The Stranger and Her Friend

by TheUrbanMoose


IV: Castle in the Mist

The dream seemed to last forever.

And why shouldn’t it?

She screamed in frustration as the chromatic wasteland around her never settled. Or, at least, she tried to scream. Her face was scrunched into an angry focus, and her mouth was open, but no sound came out.

There was a face. Familiar and foreign. It gazed at her with pity. She screamed at it. Or, at least, she tried to. The unstable visage of another appeared. It gazed at her with pity. She tried screaming, and failed again. Another materialized, and another, and another. She silently screamed at them all.

I do not desire your pity, she tried to say. I desire your names.

Among the anonymous multitude, there was one face she knew. It was the only face she knew with certainty, both in there and in the waking world. Lieutenant-Commander Lucky Break. His face was the only one not painted with pity. Celestia thought she might take comfort in seeing something different. She was mistaken. Displayed upon his face was an expression of the utmost betrayal. She was taken aback. She did not scream at this face. She pleaded with it. She could not remember what she spoke, only that it was apologetic and desperate. He began to fade.

Don’t go! She cried.

He left anyways.

The rest remained silent, just like they always did, until one by one, they vanished along with him. They were replaced by… something. A shadow, seeming to move just along the horizon, could a dream have such a thing as a horizon. Though she could not see it clearly, and it did not make any kind of threat, something about it invited a violent fury into her heart. She feared it, but more than that, she hated it. It was the cause of all of this.

She hated it.

In the distance, she heard an earthquake. She did not care.

Hatred.

Hatred.

Hatred.

**********

Celestia woke with a startled, panicking gasp. Her breath was quick and heavy, her chest rising and falling in time with her ragged, uneven panting. She was lying uncomfortably on her side. She figured she must have been moving around a great deal last night, because she was thoroughly tangled in Lucky’s borrowed cloak.

She took a moment to lay her head back down, and collect her thoughts. It was just a dream, she told herself. Just a dream, and nothing more. Celestia focused on bringing herself back to reality, concentrating on what she knew as real. There was not much to draw from, but it seemed to work. Her breathing quieted, and her lungs did not draw so much air.

She still remembered the anger, though. The absolute fury she had felt. That she still felt. She tried to recall a reason for it, but after a moment of mental examination, she concluded that she had either forgotten, or that there simply was no reason at all. She hoped it was the former. She feared it was the latter.

Celestia wrestled with the cloak and managed to free herself. She stood up, adjusted and readjusted the cloak and clasp around her neck, and then quickly lowered herself to the ground again after experiencing an intense head rush. She waited a moment for the stars in her vision to pass, and stood back up, looking around.

The fire had turned into a pile of black ash, having long since gone out. She still saw some embers at the base, gently glowing in their last hour of life. She looked a little further up, and recognized a basin of flattened grass where Lucky Break had slept. He was nowhere to be found.

In the distance, she heard an earthquake… except it was not an earthquake at all. Lucky had chosen a spot just off of the path to stop for the night. What she heard was the wheels of a wagon being drawn down the rough, cobblestone road. She brushed past some trees and jumped out onto the trail, just in time to see an ornately decorated, heavily built carriage being pulled by a team of four armored stallions.

It was a small distance away, due to pass her in seconds. She thought about running, but they had already seen her. She tensed up, as her eyes locked with the guard that seemed to be leading it. It was drawing closer and closer… the stallion opened his mouth…

“Mornin’,” he said politely. He and his team rumbled by without another glance.

“O-oh. Good morning, sir!” Celestia called after him after he had already passed. He did not respond. She shook her head. The remnants of the dream had left her tense.

She was about to return to her makeshift camp, when a side window of the carriage swung open. The transport itself did not stop, but from the open window emerged the head of a pony. Celestia could see it was a female earth pony, and probably a teenager. Her coat was a pleasant shade of teal blue.

She wore a distant expression of curiosity. Celestia awkwardly waved to the young mare, who only stared in return. A few seconds passed, and the carriage moved around a bend and out of sight.

Celestia shook her head. What was that all about?

“That was a royal carriage,” spoke a voice from behind, nearly making Celestia jump out of her skin. “Where was it going, I wonder?”

