• Published 21st Jul 2014
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Journey with a Batpony - Gulheru



Twilight Sparkle, the Princess of Friendship, wishes to bring the greatest magic of all to the lands of batponies. Will she succeed in her mission in this distant and dangerous land?

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Chapter XX – Hearts and Minds

It was some time after sunrise, but the golden rays were still trying to push through the dense foliage of the Eastern Woods to reach the peaceful glade of Hollow Shades. Moonwarden pulled the cloak over himself tighter, watching his breath turning into clouds of vapor. Nettlie had warned him that mornings tended to be a little frigid around these parts of Equestria and the stallion had to be grateful for her tip. However prepared for the temperature, he was nonetheless irked by the necessity of waiting for so long for the appearance of the... hero of the day.

“I can practically feel myself aging,” he mumbled, taking off his monocle which became fogged yet again. “How long will we have to stand by for the arrival of the honorable mayor still?” he inquired, meticulously cleaning the eyepiece with his handkerchief.

Nettlie furrowed her brow, herself wrapped in a long coat, the hue of which played nicely with the morning shade around them. “They should have been here by now, sir, him and his secretary. They usually come in at this hour.”

The stallion restored his monocle to its rightful place and sighed. “Well, they are unfashionably late... Being unreliable, one of the many reasons you cannot count on others in your life,” he reminded himself, shaking his head. His voice filled to the brim with venomous irony. “Maybe the mayor suffered a sudden case of ‘longnightitis’?”

“Considering everything, sir, that could be a possibility,” the mare admitted, then shivered when she saw the grim look on his face. “I-if that shall t-turn out to be the case, I’m so, so sorry for waking you up early today, sir! I-I could bring you some warm tea and—”

“Nettlie, has anypony ever told you that you are too fearful and apologetic?” Moonwarden interrupted her with a question, abruptly summoning a warm smile on his muzzle.

The mare blushed furiously. “Toolbox, sir. A-and you... Repeatedly.”

“Then do us all a favor and cease behaving so,” he advised her, his voice filled with strength. “You are no longer that discharged doctor-in-training from Manehattan General. You are a servant of the Lady of the Night, the Princess of Equestria. Take strength and dignity from your position.”

“I am aware of this, sir, I really am. But... well, y-you still have authority over me, sir. I do not want to be found wanting...” Nettlie replied timidly.

Even well-chosen words like these could not hide her hidden relief from Moonwarden.

“If such is the case, fret not. I am, above all, a reasonable stallion. I do not find pleasure from chastising my closest associates for small misconducts or random incidents.”

He heard the mare’s faint giggle. “Is that right, sir? I don’t believe you are avoiding that also because you actually... like us, is it?”

“I simply cannot fool you, can I?” he responded, trying to stop the corners of his mouth from twitching. “You are right, amity has nothing to do with it. Erratic lambasting is, bluntly, counterproductive. And I need you to operate at peak efficiency.”

“If that’s your approach, sir, might I ask you something?” The mare’s eyes glinted with kind mischief.

“By all means, Nettlie,” he replied, wondering what was on her mind.

“Have your parents ever considered naming you something like... ‘Ruthless Calculus’?”

Moonwarden heard her question well. However, instead of granting her an answer, he only gave out a dry, false chuckle, looking to the side at some kind of local shrubbery that in an instant became a lot more interesting than the mare. Infinitely more interesting. To be honest, he would not mind not hearing anything more from her for that day after that particular question.

“Sir?”

Wishful thinking.

“Sir, are you alright?” she asked with genuine concern to which he decided to answer with impeccable tact.

“I am quite fine, thank you.”

“H-have I said something wrong, sir?”

“No, Nettlie, why would you think that...?” he inquired with well-trained sincerity. Fighting the urge to cut this discussion short through... other means.

“I-I-I just thought—”

He finally turned his head and winked. “Were we not talking about being jittery, hmmm?”

“Oh... Oh!” she came to the realization and shook her head. “Sir, you’ve got me there! I thought I have brought up some difficult topic, or something!”

Moonwarden sent her a brilliant, crooked smile. “Practice your awareness, Nettlie.”

He turned his eyes away shortly after, knowing too well that those could betray even a liar as proficient as him. Thankfully, two ponies he then spotted approaching created the perfect opportunity to shift away from this dreadful exchange.

“Look there, is that not the venerable mayor and his aide?”

Nettlie squinted her eyes and stared down one of the streets leading to the small square on the edge of which they were waiting.

“Yes, sir. The younger stallion, the unicorn, that’s Quill Driver. He is a local, very polite and nice to everypony... They say that he is the one actually running the town hall, because mayor Stamp Duty is more and more often... well, you can see it for yourself, sir...” she ended on an uneasy whisper.

And for a good reason, Moonwarden thought. The middle-aged, bluish earth pony was leaning heavily onto his secretary, causing this Quill Driver to try and gallantly compensate for his superior’s lamentable state. Which was making the pair swing between the sides of the street as if they were performing some peculiar, ballroom dance, all despite the younger pony’s efforts.

“I had no idea there is a ‘Ministry of Silly Trots’ here,” Moonwarden hissed through his teeth, feeling disgust gathering inside of him. “Is this his... typical state even at this hour?”

Nettlie bit her lip. “He... appears more inebriated today than usual, sir...”

They watched the two ponies shamble towards the solid, wooden door of the town hall, a larger, slightly more ornate version of the local dwellings. Quill Driver “parked” the mayor on the porch and by the wall, reaching for the key ring by his bag. He did so just in time, miraculously stopping Stamp Duty from tumbling to the side, into some neatly trimmed hedges. Then the two managed to make it inside, Quill Driver checking whether nopony was approaching the hall and the door closing behind the pair with firmness.

Moonwarden sighed. This was an atrocity. A shameful display, indeed.

“Considering what I have just witnessed...” he began, stretching his back slowly, in a gesture of self-preparation. His scars reminding themselves to him unpleasantly. “... nopony around thought about filing a complaint against the mayor? Voting him off?”

Nettlie shook her head. “No, sir. From what I’ve gathered, Stamp Duty has friends in all of the nearby lumberyards. He makes sure that nopony local or from the outside upsets the... status quo. And a vast majority of ponies in town work around timber production, so...”

