side of the story." There was an unspoken 'or else'. That naturally invited an 'or else what?'

Applejack begrudgingly marched her way to the centerline of the room. She had weighed the ups and downs of further obstinance and decided to play Twilight's game again.

Rarity, on the other hoof, stared blankly at Twilight. "You... want me to question her?"

However unlike Applejack, Rarity seemed to be much more comfortable making her remarks to Twilight rather than the mare she was feuding with. She sat in silence for another few moments. "I don't have any questions prepared.” She finally said.

Applejack guffawed. "C'mon Rarity, I ain't gunna hit ya. Ask me anything y'all care to, and I'll give ya the princess's truth. I ain't gunna hit ya. C'mon."

"Lady Magistrate I would have to spend some time on my questions." Rarity admitted.

Meanwhile Twilight was confused. Why was Rarity suddenly shying away?
She jumped up from her seat. "Fine." Twilight said. She was trying to sound firm but it likely came off bitter. "I'll do it myself." She began to pace in the middle of the room, smudging the chalk line she had drawn. "Mis Applejack, since I am now asking the questions, I will be expecting much more precision and truth out of you than if Rarity was. I will also strive to be fair to match."

"Then shoot, ma'am. I'll be a match for any unicorn's question'n." Applejack met Twilight's gaze.

But where to begin? Twilight could hold her own in contentious discussions on topics she knew thoroughly, but how could she scrutinize a pony about their own lived life? "You were born in Ponyville?"

Applejack nodded. “Yup. Only a few generations ago, my family lived up the valley. Now my 'stead is 'bout the biggest in Ponyville."

Relatively recent immigrants? Twilight did not know much of Ponyville's history, for when it was founded or otherwise.“Is it true you were sent to Manhattan as a ward of the Orange family?”

“The Free Cities on the coast hold a special place for the Earth Ponies." Twilight said.

Applejack shook her head. "Maybe for ponies on the Crystal River, or further downstream 's us. Some Ponyvillians got family in the cities. But no spiritual, cultural attachment, anything like that. Just places ponies live." Her eyes wandered to Rarity as she said this. "Like she said, it's was over a decade ago. I don't remember all my reasons, but it was my choice, goin' and comin'."

"Was Manehattan a difficult place to grow up for a young filly?" Twilight asked.

"Can't imagine t'was harder than your unicorn city, Canterlot." Applejack said. "I was with good family, in a big house. Sure there's ponies livin' hard there but I wasn't one of 'em. I grew up in an apprenticeship, not on the streets: Fancy mannerism, fancy vocabulary, backgammon, macrofinance.”

Many of the richer merchant houses lived as richly as any noble. Twilight even pondered the idea that Applejack had had a posher upbringing than her; If only for home life, for what luxury could compare to being schooled by the princess in her castle?

"Well I didn't do that kind of work nohow. I did book-keeping mostly. Lil' apprentice fillies don't belong in big pony buisness deals." Applejack said.

Some ponies would challenge the idea that fillies belonged doing book-keeping either. "And nothing of note happened? There was nothing you told your brother about your time in Manehattan that may have been interpreted a certain way?"

Applejack shivered slightly at the direct questioning about her brother. "Nope. Just returned to Ponyville after leanin' what I did. It was a year, half, and some change ago." Her tone turned wistful. "Yeah, I was away a long time. Ponies I knew from the school were... Well, we'd all grown, far away from each other."

Applejack lowered her gaze away. "If y'all want me to guess how he felt about me after I returned, don't. I've got nothin' to say. He was a simple stallion and didn't share much with me."

Twilight deeply related to fraternal estrangement. "She would know more. She would know him better."
No, now was not the right time to think about her, about Cadenza. Twilight already had too much on her mind to fall into the phycological hole of thinking about Cadenza again.

"I suppose. Rarity acts like he's the holy spirit talkin' through her or something." Applejack allowed herself a small grin for the clever joke.

"Who knows! If somepony does know, it ain't me." Applejack snapped back. "Could be Apploosa or could be Anterpwren. Ah'm not his parole officer. Ask his little confession buddy there."

"You are on the stand, Mis Applejack, not her." Twilight stomped the floor. She was in on the 'ground zero' of the interminable anger between the mares. "One of you is going to give me more information about what happened between the Apple siblings."

But nopony answered. Rarity remained subdued, Applejack was still angrily stubborn.

Twilight cringed suddenly, like she'd been hit. "Oh... did I get carried away?" She glanced over to Spike, who gave her a wobbly thumbs-up. "Ahem, uh, yes, Mis Fluttershy."

“I, um... don't know if galloping right into their trauma is the best way to solve it." Fluttershy said.

“There is a lot of emotional hurt that still weighs on them.” Fluttershy didn't look at Applejack or Rarity to confirm what she was saying, but Pinkie Pie, who was lost in her own thoughts, idly nodding along.
Filled with unnatural confidence, Fluttershy stood up and joined Twilight at the center of the room. "Rarity, I keep telling you that it hurt all of us when Macintosh left. All his friends, me, you, and Applejack too. You're not the only pony blaming themselves."
Fluttershy turned to Applejack. "But you two are the only ones lashing out, and it hurts everypony not just each other. Rarity might be cruel with her words, but punching ponies is probably worse. It doesn't even make you feel better, just brings everypony down."
Fluttershy sighed. "Macintosh left of his own free will. Applejack didn't force him. Rarity didn't trick him. You know, deep down, why he left, but you can't accept it."

Twilight was slightly awestruck. "I'm so silly. Why did I think I could solve this interpersonal problem on my own?" She said to herself.

Fluttershy wasn't done. "You did the opposite of solve it. Making Applejack feel persecuted, and making Rarity feel like it's her responsibility to prosecute it, only makes us feel worse."

While Twilight was comfortable with self-criticism, Fluttershy's words rubbed her the wrong way. "And yet you stayed quiet until now, letting it go on even though you thought you knew better."

Fluttershy whimpered. "It's not my place to tell ponies how to feel... most of the time."

"Spike, no, bad implication." Twilight chided him. "I think I get it now."
Applejack and Rarity, in a certain way, were reminiscent (vaguely) of Princess Celestia and Twilight Velvet. They were just headstrong controlling mares that thought they should be the dominant influence on the pony they cared for; And Macintosh was analogous to Twilight Sparkle herself.
While she was piecing together this comparison Twilight was struck by the dark thought that Celestia and Twilight Velvet may come to blows in her absence, as Applejack and Rarity had.
"Blessed are the peacemakers." She said to herself.

"You ponies seem to get it but I don't. Friends, even family, come and go all the time." Pinkie Pie said. "You love them while you have them, but you have to let other ponies have them eventually."

"Y'all're weird. You don't understand what family means." Applejack broke her silence to mutter.

Rarity concurred. "Have you never had a friend so close that their loss leaves you empty forever?"

“I... I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner.” Fluttershy apologized. “Sorry, um... I didn't know how to say it all until just now.”

Twilight felt like laughing or screaming. The petty drama just served to remind her why she usually avoided ponies. But what had she expected? She'd basically pulled ponies off the street, demanded they help her, and grilled them on their personal lives.
"I can't force you to get over your feelings, as much as I want to. I'm not a coping expert either."

Spike spoke up again. "Twilight, I've got a great joke. What if you mended the rift by decreeing them married? Wouldn't that be funny?"

"What's with you today Spike? I'm not going to do that." Twilight shook her head. "Though, it would be funny. I guess I have to admit I'm basically powerless here. I can't change how ponies feel. I can't force the prodigal Macintosh to return and help them sort it out."

