For somepony who had gone to sleep in another pony’s abandoned house, Sunset felt surprisingly well rested the next morning.
Then again... she thought with a bleary smile. She looked to the other side of the bed, and was somewhat disappointed to find that Sonata wasn’t lying next to her.
Not like her to get up early. Giving a mental shrug, she slumped out of the bed and yawned, wondering where the bathroom was, and whether or not it still worked. Her mind wondering vaguely to last night, she recounted with a guilty sort of pleasure her first complete sexual experience. Thinking on it retroactively, she honestly found it a little strange that her first time had been as a pony, even though she’d been born one. She’d met, known, grown to love, and lived with Sonata as a human, and so one of the big strides of their relationship being done whilst not a human did kind of protrude itself out of the overall context.
But not for long. Apart from the crying, the anatomy, and the residual smell of changeling slime, it had been everything Sunset had imagined it would be, and nothing could ruin her buoyant morning mood.
“Aah!” she yelped as she opened the door. The door thudded against something hard and annoying. The thing grunted and jumped, blinking rapidly and looking around.
“I swear, I only had a few!” Script gabbled. Then his eye caught Sunset. “Oh, it’s you,” he said dismissively. “What are you doing down here?”
“Up here,” Sunset corrected.
“What?” Script looked around, taking in his surroundings for the first time. “Mmm...” he said, disconcerted. “Why don’t I remember coming up here?”
“Were you spying on us?” Sunset asked indignantly, the thought just occurring to her.
Script raised an eyebrow. “Spying? Why? What were you doing?”
Sunset blushed. “N-Never mind. If you didn’t see—“
“Ooh,” Script said, nodding. “You were engaging in relations. Very good. That’s sure to cheer her up. You noticed that your significant other was feeling upset and took appropriate action. It’s good to see some practicality around here, since you Equestrians tend to be a very feelies sort of ponies.”
“Oh dear Celestia,” Sunset muttered, turning geranium red.
Script frowned. “What? It’s perfectly natural for couples to engage in coitus, isn’t it?”
“We’re not talking about this,” Sunset said, pushing passed him.
“Why ever not?” Script asked, evidently puzzled. “There’s bathhouses in some of the major cities in the northern territories where ponies can go to—“
“Seriously!” Sunset called over her shoulder. “Not talking about this!”

“I don’t know why you’re acting so squeamish about it,” Script continued in a slightly put-out voice, following Sunset into the kitchen. “Why, I believe I remember a bathhouse that doubled as a temple to the spirit of intimacy and female love. Well renowned for the wall art.”
“Will you please stop,” Sunset groaned, putting her head on the table. “I seriously, honestly, desperately don’t want to talk about this.”
“Oh, suit yourself,” Script sighed, shaking his head. “I really don’t see what the big deal is. It’s not like I was going to ask for specifics or anything.”
“Specifics about what?” Sonata asked, trotting into the room with a pile of plates.
“About your late-night activities,” Script said without any hesitation. “Congratulations, by the way.”
Sonata, who’d been about to set the small pile of plates on the table seemed to lose control of her jaw. Biting hard into the bottom-most plate, the thing cracked and sent the rest crashing to the floor.
“Huh!?” she said, blinking rapidly.
“Ignore him!” Sunset snarled, staring at Script.
“By Sunset’s reticence in talking about it, I’m assuming that it was your first time. I hope that it was memorable. Although,” he continued, not noticing Sonata’s colour rising to match Sunset’s. “I don’t suppose you could explain exactly why she’s being so prudish about it. It’s a perfectly natural thing.”
“What’s going on in here?”
Just to add further to Sunset’s discomfort, Loyal Stride clanked in, for some reason wearing his armour and carrying another small pile of plates.
“How did that happen?” he inquired gravely, setting his own plates down and running one eye over the shattered pile on the floor.
“Sunset and Sonata engaged in sexual relations last night,” Script said conversationally.
“I will murder you!” Sunset hissed.
“And what’s that got to do with broken plates?” Loyal Stride asked, evidently unenlightened as he ignored Sunset’s death-glare at Script.
