Journey with a Batpony

by Gulheru

Chapter LXXV – Not Yet

Twilight would normally say that she was enjoying the evening meal, rich in Noctraliyan oranges, pears and grapes, but even the sweetness of the fruit couldn’t quite dispel her sour mood this time. Encountering the local haspadr right on her doorstep and falling into having an argument with him within the scope of but a few minutes had done absolute wonders to spoil her humor, and her appetite.

And, of course, it did so visibly enough to perturb her companions.

“I take it,” Midnight finally spoke up, having just disposed of an orange in an adequately gruesome fashion, “that the Honored Lord… came around with a rumor, you weren’t pleased about what you heard, Honored Princess, so much so that it ended with him storming off?”

Twilight gave a deep sigh, then turned fully to her beloved and Rowan Berry, whose eyes betrayed both professional curiosity and genuine concern.

“You could say that, to some degree. Let’s just say that it started with the gossip about my… ‘upset’ return to my chambers. Yes, that return.” A hiss from both of them was most understandable, but Twilight continued regardless. “Thankfully, nothing that seemed capable of withstanding me quickly finding a more reasonable explanation to… whatever that was. That wasn’t the issue, however.”

“Then… what was, hwalba knaze?” Rowan Berry pressed for more details.

Thankfully, Twilight wasn’t against sharing them. “Well, it seems that the Honored Lord figured, through an expression which I used, that his wife, the Lord Consort, paid me a visit prior and… well, he turned very, very off-putting.”

“… him? That much?” Midnight’s surprise was obvious.

The other batpony’s was slightly less so. “His issues with her run deep, that much is certain. I suppose that when one completely loses their sense of self-worth, there is a lot of space for seething bitterness. Sometimes it seeks to find a way out, like a bitter mineral spring.”

“Those, at least in theory, should bring health benefits with them,” Twilight pointed out, to which Rowan Berry nodded, seeing her point. “But the analogy is sound. The Honored Lord definitely had trouble containing his irritation, and it definitely wasn’t a beneficial venting,” she continued, putting down an orange she had just reached for. “I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting his problems to run quite that deep… It appears that what you have uncovered, Rowan Berry, was not only correct, it was a hint at something even greater, festering deep inside the Honored Lord…”

The healer didn’t look too pleased about that, despite where her loyalties lay. “To be precise, I am a lupule,” she pointed out, clearly forming a vital point in her mind. “I know herbs, poultices and extracts to ease many ailments, things to deal with pains and discomforts… Not of this kind, however,” she admitted, looking just a little bit discouraged that her abilities couldn’t reach quite that far. “You would need a priest in this particular case, I think, and one with experience dealing with the illnesses of soul and heart.”

Midnight hissed ever so slightly. “I doubt the haspadr would actually be willing to go through with finding such help, and even then he would need a lot of it… Do we know if he has an arcemandr acting as his personal confessor?” he asked, leaning just a little in Rowan Berry’s direction, though the mare only shrugged before answering him.

“I have heard nothing of that, honestly. If he does, it would have to mean that he is keeping that most private…” She paused to grimace. “And that the priest is doing a very bad job.”

Twilight would, reluctantly, have to agree with such an assessment, unless the hypothetical spiritual guide for the Lord was stopping him from falling even further into the abyss of his issues. Whatever was gnawing at Dusk Harvest’s core, and now she had a pretty good idea of what that might be, had already done a lot of damage to him, and there was no end to its poisonous effect in sight.

“Listen,” she spoke up, gathering both of the batponies’ attention, “I am still willing to help the Honored Lord out, but… After this evening, I’m afraid this isn’t just something that a conversation or two, however honest, can fix. True, I am feeling somewhat confident when it comes to reaching out towards a pony, helping them see and possibly overcome a concerning matter, but I think that this is something that can only be dealt with through a more… decisive action.” Only after saying that did Twilight realize that her upcoming meeting with Count Mistlock must have been lurking at the back of her mind, considering the words she had just uttered.

Meanwhile, her companions exchanged a quick, analytical glance. Both looked a little concerned, and both… perhaps somewhat drawn to the notion?