A shock ran through the air, felt only by Rarity and Applejack. They locked eyes, a tingle down their spines at Twilight's hypothetical.

"Rarity, maybe we should talk by ourselves. I'm sorry I shouted at you... You can shout at me." Fluttershy returned to Rarity's side.

"No, dear, you said exactly what needed to be said." Rarity said, her voice emphatic, but a strange twinkle in her eyes. "I don't blame you for letting me live with this destructive behavior either."

Applejack joined in. "We ain't been as close as you and Rarity, but I've always respected you Fluttershy, and y'all done the right thing today."

Fluttershy could tell something was off. She looked around the room. Twilight appeared just as confused as her, while Pinkie Pie was lost in thought. "Um... But..."

"For all this time, we never considered how Macintosh would feel about us hating each other. If ending the venom to help a mare like Lady Twilight here would gratify him, I can do nothing else." Rarity said.

"Uh huh. Uniting to do something productive would make him plum happy." Applejack concurred.

Twilight was experiencing whiplash from how Applejack and Rarity were now agreeing. Besides, with all the emotion she was feeling herself, going after Fluttershy was a perfect excuse to get a few moments to sort through her thoughts. "Uh, Spike, could you hold down the fort? I'm going to go talk to Mis Fluttershy."

The afternoon has gotten much colder in the short time Fluttershy was in the Golden Oak. The sounds of music and dancing from the market square were gone. Gusts of wind pulled little eddies of leaves and dirt into the air. Storm clouds were building to the north, but it looked like they would stay in the north, skirting the valley as they headed towards Canterlot.

Although it was Twilight who had left the Oak to chase after Fluttershy, it was Fluttershy who found Twilight. The pegasus had meandered her way through town, while the noble unicorn had gone straight to the river bank.
And since Fluttershy had meandered, the strangeness of the events in the Oak had faded for her, and she felt calm. Twilight, however, was very tense, even though she bore a silly smile.

"That was my excuse to leave. I just have to think for a moment, where they're not watching me. Did I go too far? Gosh, I'm just... really awkward aren't I." Twilight laughed softly. "None of my attempts at humor are funny, and none of my attempts to persuade or convince come across as anything other than brash flailing. I guess..." She paused. "I guess you could sum it up by saying I'm making an ass of myself."

"You seem like a pony who does everything she can to improve where she think she's weak." Fluttershy consoled her. "You know, I have a brother too. My brother isn't as distant as yours and Applejack's and I miss him sometimes, but-"

Twilight interrupted Fluttershy with an abrupt hiss. "Hey, why are you assuming I have a brother." She said defensively.

"...Just about anypony can look you up. You're the Empress's student." Fluttershy said. "Your brother is an Imperial Guards officer. I would have heard of him even if I didn't know you were related."

"I thought Pinkie Pie was the one who lived in Canterlot for a while. But you're the one that cares about stupid Canterlot government personalities? Bucking outrageous." Twilight grumbled.

Fluttershy felt guilty for bringing it up. "I just guessed you two didn't have a good relationship. It's probably not even true, and, um, you're just angry at me for assuming it. I'm sorry, I'm not as good with body language as I thought."

Twilight sighed. "It's not just my brother. It's almost everypony in my life. Well, literally everypony, since Spike is a dragon. He has been by my side, while all the other ponies..." She sighed again. "While the other ponies do as Pinkie Pie said, 'come and go' all the time."

"My brother Shining Armor might be the only pony with a worse social life than me. So when a Canterlot floozie named Cadenza showed him the least bit of attention, Shining went crazy." Twilight said. "I had known Cadenza for a while. The whole affair blindsided me."

Fluttershy was so surprised she didn't immediately register Twilight's hostile tone. "You surely don't mean THE Princess Cadence! You knew the junior princess of Equestria too? But she's so reclusive!"

Twilight nodded “Yeah, of course I did. I was in Canterlot Castle all the time, and Cadenza started at the University around the same time I did. She was an outstanding student, I'll admit. A brilliant scholarly writer and a poet to boot. We competed for a couple of awards actually. We moved in the same study groups."

“Gosh! Princess Cadence is almost twenty two, and you can't be older than eighteen!” Fluttershy said. Clearly the pegasus had a greater fascination for the Junior princess than any other fact of Twilight's life.

"Those few years made things strange between us. We had a friendly rivalry as peers, but at the same time Cadenza was almost maternal with me. I accepted the treatment, because nopony else treated me that way.” Twilight gestured towards the north and Canterlot. “It took me a while to see that Cadenza knows how to worm her way into any pony's heart, first with me, then my brother."

“Toying! Manipulating! Cadenza nearly ruined all our lives with this pointless drama and... I get mad just thinking about it. It's been a year since I've even seen her. Is she avoiding me? It's a big castle.” Twilight sighed. “So I let this Ponyville stuff get to me. I wouldn't want to let a fraternal relationship to be abused, but I'm also cautious of manipulations.”

But hearing Twilight's story, to Fluttershy Cadenza sounded more like the object of the jealousy, like Macintosh, rather than the rival. Maybe the situations weren't comparable, and besides it would be treacherous to make assumptions just off Twilight's biassed perspective.

And speaking of treacherous. “I should probably tell Applejack and Rarity to pack it up.” Twilight said, getting to her hooves. “Then, it'll be time to get back to my business.”

“I don't think today solved anything.” Fluttershy said. “Despite what they say, the truth is going to take longer to take hold of them."

"How blessed are we that the truth doesn't actually matter that much. If through a combination of my coercion and your persuasion they act how we want them too..." Twilight affected an exaggerated shrug. "Hey, all I'm saying is that I'm fine if they only start fighting after I leave."

Fluttershy wasn't sure if she really liked Twilight that much. "Umm, I see that causing a lot of problems."

"Life is full of tradeoffs. Am I a little upset, with my mock trial falling apart and getting bad memories of my own dredged up? Yes, I'm a little upset. But it's not effecting my judgement, and I will be just as confident in my plans tomorrow as I am now." Twilight said emphatically.

Fluttershy wanted to point out that Twilight's judgement could well be compromised the next day too; that it was a fault of her framework, not her mental acuity. She stayed silent, unsure if the young noblemare was close to snapping at her for real.

"We all deal with overpowering urges in our lives, as part of being mares. Urges to do awful things and hurt others. But we are socialized into behaving in a civilized way. I can control myself. Everypony here can be taught to control themselves." Twilight ranted. It was unclear where the discussion was going now. "When danger is looming on the horizon, our species has adapted to make necessary sacrifices in order for the corpus equestrian to survive. The individual may die, the social body lives on."

"Um... We're still talking about a Summer Sun Fair, right?" Fluttershy asked gently.

"Yes, of course." Twilight said.
She beckoned Fluttershy to follow her, and they returned to the Golden Oak together.

As Twilight reentered the library she was nearly hit by a lamp sailing through the air. Applejack and Rarity were wrestling furiously on the floor, with Spike and Pinkie Pie trying to pull them apart.

Applejack, who had placed Rarity in a chokehold, released her opponent, who collapsed limply on the floor. "She- She started taunting me with that marriage idea!"

Rarity coughed and sputtered for a few moments. "As if I would find any appeal in a neavau family like yours, Apple." She said darkly.

Twilight saw Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy bristle at Rarity's retort, like it held some special meaning to them.

"I was just telling Fluttershy about the lesson we should be taking from the faux-trial I held earlier. A law professor once told me that the court is the most godly of institutions, where perfect strangers can have their differences arbitrated." Twilight said. "I might have hated that professor and his class, but it's not a bad idiom. We as ponies avoid using violence to solve all of our problems. We have institutions, morals, ways of expressing ourselves. We don't need to fight to have all our dreams realized."