“For some reason, they appear to be feeling embarrassed about it, which leads me to think that perhaps it wasn’t all they wanted it to be,” Script continued speculatively. “What’s for breakfast, by the way?”
Loyal Stride blinked and raised his eyebrows. “Hm,” he said succinctly. “Perhaps it’s just a cultural difference.”
“Why are we still talking about this?” Sunset demanded whilst Sonata rattled through a number of facial expressions, trying and failing to find one appropriate to the situation. “Correction. Why are you two talking about it? It’s nothing to do with either of you.”
“No,” Loyal Stride agreed. “Don’t take the wrong meaning, it’s not as though ponies in Roam routinely boast about their sex lives.”
“Outside of the bar, the home, the workplace, their paramour’s apartment, at least,” Script added casually.
“It’s just not something we’re uncomfortable with talking about if the subject arises,” Loyal Stride finished, ignoring Script’s part of the conversation. “Practically speaking, it doesn’t make much sense to be private about something everypony knows that you’re doing.”
“Thank you,” Sunset said through gritted teeth. “I’ll be sure to think long and hard about that particular philosophical point. For the moment though, can we just move on?”
“Well,” Loyal Stride said, rummaging through a wooden crate. “We didn’t find much. There were a few apple trees around.”
“And berry bushes,” Sonata added, her tone suggesting that she was eager to carry on changing the subject.
“Apple trees,” Script grumbled. “You know, when I was living in my hole, I didn’t have to forage for food like this.”
“You still are living in your hole, Script,” Loyal Stride said softly.
“I missed you this morning,” Sunset said to Sonata as she sat down opposite her. “It’s not like you to get up so early.”
“Yeah...” Sonata said distractedly. “I woke up and just couldn’t get back to sleep, so I went for a walk.”
“Did you pass Script on the way out?” Sunset asked with a snicker.
“What?” Sonata asked, as though coming out of a reverie.
Sunset explained briefly about finding Script lying outside of their door. Sunset laughed lightly, expecting Sonata to find the humour in it as well. To her slight surprise, Sonata did not laugh, but stared at the table as though something was bothering her.
“Is something wrong?” Sunset asked tentatively.
“Huh?” Sonata said suddenly.
“You seem really distracted this morning.”
“N-No, I—“ Sonata stopped herself. She swallowed, and then glanced a few times up at Sunset. “I just... I feel like I pushed you.”
Sunset narrowed one eye. “Pushed me?” she asked slowly.
“Last night, I mean. I was... I didn’t think about if you wanted to—“
“Oh!” Sunset exclaimed, realising what Sonata was getting at. “Don’t think of it that way. You didn’t force me into anything.”
“It’s just that I was... you know, upset and everything, and I kinda felt like maybe I made you do something you didn’t entirely want to do.”
Sunset actually snorted here, which seemed to take Sonata off-guard. “Trust me, Sonata. I don’t regret anything of last night. You didn’t make me do anything that I didn’t want to.” She put a hoof over Sonata’s, hoping this would cheer her up. To Sunset’s slight dismay and confusion, Sonata didn’t seem too well consoled.
“I just didn’t want the first one to be like that,” Sonata said, almost as though to herself.
“That was your first time?” Script interrupted, breaking off his own argument with Loyal Stride. “What? You’re talking about it openly at the breakfast table. Which is kind of rude, by the way.”
“This coming from the stallion caught spying?” Sunset asked, giving Script a cold stare.
“I was not spying! I don’t even remember going up stairs. For all I know, Strider dumped me there because he can’t stand being near me.”
“Do you snore?” Sonata asked.
“Yes, he does,” Loyal Stride replied.
“Didn’t you pass him on your way out of the bedroom?” Sunset asked Sonata.
Sonata took a bite of the apple that Loyal Stride had set before her, and chewed it up before answering.
“No,” she replied, examining the bite-mark she’d made in the fruit’s gleaming surface. “But I got up pretty early. He probably came up after me.”
“Didn’t you sleep with Loyal Stride?” Sunset asked. “In the same room, I mean.”
“I... don’t remember,” Script said, scowling.
“Come to think of it, I don’t recall either,” Loyal Stride said, slowly. “I know we talked, but after getting back inside, I don’t remember much of anything. I think I was quite tired at the time though.”