“… I didn’t mean anything unsavory by that,” she quickly clarified regardless, feeling rather silly. “I just think that something more than an honest discussion has to be planned in Lord Dusk Harvest’s situation, something… I mean…” Twilight really tried to figure out a better way to phrase her proposal, but ended up just tossing her hooves up in the air. “Oh, who am I kidding, I am saying that we need to figure out some sort of scheme to help him.”

Midnight’s lips shuddered as he fought some kind of a smile, but his eyes remained piercingly keen. “You… are proposing a scheme? An actual intrigue? You, the Honored Princess of Equestria?” He looked at Rowan Berry once more, battling merriment, even against the seriousness of his stare. “What kind of night is this? Am I dreaming?”

The healer hissed ever so slightly, though more out of confusion than displeasure, seemingly. “I… don’t even know at this point,” she admitted with bewildered honesty.

“Glad you are both finding my words amusing,” Twilight commented, though also keen on explaining herself to the best of her abilities. “I… I just believe that something has to be done. I feel like I could be the one to do it, I have as much of an outside perspective as one can have in Noctraliya,” she pointed out, receiving understanding gazes. “But I need a more detailed plan than just talking this matter through. I feel I can figure it out, I just need a bit of time.”

Midnight listened to her attentively, and only after she was finished reached for another orange. “If you plan to go through with this after all, then may Bogine give you strength. But if you can actually get them to reconcile, then Bogine bless you, Twilight… Sparkle,” he added after a brief moment, hearing a huff from Rowan Berry. “Still, Honored Princess,” he continued, clearly using the title only due to necessity, “surely not even you can stop all the bad things in the world from happening, though I know you are doing your fair share and more.”

“I believe I am granted tasks which I can actually complete, yes,” Twilight pointed out to him, finally invoking a full smile as her beloved recognized his own pious words from the night prior.

Rowan Berry, in the meantime, cleaned her muzzle and hooves with water after sating her hunger, then turned to Twilight with seriousness in her tone. “What happens now, however? I take it that we shall be given a free night, then…? Or a hastily organized activity after all? Or should we understand this evening’s happenings as a subtle but clear sign that we should pack our belongings for further travel?”

“I think we can expect to stay around for at least this particular night,” Twilight suggested to the operative, knowing that she would almost certainly be given the chance to converse with Mistlock before leaving for the Mountain of Crescent. The other mare’s tone, however, caught her attention. “Do you have something in mind, Rowan Berry?”

“Not particularly, honestly. However…” the batpony hesitated.

Unnecessarily. “Yes? Please, speak plainly.”

“Considering the sudden shift in the situation that leaves us, possibly, without a plan, I have… spontaneously considered visiting the local lupuliyi congregation,” she reluctantly revealed, as if the idea was something shameful, to be hidden away. “I… wouldn’t mind seeing if any new, interesting scrolls or treatises were deposited, or created. I also feel like the healer in me wouldn’t mind doing some studying.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea!” Twilight enthusiastically voiced her genuine support. After all, if life was not about burying oneself in academia, at least from time to time, then what was it for? Not to mention that hearing Rowan Berry actually allowing her primary calling to take precedence was extremely satisfying for Twilight. However…

“But why do you sound so uncertain about it?” she asked, tilting her head just a little.

It wasn’t the mare that responded first. “She has her duty. The assignment, to keep an eye on you. And on me, for more than one reason,” Midnight commented, almost nonchalantly. His tone did hide some bitter derision in it, however, even as he appeared occupied with twirling an orange on his hoof. “Her going to visit her caste would take her longer than she would need to scribble and send a report to haspadre Blenkyita Opare, so she she’s wondering whether it’s proper to abandon her station.”

Rowan Berry squinted, giving the stallion a very unpleasant, coral glare, though one that also acknowleded a point, at least partially.

However, that didn’t stop the mare from being, in the same way, partially mean. “You know what also is not proper, Maednoc Wentr? Playing with one’s food like a bothersome colt.”

Despite the situation, Twilight found herself giggling at the motherly voice coming from the healer. She quickly restored her composure, however, wishing to deal with the other mare’s idea without misunderstandings.