Moonwarden took a deep breath, reaching for the knot of his cloak. “Well now, this malaise is about to end.”

He took off his warm covering, revealing the ensemble he had prepared for occasions such as this one. A black, rich morning dress, tailored especially for him, the material so delicate and light, it almost felt like a part of his own body. The sign of the Royal Office was proudly presented on the coat in form of a silver, polished badge. The stallion checked whether his outfit was in proper order and as splendid as befitting his role. Satisfied, he turned to his subordinate, who was eyeing him with something he could vaingloriously describe as awe.

“Nettlie?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied, straightening her posture.

“Pass me the scroll.”

The mare quickly rummaged through the bag she was keeping vigil over, retrieving a piece of parchment wrapped in an atramentous sash with the sign of Princess Luna herself on the wax seal. The very sight of such a document was usually enough to send shivers down any functionary’s spine, as it meant nothing else than an official investigation and performance assessment.

And who did not fear having their work scrutinized thoroughly?

“Is the town hall in so much trouble, then...?” Nettlie asked, her gaze following the document.

Asked a bit foolishly, Moonwarden thought.

“First of all, I believe that to be obvious, considering what I have seen,” he retorted, grabbing the paper with his silver magic. “But, second of all, a scroll like this is one of the most useful legal tools in Equestria... so I carry it with me on a nearly daily basis,” he admitted, grinning. “Flashing a royal seal in front of almost anypony makes them inexplicably more cooperative and kind.”

Nettlie’s eyes widened. “But, sir... isn’t such a document issued for... individual cases only?”

“In theory,” he lackadaisically remarked, “but I am just reusing this one. Call it ‘legal recycling’, if you will?” he proposed, chuckling. “There is no need for more red tape in Equestria, it is tedious as it is already. Besides, I have no time to squander on such trivialities as asking for a new permission every time...”

“So... what is written inside exactly, if—”

“Vague and indiscernible juridical gibberish that holds a greater dominion over minds and actions of others than even my magic...” he replied sardonically, getting ready to proceed.

“... does the Princess know, sir?”

At Nettlie’s question his face hardened. He gave her a dark look. “Do you doubt my loyalty to our Lady, agent?”

“N-never, sir!” she replied immediately, her knees shaking.

“Good. Feel free to doubt everything about me but that,” he told her, feeling a strange melancholy gathering in him. He shrugged. “Never mind. Your orders are to stay in before the town hall and make sure nopony interrupts me. I care not whether they want to grovel before the mayor, bring him cupcakes, or complain because their shanty shack tumbled down and their children are trapped in the rubble. Nopony walks in.” He gave the mare a kind gaze finally. “Talk to them about weather, or trees, or trees and weather. I am uncertain whether the locals have any better topics to muse upon. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Nettlie acknowledged rapidly and Moonwarden spotted the worried sparks in her eyes.

Damnation, he really scared the poor thing...

He left the mare behind without more words, turning towards the town hall. Moving, he checked for the pocket portrait in his vest. It was still there, where it belonged.

He brought forth his most generous, unsettling expression just before reaching the door.

“Let us begin, Moonwarden.”

“Right behind you,” his mouth whispered back as he knocked, firmly, with authority. A couple of seconds have passed before he heard a voice from the other side.

“Coming, coming!”

Enthusiasm. Genuine or well-trained. Intriguing.

Slowly the passage opened and Quill Driver, the mayor’s secretary, appeared in it. “Yes, how may I help you?”

The aide had marigold coating and caramel hair. Moonwarden was expecting him to pale the moment he had lain his pine eyes on him, or, to be more precise, on his ensemble, the badge and the scroll levitating in a silver mist. However, only a spark of caution blinked in the other unicorn’s gaze, nothing more.

The colt recognized his situation, Moonwarden was certain, and yet he remained calm. A start not as promising as he hoped for. There was no reason not to continue the game, however.

“Greetings.” His voice was an ideal mixture of kindness and veiled hazard. “Is this the town hall, perchance?”

“Naturally, sir, of course!” Quill Driver replied, not a dent in his armor of composure. “How might the Hollow Shades’ Town Hall be of service to you today, sir?”

Turning towards a memorized formula. A typical strategy when feeling threatened. Nevertheless, the stallion appeared pretty unmoved so far.

“My name is Moonwarden. I am representing the Most Honorable Princess’ Royal Office, here by the decree of the Lady of the Night, the esteemed Princess Luna,” Moonwarden introduced himself and his role, bringing the scroll before the other pony’s eyes, so that he could spot the seal with ease. “I trust you know what my arrival and a document like this means, mister... Quill Driver, is it?”

“Why, of course! We greet such a worthy guest in our humble workplace, hoping to serve our great Princesses to the best of our abilities! I shall be happy to aid you in everything you might need...” the pony paused, bowing his head, “... my lord.”

Moonwarden smirked faintly, feeling his vanity becoming indulged. He was dealing with a smart colt, wishing to try and get in his good graces. He was going to let him freely try.

“Might I enter?” he inquired, attempting to trot in without waiting for a real permission.

“Naturally, my lord. Might I check the scroll first, however? I need to ascertain myself that your visit meets the necessary protocols.”

Moonwarden blinked. Interesting, this Quill Driver was standing his ground so far. It was becoming as intriguing as bothersome.

“Why, that goes without question,” the grey unicorn responded nonetheless, passing the document.

“It shall only take a second, my lord. Please, come in,” Quill Driver offered, making enough room.

Moonwarden ventured in and looked around. The town hall was a typical office building. Not grand, but clean. Prettied even. The secretary’s desk, some locked compartments for files, a map of the region, everything kept tidy. He wondered how much work this Quill Driver had to put in this place to make it look decent, considering his superior was prone to drunken antics and, possibly, disinterested in his work station.

The delicate, yet distinct smell of liquor was a good proof of just that.

The secretary sat in his chair, reading the scroll, Moonwarden politely deciding to wait before the desk. It was easier to have Quill Driver cooperating out of good will rather than coercion. He wondered how much angst he would spot in the young stallion’s eyes after his realization that—

“I’m terribly sorry, my lord, but this document is faulty.”

Moonwarden barely kept his monocle in place, his brow arching abruptly. What had he just said...?