“Fighting off thirty changelings didn’t look easy,” Sonata said, a little forced humour in her voice. “Maybe Script just sleep-walked upstairs.”
“I guess that’s possible,” Sunset said sceptically. “Although it’s also possible he’s just a pervert.”
Script shrugged. “I don’t sleepwalk, do I?” he asked Loyal Stride.
“Script, I honestly don’t know half of what it is that you do.”
“So on to the question of the day,” Script said in a business-like tone. “How to get to the camp. Tricky, tricky problem.”
“Is that meant to be funny?” Loyal Stride asked. His brow furrowed slightly, and his tone veered a little away from its usual solemnity; all the signs of his being utterly incredulous.
“It’ll be troublesome,” Script conceded hastily. “You know, given that we’re a deserter, two foreigners, and a dead-colt, but still—“
“So how do we do it?” Sunset interrupted, wanting to get to the point before Script could go off on some witty tangent.
Script blew out a long breath, rather as though the question of how to break into a military camp of the most powerful professional army on the planet, was akin to deciding between two flavours of cake.
“To be honest, I’d feel better deciding that once we’ve had a look at the camp. If it’s the same as when I left, I’m pretty sure Strider and I could come up with something.”
“Couldn’t Loyal Stride just take us in?” Sunset suggested. “Pretend we were prisoners or something?”
Script spewed the glass of water he’d just lifted to his mouth. “What a preposterous notion!” he cried. “Do you think the Roaman military is a joke? They wouldn’t fall for some half-brained, newspaper comic prank like that in a million years!”
Sunset tried to limit the scope of her blush as she drew in a calming breath. “You know what I like about you, Script?” she asked through gritted teeth. “Your understanding an encouragement.”
“Ha! Nice,” Script approved.
“There’s got to be something we can do,” Sonata said, a little desperately.
“Naturally there is,” Script said magnanimously. “But it’ll need planning. Meticulous, well-thought-out, flexible, organic planning of the sort favoured by crime-novelists of the early expansion era.”
“Huh?” was the only response after a fairly lengthy pause. Sunset had to admit that Sonata even managed to make cluelessness utterly adorable. To her loathing, Script smiled as though he’d planned for the question.
“I’ve had a lot of time for reading,” he said smugly. “Anyway, I think the first thing to do is to scout out the situation. We can stay in one of the border towns for a week or so. We can’t take too long though if there really is an invasion coming.”
“I reluctantly agree,” Loyal Stride said, swallowing a small cluster of blackberries.
“Why reluctantly?” Sunset asked. “Don’t you think it’s a good idea?”
“Oh, he does,” Script answered first. “He just doesn’t like that I said it.”
Loyal Stride didn’t deign to respond.
“Well anyway,” Sunset said quickly, spotting a potential argument arising. “Any idea where we should go?”
For an answer, Script raised his horn. A faint blue aura hummed like a nightlight from its tip. “Not there...” Script muttered. “No... no, no...” With a brief sound of satisfaction, the light suddenly flared, and down onto the table floated a perfectly square piece of high-quality paper. Four pins popped into existence above and fell simultaneously to impale the paper at its corners to the table. Script jabbed the paper.
“I suggest we start somewhere here,” he said.
Everypony leaned in, and Sunset almost instantly became lost. The paper was evidently some kind of map, but its utter lack of any colour, interlacing series of complex squiggles and lines, and the fact that everything was detailed with what looked like serial numbers rather than names, made the entire thing utterly incomprehensible. At the top, however, underlined and written very neatly in Times New Roaman, were the words

“Where did you get this?” Loyal Stride asked, a dangerous inflection to his voice.
“It’s a copy of a map I borrowed back at the camp,” Script said. “I put it back, I just needed to make myself one. That was allowed, you know.”
“How can you tell what anything is?” Sonata asked, looking at the map in the same way a D-average high school student might look at their trigonometry exam after three hours sleep, a coffee-less breakfast, and a stern warning from their parents that failing any of their classes would result in their phone being confiscated.
“Oh, it’s really rather simple when you understand the theory behind it,” Script said breezily. “See here, that slightly thicker squiggly line between the white and grey? That’s a coastline.”
