Fifty years since the reappearance of the Crystal Empire. Fifty years and all is well. Technology and magic advanced to become practically interchangeable. A stranger on the street confused by the whisking of screens, letters, and numbers. He wonders what the stallion could be doing there on the bench, alone, muted and contemplated. The old train station he stands in now a museum of what once was. An echo of simpler times when the skyline was always clear. The stranger moved along, idly tending to his cleaning duties for the night. The stallion hurriedly walking out the door, as if he were late, but not for something entirely immediate.
The stallion talked to a screen, translucent and in light blue glow. He spoke to a mare of the crystal breed. Only her portrait was visible to him, they talked of meeting for dinner. Before long, their chat ended and generously, the stallion quickly helped another pony with a leg problem. The pony's hind leg burdened with a birth defect, but managed by the wonders of innovation. Onward the now enabled pony went on with little effort. Entire limbs once disabled, now enabled thanks to the wonders of science. Understandings of complex anatomy down to the cells that drove every movement is now only a matter of quick research and personal will.
A gathering of citizens interrupted the stallion's route. They crowded around a storefront selling fresh, last minute wares for the upcoming parade. A tradition in the Crystal Empire founded a year after its first Equestria Games. The stallion politely shoved his way through, apologizing along the way. Crossing through narrow street after narrow street and the smell of the air changing after every other bakery and restaurant. From chocolate and coconut to orange and apple. Ignoring his glutton stomach, he carried on to his home beside a small lake east of the empire's castle.
He loved it there, at the shore of Three Stones Lake. A serene place with it's shallow, rocky bed full of stones that never eroded. The tides still no matter how full the moon is. For whatever reason, it has denied civilization its secret and remained quiet for as long as time could imagine. There is no legend to match its mysterious nature. Only the clear water to peer into and wonder about the world or the decisions one can make. As if the stones empowered thought and meditation.
The stallion stopped at the single bench facing the fogging lake, recalling a short memory with his once loving wife, then leaving to go into the coffee shop nearby. He greeted his daughter by the entrance, the same mare he'd been talking to before. The physical presence of the two before the front doors of the coffee house was like saying farewell to an old, trusty friend. One that always gives and never expects a return. Passing through lives as if it were a wanderer making lasting impacts with only a smidgen of words and at times, a hushed breath.
With a burdened look the stallion waited until his daughter finished some papers before closing. There, locking the doors for the night, they exchanged a final conversation about nothings and a light joke to lift the solemn mood that had set in the stallion's heart. Storing his key away in a digital compartment, he and his daughter headed home. It was only a stone's throw away if you were any good.
Along the way, a familiar figure passed by the two of them. Another stallion, not much older than the father, quietly waved as they crossed paths. The older stallion's home wasn't much further. However, this older stallion was relatively new to the area. Having only moved to his northern home. A small lakeside cottage with room for three. He lived alone there, quite content with it, in fact. Even if the recent blizzard made the wind bitter and harsh and the temperatures drop like an anchor overboard.
Unlike the younger stallion, he didn't fancy many of the newer gadgets. The most he had was a small implant in a foreleg. Other things were forgetful, but still had their use with the smaller tasks. Fishing and splitting wood, reading and writing. He approached the front door, pressing a small set of buttons in a specific order. Not minding the snow and ice that quickly numbed his hoof. The door unlatched with a notable click and he slowly shoved it open. The creaking of the hinges a refreshing sound compared to the wind.
Hanging up his coat and sparking the fire. He fetched his writing tool of choice and flipped through an unfinished book of sorts. He stared and read the last words over and over again, trying to finish what remained in his mind before writing it down. As the fire dimmed he fetched a short glass of whiskey from a bottle whose label had been peeled away. He lit a candle and took a drink, followed by a sigh. Blankly staring out the window, the full moon dulled by a single then sheet of clouds. A halo of color surrounding kept his gaze for a moment.
Turning back to his book, he pressed a button on his hoof and out came a stream of magic that encapsulated his favorite quill. A tip fine-tuned to his liking with a small white feather sun-stained. A couple strokes marked the start of a letter just before a desperate, heavy knocking heaved at his door. Surprised, he waited a moment, the rasp came again, only lighter than before. Pushing himself away from his work he meandered over to the door and peered through the peep-hole. A cloaked figure, lied on his porch. He opened the door, the cold wind battering his face. A quick glance around proved that the stranger was on their own.
