//------------------------------// // Final Intermission: This was a Bedtime Story?! // Story: At the Twilight of Harmony // by Rammy //------------------------------// Storyteller suddenly went silent. The story had clearly reached a climax with the battle near Hourglass. I had been gripped in excitement from the the moment the sun and moon had been lowered to the horizons, through Luna and Celestia's deaths, to the Nameless One’s own death by the raging He of Hourglass, and finally ending with the friendship wave that hit He of Hourglass, that ended with nothing! All that buildup, just to leave me hanging. I waited for a while, initially figuring that maybe he was formulating what to say next. I doubted that the moment I thought it, though, as Storyteller clearly knew the story like the inside of his hood. Storyteller was up to something… I may have only known him a short time, but, in that time, I knew that everything he did or said seemed to have some sort of ulterior motive. “Well?” I asked. I really hoped I managed to hide my curiosity with my poorly ‘concealed’ irritation. “Well, what?” Storyteller asked calmly, which infuriated me. I rushed ahead and turned to face Storyteller, who calmly stopped. “You know exactly what!” I snapped. “Aren't you going to finish?! I mean, you get me all hyped up to know how it ends, and you end off at a cliffhanger!” “Well…” Storyteller shrugged. “I figured that you would be too slack-jawed to pay attention, once we got to the top, which should be any moment now.” “Finally!” I yelled out in exasperated joy. I was so done with stairs. I then shuddered when I realized that, if I didn’t get my wings back, I would have to go back down the same stairs I've spent several days climbing. Storyteller merely chuckled, eliciting a growl from me. I immediately turned to continue up the stairs; as much as Storyteller was irritating me, after the days of stairs, my drive to get it over with drove me to keep climbing. The Final Battle of Hourglass played over and over in my mind as I did. The more I thought about it, the more something about the battle bothered me… well, only a single part, and it was really only the actions of one that bothered me. “May I ask you a question…?”   “Of course.” “Why did Sentinel… I mean… That is… uh...” I stumbled a few times as I struggled to come up with a way to explain my problem. I remembered the reaction of Storyteller the last time I had an ‘issue’ with Sentinel. “Couldn’t he have held that dragon prisoner, and helped his clan immediately afterward…? I mean, I understand the vow thing, and I get that he wanted the whole eye for an eye thing, and I don’t have a problem per say with that... It’s just that the Nameless One had nearly killed him, and he would have known that everyone fighting him would be in a life and death struggle…  they would have needed his help… and he abandoned them, until He of Hourglass’ roar of rage…” Storyteller sighed and remained silent for a while. I waited patiently this time, as I figured he was probably figuring out what to say. I mean, it wasn’t like I had asked what Sentinel’s favorite colour was… whatever Sentinel’s motive, was it was probably going to be one, complicated, and two, hard to believe. I didn’t get my answer, and forgot about it as I saw the ‘lip’ of the mountain's... base? Top? Whatever was the right word! I surged ahead, and, when my hooves reached the ground of the mountain, I nearly collapsed in relief. I started laughing incoherently, and nearly went about kissing the dirt and grass that lined the path. Storyteller just stood there, watching. I don’t know how long I was like that, until finally, I managed to recollect myself. If Storyteller was annoyed by my exuberance, he gave no indication, though, like always, the hood hid a lot. I scowled a bit before I turned to look towards the center of the mountain, and what I saw floored me. Which I admit shouldn’t have, especially after the Salt Flats, and seeing an upside down mountain should have prevented anything else from ever shocking me that way again, but it did. I mean, really, who in their right mind would ever build a city on the bottom of the top of the bottom of the whatever like this? Storyteller was right. I don’t think I would have been paying any attention to the story. There, rising above the treetops, was what could only be the Spiral Spire. It really did look just like a spring. A huge spring. I could just make out some buildings through the trees as well, but the trees were a bit too thick to get any details. “‘What fun is there is making sense?’ A favorite quote of Discord, and perfectly describes his people… Draconequuses were of chaos: they lived in a place where the ley lines were chaotic, and where a mountain disobeyed the laws of physics. So, of course, they would build a city in a spot that made zero sense.” Storyteller answered my unspoken question. I merely nodded. “Come,” Storyteller motioned for me to follow him down the path that continued on through the forest, “we have to get to the library.” “The library?” I dumbly repeated before it hit me. “The library!? As in the Library of the Firstclaw of the Hourglass Clan He of Hourglass?!” “The one and the same.” I gulped and slowly followed Storyteller. “Whoa...” I gasped. Storyteller chuckled at my reaction. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” That was putting it lightly. The city seemed to shimmer in the light. And what a city it was. Beside the many small outlying buildings that, I would assume, would be homes, there were numerous steep pyramid buildings towards the center of the city, along with what appeared to be a domed building near the Spiral Spire. The beauty only increased as we got closer. Every building was painted in bright colors and geometric designs. A single strip of etched metal went around every outer wall. Before long, though, I suddenly came to a scary thought. The beauty of the city had distracted me from something that was increasingly glaring. There was no one around. No signs of movement, recent or otherwise. The more we walked into the city, the more I became jittery. What I was seeing put me on edge. I was expecting the city to be in a state of disrepair, at least… That I can handle. But a place that looked like it was a bustling city yesterday and now is empty? That was another thing entirely. We continued towards the center of the city and the Spiral Spire; all the while, my nervousness increased. I kept thinking that there was something, or someone, watching me from the shadows. “Relax.” Storyteller suddenly spoke up, nearly causing me to fall over in fright. “It’s just that I expected a dragon to greet us, given the state of the city. Unless you withheld that they had managed to restore the city during the war, and not tell me…” “No, the city was still in a state of semi-ruin at the conclusion of the war... The only thing restored was the Spiral Spire… Look around you.” Storyteller stopped and gestured to everything with his head. “The clan was only a few years old at the Final Battle of Hourglass. Now tell me: even if they had focused only on that, do you think that, even with seven dragons, they would have had the ability to get all of this fixed up in that time?” “Probably not...” I admitted. The city was just so large… I don’t think that, even with unlimited resources, the entire Equus Nation could get it done, at this level of detail, in that amount of time. Silence once again reigned until we were in the center of the city. The Spiral Spire, I must say, is larger than it seems from a distance. If I recalled correctly, the building to the north was the council building, and the one that Storyteller was walking towards, the one to the south, had to be the library.   “Now what?” I asked, looking around for any sign of anyone watching but, as always, the feeling was there, but I could see nothing. “You are going into the library and, in the room at the end of the central hall, you will see a red dragon’s egg… I need you to…” “WHAT!?” I screamed in a mixture of shock and indignation. I knew exactly where Storyteller was going, and the audacity of the request was even worse than stealing a trinket! This was outright foalnapping, or whatever a dragon would call it… “Do you take me for a THIEF!? You bring me into the center of the very city you describe in your story, and then to the library of…” “What does your compass say?” “WHAT?!” I again shout. Things were getting out of hoof fast, and I still didn’t have my wings available to make an escape. I pulled out the compass, however, and noted in a huff that the compass was pointing towards the library. “Come on! This again? You know when you did that demonstration in the Salt…” “How many times!” Storyteller looked to the sky, then back at me, shaking his head while he did so. “I did not tamper with your compass! I couldn't, even if I tried! No one can… Your compass is a unique object that will only be ‘found’ by those worthy. The compass only works when you are in need, and only shows where you need to go, not where you want to go.” I blinked as I attempted to process that. The problem I had with Storyteller’s claim was that I had the compass for years, and never once did the compass show where I needed to go. Not until the Northern Oasis and Salt Flats, that is. “Wait... you think that the compass will tell you your every need?!” Storyteller started roaring in laughter, much to my chagrin. Apparently, what I was thinking was clear to him, though, to be fair, I’m sure that it would have been a very likely train of thought for anyone who was told that... “Like… Like where’s the nearest bathroom when you really need to go??!” I waited the best I could, which was hard, as his laughter was, as usual, getting on my nerves. “Okay… hmph...” Storyteller finally managed to calm himself down enough to stop laughing. “Let me clarify: it shows you where you are needed to be…” “Fine.” I narrowed my eyes to show my displeasure. “But even if that is true, I am not stealing an egg. I am an archaeologist by trade, not a tomb raider…” “I’m not asking you to steal the egg, but to be its caretaker. A caretaker that would not be intimidated by dragons just because they are dragons… To love and nurture the child inside, as if it was your own… without the need or want for payment...” I had nothing to say to that. I stood there, contemplating what to do for a while. Storyteller merely stood there, giving no indication of his own mood. The more I dwelled on everything, the more I knew I was screwed either