“And I’m guessing the faint grid is meant to be a measurement of distance,” Sunset pointed out, noticing a lacework of squares overlaid atop the veinings of incomprehensible lines.
“Precisely.”
“So why are there no names on this thing?” Sonata asked.
“Well, because it’s a military map,” Script said, exasperatedly. “If this fell into enemy hands—“
At this point, Loyal Stride let out a faint cough.
“—we don’t want them to be able to gleam any information from it. Troop positions, encampments, points of interest and all that sort of thing.”
“So which part of this is the Roaman side?” Sunset asked.
Script drew his hoof around a more sparsely detailed area that had several clusters of symbols and lines dotted around the lower part of the map.
“This is Magna Badtis, the area of the Badlands occupied by Roam.”
“It doesn’t look like much,” Sunset said, her lip curling slightly. “That’s all you guys did in over fifty years?”
Loyal Stride rumbled into speech. “Magna Badtis is a mining settlement. It’s not really a viable spot for colonisation, as there’s so little space for farmland.”
“It barely supports the legion, and last I heard its mineral deposits were running out,” Script added. “What? Oh, you think these two are going to use that information to destabilise the mining operation?” Script sneered at Loyal Stride as the latter gave him a sharp look. “Nothing we say to these two is going to affect Roam’s position.”
Loyal Stride didn’t say anything, but stood looking huffily disapproving.
“I’m guessing that this is the mining settlement,” Sunset said, pointing at a cluster of small square symbols.
Script actually looked mildly impressed. “Yes. And this is the military encampment. Practically a small town,” he went on, indicating an orderly rectangle diagonally facing a pair of ridges that led to a dotted line. “It guards the border mostly, but its real objective is to protect the local industry.”
“Where do you think we should go first?”
Script raised his hoof, keeping it raised a little longer than he strictly needed to, and brought it down dramatically onto a point just above the dotted line.
“Epsilon Dash Twenty Three,” he said. “Otherwise known locally as Appleoosa.”
Sunset blinked. “Never heard of it.”
“Large farming community,” Script explained. “I’ve never been there, but they apparently have a wonderful road system because of some local story to do with buffalo I think. But anyway, if we can just get here—“
Sunset listened to Script describing his plan, but at the same time couldn’t help but notice Sonata’s distracted expression. She desperately wanted to comfort her marefriend right then; she couldn’t understand why Sonata was feeling so guilty about the previous night. Surely Sunset’s own... well, reaction, should have told Sonata that she had hardly been against it. But guilt didn’t work that way, of course. For now all she could do was put her hoof on Sonata’s, let her know that she was there for her.
“Well, we’re not taking the train,” Loyal Stride said, bringing Sunset back to reality.
“What?”
“Perhaps not,” Script said thoughtfully. “It would be the most expedient way there. But perhaps it’s not the safest since we have somepony watching us.”
“It was the changeling who told us that,” Sonata reminded them. “How come you believe her about that?”
“Because even if she’s lying, she was still watching us. So that’s still somepony.”
Sonata pursed her lips. “Oh. Yeah.”
“So what do we do?” Sunset asked. “Walk? If so, we’ll have to go around Gauzeville.”
“I think I have an idea,” Script said after a short pause, forcing the words through his teeth. “Let it be known that I’d rather not though.”
“We’re doing that then, whatever it is,” Sunset said promptly.
“Oh, you are just delightful,” Script said with a metallic smile. “Actually,” he said, as though a thought were just occurring to him. “I have something I think we should talk about. Just you and I.”
Sunset blinked as Script stood from the table, and then looked at Loyal Stride and Sonata. Loyal Stride was frowning curiously at Script, and Sonata looked just as surprised as Sunset felt. As neither of them seemed to have any idea what was going on or what she should do, she stood from the table and walked outside.
She found Script admiring a tree dividing the fence across the road from the cottage. The tree was enormous, both in height and girth, dark and brooding with its wide canopy of deep green leaves high above.
“Have you heard of the Grand Oak of Last Light?” Script asked in a speculative tone.
Sunset paused behind him, following his train of sight upwards. “Um... I can’t say that I have.”