He pulled the stranger inside and grabbed a few blankets from his back closet at the end of the hallway. Threw more wood into the fire and stripped the stranger of her cloak. He looked her over before covering her up. A half-blooded unicorn; hooves and snout crystal, the rest of her bearing normal fur. Set her bags and bracelet aside too. Finely crafted down to the microscopic lines that funneled information and the metal used. The bags were the same, fine stitches with no signs of slacking or breaking anytime soon. However, the latch that kept the bag closed looked like something had been burned off of it. The smell of scrubbed metal wasn't unfamiliar to the stallion. He wondered but quickly shook the thought.
He watched over her for the rest of the night, keeping a single cup of coffee warmed. He hoped the smell might wake her. Part of him hoped that she'd head back home, wherever she came from. The other part hoped that she didn't die. She wasn't in the cold for long, but some ailment could be afflicting her as well. If there is, hooves crossed that it wasn't contagious. What would bring a mare this young to seek shelter from the cold this far out?
He sipped his whiskey, thought upwards of twenty-odd things, he counted, or more on what to do with her. Then he recalled a memory, a conversation worth noting about one of the princesses of the Crystal Empire. One was a shut-in, keeping to books and studies. Hiding in public with plain-clothes to avoid royal duties and nagging from her family. A little peace and quiet to help her study. He shuffled his thoughts for awhile, trying to get back to his writing. The mare drawing him away with every shift of the blankets. Drove him close to madness, the urge to shake her awake or strap her down just to keep her still ran rampant.
In one of his small annoyed fits, he gazed outside. The bay window becoming blinded by increasing snowfall. He let out a chilled breath and drew himself toward the fireplace. His mood leveled and he looked to the mare one more time and glanced at the cup he'd left on the table, moved and half-empty. He smiled, almost unwillingly, relieved that she had waken up and at silently thanked his kindness. His eyes suddenly felt heavier then too with some worry over the mare gone, she was alive, at least. Slowly and surely, his mind drifted off into a world not unlike his written work. A strange world that gave him either nightmares or pleasures alike. A place of rational thought and dumbfounded wonderment. Most importantly, a source of inspiration.
Then a loud crack snapped him awake, with the bright winter sun pouring light through all the road-facing windows. Last night's memories quickly came back and a glance around showed that the mare had stayed, reading through an oddly familiar book. She glanced up at him, quietly and apologized. He told her it was okay and made a simple breakfast for the both of them.
He bit into his toast, remembering the same conversation, and this time, a name. “So... Princess Kyanite, correct?”
She stopped the fork before her mouth, perturbed. “I made sure that no one knew... how?”
“Rumors, dear.” his graveled voice forever parched by whiskey. “Folks love gossip, more so if it's a pony of your status. I hear you don't like running about the castle.”
“That's true and don't call me dear, you are not my mother. I suppose you want a reason?” He nodded. “I'm tired of that life.” She had a faint power in her voice, not quite commanding, not yet.
“So you ran off in the dead of night... I reckon you don't want to go back.” She nodded. “I've got an old thing for ya then. I'll get it after breakfast here. I'll talk something over with a friend of mine too. I'd rather not have you laze around all day.”
“I understand but please... don't tell anyone.”
“That'd defeat purpose of me tellin' ya what I just said, ya goof. Once you're done eatin', wait in the living room. I'll be in there in a moment.”
Kyanite had looked into his history: nearly a year of residency, regular customer of the nearby coffee shop, an author with waning popularity, and best of all, the crowds would be gone. Rumors, he said, while slightly accurate, she never imagined what others thought of her reclusive personality. She wondered how rumors from the castle could reach their way out here. Lost in her thought, she wandered into the living room, sat down and stared mindlessly into the dim fire. A source of heat hardly anyone relied on these days. A stallion who preferred hard work and the methods of old? Sure he was a unicorn but he use of magic seemed... minimal.
A door swung open, her absentmindedness snatched away. The stallion came out from the hall that held the living room and dining room together. He produced a small piece of jewelry from a hard, cushioned boxed. Blue with white ribbons forming diamonds held down by short flat-headed pins of the same color. He opened the box to reveal a white chained necklace. A blue opal stone set in a centerpiece resembling a dragon's claws standing on top of the stone. An aggressive and lonesome thing.