But Rowan Berry was slightly faster. “Besides… You had that strange, catatonic episode yesternight, hwalba knaze. I don’t think it would be right to leave you without medical support if it becomes necessary…”

Twilight gifted her with a smile. “First of all, I see nothing improper in you finding an opportunity to deepen the knowledge of your main profession, Rowan Berry. You are an operative fulfilling a task, yes, but you are also a healer. You must be sharp in both of your callings, no? And I think it is only praiseworthy that, having encountered a troubling condition afflicting your charge, you are motivated to go and ask your congregation for possible solutions or remedies…”

The mare looked at her with caution… but also that little sparkle of acknowledgment that Twilight was always happy to see from her. So, she continued, wishing to deepen that understanding with the other mare. “If it would put your mind at ease further, I can assure you that I am not planning on doing anything worthy of a report. And if anything does happen, like a sudden tour or whatever, I won’t find it strange to let you know about it after your return.”

To those in Noctraliya whose instincts were honed on intrigues, what Twilight had just promised would have sounded like an absolutely preposterous transparency, worthy of a mighty roll of their eyes. But she knew that she was doing the right thing, saying that. She had nothing to hide, not even before the spy sent by Lord Azure Mist… well, minus her meeting with Count Mistlock. But since she would have to keep even her beloved in the dark about that, she couldn’t well count it, could she?

The operative looked like she accepted Twilight’s reasoning, which made her relent to her own idea without more perturbation. “If that is so, then I think I can forgive myself for leaving my post for a moment,” she judged, slowly standing up, trying to keep her happiness over her choice from being too visible. “I think it is for a good reason.”

Midnight rolled his eyes before putting the orange down, his stare following the mare unrelentingly. “I’m certain nothing wrong ever comes of such choices,” he remarked with bile in his voice.

Such focused bile, actually, that the healer stopped in place, as if petrified from the stallion’s gaze and words. Twilight wasn’t sure if it was a surge of anger that caused it… or, quite the opposite, focus. Whatever it was it was clearly aimed at stopping Rowan Berry from responding, or even striking the stallion across the muzzle.

“With your permission, hwalba knaze,” the healer still managed to turn to Twilight with great politeness.

“Granted, of course. I hope you have fun!” she told her, hoping she sounded convincing. Not that she was hoping that the mare didn't actually enjoy this opportunity, Twilight simply didn’t want her displeasure to emerge before the healer closed the door.

She managed to hold herself back, keeping up her smile as Rowan Berry departed. Only after she was left alone with Midnight did she sigh and turn her gaze to him, venting her irritation. “You are doing it again.”

Midnight had just finished disposing of yet another fruit, and was cleaning his muzzle. This time, fortunately, he wasn’t defending his behavior, and removing the juice hanging from his lips wasn’t just giving himself some time before responding.

“I know I am, my light. And I do apologize,” he said, looking at the doorway with an intense expression. “I believe it was… another sort of annoyance that got to me this time, not the fact that we have a revealed spy in our group.”

Twilight cocked her eyebrow a little, hoping that she would find the explanation satisfactory. “That annoyance being?”

“Call it professional bias. Or maybe bad experiences from the past,” he replied, shrugging and shaking his head. “It starts with leaving one’s post, for even a brief moment, even for a ‘good reason’, and it ends with serious trouble,” he explained further. “I suppose that when it comes to her, I am still expecting adherence to some sort of greater, inner discipline, rather than a ‘good reason’… I’m doubtful about those when it comes to her.”

There was a certain logic to her beloved’s words, but Twilight still felt justified in commenting, and in a very specific way. “Allowing one's regimen to drop, resulting in a detrimental outcome… Where have I heard that recently?”

She permitted herself to use a tone with a bit of bite. After all, she had already told Midnight to stop being unpleasant to Rowan Berry. Again, if memory served her, which warranted voicing displeasure.

But her beloved’s reaction, as his mind clearly ventured in the direction that she had prompted it towards, was extraordinary. “And here I thought only Lord Dusk Harvest was a pony about who was capable of such malice,” he told her.

His voice carried no anger, it was just a statement of fact, dry, short and sharp.

Truth be told, it scared Twilight much more than any flare of temper would, and she actually caught herself on the back hoof.

“If… if you considered me that malicious just now, then I apologize as well. Clearly I must have gone too far…” she relented, not willing to turn this exchange into an argument, especially after being met with that stance. Touching upon the sore subject of Midnight’s father-in-law would be convoluted enough without another war of words occurring between them. But, convoluted though it might be… “This… only makes what I am going to ask about more complex, I imagine, yet I still want to deal with the topic, Midnight...”