“No,” he conceded. “I don’t suppose you would have, would you.” He turned away from the tree, a preoccupied air defining his features. “Maybe we will one day, if we ever reach Last Light.”
“It’ll be good to see Twilight again,” Sunset agreed. “But getting to see Princess Celestia is important too. More important, arguably.”
Script seemed to consider this. He drew in a sharp breath and exhaled. “Yes, I suppose it is. And so therefore, I’ve decided to let you in on a little secret of mine.”
Sunset narrowed her eyes but didn’t say anything. This struck her as being somewhat of an ominous pronouncement. Especially coming from him.
“In exchange for what?” she asked slowly.
Script put a hoof to his heart and put on a pained grimace. “You wound me,” he said morosely. “What I gain will be you actually being able to do something in a succendum field. If we’re going to the camp, I’d really rather not have to use magic whilst there, but if we do, I don’t want to be caught having to protect you or the others on my own.”
Sunset opened her mouth slightly. She knew what he was getting at, or at least thought that she did. It was actually a question that she’d wanted to raise quite a few times herself, but had been put off doing so by the fact that it was Script she had to ask it of. The idea of asking him for anything just kept putting a bad taste in her mouth.
Despite his brash tone and generally distasteful personality however, she recognised that – here at least – he was doing her a favour of a sort. She had to appreciate that.
“Are you going to tell me how you can still perform magic when that field is on?”
“You phrased that wrong, but in short, yes. I’m going to teach you my technique. Brace yourself, because you’re not going to believe anything of what I’m about to tell you.”
Sunset couldn’t help smiling a little. “Oh go on, try me.”
Script smiled back in rivalry of Sunset’s smile. “You mustn’t tell anypony else about this, at least not until the period of our collaboration is over. If those I think are behind all of this are watching, I don’t want them to be able to counter this.”
“Behind what?” Sunset asked, frowning. “It occurs to me, you know, that I don’t actually know what you motivation is in all of this.”
“Never mind that. Now listen closely,” he said fixing Sunset with his sharp green eyes. In the eternal twilight of Luna’s dominion, an eerie shade of purple streaked across the green, putting Sunset in mind of the sinister kinds of dark magic that her parents had described in her foalhood stories.
“I learned how to do what I can do by studying across both of our cultures, combining lore and piecing together clues from a hundred different stories. Give or take,” he added swiftly. “There is an explicit connection in the conspiracy trying to bring down both your country and mine, and I’m beginning to have real, tangible proof to back it up at last!”
“Okay,” Sunset said cautiously, noticing the manic glint growing in Script’s eye. Perhaps he realised this, because he flushed slightly and cleared his throat.
“Yes, well, one line of evidence to my theory is precisely this, the fact that I can perform this magic based on studying these histories. And what’s even more interesting is that – in Equestria for certain – the information has almost certainly been intentionally suppressed.”
Sunset scowled in confusion and gave her head a little shake. “What? The information of how to resist an anti-magic field has been lying in an anthology of old histories and has been intentionally hidden by entities unknown?” She pursed her lips and gave him a Are you sure you didn’t just imagine all of this? sort of look.
“No,” Script said, the glint reappearing in his eye as his moustache quivered. “That’s simply an unintended side-effect. What’s been suppressed is what the technique actually is, and why it has been suppressed. And I know full well who is suppressing it.”
“Well, what is it?” Sunset asked, becoming slightly impatient with Script’s dramatising.
Script let the question hang for a moment or two, and then in a slow, clear voice, he said “The secret of how to become an alicorn.”
A very pregnant pause followed this pronouncement.
“And for a second there,” Sunset said coldly. “I thought you were serious.”
“What kind of reaction is that?” Script asked indignantly. “It’s the secret to the ultimate power trip!”
“What, do you have some snake oil and a bridge to sell me too?”
Script shivered. “Given who we have to contact for help today, I’m going to have to ask you not to make jokes like that.”
“There is no secret to how to become an alicorn, it has to be earned through an act of destiny.”
Script nodded, as though he knew that already. “Yes, yes, but what is it that you actually have to do?”