“Faulty, mister Quill Driver?” he inquired, faking mere curiosity to hide his blatant astonishment.

“I’m afraid so, my lord,” the secretary turned to parchment around for him to see, pointing with his hoof at various words and expressions contained within. “Despite mentioning all of the correct regulations, the scroll is not in any way narrowing down your permission of conducting investigations to our office, my lord, as is required by the Royal Office Superintendence Act of the year 1201. It is easy to miss due to the wording and construction of this particular piece, indeed, but it creates an omission impossible to correct with a subsequent attestation. I’m terribly sorry, but without this I cannot allow you to have insight into our documentation and reports, my lord.”

If not for his extensive training, Moonwarden’s jaw would drop. This... this youngling had enough confidence and skill to contest a document which usually caused officials to sweat like they had just galloped a mile!

“Are... you certain, mister Quill Driver? I doubt the employees of our Office would allow such a neglect to—”

“Again, I’m terribly sorry, my lord, but the law is law. I cannot help you,” the other unicorn answered, shaking his head. “As a good host, I can offer you some tea or a local herbal blend, but afterwards I shall require you to leave as I have my obligations to return to.”

As every secretary ever, disinterested in the further exchange with a petitioner, the young unicorn levitated the scroll back into Moonwarden’s grasp, then reached for a dossier from the nearby shelf and began reading.

The grey unicorn stared, dumbfounded, at his own document, the importance and strength of which was just denied, alongside his ability to conduct inquest. This had never happened before. Never! This... this Quill Driver just disarmed and bested him?

Bested... him?!

“This shall not stand,” Moonwarden whispered.

“Quite right, sir, such a lack of professionalism is regrettable,” the secretary answered without looking up. “I suggest taking disciplinary actions against whomever failed your expectations, my lord.”

“You are very right...”

“Thank you, sir.”

Moonwarden smirked absent-mindedly. “Oh, no, mister Quill Driver, I was talking to myself,” he admitted. “This shall not stand.”

The younger pony looked up, curious to what he had meant. He was met by a piercing gaze.

“I admire your professional approach, mister Quill Driver. However, I shall not stop from conducting the necessary actions, whether backed by law and a royal seal, or not.”

“Sir, I advise you to discontinue. I see you are upset by this and I can empathize, for you have taken a long journey for naught, but I cannot allow you to perform any actions in the name of the Royal Office or even the Princesses themselves directly without a valid document,” the unicorn exclaimed, looking straight into Moonwarden’s eyes.

“Even if I am aware of mayor Stamp Duty’s drunken antics?”

Despite knowing he hit his mark, Moonwarden received no indication of it from the other stallion.

“Sir, I have no idea what you are talking about. I feel I need to instruct you, however, that slandering a government official is a punishable offence.”

“You could tell that to the whiff of alcohol in the air,” Moonwarden countered, feeling his patience waning.

“Sir, what you are smelling is furniture polish, nothing else. As a representative of the Town Hall, I advise you to leave my workplace, sir, and allow me to perform my duties.”

“Mister Quill Driver,” the grey unicorn could not accentuate his displeasure enough, “there is a subtle yet distinct difference between dramatic attempts at fighting for a lost cause, like the mayor is... and deriding your better by insulting his intelligence... Furniture polish, please.”

“I am in no way aiming to insult you, sir. Please, leave at once,” Quill Driver demanded, wishing to finish the exchange. “Or else I shall be forced to summon the Royal Guard.”

Moonwarden let out a chuckle. “Beneficial! I shall be able to report to them my recent findings!”

“To what ‘findings’ are you referring, sir?” Despite his agitation, the pony looked confused for a second. And that was more than enough.

A brief flicker of silver, focused through Moonwarden’s monocle, danced in Quill Driver’s eyes.

“You have taken bribes.”

“I have taken bribes,” the secretary replied without a second of hesitation.

“I had a feeling about you, mister Quill Driver,” Moonwarden faked disappointment.

The secretary blinked. He opened his mouth to say something, then panic glistened in his gaze. For the first time his professionalism crumbled, like the walls of a breached fortress.

“W... what? I... No, I’ve never done so!” he stammered, his jaw shaking. “What? What have you done?”

Moonwarden strengthened his posture, approaching the desk and resting his forehooves on it. He had taken the initiative.

“What is this? No ‘sir’? No ‘my lord’? Where is your civility, mister Quill Driver?” He allowed another blink, a longer one, to emit from his silver eyes and reflect in his. “Apologize properly.”

“I’m very sorry, my lord, this shall not happen again,” the unicorn said firmly, then the fear in his expression only manifested further. “I... I... I... how?”

“How...?” Moonwarden elongated the question, hoping the pony would take the hint.

“How... m-my lord?” Quill Driver corrected himself, much to the grey stallion’s satisfaction.

“Very good! You are a quick learner, secretary,” he praised him with hidden malice. “And ‘it is insignificant’ is my answer. I was sent here to investigate a rather sad case of arbitrary business practices, as well as rumours of the honorable mayor’s... tragic, percentage-based affliction. I admire your legal professionalism, mister Quill Driver, you actually surprised me earlier on... but even that shall not obstruct my duties. Am I making myself clear?”

The other unicorn did not speak up, staring at Moonwarden with a gaze that was containing genuine worry and that glimmer of hope for leniency due to willful cooperation. A fool’s hope, but hope nonetheless.

“M-my lord, I will gladly aid you in whatever I can, in that case,” he ascertained. Was he as cunning as he wished to appear?

“Oh? May I be allowed to see the mayor then?” Moonwarden inquired, pointing at the door with a golden label, marking the proper office.

Quill Driver gulped. “I-I mean, the mayor had a couple of... personal problems lately, concerning his wife, he has a lot of catching up to do with the paperwork and—”

Moonwarden glared at him. “Mister Quill Driver, your loyalty does you credit, even if being sadly misplaced. However, it should never stop you from doing what is right. Besides...” The stallion squinted his eyes. “... I have no time for codswallop. I am well aware of the mayor’s... eccentricities and inefficiency. Considering this, the Royal Office might be searching for a... replacement for him soon. And I might be seeking a candidate myself, somepony with enough wit and skill, somepony loyal to the country and not the local enterprises.”