She wheeled around to see Lucky Break, armor on, saddlebags over his back. Before Celestia could recover from the scare and respond, he continued.

“I thought I saw… Who was that pony? A friend of yours?” he asked. Realizing he meant the filly that had stared at her out of the window, she responded.

“No,” she said, “I have no friends, remember?” Celestia had said it without bitterness, but she could have sworn she saw Lucky recoil at the statement.

“Oh?” he said nonchalantly, “Am I not your friend?” He did not wait for a reply.

“We'll leave soon,” he continued. “I have only a few more errands to attend. Stay close, I’ll be back soon.” He began to walk back into the forest. “Don’t go flying off on me!”

Celestia scoffed. As if she could.

She froze as a sudden thought struck her. Or could she? She hesitated, watching him walk back into the forest. Should she? Lucky would be none too pleased if she did.

That sentiment alone struck a chord. “I can fly away if I want to,” she murmured.

She waited until Lucky had disappeared behind the foliage. She cautiously unhooked the clasp on her cloak, and let it fall to the forest floor. She stretched her limbs and arched her back, shivering at the pleasant pain of stretching muscles. Then, she deployed her wings.

They still felt foreign and out of place. Celestia gave them an experimental flap, just once on either side. She felt a tiny amount of lift underneath her, and a few of her snow white feathers fell loose. There was no way it could be that hard, right?

She flapped a little harder, and then again, and again. A steady current of air pressure swept away dust at her feet. Finally, she stopped holding back, flapping as hard as she could. She could swear she was about to take off any moment, but she never did. Her wings eventually became tired, and she stopped, retracting them. An enormous cloud of dust hovered about her.

Maybe I just need a running start? she thought. She looked warily at her bandaged leg. It was still swollen and bloody. She gingerly moved it about, experimenting. I can do it.

Celestia stepped out onto the exact center of the trail, trotted in place for a moment, testing her injured step. It seemed okay, better than yesterday at the least. She inhaled a lungful of fresh, springtime air.

She started with a quick forward trot, which became a solid canter, which became an all-out gallop. She winced every time her sprained forward leg hit the ground, but tried her best to ignore it. She extended her wings. In the same motion, she jumped and flapped them as forcefully downward as she possibly could.

The pressure pushed her into the air. She was flying! Celestia took a moment to revel in the joy of being airborne, for a moment was all she had. The next instant, she was on the ground, looking up at twin copies of Lucky Break swaying above her.

Her vision was swimming, her head pounding, and her ears ringing. He said something she could not hear.

“What?” she asked. Her own words were slow and sluggish.

"When I said I wanted to try your plan of finding Canterlot,” he repeated, “I was joking.” His voice seemed to echo and ring in her ears.

Eventually, his dual image snapped together, coming into focus. She tried to come up with a clever response, but could not. She merely groaned in reply.

“C’mon, get up.”

She rolled over at the behest of a gentle nudge to her side, and with Lucky’s help, stood up. She swayed in place for a moment before regaining her balance. She blinked a few times, and the world came into focus. Lucky’s green cloak drifted onto her shoulders, and she absentmindedly hooked the clasp around her neck.

“If you’re done training for the Sky Guard, we need to go,” he said. “Dusk will see us at the gates, but only if we hurry. Oftentimes, they close at night.”

Celestia nodded absently. He began walking at a quickened pace, which she dreamily followed. It was another few minutes before Celestia was able to keep up, much to Lucky’s frustration.

“Did I do it?” she eventually asked, still dazed.

“Do what?” Lucky asked impatiently.

“Did I fly?”

“You certainly fell, that much is sure.” He chuckled. “An alicorn who cannot fly. I suppose the tales of your race’s power are false after all.”

“So… I didn’t fly?” she said, disappointed.

Lucky hesitated for a moment. “When I came out onto the road,” he said, “you were galloping like a lunatic. After that, you jumped and sort of…” he trailed off looking for the right word. “You hovered for a bit, and then nosedived into a tree.”

She was not sure whether she felt pride or embarrassment. Embarrassment, she decided. Lucky sensed her disappointment, and seemed to have a brief internal struggle over what he should say.

“It was a valiant effort,” Lucky finally managed, begrudging encouragement in his tone. Celestia smiled timidly. “Just keep in mind, valiance does not stop concussions,” he added after a moment.