"This ain't about dreams bein' realized! This is about Rarity bein' a bitch!" Applejack pointed at the wheezing unicorn.

"And I will apologize in good order, for the purpose of shared ambitions." Rarity said.

Twilight clenched and unclenched her jaw. Maybe Fluttershy was right, and nothing had actually been solved. She stared off into space.
Was she awash on tides out of her own control? It stung, it really stung, for Twilight to consider that she had absolutely no control over the situation. With her unwanted promotion, her exile from Canterlot, and now this, Twilight was feeling like more and more of her life was just sweeping her along.
Would she be thus powerless in the face of the Nightmare Pretender? What hubris, to imagine she could alter the course of fate in the least! She would be swept along just like all the ignorant ponies who hadn't seen it coming. Her wit and knowledge mattered for nothing.
So, Twilight wondered, what good was any of it?

Twilight silently made her way to her chair. "The chair can adjudicate if necessary." She said, in a slightly defeated tone. "And you can do whatever you want after that."

Applejack brooded with brow knitted, and Rarity closed her eyes. Pinkie Pie bounced up to Applejack and whispered in her ear, then did the same to Rarity.

Applejack trotted up to Twilight. "As long as it's not from her, I'll take the beatin' I deserve."

"Just because I never participated in any childish roughhousing like you or Shining did doesn't mean I don't know the fundamentals of brawling." Twilight said defensively. "My historical warfare class has a lot of lessons-"

"Yes, hit her already so you can deliver a stinging rebuke upon me on her behalf." Rarity chimed in, a hint of sincerity mixing with her sarcastic tone.

Despite them seeming to defer to her, Twilight felt like she was still just on their ride. "No, Rarity, you will get yours first, so you can go fetch your pattern and drafting equipment."

"Okay, first how about you drop that 'magistrate' buisness. I'm no servant of the imperial administration. I'm equal to that whole institution. I'm above it." Twilight pushed up on her hooves. "Rarity, you and all the other ponies here look the same from my height, so actually you should drop that whole nobelesse affectation, acting like you're better than your fellow villager."

Twilight wheeled around around and smacked Applejack with the back of her hoof. Applejack yelped and fell backwards, more surprised than pained. "Can't wait your turn, fine." Twilight said. She felt mixed shame and satisfaction with her effort to assert control.

"Do you think I'm not up to the task? If you were listened to your friend Fluttershy maybe you'd be a little wiser and a little less hubristic. Some self-awareness would go a long way." Twilight said. "I have hardly seen a pony whose ambitions so outstrip her ability and position. I actually think you'd do well in Canterlot since you'd get a reality-check pretty fast, and you could start living in realty. As it stands in Ponyville, you could use some time serving somepony else for once, instead of everything being about you."

THAT hit Rarity much harder. "If only you knew..." She repeated, much more somberly. "just how much I serve."

"You're wack, and your sense of style is tacky!" Pinkie Pie chipped in. "Okay, that's enough Rarity-abuse. Let's not push things, okay?"

"Naw, let's push things." Applejack snickered. But after a nudge by Pinkie, Applejack relented, and just nursed her inflamed cheek.

Fluttershy had not said much since coming back from the riverside. Everypony was being reckless around Twilight Sparkle, getting dangerously close to saying something they shouldn't. It wasn't funny, and made Fluttershy very anxious. Like, what if Twilight Sparkle was there under false pretenses, and was actually there to investigate something? Then again, Twilight did not have the temperament of an infiltrator. She seemed like she wanted to be nice but was too quick to get annoyed.
Still, Fluttershy did not want to keep having to get involved to keep the Ponyvillians from blabbing to or angering Lady Twilight.

"I was just expectin' to call her fat or somethin'. Still I don't think y'all's words got her near well as Fluttershy's." Applejack said to Twilight.

"I could spare a word for you if you'd like, since I thought brawny country ponies were supposed to be the boisterous banterous types. Maybe not in Manehattan though." Twilight said.

"Yeah well, I'll take your swing any day and show you how a real mare perseveres." Applejack grunted. "That's all farmpony."

"Yeah Twilight, you didn't wind up that slap at all. Were you watching when Applejack hit Mis Pinkie? She put her whole body into it." Spike said.

"Enough talk about hitting. We're through with hitting each other. Violence is hereby abolished." Twilight insisted.

"Sometimes a pony just deserves a good kickin'." Applejack chuckled. "The day goes, God guidin' my hoof to 'em, knock'n'em back to to right ways."

"Has that worked out for you so far? Has anypony acted better because of it?" Fluttershy asked.

Pinkie Pie shook her head. "She's right Applejack, Ponyville should be a peaceful place. That's why I'm here!"

Twilight stomped her hooves. "Enough! Cherish that slap Mis Applejack because that was the divine princess acting through ME, the very concept of violence kissing you goodbye."

"Pshh, I'd nearly rather kiss Rarity goodbye." Applejack said sourly, unhappy everyone was ganging up on her.

Rarity returned with a satchel full of paper, pencils, protractors, rulers, and a dark blue sweater to fend off the cold night air outside. "The court is over, and the planning committee begins, n'est pas?"

"Yes, the reasons I bother with you ponies. The reason I've been breaking my back trying to ingratiate myself!" Twilight began levitating all the chairs and tables back into their proper places. The chalk line on the floor had been all but erased. "Only half-joking. I need your help getting Ponyville ready for the Summer Sun Fair. Disappointment, substandard-ness, and failure are not an option."

Twilight shook her head. "Maybe for you mares. For me... l'héraut n'y passent pas. I might as well run into that big forest. I'll have nothing for me back in Canterlot if I screw up."

The mention of the 'big forest' made the other ponies tense up.
"You mean the Everfree Forest." Applejack said.

Twilight nodded. "Yeah, thanks. I forgot the name. The Everfree. Might as well run into the Everfree. I'm saying hermit isolation or dead."

"Not dramatic enough. You shouldn't joke about the Everfree." Rarity said. "There is a reason no farms extend across the river."

Twilight looked around the room and saw all the mares nodding to what Rarity said. How was this the one thing they all agree about? "Sorry, I didn't know I crossed a line there." She sat in the middle of the room, beckoning everypony toward her. "Please, please, let's just work on my Ponyville project."

“Can you name it something else? There's already a PP here.” Pinkie interrupted. “Me.”

“I don' think anypony will mistake you for an architectural project.” Twilight shot. “Rarity, please please bring your draft, to show everypony here.”

Rarity obliged, taking a wad of drawings from her saddlebags. Twilight spread them over the floor. "You couldn't help yourself, even when you played coy with me."

"Uh huh." Twilight cast an eye over the designs Rarity had drawn. There were cute renditions of the Ponyville cottages, spruced up, upgraded with better materials, archetypally cheerful with potted plants and marks on the doors. Lamp posts. More sturdy market stalls. New streets with intricate patterns in the pavers. Several new buildings on the edge of town near the clinic, a mix of the rustic style, classical proportions, and gothic details. Rarity had done several versions of some of the new buildings, experimenting with different styles. "Just a little spare time." Twilight cleared her throat. "Could everypony step outside for just a moment. I need to think on these."

With some odd looks and a few mutters, the other ponies filtered out of the library, leaving Twilight and Spike.

"Spike." Twilight said, subdued. "Could you please make sure none of them leave."

Spike had been mostly on the sidelines for the whole trail and fight. Concern for Twilight was etched on his face. "Are you okay?"