Moonwarden saw that blink he desired. That glimmer of opportunity in Quill Driver’s pine eyes, one that no preparation could ever hide. How satisfying... He got to him after all.

“So, secretary, I would like to speak to mayor Stamp Duty in person. How bad is it?”

“Pretty... bad, my lord.”

“Then I shall not linger inside for long, I just wish to see for myself this catastrophe. However, I presume you shall stay here in the meantime, allow me to have a short chat and not come up with such silly ideas like calling the local peacekeepers for support?” Moonwarden inquired, lowering his voice.

“Your... your presumption is correct, my lord,” Quill Driver replied, trying to imitate the tone, that glint of self-interest only becoming more noticeable. “Shall I gather the dossiers about our lumberyards for you, my lord? Not to waste your time?”

Moonwarden smiled at this sudden eagerness. “Good stallion.” He grinned even wider at his naiveté. “Do so,” he ordered, sending one more suggestion to the secretary’s mind through the spark of his transfixing gaze.

Leaving Quill Driver to do the zealous work for him, Moonwarden approached the mayor’s door and knocked on it. There was no reason not to be polite. When no reply was granted, he pressed on the handle, opening the passage.

He was assaulted by a wave of stench. Odor potent enough for one to become drunk from even breathing in. He trotted inside, into a dark office, fighting his wrenching stomach. The curtains were closed, the room was barely lit. The mayor was almost laying across his desk, having a glass in his one hoof and a bottle of some local liquor, nearly emptied, in a lover-like grasp.

He had a serious tempo, indeed.

Hearing the doors closing, Stamp Duty, his burgundy mane falling all over his muzzle, looked up with bloodshot eyes. “Who... who the T—hic!—Tartarus are you...?” he mumbled, trying to focus his vision.

Moonwarden, keeping his rising tide of anger at bay, smiled at him broadly. “Is it not obvious? My name is Sunshine Rainbows and I bring word from the fairies!” he melodiously replied.

“T... tell them, I’ve... I’ve gathered the pollen already, sheesh...” the mayor replied, resting his forehead back on the desk.

Blimey, was he pissed!

Moonwarden shook his head, approached one of the chairs prepared for potential clientele and took his seat in front of the drunkard.

“So, mayor Stamp Duty, is it? I have heard you have some health issues, sir.”

“N-nah... It’sh nothing. I—hic!—I have my medishine right here,” he declared, the stench of his soaked breath irritating nostrils. And eyes.

“Potent, is it not? You get it from your adoring supporters in the lumberyards, no?” Moonwarden asked, leaning forward. He was curious whether moments of clarity could be bestowed upon the fool, or would he reveal something interesting in his state.

“Y...yeah!” Stamp Duty shouted, which caused him to grab the side of his head and grimace in pain. “Sh...sh...shorry. G-got a... a bit of a—hic!—y’know.”

“Me know,” Moonwarden assured, almost gagging at the smell, as well as the simplistic language that had just left his mouth. “Do continue, please.”

“Well, being shick or not...” The mayor raised his hoof, almost spilling the remnants of his drink. “I’ve... I’ve goth a good reashon to sh—hic!—shelebrate!”

“Oh? Is your wife in Baltimare feeling better, sir?” Moonwarden inquired, shifting in his seat to move slightly away from the flailing idiot.

“Nah! F...forget about her! Think of the l... lumber!” the mayor shouted again, which must have caused more agonizing pain in his head. Appropriate. “Loadsh of lumber coming in!”

Priorities, priorities.

Stamp Duty reached for the bottle, trying to pour himself some more liquor, whilst Moonwarden praised fortune on the inside. Gathering information from the inebriated imbecile proved almost too easy. Dissatisfying even.

“To our c...cartographiclicious friendsh that make i...it happen!” the mayor finally declared, making a toast despite having nothing in his glass. “To the Biteguard!”

Pardon? ‘The Biteguard’? Moonwarden frowned. Did he have in mind...?

“Do you mean... the ‘Nightguard’, perchance, sir?”

“Yesh! That’s it! To the B...Blightguard!”

“Close enough, sir, yes, thank you,” Moonwarden responded, miraculously avoiding the spit that came out of the mayor’s mouth.

Despite part of him wishing to think of more names Stamp Duty could have come up with for the batpony unit, even enjoying the sound of them, Moonwarden felt his mind going abuzz. So it was the Nightguard that was charting the woods? And for the lumberyards specifically, yes? Out of what, he wondered, the goodness of their hearts? A ridiculous thought, nopony had ever done anything ‘good’ without the hope of repayment. Thinking otherwise was utter idiocy.

What was the batponies’ reasoning then? Considering what happened in Maretonia lately...

Moonwarden stood up. He sensed something wrong with this scenario and he was going to get to the bottom of it, and soon. Besides, he was absolutely done with this soak! “I am in need of these cartographic marvels that I presume you are so content with, sir.”

“T...talk to little Quilly—”

“I shall then, thank you, sir,” the unicorn spat out, battling outright disgust. “Best of health to you and your wife,” he added sarcastically.

“R...r...rut her!” Stamp Duty shouted back, then a stupid smile came upon his muzzle. “I ushed to, once... And not o—hic!—only once! She was young and c...curvy. Now sh...she ish all coughing and thin and sh...shmelly... No fun!” there was genuine, hammered sadness in his voice.

Moonwarden was about to leave the room and the mayor behind, but the tone of his slurred speech and his exact words made him freeze in place.

“Do not say things like that, sir. She is your wife, she must love you a great deal,” he replied in a monotonous voice.

Why was he saying that?

“She doesh! She alwaysh did! Though—” he belched loudly, “I never r...really cared! L...let one die, you can alwaysh get a n...new one, huh?”

Moonwarden closed his eyes for a moment. “You do not care for her feelings, mayor?” he asked with morbid tranquility, approaching despite the aura of alcohol, and circling the desk.

“I cared for h...her cute cheeksh and soft r—hic!—rump!” Stamp Duty responded and chortled hideously. “Y...you know what I mean, Shunshine?”

“I know exactly what you mean, mayor.”

Without further notice, Moonwarden grabbed the other stallion by his mane and drove his head, muzzle first, into the desk. A solid thump resounded in the room and a twinge of pain went through his leg at the strength he used. Although it was only enough to cause Stamp Duty to wail and grab his face because of the sudden pain, without any serious damage done.