That was perhaps the first compliment he ever gave her, hesitant as it was.

**********

Another uneventful day passed as they traveled. Lucky Break led Celestia on a forced march to Canterlot, only stopping for the smallest amounts of time to drink and eat. If Lucky was at all tired, he did not show it. Celestia, on the other hand, had a harder time keeping her composure. Her leg pulsed with a great, rhythmic beat of pain that only seemed to get worse as time went on.

Still, she did not let her composure break, and she did not ask for reprieve. Long after the sun had set, they were still walking.

“We'll be there soon,” he said. Celestia could do no more than nod her head in exhaustion.

“Since it is dark, they may have closed the gates,” he continued, “I’ll do what I can to convince the guard to open them, but be prepared to spend another night under the stars.” Another exhausted nod.

The ground was wet, and had the trail not been set in cobblestone, they likely would have been marching through mud. They had entered the mist, which still hung heavy in the air, but was gradually dispersing as they got closer and closer.

Another half hour of walking in the foggy moonlight, and it finally dissipated. What Celestia saw was breathtaking. Castle Canterlot.

The fortification was enormous and awe-inspiring. Even by the dim light of the moon, it practically radiated with an aura of the most overwhelming majesty and intimidating security. The inner structures were carved straight into the mountain, and the outer structures hung securely over the cliff side.


The stone material of the buildings glowed with a magnificent white brilliance, even in the pale moonlight. At the forefront of it all was a gatehouse, preceded by a huge moat that ran straight off the mountain in the form of a waterfall. In fact, as Celestia took a closer look, she realized the river was diverted in several spots to run through the city, and exited in several waterfalls.

Visible over the massive, luminescent stone walls, turrets and towers jutted proudly into the misty night sky. Beneath them were huge stone buildings. Nearly every single structure could have been a fortress unto itself. Many of the structures were connected with bridges and skyways, making the whole place seem like one cohesive construction.

The whole place was an amazing feat of engineering and design. It was exactly the kind of thing that inspired the utmost confidence in the kingdom of Equestria, almost making one believe that victory was assured. How could it not be, when this magnificent castle stood testament?

“Canterlot,” Lucky Break said, motioning to the castle before them. “Or most of it, anyways. There’s a few homes scattered here and there outside of the castle.”

“Wow,” Celestia murmured.

The gatehouse was only a half mile away. Emboldened by their proximity, Celestia’s broken stride took on new meaning, and hobbling forward, she pulled ahead of Lucky. He did not stop her.

They came closer and closer. Celestia began to see pegasi working far above the city to move some of the larger clouds away. Moonlight glinted and shimmered through the gentle mist that still hung in the air, giving the whole place a feel of heavenly etherealness.

Behind her, Lucky cursed as the gatehouse came more clearly into view. “The bridge is drawn, and the gate down,” he said.

“How do we proceed?” Celestia asked, drawing her gaze toward the moat.

“We can't, unless you want the moat to sweep you off the mountain,” he answered. “Still…” He tapped a hoof to his chin.

“Could we not catch their attention on the other side?”

“…Perhaps.” He continued walking, as did she.

Another ten minutes, and they reached the end of the road. There was a large, uniform scuff mark where the wood of the bridge met the stone of the road when lowered. They stopped.

Celestia looked curiously at the turrets of the gatehouse beyond. She thought she saw a shadow move inside one of the tower windows. Lucky scowled.

“Hail, gate guard!” he shouted. “We beg passage! Our hooves are weary and our mission is dire!”

There was no response.

“Hail! Canterlot!” he repeated, shouting with increased vigor. “We beg passage! Our mission is dire!”

His echo made the following silence seem even louder. Some of the weatherponies stopped their work and looked down curiously at them. Lucky growled in frustration.

“Bah,” he growled. “They deny us passage. Come on, I know somewhere we can stay-”

His words were caught in his throat as he let out what Celestia could only describe as a strange cross between a gasp and a hiccup. Lucky’s tail gave a sudden swish, and his head a sudden twitch, tiny but noticeable. His eyes were wide.

“Wha-?” Celestia began, but was cut off as Lucky suddenly and violently hit her with a full-bodied charge and tackle.