The stallion said nothing at first, simply reached out to check one of the bandages on his foreleg, before joining both on the table and assuming a ready stance, one to face her inquiry with.

“Just ask.”

She would do so, of course, but… That sudden, deathly serious tone from the stallion immediately sapped Twilight’s confidence. It looked like Midnight had mentally prepared for this previously promised conversation, though his “tactic”, if one could call it that, was to harden his expression and possibly his very being.

However, that wasn’t enough to stop Twilight’s curiosity and worry.

“Why does he hate you so much?”

“He blames me for Dusk Stream’s death,” Midnight revealed, speaking calmly but firmly. So much so, that Twilight’s natural curiosity and desire to understand were both almost repelled, in the face of his grim conviction. She was expecting her beloved to be reluctant, as she knew that he had a habit of keeping things to himself, something of a defense mechanism he had developed following his wife’s death. Yet this time… did Midnight simply decide to tackle the questions and her interest directly? To brave the moment and move on? What was the reason for this sudden shift?

Twilight realized that she had been silent for a good while, so she spoke up again, keeping an eye on her beloved, who was gazing at her, intently and ceaselessly. “You… say that he blames you, but why would he? You told me that your wife died in an avalanche. Surely nopony is responsible for those, right? I’ve known from the start that your country is dangerous, you all but confirmed it when we had our interviews.”

Midnight took a deep breath, but other than that, nothing changed about his demeanor. Even as he continued talking, he was more akin to a statue, a dark marble effigy that decided to speak to an impertinent traveler.

But was it speaking to reveal its secrets, or to get the adventurer to move on and leave it alone…?

“You might recall, my light, that I have mentioned to you the extent of our caste’s duties during those very talks. Aside from the defense of our country and peacekeeping, they also involve logistics. Making sure the most frequently used flight paths are checked, that tunnels are clear, and that no threats risk endangering the travelers, like, I don’t know, a bazaltlisk suddenly deciding to move into a thoroughfare or something…” he explained, looking straight at Twilight in a way that she found... hard to withstand, actually. Something about his gaze was just so… sharp, and keen, even more so than usual, the stare burning itself into her mind and memory. “Avalanches do happen, regardless of our best and continual efforts. We can only limit their number in the end,” Midnight admitted, but even that didn’t cause his beguiling and frightening stare to lessen. “You’ve talked with Dusk Tarn, however. He believes in utter dedication to one’s task, and he doesn’t tolerate slacking of any sort. He has been like that ever since I met him for the first time.”

Twilight nodded mechanically, her mind having a hard time actually processing her beloved’s words for a second, stricken dumb by his glare and stance. She managed to shake her head and consider them for a moment, however, following his reasoning, and finding it at least a little unjust on the Overseer General’s side. “So… you are saying that he is personally holding you responsible, because you, as a warrior, should have not allowed his daughter to perish like she did?”

“More or less, yes,” Midnight responded. Twilight could have sworn that a little crack of grief finally appeared in his grim façade, as if the dark figure had received a blow from an unseen force. “You must understand that we didn’t really share a moment for him to tell me to my muzzle why he despises me. Even over Dusk Stream’s pyre he said nothing, just watched the flames… same as me,” the stallion admitted, those same fires still dancing in his saffron eyes. “But I believe I can safely bet what is the reason for his hatred…”

Those words caused a morose note to emerge from Midnight, in stark contrast to the rest of his declarations. So far, it really had sounded like he was giving a report to a superior, not sharing the nuances of a possible issue with his beloved. Truth be told, however, it hadn’t felt to Twilight like the stallion was being dishonest with her at any point, his sentences so far just felt very… stiff. Unnaturally so, yet not as if entirely practiced or rehearsed.

If that was Midnight’s way of battling his reluctance to be utterly transparent, especially due to his past and his habits, Twilight would accept it. And yet… Something about this entire situation seemed a little out of place, and she couldn’t for the life of her tell what.

Or rather, that would have been the case, but for the words of the Honored Lord. Despite the generally unpleasant atmosphere which their meeting had maintained, and its abrupt ending, he had granted her a most intriguing insight, one which might prove useful in this bind. However, she wasn’t entirely sure whether she wanted to bring his name into this conversation, so she had to ask about it in a more indirect fashion.