“You... you miserable dog!” Moonwarden screamed, his teeth bared. “You drink yourself to death while she is in agony, ill?! You worthless excuse for a pony!”

He wasn’t certain whether Stamp Duty could hear him over his groans of painful protest, but at this point, he could not care less. He had decided. He trotted to face the drunken swine and focused.

He knew he was going to regret this soon... but he was not going to let this atrocity that was his existence continue.

His horn shun with argent light, bathing the office in mercurial aura. He focused. He aimed. He exhaled.

A tether, like a spider’s web, protruded forth and shot forward. Stamp Duty barely had the opportunity to spot it flashing before him. It struck him in the forehead, sticking to it firmly and drilling into his head with a vicious hiss.

The mayor let out a strained groan of agony. His eyes unfocused, then rolled back inside his own skull. His body tensed all its muscles before going limp, almost causing him to slip from his chair.

Moonwarden’s own gaze was that of pure silver of his magic. “What a weak mind,” he whispered to himself. “Unprepared, untrained, basic. Barely worth the attention...”

He felt the connection created between him and the fool. His thoughts were writhing, trying to free themselves from Moonwarden’s clutches. For naught. The pony’s dreams, memories, aspirations... Everything was visible, clear, presented almost as if on a silver platter. A platter for the grand, satisfying feast.

Stamp Duty was barely breathing among the agony. And every exhale sounded like death rattle. Pained. Frightening.

Moonwarden smirked.

“Why the protests, dear mayor? It hurts?” he asked with irony. “Oh, an important lesson has to hurt...”

He began working, focusing on maintaining the arcane connection. And slowly the thoughts in the mayor’s head were beginning to shatter and evaporate, thus allowing new concepts to take their place. All accompanied by the increasingly dramatic wails of the pony.

“Stop struggling, wretch...” Moonwarden advised with a kind smile. “I would say that this pains me more than it does you. But that would be a blatant lie as I am savoring this. Besides, you should be likewise... ecstatic,” he added, putting more force behind the spell, which caused tears to flow steadily from the mayor’s eyes. “You are getting yourself a rehab. Free of charge!” he shouted, pouring more and more energy into his charm, causing the connection to throb and convulse with silver reflections.

After a minute, Stamp Duty was but slumped motionlessly in his chair, his jaw hanging, his eyes empty and the tether of Moonwarden’s enchantment still burrowing itself in his head like a hungry corpse worm.

The grey unicorn was doing a little... “reorganization” in this alcohol-soaked mind. Smiling widely at the morphing thoughts and shifting aspirations. At the melting memories and dreams weaving themselves under his guidance.

“Just so you know, mayor,” he spoke, although knowing well that the pony was at this point beyond the capability of hearing him, “I am not doing this for you. I believe you to be as worthless as they come. Perhaps I should have just left you a comatose husk... But there is somepony out there that might still have a use for you.”

He sent forward a bit more force, having found an image of a sweet, smiling pegasus inside Stamp Duty’s mind and scraping it from the gathered dust of indifference and cancerous desires which were rotting underneath.

“Your wife, I believe? She is really beautiful, mayor. And she must hurt a lot...” he paused, shuddering at the sensation hidden in the pony’s mind, “if her sickness drove you into this abyss of drink. However, escaping is never a solution, Stamp Duty. I would abandon you in this void, for all I care. But for her and her feelings towards you...? I have decided to grant you a second chance.”

Despite gathering almost his entire power and focus on keeping the spell going, Moonwarden suddenly felt the cold of the pocket portrait in his vest. He sighed, a sad smile blooming on his muzzle. “You cannot choose who you love, after all...”

***

Twilight groaned and stretched under the blankets. She felt a blissful pop somewhere in her spine, which sent tingles of relief throughout her.

She grimaced, feeling lightheaded and dizzy... but also really, really well-rested. She must have slumbered deeply. She wished to get up immediately, but felt strangely compelled to sleep further. It took her a couple of groans and sighs to shake the remnants of numbing lethargy from her mind. She normally didn’t have that much trouble with getting up in the morning!

She sat up and exhaled, shaking her head. Well, she didn’t usually wake up after a diplomatic meeting that turned out to be an absolute disaster. That was some experience. One that she did not wish to face again, but an experience still.

She stumbled from the bed, keen on taking a quick bath. Her limbs were sluggish, protesting against coordinated movement for some reason. There was no time for this inconvenience, though. This was a new da—night, and Twilight had to be as prepared as possible for more challenges to come.

What was the hour even, she pondered, turning on the water and focusing on heating it up magically to more civilized standards. She had trouble discerning the passing of time in the caverns, even though batponies seemed to have no problem with telling whether it was morning, midnight or otherwise. Speaking of which, she would have to ask Midnight a—

She paused, not minding her spell waning and the water continuously streaming into the bath pocket. There was that twang in her heart when she turned to look towards her bed, finding it empty. Something that suddenly felt incredibly... depressing for her.

She remembered yesternight. When she lashed out at him. In desperation, in frustration, with that feeling of... betrayal growing in her chest. After she had realized he had been sworn by the Covenant not to reveal anything about the Solar Holy War, or Shades’ Hollow, or Ebon Fang. And, as much as she might have felt briefly that it was justified back then, she could not bear that thought any longer.

It stung, yes. It hurt, even, knowing that her beloved had... other loyalties alongside the one towards her. But could she blame him for those? For trying to stay faithful to his country and his rulers?

She mused. If Princess Celestia would send her here, to Noctraliya, and asked her to... to spy... Not that she ever would do such a thing! But purely hypothetically thinking, if Twilight would have been asked to gather information about the noctrali in a... well, clandestine fashion... Of course, it was only an imaginary scenario! Then... then she, well, she would bet that she would do it. B-because she trusted the Princess, a-and she would think it noble to aid Equestria and... and...

... and that was exactly why feeling betrayed by Midnight was foolish. For Twilight herself wouldn’t have been any better in a scenario like this.

She sighed. Perhaps she was being unreasonable. After all, she was in love. But... deep inside, for some strange reason, she knew that everything was going to be fine. She was filled with... determination. With hope for the future.

She smiled and stepped into the bath pocket, absentminded.