“Get down!” he shouted with the urgency of a warrior in mid-battle. It was immediately followed with a wheezing grunt, as if something had knocked him breathless.

“What are you doing?” Celestia cried, confused and panicked. “Get off of me!” She was underneath him, but rolled him off easily enough. He put up no resistance, and when she stood, he did not.

“You… you…!” Celestia began. “Madpony! What was that?”

Lucky slowly rolled and rose to his hooves, clutching his side and coughing.

“…you moppet, I said aim, not fire…! Yeh gods damned, milksop simpleton…!”

“You call me dreamy? You call me an idiot? I cannot believe…” Celestia shouted, but trailed off as she caught glimpse of an object at Lucky’s hooves.

An arrow, tip blunted and shaft bent.

“Would you… so happily… insult your savior?” Lucky growled, speaking in between coughs.

“…yer gonna be scrubbin’ latrines for a week, yeh damned tosspot, and by the Gods, I’ll make sure yeh get the foulest, most reeking…!”

She had no words. Lucky looked down at the arrow, lying lonely on the ground. He picked it up and, turning toward the castle, held it high, presenting it to the gatehouse.

“A true enough shot!” he shouted with pained effort. “But I doubt it is now common procedure to fire upon weary travelers.” Lucky paused for another fit of coughs. “Perhaps you could trade a pound of your aim for a pinch of discretion!”

He threw the arrow contemptuously beside him. It clattered onto the stone.

“Are you alright?” Celestia finally managed.

“I’ve been worse,” Lucky responded quietly. “The arrow did not pierce the chain. Sure did take a knock to the lungs, though.” He followed with a small involuntary cough, as if to prove his point.

The two could hear a commotion in one of the towers, presumably the one that loosed the arrow. Celestia looked around nervously, wondering how good of an idea it was to stay and confront a castle tower that had just shot an arrow at her. Lucky’s scowling gaze never left the tower, however, and he forced his coughs to quiet. Eventually, an answer came.

“Friend or foe?” A distant voice said. Lucky’s eyes seemed to bulge.

“Oh, by the… Friends! We’re friends!” he shouted incredulously.

“Our sincerest apologies! The bridge draws at sundown, we don’t suffer travelers to pass at night!” the voice spoke.

Lucky growled in anger. “I am Lieutenant-Commander Break of the 21st Division!” he shouted. “You will suffer me!”

There was a pause. The anxiety was palpable, as the pony on the other side of the moat deliberated on how to respond.

“Lieutenant Break?” he spoke. “Lucky?”

For all its distance, the response seemed to pierce the night. Lucky’s hard gaze seemed to falter.

“Crumble?” he shouted back, though with not nearly the same volume or contempt.

There was another pause before the voice shouted a command. The sound of grinding gears and shaking chains broke the night silence. The bridge began to lower as the gate was simultaneously drawn open.

“…Crumble?” Celestia repeated uneasily.

“Keep your head down, do not speak, and follow my lead,” Lucky responded quickly and quietly. “And leave the cloak on,” he added, placing emphasis on every word.

“Leave the cloak… why?” Celestia asked. It was not like she was going to take it off, anyways.

He waved her question away with a dismissive hoof. “Just don’t do anything… stupid.”

Celestia grumbled irately. What does he take me for, a fool? It was worse when she realized the answer was yes, that was what he took her for.

The bridge hit the cobblestone with a deep, resonating thud, the two a small but safe distance away. On the other side, they saw a small contingent of five guards, plus another that looked to be their leader.

“C’mon,” Lucky said quietly as he stepped onto the bridge. Celestia cautiously followed, hobbling a short distance behind him.

The guard on the opposite side began walking as well. The purpose they held in their stride was intimidating, but no more than Lucky’s was. He kept is gaze straight ahead, irritated and determined. He marched with deliberation and resolve, matching and perhaps outdoing the guard in their determination.

They finally met in the middle of the bridge, and stopped small distance away from each other. The rushing of the waterfall could be heard to their left.

“Lieutenant-Commander Break,” the leader said stoically. He was a pegasus, and his armor differed from his subordinates, denoting a high rank. His coat was a deep red, faded with age, and his mane a light blonde, stricken through with lines of grey. He spoke through a thick, blonde-grey beard.