Sunset frowned. “No pony knows,” she answered. “It’s destiny. It either happens, or—“
“No, no, you’re quite wrong there.” Script waved a hoof dismissively, his face a mask of lazy impatience. “Somepony in this land of yours knows all-too-well what the procedure is, and has hidden it from you all out of quite understandable fear for the good of the populace.”
Sunset thought about this. “Well, it would be problematic having tons of alicorns flying around. They all imbibe a powerful natural force.”
“Nice guess, but that’s not why it’s a secret.”
Sunset felt an unaccountable sort of fear sweeping over her scalp and down her back. The look on Script’s face was beyond excitement, it was creeping on to be an almost obscene hunger, as though the very thought of what he was about to say was awakening darker parts of his imagination.
“I discovered the means by which a normal unicorn could tap into alicorn magic. Pure, undiluted, unaligned alicorn magic.”
“Insane,” Sunset snapped, almost instinctively. “It’s impossible. Alicorn magic is a perfect blending of unicorn, pegasus, and earth pony magic, inherent strictly to the individual species. A unicorn can’t walk on clouds, or have the kind of harmonious connection to nature that earth ponies do. Not naturally.”
“Firstly!” Script objected, his voice several pitches higher than usual. “Both of those statements are wrong. Secondly, you’re missing what would usually be the actual problem.”
“The fact that even if a unicorn did have access to those magical affinities, they still couldn’t blend them into alicorn magic,” Sunset said quickly. “Yes, I know. That’s the impossible part. One would have to have the affinity itself, and a means of attaining that is completely unknown except for alicorn transformation or birth.”
Script paused. “A trifle too succinct,” he said, his beard in the air. “But correct in essentials. Yes, that is the supposedly impossible part. But, as I have already said, I have learned how to harness it. And before you say ’impossible’ again, you philistine,” he said, cutting off Sunset before she could open her mouth. “It’s not. You’ve seen me do it.”
“I’ve seen you do some kind of magic,” Sunset admitted dismissively. “Admittedly powerful magic, which can be done in an anti-magic field. But alicorn magic?” She made a small sound of disbelief. “You’d have better luck selling me the bridge.”
Script gave her a heavy-lidded look, his features conforming into a perfect Oh really? Without another word, he raised his horn again. In the purplish haze of the reduced sunlight appeared a scroll, bound by a thin red cord. It descended majestically in the twinkling blue aura of Script’s magical aura.
“I have here,” he began, “the key to alicorn magic. An ancient scroll detailing precisely how to—“ he stopped as the scroll opened, something on it appearing to catch his eye. “Oh, wait, my mistake,” he said, turning the scroll to Sunset.
Sunset briefly saw a dramatic woodcut of a bridge, over which was an underlined title.

“Hah!” Sunset said loudly and flatly. “That’s actually pretty sad, you know.”
“Worth it though,” Script snickered. “No, no the secret to alicorn magic was a lot more complicated and red-thread-on-interlocking-newspaper-cuttings than that.”
“How is that a thing?” Sunset blurted.
“But the main piece of evidence, and which will likely get you to believe me, is right here.”
Once again, with a dramatic flourish, Script raised his horn. Instead of some mystical tome appearing in a flash of light, Script’s horn glowed blue, but nothing seemed to happen. Sunset looked around for some sign of magical activity, but nothing occurred except that Script’s calm expression was turning slightly pained. He frowned, and then grimaced. He grunted with apparent effort.
“Um... are you—“
“Fine,” Script said between his teeth, glaring at the cottage.
“No, really, you look—“
“MMM!” Script growled.
Sunset was spared replying to this by the sound of a loud bang from behind her. Turning around, she found that the cottage door was... moving. It bulged, juddered, shook, and then burst open. Through it came Loyal Stride, sliding along the ground with a faint twinkling glow around his side saddlebag. He didn’t struggle against the pull, but stood perfectly still, his hooves dragging the ground. Sunset watched this with a spasm of irritation pulsing in her temple.
“Oh for the love of Luna’s ripe, round moon!” she cried, flaring her horn to undo the clasp of the saddlebag. Out flew a single, thick tome, only about half the size of Sunset’s sudden bad mood.