“Listen, Midnight… I understand that this is a tremendously difficult topic. Thank you for your willingness to address my concerns,” she told him, even reaching out to hold his healthy hoof across the small table.

He welcomed it, however stiff his stance remained. “I’m trying my best to do so, iau lumn. Despite the fact that I have accepted what happened to my wife, at least to some degree…” he claimed, though the words brought out a long, hissing sigh from his lips right after. “... some things leave ripples through your life, like when a stone is tossed into a lake. They can go on for a long time, despite one’s attempts at calming the surface…”

Twilight nodded, wishing to add to the comparison. “Not to mention that, often, instead of achieving that calmness, we just cause more ripples with our attempts…”

“Ita to bid…”

“I need to ask you for a bit more, however,” she continued, feeling Midnight’s hoof tense the moment she finished speaking. She wasn’t certain why, exactly, only that it worried her a lot. “I understand that the Overseer General holds a grievance against you, and that you grasp where it is coming from. Do you think… that he is justly angry with you?”

The stallion’s gaze hardened once again, though it wasn’t anger that caused the change. No, it was something much more profound than just irritation over her curiosity.

Midnight took a while to speak up, clearly gathering his thoughts, deliberating most fiercely. At least, that was what Twilight could read from his expression. She was more focused on his hoof, holding it calmly, consolingly, gently stroking it to let him know she was willing to wait, and to listen to everything he had to say when he was ready.

He finally opened his mouth.

“He is.”

Twilight would have preferred to hear more after such a prolonged period of waiting, but her interest could wait a little bit longer. She felt that Midnight wouldn’t disappoint her, though it was obvious that it was taking a lot of his strength to share even a bit more.

“He is, though he might not realize it…” he began, before his gaze landed straight on Twilight once more. “I know that I am not always perfect – Bogine, I am far, far from that. Even as briefly as we have known each other, my light, we have already had our arguments. It wasn’t very different in my marriage…” He paused briefly, shame flickering in his gaze. “I know, I know… Some say that every relationship has its hardships, but that does not mean one should just be accepting of how… volatile things can get. If that is the word?”

“Perhaps a bit of a strong one,” Twilight admitted, trying to understand him. “I take it you mean that disagreements happened, despite your best efforts?”

“Our best efforts, yes,” Midnight corrected her. “We both wanted to create a home, allow our bloodlines to happily flow together. I’d say that, for the most part, Bogine was with us and we were managing…”

Twilight sensed a “but” coming, but said nothing, wanting to give Midnight the time he needed to answer, especially since the tension she could feel through his hoof alone was almost enough to crack the table underneath it.

“I won’t speak ill of Dusk Stream, for she is in Argentee… And even if she weren’t, I couldn’t put blame on her. There was no malice in her, no conceit or pride, she was giving our relationship as much as she could, and I could only hope to match her dedication,” Midnight explained, his gaze becoming absent for a brief moment, as if he weren’t entirely there, but in the past, his piercing eyes gazing into his memory. What he saw evidently disturbed him. His lips twitched, and his nostrils flared. He hissed, as an instinctual flap of his wing caused the other, immobilized one to struggle against its bandages. “This… this one time we had a huge fight. Things were said. Regrettable things,” he revealed, his voice almost cracking.

And then Twilight understood.

That one moment, she grasped even more firmly Midnight’s reluctance and his pain, or at least she believed that she did so with accuracy and clarity. Were it not for the argument, that argument, Dusk Stream would not have ventured to see her Family… and wouldn’t have been where she was when the avalanche came…

“Oh, Midnight…” she whispered, before she stood up, trotted behind his chair, and embraced him, mindful of his wounds and injured wing. “I’m so, so sorry for you…”

The stallion did nothing in reply, just sat there, motionless. It took him a good while of simply soaking in her honest, supportive hug to even whisper a response.

“Ia… I just…” he tried to say something, to explain further, but ultimately only exhaled, his entire body limply letting go, as he fell back into Twilight’s embrace, eyes closed.

She hoped she could help, even if only through this simple gesture. She felt that she had learnt much about her love, and the past which he still carried to this night. But while some of her curiosity about him had been satisfied, her concern for him remained. So Twilight stood by him, serving as support and protector for him as he had for her so many times, thanking Harmony that she was in the right place at the right time.