“Lieutenant Crumble,” Lucky answered, just as coolly. There was a moment of silence as the two stared each other down.

“Was that your shot?” Lucky asked. “Your eyesight must be failing you.”

“Nay, ‘twas the shot of my most trusted recruit,” the lieutenant said, words dripping with sarcasm. “He’s just about bursting with pride right now. Though, I reckon my sight is still better than yours, yeh scurvy-headed mule.” His wings flared with aggression.

“You pig-snouted prick, I doubt you could see past your own nose.”

Celestia gasped as the two seemingly levelheaded, sophisticated military officials let loose very unsophisticated remarks.

“My nose could smell a better shot than yer eyes ever could see, yeh stubborn, clay-brained buffoon.”

“You fangless dog!”

“Yeh bed-pressing whelp!”

“You soft-headed geezer!”

“Yeh hard-headed scoundrel!”

Lucky took a deep breath. “You swag-bellied, hoof-licking, courtesan-loving vermin! Thy mother was a goat, and thy father would fain sup with swine, could he afford it!”

Celestia’s jaw dropped.

Lucky and the Lieutenant Crumble stood, staring at each other with fierce scowls. Celestia’s mouth hung open in shock, and even the guards behind the lieutenant, the very same who were trained in the sacred art of stoicism, seemed to be ill at ease. There was another moment of intensely uncomfortable silence. Celestia’s gaze shifted back and forth from Lucky and the lieutenant. The seconds drifted by.

Finally, Lucky’s stare faltered, as did the lieutenant’s. At exactly the same time, they both broke out into hysterical laughter.

Celestia’s jaw dropped even further.

“Bed-pressing whelp?” Lucky asked in between fits of laughter. “How long did it take to come up with that one? You’re losing your touch, my friend!”

“An’ what about fangless dog!” he returned, letting loose deep, bellowing guffaws. “Though, in the face of that last, I must admit defeat. Another glorious victory fer the Breaker!”

“Thank you, thank you,” he said, bowing. “I’ve been working on that one.”

“Why, with such finely crafted poetry, I’m surprised yeh don’t take up the bard’s cloak,” the lieutenant joked. “Jus’ think of all the ponies in need of a good insult!”

They both laughed again. Eventually, their laughter died down into a chuckle.

“I reckon you’ll be wantin’ passage, yeah?” Lucky nodded. “Right then. Follow me.”

Lieutenant Crumble motioned for his guards to return to the gatehouse, and they began to walk across the bridge, back to the castle. Lucky and Celestia followed.

“So,” Lieutenant Crumble began, “Who’s the stranger?” He motioned to Celestia.

“She’s my… guest. I am to escort her to the palace,” Lucky replied apathetically.

“Well, I figured that, yeh lunkhead,” he said, a grin still painted on his face. “I was askin’ fer an introduction.”

Celestia did not wait. “I am Celestia, of… of Canterbury. Good greetings, sir…?” She put her good hoof forward in greetings.

“First-Lieutenant Apple Crumble of the Maiden’s Battalion, at yer service Milady,” he responded, accepting her hoof and shaking it. “But please, call me Crumble.”

His accent was thickly western, similar to the kind one might find in Trottingham, though it was much rougher. He spoke heavily and gruffly, but his tone seemed to have a constant quality of fatherly kindness to it. He was old, much older than Lucky or herself. In his early fifties, if Celestia had to guess. His body was worn with signs of age, but he appeared to be as fit as ever. He seemed sturdier, stockier, and stronger than even Lucky, who was himself no pushover. Next to the thin frame of Celestia, he was a veritable giant. On his back, he sported a pair of wings, powerful and wide.

“The honor is all mine,” Celestia replied, smiling. She flinched as she readjusted her bad leg to a normal standing position. Crumble seemed to notice.

“Oh, poor dear. Are yeh hurt?” Crumble asked. Without waiting for a response, he continued. “Yer guest is hurt, Lucky. Poor dear, you look like yeh could’ve walked the mountain in two days flat.”

Celestia paused awkwardly. “We did,” she said. Crumble looked incredulous.

“You… he… Lucky!” Crumble growled accusingly, “Yeh’ve walked this poor mare here in two days?”