“Thank you, Sunset,” Script said, ostentatiously giving Loyal Stride the evil eye.
Loyal Stride raised his eyes skywards and walked back to the house.
“Can’t you guys just come to some kind of agreement?” Sunset demanded. “Seriously. That was just foalish.”
“We have, remember? He keeps my books, and doesn’t try to drag me back to—“ he stopped and looked suddenly as he’d had an epiphany. “We’re going back anyway. We’re doing what he wants. He can give me my books back!”
“Focus,” Sunset said sharply.
“Well I’ve tried talking to him!” Script replied, disgruntled. “He doesn’t believe me still, despite everything that’s happened.” He sighed, suddenly sounding tired. “Anyway, back on topic.”
He held up the book. Sunset glanced over the title written on the spine.

“I’ve read this before,” Sunset said, levitating the weighty tome from Script’s aura and flicking it delicately open. She read a few lines of page seven, which began a chapter called ‘Nature of Glass’. “It’s a collection of essays about the magic inherent to the crystal ponies, isn’t it?”
“The main work is essays, yes,” Script agreed, suddenly serious. “A great deal of rationalising and what can be generously called idle speculation in truth by ponies who knew nothing about the Crystal Empire because it didn’t exist during that time. The real substance however is here.” He shuffled the old pages to the back, where the pages changed from old and yellow, to old, cracked, brown, and varied. It was as though someone had taken pages lots of other books, and stuck them all together into one volume.
“Original source material,” Sunset said, impressed.
“Indeed,” Script said with satisfaction. “About the only thing the authors did right. And take a look here.” He stopped at a page of faded yellow papyrus, and looked expectantly between it and Sunset’s face.
Sunset however was utterly nonplussed. She looked carefully over the page, but didn’t see anything that jumped out at her. Frankly it was an unhelpful looking page of small script jammed next to a complex two-dimensional looking image of what might have been a crystal. Or a horn. Or maybe just a triangle. It was hard to tell.
“Oh come on, don’t disappoint me now,” Script said, grinning.
Sunset squinted at the page, and then gasped as she noticed what it was Script was hoping she’d see. The writing itself, not what it said, was what was astonishing. Sunset couldn’t read it, but she’d seen it—
“These are the letters that appear around your magical aura,” she said wonderingly.
“In one!” Script cackled, striking the ground. “Exactly. This is the key!”
“Okay,” Sunset said, feeling that maybe Script wasn’t quite so crazy as she’d suspected. “How?”
“Well, from a standing start, it’d take months of research and planning, but don’t concern yourself about that. I already did the leg work. All I have to do is teach you the result, and that, I’m afraid...“ A brief flash of light, and a small booklet-sized sheaf of papers appeared in the air, bound with string. “There’s some required reading.”

“On the bright side,” Sonata said, trying to cheer Sunset up. “It doesn’t look like a long book.”
“It’s hardly a book,” Sunset mumbled, trying to decipher Script’s scribbling. “It’s just a collection of finalised notes. Orderly though it is, Script’s writing is just awful.”
Sonata leaned in and glanced over the chicken-scratch on the page. “And no pictures either,” she said empathetically.
“If this was a real book, it’d be much thicker, maybe even a few volumes. This is just the how, it doesn’t give much in the way of explaining exactly what it is outside of the bare essentials. Somepony could make a career off of this subject alone.”
“I expect you to read that carefully, apprentice,” Script called from behind.
“Try again,” Sunset called back.
“Student?”
“No.”
“Minion?”
“Sonata,” Sunset said, suddenly addressing her marefriend. “How much sting do you think this booklet would inflict if it struck Script’s nose?” Sunset looked sideways. “Sonata?”
“Huh?”
“Are you spacing out on me again?” Sunset grinned. “I don’t like you looking so serious. It means bad things are happening. Granted bad things are happening, but...” She let her smile fade. “Oh come on, you’re not still on about last night are you?”
“It’s not that,” Sonata said, watching the dirt path ahead of them. “It’s just... I’m having second thoughts about going to see Princess Celestia.”
Sunset cocked an eyebrow. “It was your idea, if you remember.”
“I know it was,” Sonata said quickly. “But you guys were so against it at first.”