Twilight nodded. "Do you want to be more involved? It's going to be a lot of pressure."

"I promise, it's enough for you to be here for me. I appreciate everything you do." Twilight said. "Go on then, and keep the newlyweds apart."

Spike reluctantly left her side and left the Oak.
Twilight started at the air between the drawings spread out on the floor, and infinity. "The command I had over them... With words and violence... I did it. What I was just dreaming of, I made reality. My command over other ponies. It was harder and easier than I thought. I..." She hung her head. "What a bitter lesson, Princess. Next time I see you, Celestia, I will command you too. I might even slap you. I hope I'll be strong enough to survive how you slap back.." She expelled a pained breath. "I will drive these mares onward, just like I'll drive Celestia to face down that Nightmare. What other hope do I have for myself. I am fast losing hope in redemption on my own terms."

“... and I must reiterate, this situation is well in hoof. Let it not weigh on your minds at all, nor annoy you, nor Sun forbid, tempt you. We have control." Fancy Pants said to the assembled advisors. “This presumptuous attack on her highness's power is, at best, a stillbirth disturbance. I foresee no issues attritting it to its permanent abolishment.”

The Imperial Council had been assembled as Fancy Pants had ordered, but many of the minor functionaries were scrambling for answers from the higher-ups. They had gathered in the hallway outside the meeting room, peering in through the cracked door to listen in on their superiors' discussions.

"You're playing a double game here, Vizier Pants. You want to frame this Blackhorn prince as both threatening and contained." As always, Prosser was the first and loudest challenge to Fancy Pants's statement. "This pony might be the topic of all Canterlot gossip and rumor right now, but we are in a castle, and he is not. We have the Household Guard, and all their swords and guns, and he has a few hobby clubs. So please elaborate on this massive Blackhorn threat, which you simultaneously say is contained."

"It's obvious this Seacrest figure is a fake. He's just the lightning rod to anti-imperial sentiments. Already they are skirting the boundaries of illegality. As the latest Blackhorn movement invariable becomes treasonous after attracting all the city dissidents, I will have free rein to crush them." Fancy Pants asserted. "So you see, the more dangerous, the more easily crushed they are. No challenge to Princess Celestia's sovereignty in Canterlot will be tolerated."

Another councilor spoke up. "Arrest them now then, Vizier, and quit causing us anxiety. What would the princess say if she were here? You'd be reprimanded for letting things get this far."

"Bring back the Lightdowser candidate for the viziership." A councilor joked, and a few ponies chuckled.

Fancy Pants went red-faced. " I am a servant of the princess first, but I am also a shepherd to the rule of law. I can not crack down on ponies who had done nothing illegal yet."

"If you can not act in the empire's best interests and destroy this latest Blackhorn, you are more slave to the rule of law than a shepherd." A councilor rapped the table, evoking a conflicted chorus of agreement and disagreement.

Prosser, after listening to the talk around the table, raised his hoof again. "What if this movement stays in the confines of the law? What if they carry their message not through revolt like you expect, but into the Estates? After all, isn't the Black Horn Council, Bluebood, Fellowship and their misfit band of Speakers the behind this?" Prosser asked.

"Don't be coy- I know you were there when Frie Fellowship's passing was announced." Fancy Pants retorted. "And yes, the timing of his death and his club revealing a Blackhorn pretender is not lost on me."

Prosser shook his head. "So don't avoid my question. What if the Blackhorn choses to chase legal power? How far can they get? Sir Pants, my advice, either stamp this out now while it's in a grey area, or regret it later when you become the one outside the law."

"Come now. They have no chance in the Estates." Fancy Pants scoffed. "Besides, There is absolutely no chance they those thuggish idiots don't resort to violence once they realize how pointless their 'peaceful' option is. We are in a game to goad the other into crossing the line. If they attack first, the sensible moderates will revile them. If we attack first, the moderates will give them their sympathy. Just as their danger will give us victory, our impatience will only betray us."

Prosser wasn't done though. "I'm telling you Pants, if you sit on your hooves, you will allow time to the Blackhorn movement to legitimize itself. If those 'moderate' ponies come to believe that there is a viable alternative to Celestia for Canterlot, then it will follow that their rhetoric of tribal segregation and general obnoxiousness will also gain legitimacy. Let that take root, and you have a generation of problems for yourself. There is no holding together a city that hates the rest of the world around it."

Fancy Pants leaned to one side, resting his head in his hoof. “A time and a place for everything, even for justice.”

“Justice is a very subjective thing, my dear Lord Pants.” Prosser shook his head. "Is letting Canterlot become infested by unicorn supremacists justice? Are you going to be able to protect the tens-of-thousands of earth ponies and pegasi in this city, when they come under attack because you couldn't stop one demagogue?" He tapped his head, emphasizing his lack of horn. "By idleness you will let the Blackhorn define justice. Then we will going to loose support from the other tribes."

One of the councilors guffawed. "That's why we keep this stallion around. Always ready with the worst case scenario, eh Councilor Prossor?"

"No, I'm sorry to say I'm giving you the best case." Prosser said firmly. "Fancy Pants, why aren't you talking about Velvet's role in this?"

Fancy Pants looked to the other advisors, who did their best to avoid his suddenly icy gaze. "Why aren't I indeed. All of you, leave us at once.” He said, and the other councilors immediately shuffled out of the meeting chamber.
Struggling with his weak telekinesis, Fancy Pants shut the door to the nosy apparatchiks outside.

"You were outmaneuvered by sheer audacity. Give Lady Velvet her credit, Sir Pants. You were powerless against this move of hers." Prosser said.

Fancy Pants stood up and trotted over to Prosser, and hovered over him. "You think you are a clever pony, but you are proven as ignorant as I. What help were you against Velvet? None. So what good will you be against a Blackhorn? You can't speak for how the tribes will think and act. You speak for nopony but yourself." He said, the dangerous twinge in his words of a pony with his pride hurt.

"Okay, maybe it is stupid of me to invite a blame-throwing contest. We are victims of consecutive unforeseen circumstances. This time, we came out the worse. Perhaps Lady Velvet will lose out next time, and we regain initiative." Prosser said. "But if Velvet gets lucky a few more times in a row, I foresee an axe, a rope, or a gun with our names on it."

"Bah! Luck! You made your doom-riven rant on conjectures about luck?" Fancy Pants hissed.

Prosser threw his hooves up. "It is the best I can do right now. Perhaps if I look a little closer I will discover how this fits into that mare's grand design, as part of a plot so clever to conceal its intentionality. Now that would be truly frightful!" He said. Under these circumstances, luck is the least horrible explanation."

"Foe to luck. An empire was not won by luck. My viziership was not won by luck. I will not now lose both because of luck." Fancy Pants said scornfully.

"You would be very angry with me if I said that our future rests with providence and luck, because we are too incompetent to save ourselves otherwise." Prosser prodded. "Go fetch Princess Celestia to save you, just like she elevated you. Go rally the Earth Ponies and Pegasi to your side, just like you did to beat out Duke Lightdowser for the viziership. Surely you haven't lost the spark, Sir Pants."

"Insult me all you like. It will be fine comfort if your prophesied dystopia comes about, earth pony. Instead of degrading me, you should redouble your support for me. " Fancy Pants said. "Get yourself out on the street and shout your adoration in the same soprano, overpowering those Black Horn Council fools."

"You would get more use out of me if you gave me one of those fancy new guns the IHG have and point me at the Old Town." Prosser said, turning more obsequious. "I will do as the Vizier and princess ask, as is necessary. I've made my predictions clear however."