way. Resigning myself to fate, I turned and made my way to the open doors of the library. As I stepped through the threshold, I could have sworn that I heard Storyteller mumble something,. but I could only make out a single word: Firstclaw. I decided to ignore that for now; any more delay was not going to get me out of this any faster. The library was surprisingly dim. It was only early afternoon, as the sun was still quite high in the sky, and I could see several skylights above. Like the buildings and streets outside, everything seemed clean; I could not see a speck of dust anywhere. I slowly made my way through the central hallway, the echoes from my hooves making me want to run back to the semi-safety of the outside. Yet, I kept going until I got to the doors at the end of the hall. I slowly opened those doors and stepped inside. The room reminded me of a much larger version of the main study and research rotunda at the Equus University. Unlike at the university, however, there weren’t a series of study desks. In fact, outside of the books and scrolls that lined the outlining wall, the room was nearly bare, with one glaring exception. In the center, I could see a mass of something; in the dim light. I could see a strange glittering came from that same area. If this is the same library described in the story, then it was possible that it was gems that I was seeing. As I got closer, I could see that I was right, that it was a pile of gems. The problem was there more than gems though. On top of the pile was something else. I cautiously stepped forward to get a better look in what little light was coming in from the skylight above. I gasped when I saw what it looked like. It was a dragon! I just knew I was in trouble. I just had to listen to crazy hermit hooded guy! I am so dead! In a panic, I backed up, but misjudged where the doors were, and I ended up slamming into a bookshelf. I yelped as a scroll fell down next to me. I froze in terror. According to Storyteller, a dragon would suffer neither a thief nor an intruder, and here I was, not only intruding, but being tasked with taking a red dragon’s egg! For a while, all I could only hear the pounding of my heart and the ragged breaths I was taking. The dragon apparently didn’t hear me or something… nothing was making sense… if I was told correctly, the dragons should have noticed my arrival, not only into town, but into the library. After a time, and against my better judgment, I slowly made my way back to the center of the room, and towards the dragon. The whole time, I’m screaming in my head I’m so dead over and over again. As I got back to the dragon, I slowly made my way around to get a look at the dragon’s face, now chanting Please let him not be awake and staring at me…. To my immense relief, the dragon appeared to still be sleeping. “Hello?” I squeaked out. No response. “Dragon of Hourglass?” I called out again, still in what I would not admit normally was a very girly voice. Again, I got no indication that the dragon had heard me. And, as I got closer, I couldn’t even see signs that the dragon was breathing. I closed my eyes and put my hoof right in front of the dragon’s snout. Please don’t bite off my legs, please don't bite off my legs. After some time of holding out my hoof I never once could feel any heat or air moving. I opened my eyes and put down my hoof. I then put my ear right up to the dragon’s chest, and could hear no heartbeat or shallow breathing. Furthermore, the body was stone cold. “It’s a statue?” I muttered in disbelief. I was tempted to hit it to make sure, but I was not sure that would be a could idea, as I didn't know what material the statue was made from. I let out a breath that I wasn’t even aware I was holding. Whoever created this statue was highly skilled. The details were so great that I could see no creases, marks, or cracks. Now, feeling safe-ish, I proceeded on the task Storyteller asked me to do. I reached out and touched the egg that was in the center of the pile of gems. I gasped as I did, as I could feel a strange energy stirring from within the red egg. I don’t know if that meant life or not, as I had never held a chicken’s egg, much less a dragon’s egg, but, in that moment, I felt compassion for the creature inside. I think I understand what Storyteller’s motive for bringing me here was, as well as for telling me the story he told me. He was looking for a special type of person. I wondered how many people he told this Keeper War story to, and how many people he looked at to find the right person to be a caretaker for this unborn child. I carefully repacked my saddle bags, so that I could carefully place the dragon egg inside. Luckily, the egg was fairly small. Once I was satisfied, I slowly and carefully grabbed the egg and placed it in the now-empty pocket of my saddlebag. I rechecked the straps on my saddlebag. I wanted to assure myself that it was securely strapped, and that the egg was not going to fall out. If this egg did contain a life in it, I wanted to make damn sure that there was no chance for any harm to come to the child. Nodding my approval, I made my way out of the library... “And that was how I came into possession of your egg.” A now older History Keeper whispered to a yawning female dragon hatchling that