“True. It’ll be dangerous. They know that better than we do.” Sunset jerked her head back at Script and Loyal Stride, who were following at a distance and having a serious-sounding conversation. Or possibly an argument.
“We decided to go through with it, and so we’ll just have to see what happens. Besides,” Sunset continued with an airy wave. “If things look too bad in Appleoosa, we’ll figure out something else. Equestria is a powerfully magical nation with a rich tradition of thaumaturgic lore. We’ll find something to break that rock off you and then we can go home.”
Sonata seemed to consider this for a moment. “I don’t see how, if so much time has passed. We could help Twilight,” she said tentatively. “That is what we came here for.”
Sunset sighed unhappily, the point about time hitting her harder than she’d like to think. “To be honest, Sonata, I’m starting to think that maybe things have gone beyond our help. Fighting off powerful beings trying to conquer Equestria is one thing. But an organised military force?” She shook her head. “That’s not the kind of thing that you can shoot rainbow lasers at and hope for the best.”
“We can try though, can’t we?” Sonata asked hopefully.
Sunset felt a swell of warmth burst inside of her. She chuckled and leaned into Sonata’s neck. “You are just too perfect,” she purred into Sonata’s ear. “By the looks of things, we’re stuck here, so we might as well help Twilight out with whatever she needs anyway.”
“Do you think she’ll need us for anything? She probably thinks we’re dead. Like, a long time ago dead.”
“Maybe,” Sunset agreed, smirking. “Can you imagine her face when we show up? We’re her friends. It’d be a kind of lying to not go see her. I’m not going to do that to Twilight. If she ever found out that we were here and we hadn’t tried to find her, I think she’d be really hurt that we’d kept that from her.”
“Friends don’t hide things from each other,” Sonata said, almost as though to herself.
Sunset looked at Sonata’s expression. Despite her efforts, it had slipped back into its distracted thoughtfulness.
Just what is bothering her?
She was about to ask her plainly what the matter was, determined to get to the bottom of this, when Sonata suddenly looked up, her eye apparently caught by something ahead of them. Sunset turned to follow Sonata’s line of sight, and did a double-take.
“Wow,” she said flatly, a word she did not use often, or lightly. “Is that really...”
“You don’t think they’re still alive, do you?” Sonata asked in an astonished whisper.
“I don’t see how they could be,” Sunset said, her voice just as awestruck as Sonata’s. “It... it must be abandoned... surely...”
Sunset let her sentence trail off. There was no chance in Tartarus that anypony else owned the building in front of them. But it simply wasn’t possible.
Nestled in and amongst crowding trees in an overgrown plot of shrubs and bushes was a tall, three-storey country house. Tiered tall and made of white-painted wood, the extremities were painted bright red, and decorated with a large number of old wood and metal instruments, most of which Sunset didn’t recognise, but all of which looked as though they were meant to make a lot of noise. Even the large garage on the western portion of the lawn had several whirling-clacking implements situated on the corners, all designed to look like pegasi-in-flight, or ponies playing trumpets. Several flood-lights rose up in the house’s front garden, unlit and tangled about with weeds and grass, pointing at the building’s facade, and a pair of large red curtains dangled from the third storey, sagging badly where they were held away from the building’s front by thick brocade ropes. All in all, it looked to Sunset as though somepony had attempted to make the house into a veritable stage, and she had a pretty good idea who that somepony – or those someponies – were.
Of course, the massive sign taking up most of the second floor’s exterior surface kind of gave the game away too.
“Yep,” Script said in a longsuffering voice. “I don’t relish the thought of asking them for a favour. But they’re the only ones whom I know who can possibly help us do this covertly.”
Neither Sunset nor Sonata answered him. Staring up at the sign, they both turned at the same time to look at each other, and then back at the sign.

Welcome to the Renowned Home of the Phenomenal
the Extraordinary,
the Amazing Flim Flam Brothers!

Below this, a small sign in a less ostentatious print read:

No Soliciting

Return to Equestria: The Rise of Roam

by Daniel-Gleebits

The Renowned Home of the Phenomenal, the Extraordinary, the Amazing- [Out of Space]