"I may get that gun, Prosser." Fancy Pants said. "I have proclaimed my love for the princess's rule of law, and I did not lie. That does not mean I can not make a nudge to ensure the law and justice are on our side. Then I will happily see that trigger pulled, and the Blackhorn unicorn supremacists wiped away."

Prosser thought in silence for a while. "You are underestimating Twilight Velvet again. She is no supremacist, and no scheme of yours will put her on the wrong side of that gun."

"More likely that she point it at me? No, Velvet has betrayed me, and revealed her foolishness in doing so." Fancy Pants shook his head.

Prosser stood up. "I know you have been collecting information on her, and if I know, she knows. From her perspective you are plotting a strike against her and Twilight Sparkle."

"And thus you wonder at the horror you've invited on yourself! On us!" Prosser batted at Fancy Pants's shoulder. "What will the princess think if she finds out you're scheming against her First Student?! Ham-headed oaf!" Prosser circled the table, shouting into the air. "Fatuous knight. Ignorant serf. No simpleton in history has caused as much peril to ponykind, as you! As you, Sir Pants, while you stand there smugly!"

"Continue to act so hysterically and I will have you detained for your health, Councilor Prosser." Fancy Pants said. "The Princess has her reasons to adore her former student, Lady Sparkle. It is my job to mitigate the harm. That is what I have been doing, and will do, when I reassert the dominance of the Imperial Administration. The First Student, the Chateau la Garde, and the keys to Canterlot, will preform their best once they are accountable."

"Accountable to you? Idiot. Rest assured I will not be sharing a grave with you, Vizier. In trying to be clever you have been massively un-clever." Prosser continued to rave. "The princess's continued absence from court, the very thing which has allowed this Blackhorn problem to spring up, is now the only thing maintaining the stability of the government!"

"Then you understand, exactly as I do, that WE are the beating heart of stability in Equestria. Those scurrying bureaucrats, the wrinkled generals and admirals, the dusty ideologists, and the bore nobles all count for nothing." Fancy Pants said. "From its unification by the princess, to now, the Equestrian Empire rests on strength of personality and pony. It is not too different if it is the princess or myself, or even you Councilor, despite your squeaky voice and lack of horn."

"I'm clearly not laughing." Prosser sniffed. "But if any strong and capable personality could work, then let's put Twilight Velvet in charge. That way you get the deep voice and horn too."

"You heard me. Cede the Viziership to Twilight Velvet. She gets the power and position she wants, the security for her family, and will be forced to distance herself from the Blackhorn. Additionally, the pony who threatened her, you, will have been tossed from power." Prosser expounded. "She will be inside, spitting out, rather than outside, spitting in. Equestria will be saved."

Fancy Pants was stunned into silence. Prosser's suggestion had a logic to it, and Fancy Pants struggled to think of an airtight rebuttal. "What if..."
If Velvet were vizier, her wits and cunning would serve the empire excellently. Further, she would presumably have a good working relationship with First Student Twilight Sparkle. Fancy Pants almost saw a reflection of his own rise in that possibility, of a petty Canterlot noble rising to Imperial heights in spite of greater noble resistance. "She is too arrogant. I would almost be tempted to do it, were I not afraid she would begin putting her face on the coins instead of Princess Celestia's." He offered unconvincingly.

"Velvet hides her ego better than you do, Pants. Just moments ago you were comparing yourself to the Princess." Prosser chuckled. "My my, a Twilight Velvet viziership would be run almost too competently. There wouldn't be anything funny happening."

"Except for the aforementioned gun being pointed at me." Fancy Pants muttered.
Forgetting the implications across Equestria, Fancy Pants dwelled on what a Twilight Velvet viziership would mean for him personally. If he did not want to end up proscribed and dragged through the mud so Velvet could secure her administration, he would have to go into exile, probably to Trottingham or some other colony. He would spend decades as an advisor, administrator, or noble bum, until the next coup let him return to Equestria so he could scrounge for power for the rest of his life.
What was 'good' for Equestria was not good for Fancy Pants.
"No. No. I will not retreat from the challenge. The princess may retire from court, for she has more than earned respite from the suffering of governance. But I have no tower to watch from. My place is on the frontlines."

Prosser groaned and sat back in his chair, rubbing his eyes in exaggerated exhausted dejection. "Only in times like these, when I see the boss doing something monumentally stupid, do I even remotely wish I were in charge of this mess." He looked back to Fancy Pants. "But insulting you won't change your mind. I won't even have the satisfaction of your anger when it is set against the backdrop of unparalleled terror."

"Terror? Councilor, ours is a backdrop of inevitable triumph." Fancy Pants said. He was getting more and more convinced of his own words. Any doubt fear, or resignation he shared with Prosser was pushed away.

Prosser was completely silent for several long minutes.
"This isn't the end of this conversation, Pants. I... I could probably negotiate a power-sharing agreement with Lady Velvet. She might even accept a governorship or viscounty. Whatever it is, it's essential to make her feel less vulnerable by being a part of the system. As long as she is outside of the system, she will attack it relentlessly."

"Negotiate however you wish. I'm a fair pony. I told you, I take no pleasure in imagining a battle with Lady Velvet, only in rule of law. The Blackhorns are the natural enemy of the empire, not her. I may even wish to speak to her myself." Fancy Pants nodded, his undeserved confidence nudging him to be more lenient. "It is not solely Velvet who wishes to be more secure, Councilor. On this matter, all ponykind may sing in chorus."

Prosser rose from his chair again. "I'm done with this for today. I see you coming around tomorrow, or the day after. You'll go pray for a while, or read a book, and the truth will suddenly dawn on you."

Fancy Pants rolled his eyes. "Make time in your schedule to see the princess tomorrow with me. It is by her light that we will find out what is truth, and what is not."

Prosser seemed satisfied with that. "Okay Pants, okay. Have a nice afternoon. Sorry for calling you names." He trotted for the door. "Just try not to deserve it so much."

Prosser left the meeting hall, leaving Fancy Pants to clean up and collect his papers. It would have been the work of the functionaries had he not ordered them away.

Fancy Pants checked the time. The running time for his argument with Prosser had been cutting it close, but he could still make his next meeting. He hurriedly beelined for his office, arriving just before the hour.
Exactly on the hour, there was a knock at the door.

Lyra entered, scanning the room for danger, before stepping to the desk.
“Sir.” Lyra bowed. “You passed us in the halls. Is everything okay?"

"Hmm? Yes, just fine Mis Heartstrings, just fine." Fancy Pants coughed and readjusted himself in his seat. "Wait, 'us'?"

A hooded earth pony mare entered the room and stood beside Lyra. "Yes, Sir Pants. ” Lyra gestured to the hooded mare. "I have a full dossier to present. From there, we can proceed to the next stage of your operation, if you wish it."

Fancy Pants rubbed his temples. He wished he had more time to think. If Twilight Velvet really did know that he was scheming against her, and that was why she had thrown in with the Blackhorn prince, Fancy Pants could reach a rapprochement with her by stopping the scheming then and there. But at the same time, if conflict with Velvet was inevitable, the information, dirt, or leverage Lyra could provide could be of vital importance. He needed any tidbit he could get a hold of if he was to stop her.
But how did Velvet know of the scheme in the first place? "Did you see Councilor Prosser on the way here?"

"No. I am not sure." Fancy Pants kicked away his chair in his haste to get to his hooves. "Let us find another place to talk."

Lyra was confused but obeyed, following Fancy Pants out of the room. Should not the solid marble walls, thick wooden doors, and magic-aided construction thwarted all eavesdroppers?

