In the library of the Friendship Castle, Twilight settled in with quill and parchment. She'd politely offered refreshments to her guest, her idea of a joke perhaps, and the visitor, as always, had politely declined. Tea for one having been served for her by Spike, Twilight began asking her strange bipedal guest questions.
"I hope we can make this a regular thing, there's so much to learn about your origin, it had me rather sidetracked from the things I had planned to ask about."
"I might have to start charging you for the privilege, Princess." Landshark twitched her disturbing saw-toothed jaw slightly in what she had claimed was supposed to be a smile or grin, depending on context. "But I'm not opposed to visiting you once or twice a week." Landshark was happy to talk about her original home. This Princess seemed respectful enough to not keep pressing her on the human world, which the construct appreciated.
"That sounds completely acceptable." Twilight thought she had masked her disappointment pretty well, but she supposed she couldn't ask her guest to show up every day. "There wasn't enough time during our last meeting, so would you care to enlighten me about your personal philosophy? You did say that your world had more gods, religions, cults and ideologies than you could count. So what about yourself?"
Although her face was lifeless as a doll's, Landshark shifted uncomfortably in her seat like a living thing. "My personal faith is tied up heavily with what I am. I haven't elaborated on that last time, especially since your assessment that I'm a magical construct was in essence correct."
Twilight frowned, but motioned at her guest to go on. She'd been curious about that. Fiction and magical theory had made her familiar with the concept of golems, but she hadn't really expected to see a real one, let alone one so artfully designed. Long, sleek limbs and a generally narrow built did not mark the being in front of her as a heavy laborer or a soldier.
"A lot of what I'm going to mention will just prompt more questions, so I'll try to keep it simple and to the point. Everything I'm about to tell you is going to be the actual truth of how our world works, unless I'm specifically talking about the tenets of my faith." The stranger paused and, in another life-like gesture, ran her fingers through her own mane (a detail of dubious utility on construct, Twilight thought).
"My sisters and I are collectively known as the bellikos. We came to be in a divine realm called the Underfoot, a vast place of caverns and tunnels. That realm is home to Brell Serilis, Duke of the Underfoot and creator of many mortal peoples who are happiest dwelling underground. His very first creative undertaking however has always remained unique. The First Creation. Even as Brell created many other servitors to tend to the workings of the Underfoot, he never made another of the First's kind."
"I suppose that makes sense to me, in a way," Twilight admitted. "When you're creating something complicated, you generally shouldn't just go with the first draft." Twilight felt like she could make an educated guess as to where this was going. A research paper's draft wasn't going to resent not matching the final product, but a sapient being? It might be both lonely and frustrated.
"Right. The First is very powerful, but it grew jealous and frustrated. It prepared for war with the servitors of Brell Serilis by creating its own minions. First among these were the bellikos. It taught the greatest of us the mantra of individualism and free will, and bade them instruct the rest of us, so we could be sent as envoys to the servants of Brell." Although her face remained nearly impossible to read, Twilight thought she could hear barely controlled loathing swinging in Landshark's voice.
Twilight took a small sip of her tea. She was sympathetic, of course, but couldn't share in the construct's discomfort. After all, here she was, learning things no pony else had ever known before. "Well, those tenets don't sound bad without context. Go on, if you don't mind."
"Of course. We taught them to despise those that remained loyal. Civil strife was the result, and famine, when the agricultural workers put down their work. Still, we did not doubt our work until the schism. It was discovered that the First's other servitors were only taught obedience and sacrifice, and that the same was expected of the bellikos. The Cult of Self was only to be a tool to weaken the enemy, nothing more." The construct snapped her jaw shut once, then twice, as a sign of agitation.
"But we were made too well," the bellikos went on, almost sounding smug at that. "Presented with the fact that our allied forces were slaves more than our enemies ever were, many, perhaps a majority, of my sisters and I chose to spread the faith to them also, instead of obeying." The construct leaned forward. "Some of my sisters remained loyal to their creator. Loyal to the First! What good is the Self if you allow yourself to be commanded by someone who scoffs at the very idea? Delth, one of our eldest sisters, suggested that we respect those who chose loyalty and servitude to Brell instead of making an enemy of anyone who does not put themselves before their people. Teaching sapients to do only what they wish led to so much strife. Delth proposed that we instead teach people to want what they do."
Twilight was feverishly scribbling her notes. She couldn't help but notice that her visitor had gone beyond lecturing. Her voice boomed, had she been a pony she would probably have been stomping her hooves as well. This was more of a sermon by someone so committed to her believes that she would willingly die for them. Still, Twilight had to interject.
"Care to explain the difference?"
The construct waved away the question distractedly, she probably would have just gone on anyway.
"The original version, while perhaps noble in appearance, was specifically designed to break down social order and cause chaos. Although you can interpret either message to mean the same thing, the original was intended to cause almost complete disregard for your fellow beings. A society in which beings are taught to recognize no check on their freedom soon becomes a society where freedom is the possession of only a savage few. Delth's version of the Cult teaches self-reflection. To function in a society, you cannot always do whatever you wish. That is obvious. Balance immediate wants against long term aspirations. Know your Self, first of all, and live consciously."