He frowned as if the sight of the thing bothered him. He flipped the centerpiece around and turned a minuscule dial, rotating the clawed stone around. Looking more like a flower whose petals haven't grown apart yet. “Simple thing, really. Works like a glamor spell. Only effects the wearer. Used it a lot back when I lived in Manehatten. So hard to move around there without some attention. Got tired of using that and that's why I moved north here.”
“Exactly what will this necklace do?”
“Change yer coat, adjusts the irises, hoof color, mane and tail, what have you. Only catch is no species changin' and it can drain your magic a bit. It does need a power source of some sort.”
“Hrm... is it completely random or can I choose?” She eyed the stone closely.
He scratched his head and grumbled a few words incoherently before speaking clearly. “There's a mirror in my room I had made to work with it thanks to an old friend. Good guy, he was. Anyways...” he got up from the chair and stretched his forelegs. “follow me.”
“This... isn't a trap, is it?”
He sighed, “Kyanite, if I had wanted anything from you, the first thing I would've done is tie you up. ” He continued on without glancing back, making his way up the stairs. She cautiously followed behind, preparing a small spell should he betray what small trust she had with him. His bedroom door creaked open.
Everything in the house worked that way. Made of older stuff, raw materials instead of forged metals out of a factory. However, like the mirror, the house had little hidden gems stashed away in specific spots. Hard to see unless you knew what to look for. The stallion had collected them throughout his years. For a princess, such simple materials only half a mystery and half a wonder. Her home was nothing but crystal and stone-work. Furniture was made of incredibly light-weight steel or carbon-based material.
Before her mind wandered on more comparisons, she was before the mirror. A silver slate framed by dark red wood. Full-sized and alone, propped from the back on two sets of legs and feet. Its angel adjusted by a long rod spanning the mirror's width. The stallion sat on his hind and held the necklace out toward her. Grabbing it with her magic, she hesitated and gave him a a short glare. He raised an eyebrow. She took a breath and put it on as the mirror sprung to life and a flash of light took her over.
The stallion smiled. Her blue coat turned to a dark green, white crystal hooves to a crackled brown, ice blue eyes into bright green, and her beautiful long flowing mane of the deepest blue with a single white stripe changed to a dirty blond. Her tail took the same route. Shortened both parts as well, but her bangs still hung in front of her eyes where little brown freckles crossed between them.
The magic fizzled off the tip of her new tail. Kyanite spun around, looking over it once, then again through the mirror. A faint hum came from the thing, waiting to be used. To the stallion, the mirror begged and he instantly knew she'd do nothing. Her reaction and long pause told him that much.
“This... is good enough. I'm surprised. I thank you for your hospitality, mister Deckle but I'll take my leave now.”
“No, you won't. The necklace only gives you a costume, you'll need a new way of speaking. An accent, changing mannerisms, and your walk. You also have nowhere to go. As it stands you'd likely freeze to death in this weather. Plus ya likely don't know how to live in the wild. You have yer books with you as it is.”
He was right. “I yield, Deckle. What should I do, then?”
“Work. Panna owns the Three Stones Coffee House nearby. I don't doubt you've done yer research already, have ya?”
“Just you.”
“Ah. Well then. I'll call 'em up and ask. I'm sure he can take another employee this time of year.”
“That so?”
“I wouldn't've mentioned it otherwise.” Deckle quipped.
Deckle crossed passed the single bedroom window closed by thick, dark purple curtains and to the old fashioned phone that sat on the nightstand next to the bed. One-by-one he pressed the buttons in sequence, varying pitched pings with each until he held the corded receiver to his ear. An awkward silence filled the room, weighted and stiff.
“Hey, Panna, it's Deckle. Listen, a kid came into my house last night. Bit lost from the looks of things. Was wondering if you had a position open.” A quiet jab came through the speaker. “Yea, she is. Unicorn too, so that should help.” Another pause and smile. “She's a little roughed up. Think she escaped some bandits or something.” A short belated babble. “That sounds good. Tomorrow it is, see you then.”
A solid click followed the last word. “Bandits! Are you out of your mind!?” Kyanite yelled. “How would that even pass as a solid story?”
“First, relax. You know I'm a writer of the very fictional and fairly realistic type. Question is, can you act the part?”
“The part of what?”
“I don't know yet, honestly.” Deckle humored. “We'll figure it out.”
“For your sake, I hope so.”
“Nay, know, not hope.”