The three ponies quickly moved down the halls of the upper castle keep, using a less-used staircase to descend into the lower keep. Without the princess's active presence, there were less visitors and less guards. The vaulted high-ceilinged halls echoed with the whispers of ponies hundreds of meters away, while enormous tapestries and banners fluttered in the soft wind coming in through the massive front doors.

Fancy Pants led the mares past a squad of patrolling Imperial Household Guard, to another quiet staircase to the castle sub-levels. The grandeur of Canterlot Castle shifted form again, for it was majestic and grand in the upper levels, truly dauntingly spectacular in the main halls, but uniformly solid in its deep foundations in the plateau bedrock.

Fancy Pants's destination was not that deep however, an unassuming door in a broad torch-lit passageway.
"Few ponies come down here. We should have ample alert if somepony is approaching." Fancy Pants said.

But when Fancy Pants pushed open the door, somepony was already there. The room was filled with storage frames of beakers, flasks, alchemical equipment of glass and brass. Prosser was in the middle of the room, pulling a stopper-bottle full of glowing green liquid from a shelf.
"Oh?" Prosser turned around. "Hello again. Come to talk already?"

Fancy Pants scowled and pushed Lyra and the robed mare back into the shadow. “Prosser! What are you doing here?”

Prosser wiggled the bottle of green liquid, seeming to regret it when the bottle began to glow more fervently. "Clearly I am in need of some of this. Please don't let me get in your way though.”

"Planning to send a letter to somepony?" Fancy Pants snarled. "Who?! Sparkle has that dragon twerp I know can receive dragonfire messages. Do not play around with me Councilor."

"Vizier, please. It is for an old friend of mine who lives in Trottingham. A monk. It has nothing to do with anything." Prosser placated.

Fancy Pants hesitated, then felt foolish. "Then... Restrain yourself from using royal dragonfire stores. This alchemical equipment is for imperial use."

"Boss makes a dollar, I make a dime, so I send letters on imperial time." Prosser whistled.

"I- We will talk about this later." Fancy Pants backed up and closed the door again. He turned to the mares. "Yes, ahem... it's usually empty." He considered leading them all the way back to his office, since he now knew were Prosser was. "But there is a place even less frequented than here, further on. The trophy room."

They went into deeper and darker hallways, down stairways, through the deepest levels. The columns and thick walls they passed by were the under-foundations of the mighty castle above. The marble here was rough and cracked, not polished and smooth like the halls above. Very distant echos could be heard, shouting, yelling, screaming, probably from the imperial dungeon located somewhere connected by a dank passageway. Ahead of the ponies old firefly lanterns were spaced infrequently along the path, casting haunting long shadows.

Lyra and Octavia hung back from Fancy Pants, conversing under their breath.
"I am uneasy about this. Imperial work is supposed to be secure and reliable, but this feels like tunnel scrounging below Guild work. Something is wrong." Octavia whispered

Octavia frowned. "I wish Vinyl were here. You should have pressed Mistress Phyte more to release Vinyl to your care."

Lyra felt like she had some liberty with Octavia since she had already agreed to the work. "I respect her work, but you are all I need for this. I do not wish to have to manage her if I do not have to."

Lyra was annoyed. "You were looking forward to Phyte killing Mis Vinyl not one day ago. Now you wish she was free, and taking your work to boot. You are in a terrible relationship with that mare."

"I won't deny that." Octavia said. "We had a lot of special moments, long ago, spending uncountable hours together in dark places like this. When I was at the hideout with her yesterday, I was hoping we would find a drink somewhere and reminisce about all the crazy mischief our group got into. But she is not... not capable of sitting still. In her nervous distraction and boundless energy, she is still a young mare. I feel like crone beside her. I can't help resent her at times, but be captivated at others."

"I hope her return comes out for the best for you. Some feelings need to be confronted." Lyra offered.

“What a load of rubbish. I could have lived a decent life if she stayed away like she was supposed to.” Octavia huffed. “Every time I think of her, I taste bitterness. It's pitiful." She hung her head. "Yes, over the years I wished she would come back and I would discover her to be a better mare than me. That wish was so selfish, thinking that she could come and improve me from these humdrum prospects of a Guild Mare starting to lose her touch. But no... Vinyl is what she is. That fantasy, the only good thing in my mind about her, is bitter too. There is no saving either of us."

"Don't link your future and hers. Let's focus on the moment. We have work ahead of us to think about." Lyra insisted.

"She will dance forever, in madness most likely. She is a force that can never die. Exile did not improve her. It was selfish of me to imagine for moment that you could either. You're a capable mare, Lyra, but not that capable. You can't move mountains." Octavia went on.

It was clear to Lyra that Octavia was descending into a deeply depressive mood, her mind fixating on Pon-3. It was somehow easier to obsess over one mare than all the other issues around her.
Lyra didn't really know what to do. She had never had a friend as close or as special as the mares had been.

Fancy Pants led them farther, to the catacomb-like vaults of Canterlot Castle's 'Trophy Room'. While the upper levels had many displays of art and history, no single building could have contained an empire's spoils. Out of sight of visitors, treasures awaited the princess who had plundered them. The three ponies passed by racks upon racks of ancient artifacts: Armor, weapons, jewelry, mounted animals all slowly decayed in the low light.

Fancy Pants stopped beside one of the massive support columns running through the space. Above them, a few particular artifacts were on display.
Lyra's eye was caught by an absurdly large broadsword, steel with a pommel embedded with jetstone. It hung beside black lacquered armor bearing a symbol she did not recognized: A white triangle with a smaller black triangle inset atop it.

"Very fitting that we stop here. This set of armor is thousands of years old." Fancy Pants nodded to the lacquered armor. "That sword is even older."

"Quite right." Fancy Pants nodded. "The unicorn princes of Canterlot would go into battle wearing that. They were said to be nearly invincible in battle. They could survive any stab. They could rend any steel with their broadsword. They were the terror of Central Equestria until, of course, they weren't anymore."

"We are lucky none of the Blackhorn pretenders since the unification had this armor I guess." Lyra joked.

"Quite. We stand among the testaments to Princess Celestia's enduring victory. This is the legacy that we are called upon to uphold." Fancy Pants said. "Mis Lyra, you may proceed with your report."

“I have the comprehensive history of house Twilight, as requested- I have transcribed liberally from all the archives in Canterlot.” She reached for her saddlebags.

Fancy Pants waved her off. “Nevermind the long version. Convey the most important points which, in your view, I must know about the house Twilight."

Octavia fiddled with the fringe of her hood as she waited for her role to be brought up.

Lyra still took her notes out of her saddlebag, skimming through them before she spoke again.
“House Twilight began as a moderately poor house on the Prance and Friesianland border, subsisting on land granted by the Duke of Calcia. Though the histories have been lost of those dangerous times in Griffany, there are some secondary sources which suggest that the house Twilight or "Crepescule" in the tongue, was ill regarded for its secrecy. They came to Equestria in the early 900s SS , though whether they were later banished by the Prench king or if they came voluntarily is unclear. The family establishing themselves in Baltimare and then moved here to Canterlot several generations ago.”

“Sources suggest the founding matriarch was from an unknown foreign state, beyond even Griffany. Maybe Saddle Arabia. Maybe the hippogryph theocracies. The husbands the matriarchs took were usually from Bidet or Charolai pony houses. So ethnically they were Prench, though considering their lands I would speculate they were entrenched in Ardennai and Trekpaard culture and tradition.”