Minutes passed, she didn’t know how many. All that time the stallion’s breath came in shaky rasps, as if he were in the midst of some terrible, internal battle. At some point, his hoof found its way to Twilight’s cheek, holding her close, enjoying her warmth, but still remaining tense. Had she known it was going to cost him this much to speak of what happened, she would have thought twice about pressing him on the topic.

However…

One thing couldn’t leave Twilight’s mind, even in this moment of supportive closeness with her beloved stallion. Well, two things, actually. Firstly, Midnight had given her only a basic, “safe” explanation during their interviews… but she doubted that he would have been in any way willing to divulge the memories and details of his tragedy to be recorded for anypony to hear.

But secondly, and perhaps more importantly, she focused on the vitriol of Lord Dusk Harvest which she had heard in his fateful last sentence, the one that had led her to this very moment with Midnight. But… What was the reason for this moment? Where lay the connection with Dusk Tarn? Had the haspadr meant to say that the foundation for his problems was—

“Bogine, dimitae ia…”

“Midnight?” Twilight asked, his pious whisper calling her attention away from her deliberations.

Her beloved’s hoof ran alongside her cheek in reply, before his foreleg fell down, almost limply, and he let out another, hissing sigh.

Concerned by the fact that he was still shaking all over, she let him go, then moved her chair closer with a quick spell, allowing her to sit right by him. “Are you… better, Midnight?”

“… no,” he responded, causing her no shortage of distress. “Some things you are burdened to carry through your life. Sometimes, you never get used to letting them go. Sometimes… Sometimes you convince yourself you cannot let them go, because it would only cause a yet greater ripple…” His head hung low, giving him a look of utter defeat, despite what he had managed to share with her already.

Twilight bit her lip, seeing so much hurt emanating from her beloved. She wondered whether she hadn’t caused more hurt than it this worth… if causing such pain was ever worthwhile.

“How… how could I help you, Midnight?” she asked with saddened, but unbreakable, conviction, wishing to alleviate at least some of this pain that she had, unwittingly, managed to invoke in him with her curiosity.

Midnight looked up at her, his piercing eyes wet but devoid of tears, instead almost overflowing with simmering resentment. For a moment, she was concerned that it was directed at her, though she mercifully couldn’t see any such accusation in her beloved’s stare. Not that that gave her relief, as the sheer intensity of his gaze was a piercing sensation digging deep into her chest, seeking her heart.

When Midnight finally spoke, his voice was a raspy breath. “Just… I just need time, that’s all.”

“Of course…” Twilight responded, and the stallion almost immediately got up, with a speed great enough to cause a painful hiss as his bandages tightened against his skin.

“Kirwe…” he swore under his breath, then shook his head, visibly mad at himself.

It was hard to see him in such a state, for it reminded Twilight of that fateful day of prayer that he had imposed upon himself in the Sanctuary, in an almost maddened show of piety. Although, however unsettling that had been… Those many hours of supplications had helped him, at least a little. So, despite her concerns, the memory inspired Twilight to, after a brief debate with herself, open her mouth.

“Midnight, how about…” she began, hoping she was doing the right thing. “Do you think a… a visit to the local herame would help you…?”

The batpony looked to the side, then sighed loudly once again. Surely the thought had come to him as well, but his response added a very clear caveat to the proposition.

“Iau lumn, please, don’t… don’t hate me for it, but if so, right now I would rather do it on my own.”

Twilight’s heart stung just a little, but she knew better than this initial reaction. She understood his decision, better than she thought she would.

“Of course. Then how about…” She paused for just a breath. Using such a moment of weakness from Midnight to try and achieve a goal of hers felt uniquely unethical, and yet… “I’ll let you go you for the moment, I have asked a lot from you already, and I’m sorry that I made you feel so uncomfortable. Try to calm yourself down and get some rest. If you feel like heading to the shrine later on, we could go closer to morning, maybe? Would that be alright with you? I won’t press for it, if you don't want to.”