The frigid cold reminded her that internal monologuing could be hazardous for one’s health. And dignity, considering that it was the second time lately when she found herself landing on her backside due to freezing water.

After finally managing to deal with the temperature shenanigans, Twilight was prepared to go into the next chamber, knock on the door firmly and speak to Midnight. She was convinced that she had to strongly apologize to him for yesternight and then talk it all out. Then everything would turn back to normal.

Hidden from the world, cautious, almost scandalous, but normal.

However, the scenario in her head changed the moment she vigorously opened the door of her room. A muffled cry of protest, followed by a tray hitting the ground, did prove that Twilight’s plan wasn’t the only thing that took a hit.

“Oh dear! I’m so, so sorry!” she apologized profoundly, checking into the corridor and seeing a young arcemandr reeling backwards, holding his muzzle with one hoof whilst eyeing all the fruit that went tumbling across the passage.

Knaze, ia ecus. I apologize,” the stallion murmured, avoiding gazing at her. “I apologize very much... My lack of attention, it cost tue your breakfast...”

“No, please, it’s my fault,” Twilight insisted, feeling her face burning, “I shouldn’t have opened the door so quickly...”

“I... I apologize,” the priest simply responded, never staring upwards, only trying to collect the escaping oranges.

“Are you alright? Let me help you!” Twilight was prepared to gather the fruit as well.

“No need, I apologize, no need...” the batpony kept repeating, even humbly hiding his face underneath his hood. “I bring more, fresh. I apologize...”

Twilight frowned. The arcemandr was not treating her with respect towards a diplomat, or a royal. He was... worried. Afraid even.

Was he expecting her wrath, or something?

Considering what she had learned yesternight, considering what had befallen the batponies... yes, that felt somewhat probable.

Stepping carefully past the scrambling pony, she approached the next set of doors and knocked on them. She listened carefully. There was no movement inside the chamber, at least not one she could hear. Was Midnight out...?

K-Knaze...

She turned her head to the priest, who finished gathering the food on the plate and was giving her a reluctant gaze.

Nocferratan, uhm... The Nightguardian is in the Ingena Herame, praying, if tue are searching for him, Knaze.”

Twilight gave him a warm smile. “The Great Shrine, yes? Thank you, arcemandr. I shall join him, then.”

“Wh... what about your supper, Knaze? Should ia still bring it here, or...?”

“Yes, please, if you could be so kind. It shall not take me long,” she assured, never letting go of her kind expression. “I’m once again, very sorry for this accident. I promise to be more careful in the future.”

She finally persuaded the priest to smile meekly. His eyes lightened up too. It was those little victories sometimes.

Twilight recalled the way towards the temple decently. However, her enchanted eyesight was gone tonight, without Midnight helping her sustain it. She was cautiously passing through the corridors of the priesthood district, following the lanterns on the walls, in which light of the candles was shimmering.

She felt like a captain of a ship, using stars to navigate through the murky sees.

Her hoofsteps were muffled by the carpets, which made the silence around her eerie. She felt her heart gripped slightly by angst, realizing that going on her own through these passages was... somewhat hazardous. Also not in line with any kind of proper protocol, she presumed. Normally she would have Lichen leading her, or Midnight keeping close to her, as ordered.

She might have ended up looking to her sides and behind slightly more often due to that. The last thing she needed was unwanted attention. Or a pair of... “hidden eyes” on her.

Twilight reached the main cavern of the Sanctuary, having the enormous relief of Princess Luna on her right. At least, she believed so. Even the luminous crystals used around weren’t enough to aid her. The shadow around her was terrifying. She could hear the commotion echoing around the cave, as the locals must have already started their everynight tasks. But she could only hear them in the darkness.

She turned her trot towards the Shrine, hoping that the interior of it, with its silver and marble, would actually show itself to her, even with the lack of stronger light source.

Soleerania Knaze?” she heard a voice somewhere nearby. Another tone quickly responded to it.

Kwo? Gdye?

Tam! Ipe ire na Herame?!

Neskaza Lunee! Kwid?

Twilight tried her hardest not to listen to the exchange. She could hear the worry hidden in those words. Oh, she hoped not to be stopped before reaching the Shrine! Or... or accused of trying to desecrate it, or something!

She began trotting a bit quicker, feeling her heart thumping. The sound of her hooves seemed to have been... betraying her. She could tell, she had ponies looking at her. The mane on the back of her head was beginning to stand. Her eyes escaped to the side at one point, spotting a sudden glint. Or, to be precise, two pair of glints, clearly belonging to some noctrali keeping a close vigil over her approach. Warriors? Occultani?!

Knaze? Princess, what are you doing here?”

A familiar voice reached her ears.

“Custodian Lichen?” she inquired of the shadow in front of her.

“Yes, yes, that’s me!” the old priest replied and Twilight soon spotted his form emerging from the shades of what must have been the entrance to the Shrine. Such approach would scare her stiff under normal circumstances, but the arcemandr was a sight for sore eyes!

“G-good to see you, custodian,” she tried to sound casual and warm.

“You too, Princess, you too! You look agitated, is something wrong? Are you feeling well?” the priest kept inquiring, his straw eyes all over her, like looking for injuries or worse.

“Yes, yes, custodian, I-I simply had a rough night,” she lied, feeling her face redden.

“You wouldn’t be the only one, child,” Lichen retorted and shook his head. “Are you... are you looking for Midnight Wind?”

Twilight’s heart stopped. The tone of the priest’s voice...

“Y-yes. I-I was told he is here a—”

“Come,” he beckoned and ventured inside.

Twilight’s head started pounding. Did... did something happen?! Was Midnight alright?! Did somepony do something to him?! She quickly followed Lichen, keeping as close as possible without it appearing weird. If she were to stay alone in the darkness with such storm of her thoughts and questions... Yes, that would have been a proper spiral towards lunacy.

“Is... is something the matter, custodian?” she inquired when the arcemandr was staying silent.

“I have no idea, Princess,” he admitted. “Midnight Wind came in just before the break of dawn. I called out to him, seeing he was distraught by something, but... I am uncertain whether he even acknowledged me. He did not say a word, just sat on one side of the temple and began praying...”