Lucky merely shrugged. “I heard no complaints.”

“You scoundrel,” Crumble said. “Of course yeh didn’t. Yer ears are likely plugged full of yer own scummy pride.”

Lucky scowled while Celestia smiled, enjoying the guilty pleasure of hearing her escort insulted for a change.

Crumble drew himself up. “Well, I won’t be such a poor host. Come on then, let’s get a carriage for yeh.”

“Oh no, I am well, truly,” Celestia weakly protested.

“Nonsense,” Crumble said. “I’ll not have yeh collapsing about on my streets, and I’ll not be such a poor host as Lucky here.”

“Such a sentiment did not stop you from loosing an arrow at my guest,” Lucky replied, “who, by the way, owes her good health to yours truly.”

Crumble grumbled and punched him in the shoulder, albeit good-naturedly.

“So sorry ‘bout the bridge. There’s been talk of strange folk about,” Crumble said. “Even sorrier ‘bout the arrow.”

“I will forgive you,” Lucky teased, “but this is the last time.”

“It’s a good thing yeh have this fine fellow with yeh, Miss,” Crumble said.

Celestia rolled her eyes. He may have done a good deed, but he certainly was not a ‘fine fellow’.

“I reckon the lad’s lucky sense done saved yer life.”

“His… what?” Celestia asked.

“Nothing,” Lucky quickly said, glaring at Crumble.

“What?” Crumble said innocently.

“So,” Lucky said, changing the subject, “did the Battalion make it back yet?”

“Aye,” Crumble responded darkly, “’bout three weeks ago. The news of ‘er death has been hard. The funeral’s already been held.” He gazed with sympathy at Lucky. “I’m so sorry.”

Lucky stared blankly ahead. “Yeah,” he said emotionlessly.

“Much of the city is still in mourning,” Crumble continued. “You’ll not find a sorrier lot in all of Equestria.”

There was a sorrowful silence. They reached the other end of the bridge, and entered the gatehouse. There, Lieutenant Crumble gave a few swift orders, and soon there appeared a small military carriage before them, drawn by a pair of city guards. Lucky was about to board before Crumble forcefully nudged him out of the way, politely motioning to Celestia to enter first. She timidly smiled, and stepped in.

“Wait,” Lucky said hesitantly, after they had all boarded. “Three weeks ago, you said?”

The carriage started to move, and the massive gate behind them closed. The streets of Canterlot were finely crafted. Each was evenly paved and well maintained, resulting in a near perfectly smooth ride.

“Aye. What of it?”

“We’ve not been gone that long…” Lucky mumbled. He looked at Celestia suspiciously, who only replied with a shrug.

“Magic…” he murmured contemptuously.

“C’mon now, lad. When have I ever been dishonest with yeh?” Crumble asked. Lucky only expressed a small, sideways smile. “I’m only tellin’ yeh what I know,” Crumble said. “What of you? Where’s yer guard, n’ all that? We heard of Canterbury’s attack, but naught of yer survival. What happened?”

“I know nothing of my guard, save for the knowledge that I am here, and they are not.” Lucky began to regale Crumble with the tale of their survival and escape.

Meanwhile, they passed through the gate and entered the city. Celestia peered through the carriage windows with fascinated curiosity. It was even more magnificent on the inside than out. Nearly the whole inner city was composed of the same bright white granite as the outer walls. On some of the finer government buildings, there were carved exquisite works of art, permanently set into the stone. Tranquil fountains and striking statues adorned open city squares. Much of the city was trimmed with a royal shade purple, although colors of seemingly every hue could be seen here and there.

Far above them were the towers, looming giants that were larger than life, appearing as elegant as they were intimidating. Celestia imagined some of them to be tall enough to pierce the clouds. Certainly the weatherponies must have had a hard time maneuvering around them.

Most of the city was dark, but there were a few lanterns glowing, no doubt kept alive by magic. They had no trouble traversing the well-lit streets on their way to the inner stronghold.

The city seemed to be in constant motion, the dark hour of night notwithstanding. Though a majority of ponies were indoors by now, there were still a few running errands, working nighttime jobs, or simply loitering about. Celestia had expected them to draw attention, but the villagers that they passed seemed to pay them no mind.