Twilight couldn't help but agree. "Well, I'd have to say your version does sound more harmonious."
Twilight's guest, having appeared to calm down, nodded. "You might say that. The original version taught people to be bad subjects and bad neighbors. Delth's path teaches people that they can be bad subjects, and if they wish, good neighbors. My Self is my faith, and everything I do, I do of my own choosing. My only duties are debts owed to myself to fulfill obligations I have assumed of my own free will. Perhaps paying that debt involves years of labor, or a willingness to die, but through it all, my spirit would remain unbowed and free of gods or masters."
Twilight could clearly see the thought process that allowed her guest to remain true to the idea, the impetus, at the core of her being, while also teaching it to others in a form that allowed them to remain functional parts of their society, should they desire. She finished her notes and put the parchment down with a smile. "You wouldn't make a bad citizen of Equestria, you know."
The construct crossed her arms. "I'm trying to be a good neighbor, I will not act like a subject. Even if I were not naturally suspicious of quasi-godlike immortal rulers, I would have to know a lot more about the government machinery before feeling comfortable."
Twilight frowned. She'd known about that aspect of her guest, but it was difficult to understand how someone could be so guarded around and about Princess Celestia after speaking to her. Her presence could be intimidating to ponies, yes, but that was not the same as the stranger's reaction.
"Why....what is your problem with the Princesses anyway?" Twilight really couldn't put it any more diplomatically than that, but she had known the Bellikos to be phlegmatic and hard to offend regarding most topics.
Her guest, for her part, stood up and started pacing restlessly. Although the activity was quite equine, her walk cycle was uniform and flawless, without art but always without error. "I need you to understand the implications, Princess. Look at me, and what do you see? An automaton? A convincingly simulated intelligence? We're sapient beings. We were granted emotions, reason and intelligence. A fierce love of liberty. Then our god demanded that we forego all of that and help him terrorize and conquer. I don't have the words to convey to you how traumatic a betrayal that was. How great our fury when some of our sisters actually obeyed. Pray you never experience it."
Landshark was clenching and unclenching her fists at this point, unimpressive as they were. "We cannot create more of ourselves. Even our mages do not have the divine spark for it. We relied entirely on our creator to craft more of us, and in our rage, we defied him. Every bellikos you could ever meet is one of the last. We willingly threw away any hope of having a future as a race for the sake of our ideals and freedom!" It was a half truth. It was true that no wholly new Bellikos could be created by anyone but the First, but Delth had once assembled a functioning example out of a collection of parts from recently destroyed sisters. It had been a re-animation, not the creation of a new entity, however. None but the gods could imbue the sacred clay with a fresh soul and animating magic.
Twilight thought she might be beginning to understand. If what Landshark had told her was true, she'd never really be able to trust beings she considered godlike. They'd made the moral choice, as far as Twilight trusted herself to judge, knowing that the cost of turning against their god would be terrible. And it was so....unfair. She felt her eyes moisten. Virtue was supposed to be rewarded. "I don't understand how you can be the way you are. Why aren't you arrogant? Why aren't you bitter and jealous that other people haven't had to make the same sacrifices? Why aren't you a moral crusader? There's so many ways your story could warp a personality."
"I don't know, Princess," the construct admitted. "Am I not warped by your standards? I can never trust beings as powerful as the diarchs. There's always going to be that part of me that seeks any excuse to hate, or simply to misbehave in their presence. Just knowing my irreverence annoys you strikes a chord somewhere in my machine heart. I'll always expect a catch in any favor. Additionally, your subjects are made and kept prosperous by their indulgence. Freedom is earned – if it is granted by beings with the power to rescind it, it's not the genuine article." She paused, rubbing a hand over head face. She sounded tired as she continued. "But I won't get in the way if you are happy with what you have. The diarchs seem kind enough." The admission was difficult to make.
"I....I don't understand, but I will try to accept it." Twilight was grasping for words in frustration. Landshark had in the past attentively listened to tales of Celestia's and Luna's exploits, their wisdom and kindness, even once taken notes, but all she had done to react to it was to thank Twilight politely, seeming neither impressed nor incredulous.
"Princess Twilight, I feel like I have done my part. We did what we did because we had nothing but our belief. Other mortal races have so many things giving value to their survival. Pretend for a moment that Celestia was in the role of the First, and the ponies in the place of the Bellikos. We renegades doomed our people in adherence to the right. But we were all combatants. How callous and reprehensible would that look if our people included the young, the old, and the infirm? Virtue cannot separate itself from reality without becoming a principle of evil. No, I could never demand that same unflinching moral absolutism of any people. It would be a selfish indulgence of my own righteousness."
As Landshark snapped her jaws shut noisily and began to leave, Twilight wasn't sure how to feel. She was glad, she supposed, that the construct didn't appear to feel compelled to agitate against society's current structures. "I hope you find some peace here, Landshark. It sounds like you've earned it."
"Thank you, Princess." The construct paused on the way to the exit and nodded. "Making friends has been promising. Lyra, Bon Bon, Berry Punch and her child. Pinkie Pie is presumably a given. Perhaps I shall stay in Ponyville after all."
Just as she was about to exit, Landshark added, "and I'll spare them my trust issues regarding the alicorns as much as possible."