“I am not a pony that puts much stock in blood. Let us advance to something more pertinent.” Fancy Pants said. “Continue.”

“Not much else to tell about the family itself, sir. They were completely inconsequential here in Equestria. It was not until Twilight Velvet's marriage union to Night Light of house Bright that anypony ever took notice of them. Ironically that union sounded the death of the house, since their extremely tight successions left no cadet branches.”

"I suppose I should say that there is no house Twilight anymore, sir. There's only house Twilight-Bright." Lyra explained. "That's to say, it would be wise to consider the Bright family as well as the Twilight family."

"We know all about the Brights. A wilting dynasty. You can count them on your four hooves." Fancy Pants snorted derisively. "Duke Foaly Flux presents no threat, nor do his surviving nephews. Only Lord Night Light has the wits to be an accomplice to Twilight Velvet."

"I can not be sure it is as you say, Sir." Lyra bowed her head. "I do not know if there is anything I turned up about Twilight Velvet which is not already known to you. Her mother was a socialite but died on a hunting trip when Velvet was a young adult. Lady Velvet married soon after but did not have children for several years. Velvet worked as a rector at the University, before leaving on her own terms shortly before her daughter began to study there."

Lyra shook her head. "Not in the records of the city, monastery, or Canterlot presses. However some ponies wondered if her mother had been killed by a jealous suitor. Nopony knows who Velvet's father was exactly."

"Not really." Lyra said. She paused. "However, I have a theory of my own. I suggested it to one of the monks, and he rightly said it was unworthy to speculate about it. You see, there are hints that her ancestors in Griffany used magic to conceive their children."

Fancy Pants balked and Octavia cocked her head. "What are you suggesting?" Fancy Pants asked.

"I suggest nothing, sir. I simply float the wild idea that Lady Twilight Velvet was not born in a natural way. It is only a rude jest." Lyra said.

Fancy Pants chewed on the implications. "What a mad grasp! So rarely is illegal Dark magic like that even brought up, for the resulting creatures are so... horrible. I could not even imagine how Canterlot would react if I attempted to prosecute the unholy spawn of such magic."

Lyra worried she had done something very foolish by bringing her idea up. "Sir I must emphasize that I spoke nothing beyond a joking conjecture of mine. There would be no way of proving it."

"There must be. Whether the truth lies in Velvet's person or a scrap of paper, it can and must be found." Fancy Pants pointed to Octavia. "We will find out, Mis Lyra. Lady Velvet's secret nature could be the leverage point to allow me to push back her Blackhorn puppet and destabilizing plots."

"Sir how far are you willing to go on- on- frenzied speculation?" Lyra asked, now very much regretting her earlier words.

"Infinitely, should it serve us! Twilight Velvet thinks she can destroy me with a fake Blackhorn? I will show her. She can enjoy being on the defensive about horrible rumors about her mother and father. The public would be benefitted by being thus informed." Fancy Pants said. "We are in a silent war with her. Yes... Prosser was right. We have to strike while the air is grey." He pointed to Octavia again. "We whittle away at her agents. She will come to me for a bargain, not the other way around. Death to spies, I say."

"Sir-" Lyra was getting a headache. "I can not interpret an actionable order from what you are saying. If... If you wish to suspend this meeting and we may formulate a plan later-"

But Fancy Pants heard echoes of Prosser's smug recommendation in her words. "You think I need time to cool off? You think I am not thinking straight? You all think I'm no longer fit to be Vizier."

"I would not dare even contemplate those slanderous things, sir. I am a servant and seek to render the best service to you and the empire. It is for that sake I speak." Lyra said.

Fancy Pants was unconvinced. "Assassins and agents provocateur benefit from strife and social disharmony. All the oppressed masses, the ambitious nobles, the hungry packs of dissidents, would see their chance in the disintegration of the social and political order!" He said angrily. "Without the strife and hardship of our founding years in the Frozen North, or the endemic war of the pre-unification, Ponykind has had too much luxury and freedom. We have forgotten what it is like to have discipline! The social forces who are supposed to be supporting the governing order fight against us."

"You have more friends than you think, sir. We are all mired in doubt and confusion for the future, but there will be a clarifying moment that pushes ponykind to make the true choice. Sir vizier, I do not doubt they will chose as you desire." Lyra continued to speak, mollifying the ranting stallion.

"No, ponykind is addicted to lies now. Because... the foundations of the Equestrian order are to some degree lies as well. I see it, I live it, as the guiding hoof on the ship of state. There is no benevolent charter of peace and wisdom to this empire. From the moment our great founder, Celestia I, ascended back to heaven, and the next manifestation of our Sun princess descended to rule us... We have been caretakers of a degenerating ideal." Fancy Pants's anger turned to moping. "How can a zombie empire hold up against the furies of Blackhorns, Twilights, and the captivating whims of an absenteeist princess? I'm just one stallion, with disloyal advisors, disloyal agents, and no escape."

Octavia spoke up, her voice tinged with annoyance. "Grand Vizier, I am impatient for your orders. Lyra brought me here to receive a job, not to be told what you think I desire."

"Then go destroy Twilight Velvet, and prolong the contradictions! Let's drag out this battle between lies and their consequences forever, until every light dies away. I do not wish to dwell on the contour of the lie anymore. I will live it fully. There is my order! Kill! Immediately!" Fancy Pants said irately. "If Twilight Velvet is a real or fake pony... What difference does it make in the face of the big lies. Either her lie will win out, or my empire's will."

Lyra had no intention of following that order, or letting Octavia do so either. Fancy Pants did need to cool off. Everything was too confused and pressing, especially for a stallion with so much already resting on his shoulders. "I will investigate the necessary preparatory work, sir vizier." She said. "There is nothing to worry about."

Fancy Pants relaxed. running a hoof over his brow. "I am not worried. I see a path ahead for us. After our victory, when we are cut lose from clear enemies and friends, that is the time to worry. Is it not so? We are all fake ponies in those blessed times."

"Who's there?" Fancy Pants shouted towards the sound.
Octavia and Lyra reached for their concealed weapons.

With the echoing architecture of the trophy room it was difficult to pinpoint the direction and distance of the interloper.
Then, a clatter of falling relics sounded from nearby, then the shattering of a firefly lantern. The released fireflies buzzed past Fancy Pants and Lyra.

A voice from the shadows. "None more fake than I? Right? Isn't that what you yearn to admit?" A warm feminine whisper came from the other side of the column.
The interloper stepped around the stone pillar, two ponies tall, with her eyes, mane and tail glowing softly.

The massive equine, a shadow against the backdrop of the against the dim firefly lanterns, laughed softly. "Oh yes! It is your princess. The most fake pony of all, the sovereign from the heavens" Her voice was light and twinged with humored irony.
It stepped forward. Rather than the pale white coat of Celestia, the alicorn towering above Fancy Pants was a deep blue, with shining turquoise eyes.

"...Celestia?" Fancy Pants gargled, wide-eyed. He could not comprehend the figure before him.

The deep blue alicorn laughed. "Even the top ponies of the realm have been kept out of the secret? You've all forgotten the alicorn of lies? She would be furious."
The alicorn sauntered behind Fancy Pants, grabbing his shoulder with a hoof.

"Hmph." The alicorn shook her head.
A black wind whipped around the alicorn, buffeting Fancy Pants and making him yelp. All the firefly lanterns throughout the trophy-lined catacombs began to dim even further, the little bugs dying and winking out.
When the black wind dispersed, Octavia and Lyra were face to face with Pon-3, holding Fancy Pants in a headlock with a hoof against the stallion's neck.