“…and then I got shot with an arrow. Now, we’re here,” Lucky finished. Celestia had noticed he forgot some details about her first waking moments in Canterbury, but did not bother to say anything.

“That’s quite a tale…” Crumble said. “So now what?”

“Supposedly, she’s a guest of the Royal Magi,” Lucky continued, motioning to Celestia. “I aim to secure an audience with the Arch-Mage. Should be easy enough once they learn of our arrival.”

“Actually, I’m afraid to tell yeh,” Crumble responded, “but the Arch-Mage is gone.”

“Hmph,” Lucky said, scowling. “I thought as much. Though I’m surprised they haven’t named a new one yet.”

Crumble scratched his beard. “What’re yeh talkin’ ‘bout, lad? She’s gone, as in she departed Canterlot only two days ago.”

“Oh? So who now holds the title?”

“Er… the title’s not changed, lad. I’m talkin’ of Arch-Mage Shimmer.”

Lucky paused. “Arch-Mage Shimmer?” he asked, a tone of confusion in his voice. “You mean, Midnight Shimmer?”

“Aye, the very same,” Crumble said solemnly. “Poor dear. I sat next to her at the funeral, y’know, me bein’ the highest ranking in the battalion in yer absence and all that. Practically cried ‘er heart out. Funny, she I didn’t realize she knew her that well-”

“Were there others?” Lucky suddenly said, cutting him off.

“Others?”

“Survivors,” he said, “Other survivors from Canterbury.”

“Well, there are plenty o’ refugees we’re still tryin’ to sort out,” Crumble said, “and I ‘spose some of ‘em are from Canterbury.”

“Any Adepts of the Royal Magi?” Lucky said hurriedly.

“No, no Adepts, ‘less yeh count Arch-Mage Shimmer. In fact, she told us she thought you were dead, an’ we all believed her, too. Told us she tried to help, but it was too late,” Crumble said darkly. A grin appeared on his face. “Looks like she underestimated yer fortune, eh? It’s never too late for the Breaker, it seems.”

Lucky did not return the smile. His gaze dropped to the ground, as he mumbled something to himself. Celestia, who had been wrapped up in the sights of the city, had begun to listen more intently.

“She told you I was dead…”

Crumble’s grin slowly faded. “Lucky? You okay?”

“Yeah,” Lucky said slowly, raising his head. “Who is the presiding magician in Canterlot?”

“That’d be Master Clover,” Crumble cautiously replied. “Yeh’d probably have to wait ‘till mornin’ to get an audience with her, though. She’s an old ‘un, even older than meself. Needs her beauty sleep, an’ all.”

“Of course,” Lucky said, wearing an expressionless mask. There was another silent moment, as both Crumble and Celestia tried to decipher Lucky’s deadpan visage.

“So, how fares the Maiden’s Captains?” Lucky said suddenly and brightly, obviously changing the subject. “I know Captain Flower was having a particularly rough time. She is the newest lieutenant, correct?”

“Hmm? Oh, aye, that she is,” Crumble replied, taken by surprise. He quickly recovered. “She’s a real shy mare, that one. Has yet to earn the respect of her comrades…”

The conversation quickly turned to the well-being of the 21st Division, and soon, plans for its eventual redeployment. Celestia resumed looking out the window, taking in the sights.

“So, Celestia,” Crumble said suddenly. Celestia jumped at the mention of her name as she snapped out of her sightseeing trance.

“Where did’ja say yeh were from again?” he asked.

“Oh, uh… Canterbury. I’m from Canterbury,” she said nervously. In truth, she had no idea. She looked at Lucky, who, out of Crumble’s sight, gave her a nearly imperceptible nervous glance.

“Canterbury,” Crumble repeated. “I’m so sorry fer your loss. Yer kinsfolk deserved better.”

Celestia had no idea how the conversation had turned to her, but did not like that it did, even though she knew Crumble was just trying to be polite.

“Yes, they did,” she politely replied, trying to hide her apprehension.

“I been to Canterbury, once. Lovely place. There was this one chef, had a famous cherry stand. What was his name… do yeh know who I’m talkin’ about?”

Celestia adopted the same pondering expression, and merely shrugged.