was snuggling under some covers. He had aged well, considering all he went through, when he was younger and more adventurous. A few grey strands in his mane and fur, but nothing more. History Seeker watched the dragon as the hatchling yawned again. Everything about the dragon hatchling was red, with one small exception: a single black numb of a horn at the tip of her snout. The scales that covered most over her body was an ordinary red, but her belly scales were a rich, deep ruby red, just like her namesake, Ruby. Her spines, which were a reddish orange, were hidden out of sight, under her covers. “What happened next?” History Seeker chuckled warmly. He was happy that his granddaughter enjoyed the story. His smile faltered for just a flash when he saw a unicorn mare watching them from the hall. “Another night, mayhaps. It’s past your bedtime, as it is.” “But grandpa! I want to hear what happens next!” Ruby whined. History Seeker wanted to indulge his granddaughter, but, between the continued yawning, and the look he was getting from his daughter, he knew that she was right, when her mother said to him that it would have to wait. “Don’t grandpa me, young missy, it’s time for you to go to sleep.” Ruby pouted, but didn’t complain any further as History Seeker tucked the hatchling back in, and kissed her lovingly on her cheek. Ruby yawned again as she curled up under the blankets, closing her eyes. Before History Seeker got off the bed, he leaned back down. “Don’t worry, Ruby. We’ll finish later…” He whispered. “You promise?” Ruby whispered out as she began to drift off to sleep. “Of course.” History Seeker smiled as he turned off the light in Ruby’s bedroom. “Must you do that!?” The mare hissed as History Seeker turned away from Ruby’s room. “Do what?” History Seeker had suspicions on what was bothering his daughter, Elegant Prose. “Give her hope!” Elegant Prose whispered angrily. “I’m merely telling her the truth, Elle.” History Seeker countered simply. “Don’t Elle me! I’m not a little filly anymore!” “And she is nearly three.” History Seeker gestured back to Ruby’s room. “So?” “She is nearly a whelp… a teenaged dragon…” “Yes, dragons magically become teenagers!” Elegant Prose mocked. She had heard these stories in her childhood. While it was something that would ignite the imagination of a child, it was just that: a story a myth, a fairy tale, fake. “Your stories, I admit, are quite imaginative, but that is all they are: the creation of your imagination… You know nothing about dragons!” History Seeker was taken aback at his daughter’s accusations. The Keeper books where all truthful; the only thing he did was put them into book form, which was why it credited as: As told to History Seeker by the Hermit of the Northern Oasis. The only thing that one could consider ‘untruthful’ is the fact that he changed the names of the dragons and their hoards to help protect them. True, his editor and publisher indulged his insistence that he was merely telling it how he was told it as a great way to market it. But his family, particularly his daughter, had seen things that should clearly prove that there was truth in those books. “What? You think I just found her egg abandoned in one of those ruins I explored in my youth!?” History Seeker questioned, still in a state of disbelief over his daughter's words. Elegant Prose didn’t respond, but History Seeker could tell; her silence told him everything. “Ruby was not abandoned!” History Seeker snapped, straining to keep his anger from causing him to raise his voice too much and wake the kids. “Look, I know that your husband was a cheater, and left you to raise Magic Dowser and Ruby on your own, but that is no excuse to project your hurt onto them! The day will come when she will start questioning her origins, where she came from, and why she is here and not with her own kind.” “That day will never come.” Elegant Prose narrowed her eyes, thrusting a hoof at History Seeker angrily. History Seeker raised an eyebrow at this, but said nothing, as he waited for his daughter to explain why she thought that. “I am her mother, and Magic Dowser is her brother. Nothing else is important!” “And I am their grandfather!” History Seeker stated, still straining to keep his anger in check. “And trust me, it may not be now, but soon, it will become important for Ruby!” “Get. Out.” Elegant Prose growled, her teeth grinding. “You are not to speak to Ruby, Magic Dowser, or me, ever again!” History Seeker blinked, his jaw slightly ajar in his shock. To think that his daughter would disown him like this was too much for him to fully process. He knew she was struggling, after her whole world, seemed to fall apart around her, but to push him away? “But Elle...” History Seeker begged, even as he was ushered out of the house. “Just go.” Elegant Prose tiredly ordered, before she closed the front door. History Seeker shook his head sadly as he left the home of his only daughter. A single tear fell from his eye. He loved his daughter and his grandchildren dearly, and only wanted the best for them. He just hoped she would realize her folly and relent, before the children were needlessly hurt. He sighed as he made his way to his own home; the night was only going to get longer, as he had some letters to write.