With a twirl, the pony-disguised creature yanked Fancy Pants backward, making him bounce against the stone pillar and fall to the floor. "You're a silly pony. Could a changeling do this?"
It twirled again, and the black winds kicked up, heralding another dark transformation: A small black-furred earth pony, eyes glowing brightly, wearing a frilly maid's dress. The broadsword on the display rack hanging pendulously above Fancy Pants was torn from the wall, levitating over to the dark pony entity on a cushion of Dark magic.

“She has no horn, but she does magic?” Octavia whispered to Lyra, her teeth biting down on the dagger in her mouth. They fanned out cautiously, standing on either side of the creature.

"This is Fancy Pants, vizier of Equestria, right?" The dark pony asked, reading a reply in Lyra's expression. "Just making sure I have the right stallion. He's handsome, don't you think?"

"You're outnumbered. You can't possible escape. Surrender yourself and we will ensure the utmost leniency." Lyra said, growing panic in her demands. Fancy Pants was barely moving, his eyes fluttering open for only a moment as he tried to recover from being tossed. "The vizier needs capable agents. We can... We can call this a successful job interview."

"Lyra! Lyra, how did that thing know Vinyl's shape! How did it know we would respond to it?" Octavia said, as panicked as Lyra was.

The dark shapeshifter clucked her tongue approvingly. "She's right Lyra, how did I know? Did I eat your friend?" It laughed tauntingly.

Fancy Pants stirred, sitting up a bit before resting himself against the pillar. "Are... Are you the peril my princess has been searching for in the southward skies?" He asked weakly.

The dark pony shook her head. "Not even close. I'm just a carefree girl getting her kicks." She smiled sinisterly.
Lyra and Octavia watched helplessly as the black-furred mare drove a leg into the side of Fancy Pants's head with enormous force. What horrible and unnatural strength! The vizier was sent tumbling, colliding with the armor rack which collapsed on top of him.

Lyra was immobilized by shock. "Sir Pants!" She screamed, anguished. She knew a fatal blow when she saw one.
Fancy Pant's body lay very still, buried above the waist in the pile of wood, glass, and metal.

The dark shapeshifter shuddered in delight. "Your friend, Vinyl, has had her deadly dream fulfilled. And it feels... so good." She howled like a satisfied beast. "Witness my sacrifice to you, MOON."

“W- What have you done?!” Lyra sunk back on her haunches, unable to tear her eyes away from her murdered master.

Octaiva jumped forward, perhaps sensing an opportunity. But the dark mare still had the broadsword in the grasp of her telekinesis, and cleaved a wide ark just in front of Octavia. Octavia retreated, just being missed twice more.

"Ha ha ha ha!" The dark mare laughed, smile pulled to unnatural proportions, and her mouth was filled with sharp teeth. "Maybe this is your job interview. Show me what you've got, ponies." In a rush of sickly black magic, a horn took appeared back on her head. In another swirl, the horn was gone but a pair of wings graced her back. With a sweep of her wings she was launched up onto one of the display racks. She kicked the priceless artifacts away as she paced its length. "Look at me! Witness me! I am alive again and I can do anything I want. Try and stop me this time, ponykind."

"Lyra! Lyra get up!" Octavia's eyes darted between Lyra and the abominable pony. "We... we have to get out of here!"

Wiping away a tear, Lyra silently stood up and picked her sword back up. "The stars above..." She let out a pained breath. "I understand the inconsolable bitterness you spoke of, Octavia. I already know it's a feeling I'll be holding on to for a long time."

The dark pony grinned even wider, somehow. "This turn on the earth has had more impact than my last. With any luck, by the third I will be immortalized by my wake of grief and woe. Do you envy me yet Moon?!"

Lyra charged and bashed the base of the trophy rack the dark shapeshifter was alighted upon. The rack began to fall over, and the dark pony toppled backwards, flapping her wings uselessly. A bare second before she collided with the ground along with the rest of the rack, the black mare dissolved into an acrid mist. She reformed a moment later, standing upright, with a sour look on her face.
"Good show, Lyra." She bounded forward, grappling with Lyra and pulling her to the ground.

But it only made the creature laugh harder. "Can you really call yourself a killer, being so weak?" A swirl of dark magic, and she had assumed the form of Fancy Pants. "You've disappointed me for the last time, Lyra. Ohh, to think I ever though highly of you. I'm disgusted with myself. I wish I could tear out my eyes for ever having laid eyes upon you." The voice was not quite right- The shapeshifter was too delighted with her own mockery to make it match. "You will die as you lived, a disappointment."

Lyra screamed incomprehensibly, stabbing the visage of Fancy Pants through the side of the head. That stunned it long enough for Lyra to pull herself backwards over the splintered wood and glass, that she could stand up again. She shivered and wept, now having to look at two brutalized images of Fancy Pants.

"Oh yeah... I'm fucking getting off on this." The shapeshifter cooed. She stood up and, deeming Lyra harmless, turned to Octavia. "Why didn't you intervene to save your friend? I could have choked the life out of her, and we'd share the delight of her last moments."

"I'm not afraid." Octavia lied. "I have seen many ponies die, many by my own hoof. But I do not revel in it."

"No wonder your dear Vinyl resented you, deep down. I tasted her dreams; I know her thoughts." The dark mare transformed once again, returning to the shape of Pon-3. "How pathetic you are! You lack the guts to stand up to anypony. Strong ponies walk all over you, and you're powerless to stop our excesses. Thusly, the excesses are justified! Miserable ponies like you will always suffer the whims of the strong, and the triumphant conquerors loath you for your weakness. That's why nopony hates ponykind as much as an alicorn princess." She contorted and grabbed Lyra's sword with a hoof, still skewering her head. She played with it a bit, sawing it back and forth while she lolled her tongue. "Wish this could be you?" She purred laviciously.

Octavia wisely stayed silent, cautiously circling around to Lyra. "Run. You're no good disarmed."

"Hey, no need. I'm done here." The shapeshifter said, suddenly chipper. Her shape returned to that of the black-furred mare. Was that her natural state? "I was only expecting Fancy Pants, but you two have been... exhilarating. I have to explore this feeling more. I..." She smiled in blissful contentment. "I'm so happy I'm back."

Octavia shifted her dagger back to her mouth. "I swear, if it turns out you hurt Vinyl-"

The dark mare interrupted with a sharp giggle. "Her pain is yet to come, and yours too. Give her a kiss for me. From Iillor, with love."
With a smirk and a burst of black smoke, the shapeshifter's profile dissolved away. The haze of her presence darted away into the deepening shadow of the catacombs.

Octavia waited in a guarded stance for another few minutes, checking every avenue of approach. When she was sure the dark creature was truly gone, she returned to Lyra's side. "This is not good, Lyra."

"No, a Nightmare. A dream monster." Lyra said. She shouldered Octavia away. "We were the last ponies anyone saw with the vizier. All those ponies in the grand hall saw us. The councilor got a good look at us too. That Nightmare... That Nightmare could even go raise the warning while disguised."

"For all it matters, we just killed Grand Vizier Fancy Pants." Lyra took a steadying breath. She scooped her sword up, examining the black ichor coating it.
She had just survived an encounter with an abyssal terror from Equestria's past, as ancient as the artifacts around her. Ponykind had been spared the terror of the Nightmare onslaught since the unification. Had there been warnings in Fancy Pants's words?
"It's time to leave. Start thinking of things to pack. We might be gone longer than Mis Vinyl was."

When the Everfree Burns

by SpiritDutch

Chapter 4: Bloodied Lords