“Ah, well, I ‘member the taste, that’s fer sure,” Crumble said. “So where did yeh live? What did yeh do?”

“Oh, I, uh, um… I weaved. Baskets. I weaved baskets. I was a basket weaver,” Celestia replied quickly. “And I lived on the north side of town.”

“Livin’ in the wealthy end as a basket weaver?” Crumble chuckled. “Well, I ‘spose they must’ve been excellent baskets if yeh ended up a guest of the Royal Magi.”

“Er, yeah…” Celestia mumbled. She eyed Lucky frantically, who shrugged.

“Actually, how did yeh end up a guest of the Royal Magi?” Crumble asked.

“Well, it’s quite the tale, actually,” Celestia said, desperately trying to think of something. “You see, I was, uh, weaving baskets, like usual, because that’s what I do. I weave baskets. Did I already say that? Of course I did. Where was I? Oh yes. I was weaving baskets. Suddenly, there was a, uh… a big, stray cat. Like, a huge one. It was a lion, actually. With horns.”

Crumble listened with fascination. “One o’ Discord’s minions?”

“No. Er, yes! Probably.”

Lucky slammed his hooves into his face with frustration.

“And I’m really good with baskets. Really good. My skill is legendary. I am known all across Equestria as… the famous… legendary… basket weaver. Perhaps you have heard of me?”

Crumble shook his head.

“No? Oh. Well, anyways, this big stray cat appeared-”

“Lion,” Crumble corrected, “with horns.”

“Indeed, with horns,” Celestia repeated. “It appeared and started attacking one of the Royal Magi, who happened to be there, purchasing a basket from me. The Magi, a full-fledged Adept, mind you, was having some trouble, so took the biggest, most famous, most legendary basket I could find, and-”

“Would you look at that!” Lucky suddenly and loudly interrupted. “We have arrived!” He swung passenger doors open, which slammed emphatically into the side of the carriage, before it had even stopped. The guards who pulled it jumped in surprise.

“Such a shame. It really is quite a good story, Crumble,” Lucky said. “She could hardly stop telling it on the way here. She is a regular warrior poet, this one.”

“What? I never-”

“She even promised to knit me a basket!” he snarled through the gritted teeth of a forced smile. He jumped out of the carriage, yanking Celestia along with him.

“Oh, oh yes! Of course,” Celestia said, playing along. “Well, I tire of telling this story, and we have indeed arrived. Perhaps another time, Sir Crumble.”

“Er, yes,” Crumble replied awkwardly. “Perhaps another time. Farewell, then. It was a pleasure meetin' yeh. And Lucky?” he added, “It’s good to see you well.”

“The feeling is mutual, friend,” Lucky said genuinely. “Fare thee well.”

“For now,” Crumble replied, smiling. “You make sure that lady finds a proper physician fer that leg.”

“Of course,” Lucky replied.

He closed the passenger doors. Lucky and Celestia both waved goodbye as the carriage was pulled away.

“What kind of story was that?” Lucky muttered, still waving farewell.

“As if you could do better,” Celestia returned.

“In my sleep.”

“Jerk.”

“Idiot.”

Crumble’s carriage disappeared around a corner, and the two stopped waving. There was an awkward silence.

“Right, well,” Lucky continued, “shall we?”

“Let’s,” Celestia quickly agreed.

They turned and began to walk. They had both moved only two steps before they stopped, each for a completely different reason.

Celestia was stunned by the sheer scale of the palace. It was absolutely massive, and perhaps the biggest continuous structure she had yet seen. Its walls were the highest, its architecture the grandest, its decoration the most ornate, and its towers taller and precariously farther over the mountainside than any around. It was breathtaking.

Lucky was surprised by the ponies that stood to greet them. A pair of curved staircases led to a grand doorway. On either side of the door there stood a pair of stoic-faced guards. In the center was a mare, adorned in a mage’s cloak. Her mane was a faded purple, and her coat a light lavender. She was obviously very old.

“Clover the Clever,” Lucky muttered. The mare tilted her head. When she spoke, her voice, though slow and trembling, seemed to resonate with the wisdom of the ancient.

“Greetings, Lieutenant Break. Greetings, Celestia. I have been expecting you.”