Twilight gulped. Did she... did she caused him so much pain yesternight? She felt her eyes watering. She quickly wiped them dry, hoping for Lichen not to spot it.

He only continued talking, his tone serious. “We do not close the Shrine for the day, as we believe that holy places need to be ready to accept the faithful at any time. Before I went home to rest, I asked the arcemandri keeping vigil through the day to have an eye on him.” He paused. “Princess?”

“Y-yes, custodian?” she replied, feeling her mouth drying.

“He hasn’t left since. One of the priest approached him at a point, waited for him to cease praying for a moment, then offered to grant him a confession. They spoke for some time, but it did not seem to help him. He looked even more troubled afterwards, I was told...” Lichen revealed, then took a deep breath as they were entering the main nave. “I do not know what happened during your meeting with the Lords, Princess. I cannot know, even. But...” he ended, pointing forward.

The interior of the temple was giving Twilight a better chance at spotting something at a distance, especially considering the faint, argent moonlight that was entering through an oculus in the ceiling and spreading through the place with silver reflections. Squinting her eyes, praying to be able to pierce the veil of shadows just enough, she took notice of a lone batpony silhouette, its wings extended and its forelegs raised upwards.

“... Midnight...” a whisper escaped her mouth, sorrowful. She could do nothing about it. She felt... she felt terrible. Guilty.

She missed Lichen giving her a curious look, his brows arching.

She stayed still for a moment, before her legs started moving on her own.

“Princess!” Lichen called to her, trotting before her. “Please, one should never interrupt a prayer to the Immaculate Moon!”

Twilight gave him a look. A terrible in its calmness look.

“I’m not going to interrupt him, custodian,” she whispered. “I’m going to join him.”

The priest’s jaw dropped a little, his straw eyes widening substantially. He appeared outright shocked.

“By... by the Moon,” he uttered. “Oh, of course, Princess. Go on...”

She nodded at him, then shifted all of her due focus to Midnight. She shambled forward, her every step a journey of its own. Feelings were thrashing inside of her. Her heart was fluttering.

She got close to him and he did not seem to even notice. She felt her entire body tense when she spotted that his forelegs were shaking from keeping them up for so long, his muscles twitching on their own from time to time. His wings were quivering of fatigue as well. The grey strap, usually keeping his mane together, was hanging from one of them and it seemed that he hadn’t had noticed.

His eyes were locked in place, bloodshot, blank. His mouth was moving constantly in quiet supplications. He looked like entranced, dead to the world around him. And...

Twilight felt her throat constricting and her lips quivering. She could not stand seeing her beloved in such a state. She caused all of this... with her rage... It was her fault...

She turned her head towards the altar. The silver shade of the discus, the symbol of the Immaculate Moon, was piercing through the omnipresent murkiness. Reminding everypony of something very, very important.

The Goddess was with them.

Twilight sat down on the nearby cushion. She focused her eyes on the symbol of the Immaculate Moon. She raised her legs, she spread her wings. She closed her eyes.

And she just sat there. She knew no prayers. No chants, no invocations, no orisons. Tartarus, she was well aware that this Shrine was devoted to Princess Luna, a pony she had met, she known and befriended. An alicorn, like her. One that had been around for centuries, was powerful and often majestic, even august. But just a pony, like Twilight.

However, at that moment... Twilight wanted there to be a Goddess.

She wanted there to be the Immaculate Moon. Somepony to lean over Midnight and her, in Her great mercy. And to... to embrace them in Her caring, Mother's hooves.

To give Her endless strength to Midnight, Her pious, loyal warrior, stricken by an affliction of heart.

... and to wipe the tears that were running down Twilight’s muzzle. To wipe the tears of a faithless soleerane.

To her surprise, her last wish came to being.

Her eyes shot open. A grey hoof was tenderly caressing her cheek, removing the droplets that were soaking her coat. It was shivering slightly, but was doing the best it could.

“Midnight...” Twilight whispered, meeting her loved one’s exhausted gaze. More tears flowed down her cheeks and he was attempting to get rid of all of them. “Midnight... I... I am...”

“Don’t be,” the stallion whispered back, his voice as blank as his stare had been. “I hurt you. And I shall keep on hurting you.”

“Midnight,” she supplicated, folding her wings and trying to stand up. He went and helped her, although his legs were quivering terribly. “Do not say things like that... I...”

“No, Twilight,” he interrupted her, sitting down before her now, in a gesture of utter resignation. “It’s my destiny, it seems, to cause you pain.”

Her heart had begun aching indeed. “Midnight, you know not what you are saying. I know you and...”

“You know nothing about me, Twilight,” he retorted, his bloodshot gaze focused on her. “You know nothing about me. Nicil. Not a...about what I’ve done, about what I d...do and what I shall do...” he mumbled, his speech almost slurred. “How can... how can you think you can love me...?”

Twilight was breaking on the inside. Shattering into a million pieces. But... but there was something keeping her together. A feeling that could not let her fall.

She cared not if Lichen, the local priests, or anypony else could see her. She cared not for the sanctity of the Great Shrine. Nor whether the gaze of the Goddess was upon them. Nor whether the nocturnal heavens were, in truth, vacant.

She moved closer to him, sat down and embraced him, with all the love in her heart, with all the hope stored inside it.

And he started crying.

She held his shaking body tightly, feeling her own tears adding to this deep moment between them. Midnight clutched to her with all of his fatigued might, letting out all the emotions that had bottled inside of him... because of her. She kept her hold, wanting to assure him that, no matter what, she would never let go.

“Tw... Twilight...” he mumbled in between the sniffs and shivers. “I’m so s... sorry... I’m sorry... I’m sorry...”

“It’s alright, Midnight,” she tried to sound confident, despite the tides of feelings passing through her. “Shh... it’s alright. I... I am sorry, as well. For lashing out. For doubting you.”

His body only shook more. “Doubt me... Chastise me... Bogine, I know that love... love is blind, but... cast me away, Twilight... Please, leave me... Save yourself...”

“No, Midnight, I love you,” she responded with conviction. “I won’t stop and I won’t leave. No matter what happens. No matter what,” she promised him solemnly, fighting her constricted throat. “I love you. Iae amate tu, Maednoc. Iae amate tu...”

Ia... Ia... I love you too, Twilight.

She held him close, not letting go for a second, oblivious to the Noctraliyar sentence that escaped his mouth and spoke straight to her heart.

She knew not how long it took Midnight to finally calm down. His muscles were still twitching, protesting after a night of prayer, but his sniffing stopped and he was no longer clinging to her so adamantly. His breathing slowed down.

“Twilight...” he muttered finally. “Thank you. Thank you so much... Thank you that you are.”

She did not reply, happiness entwined with sorrow choking her speech. She simply embraced him with more force for a moment.

She felt a chuckle escaping his chest. “Tears are for all of us, yes...?” he asked and she could not stop a smile.

“They show that we care. That we are not indifferent. That we love,” she said, quoting a part of their interviews.

“And I see that I love you very much...” he whispered, paraphrasing the next bit.

It caused Twilight to giggle. “I love you very much too...”

She slowly loosened her hold, to look at him. He appeared exhausted, on his last legs, but there was this glint in his eyes that she recognized and that she had grown to be smitten with.

“Come on, let me help you to your room,” she offered.

Midnight only nodded, trying to stand up slowly, but his tries were, at best, wobbly. Twilight was deliberating how to aid him, but the sound of fast trotting came to her ears first.

“Princess, let me assist!” Lichen came to her aid, approaching from the side and offering his hoof.

“Good priest, please, don’t,” Midnight protested immediately.

His worn voice was not too convincing for the arcemandr.

“Dear child,” he replied, combining his senile strength with Twilight’s, “shut up.”

She couldn’t help but smirk and Midnight let out a sigh that substituted for a laugh.

“Thank you for your aid, custodian,” Twilight turned to Lichen, but he only shook his head.

“I have no idea who should be thanking who, so I’ll leave it for the future,” he grumbled, pointing towards the side of the Shrine. “We shall exit through my vestry. We don’t need to show a warrior turned gadabout around.”

Midnight attempted to protest, but only mouthed something incoherent. Twilight supported him with all her might, which proved challenging considering the armor he had never taken off.

The priest led them through some intriguing back corridors, devoid of carpets and lit even scarcer than normal. Midnight was doing his best to walk, but a night of prayer cost him dearly. Nopony was saying anything and Twilight focused entirely on aiding him.

They had finally reached the correct corridor, avoiding meeting anypony... but the arcemandr that Twilight had acquainted with her door. Upon seeing the group his eyes widened and his tray wobbled for a second.

Lichen beckoned him. “Fidelu Kiel, adiuma!

The priest placed the tray on the ground and rushed towards them, helping Twilight keep Midnight steady.

She, in the meantime, took the key ring from his belt and opened his chamber. It turned out to be about the same size as her own. Slightly less furnished, but adequate. Midnight did not occupy much space, as it appeared, his bag was still unpacked.

“Well, warrior, it's bedtime for you!” Lichen ordered after trotting in, smirking meanly.

Midnight, again, tried protesting. “But... I need to watch over... over...”

“Once more, my child, shut up.”

Twilight chuckled. “I need to stand with the custodian, Midnight... You need to rest, and now.”

He sighed and nodded, being led towards the solid bed. It must have been as comfortable as her own, Twilight assessed.

Lichen approved of Midnight’s compliance, then turned to the other priest. “Fidelu Kiel, is that the Princess’ breakfast you left in the corridor?”

A blush formed on the younger stallion’s muzzle. “Tac, piastan.

“Bring it here, then return to your tasks. And not a word to anypony about anything.”

Tac, piastan!” came the immediate answer.

Twilight helped Midnight sit down on the bed before addressing Lichen herself. “Thank you, custodian, it would have been... peculiar, bringing Midnight in through the main cavern...”

Lichen nodded, a strange glint in his eyes appearing out of nowhere. “Well, said. ‘Peculiar’...” He thought about something for a moment. “Shall I... inform anypony interested that you, uhm... you are feeling unwell and shall stay in tonight, Princess?” he offered after the other priest had brought in the food and left.

“It is very kind of you, custodian, but I cannot allow myself to... feel unwell right now,” Twilight replied. She had considered such an option for a while, but that would have been playing right into the Covenant’s hooves after yesternight. “But the Nightguardian needs a night of rest, for certain,” she added, glancing at Midnight who had begun unfastening his armor.

“Princess, I—”

“Shut up,” she told him in her greatest kindness, which caused Lichen to chuckle and cough.

“Very well, Princess. Keep him bedridden, he is too gallant and pious for his own good,” he advised, winking at her. “I presume that the talks with the Lords continue tonight then?”

“They... should, yes,” Twilight admitted, although deeply wishing something to postpone such occurrence.

Truth be told, she had no idea what the Covenant had planned for tonight. She did not remember being informed. Then again, her mind was pretty occupied...

“Very well. I shall warn you of the summon, Knaze,” Lichen assured, bowing his head and leaving, chuckling to himself. “Youngsters these days, gah!”

Twilight waited for the doors to close, then sat by Midnight timidly. He had removed his entire armor by this point, placing it by the bed, near his bags. He was rubbing his hooves together pensively, although she could tell that his fatigue was rapidly getting the best of him.

He gave her a long, tired look. “I’m... sorry,” he whispered, breathing deeply.

“Yeah, me too...”

“No, I mean—”

She gave him the warmest of expressions. “Midnight, we shall talk and all, but not before you rest, okay? Do you want to take a bath? Are you thirsty?” she asked, eyeing the fruit.

She was pretty hungry herself, but his needs came first.

“A bit, but...” he began and yawned, his eyes barely keeping open now that he had reached his room. “Yeah... Sleep first...”

“You definitely need it,” she concurred, seeing his struggle to stay awake.

She stood up to allow him to get underneath the blankets and he did not waste time. She saw his wings and legs trembling with sheer tiredness before he laid down and rested his head on the pillow. He stretched, then smiled a vacant smile, one on the edge of slumber. “Can I get a... a good day kiss?” he uttered, battling his closing eyelids.

Twilight giggled before leaning over him and gently pressing her lips to his. He hummed happily and drifted off the very moment their kiss ended.

She smiled tenderly and removed a strand of his mane that fell over his face, taking in his tranquil expression.

“Sleep well, Midnight,” she whispered, with all the love in her heart. “May the Goddess send blessed dreams your way...”

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