The stallion considered it for just a moment, then nodded. “I won’t promise anything right now, as I feel that my mind and my spirit are… they are a right mess,” he spoke more colloquially, but that only added to his sincerity. “But… thank you for understanding, my Twilight…” he told her, his eyes as sad as his voice. “And I’m so sorry…”

“That’s alright,” she assured him, empathetic to his state, and his discomfort. “Go and rest, my love.”

Midnight only stared at her for a moment before doing so. An unnaturally long moment, its length feeling almost forced. “I’m sorry…” he uttered once again when that moment ended.

He left Twilight with those words, exiting her chamber with just a little bit of reluctance, but ultimately leaving her to her thoughts and her worries.

She sat where she was for a moment longer, pondering, glad that she had almost her whole night to do so. Something wasn’t letting her rest, and she refused to just let it go.

---

Why did you not tell her?

I could not.

You could have! That was your chance! Could you not see it?!

What chance? There is no chance here. Never was any, never shall be any. This love should not even—

“Sir?”

Brass Plaque’s voice somehow managed to summon Moonwarden’s attention back from the abyssal confines of his own head. He had been delving those depths so thoroughly due to an extraordinary and particularly devastating recent incident, one which still occupied his every waking moment, as well as his dreams... or nightmares, more like.

How else could one describe seeing sadness manifesting on their lady’s muzzle, her eyes turning teary and her spirit withering right before their very eyes?

Ah, but he was losing himself in his thoughts again...

“I do beg your pardon, Lieutenant, I must have lost focus there for a moment,” the grey unicorn spoke, trying not to sound too apologetic while still recognizing his mistake. “You were saying?”

“I… was commenting exactly on the fact that you seem distracted, sir,” the pegasus replied, seemingly more than a little concerned that he had to repeat himself, and at the irony of the situation. “Is everything alright? It is very much unlike you to act like this.”

“Your honesty is refreshing, and you are quite right, actually,” Moonwarden admitted, straightening his posture even as they continued trotting down one of Canterlot’s side alleys. The right bearing did wonders for both presence and self-confidence, after all, regardless of the surroundings or company. “There is a matter that is a tad troubling to me, but I assure you that it is nothing to be worried about. I will work through it soon and then we can continue as if nothing happened.”

The latter seemed far more probable, though Moonwarden knew all too well what “continuing” like that meant. It was the case of lathering, rinsing, and repeating once again, making doubly sure some things were never, ever revealed. They almost had been, and that could not happen again.

How long can this go on?

Brass Plaque didn’t fully accept the given answer, and decided to make a suggestion in response. “If it is something that I, or we, as a group, could help with, sir…”

“Lieutenant, that sounds like a kind offer, but ultimately unnecessary. I am perfectly capable of dealing with such issues on my own,” Moonwarden replied, trying to sound sure of himself. “While I appreciate you showing concern, as I believe it to be sincere…”

“Naturally, sir,” the pegasus confirmed in a resolute tone of his own, causing Moonwarden to smirk a little.

“I thought so as well, though were it to come from Jade Wind, for example, I would have been far more doubtful,” he commented with a chuckle, one in which he tried to hide his inner trepidation. “It is but a personal matter, one that shall be amended.”

“If you say so, sir,” Brass Plaque told him, though the little bit of consternation in his voice was ruining his, usually pristine, delivery. “I simply don’t recall when any issues, even if present and deeply personal, ever caused you so much distraction during our tasks, sir.”

In any other circumstances, Moonwarden would gladly acknowledge the point, especially since the Lieutenant was showing both his perceptiveness and his persistence in leading others to achieve absolute perfection in their duties.

There was just one problem in the current scenario – he was talking to his superior and not one of his wide-eyed recruits.

“I would be more careful, Brass Plaque,” Moonwarden spoke, with a calm, grim cadence. “ ‘Deeply personal’ issues are, as the words mercifully suggest, deeply personal, not that you have any right to judge them as such. I am perfectly capable of spotting my shortcomings on my own, which is why I trust you to complement them, with attention and dedication, not focus on pointing out what is obvious to me. Are we clear?”

His declarations were immediately effective, having spoken to the other stallion’s innate instinct for the chain of command and faultless conduct. “Yes, sir. Apologies, sir.”

“Accepted. We still need to visit a few locations tonight, and I would prefer it to be done quickly and efficiently,” Moonwarden declared, in a tone which would suffer no protest. “So if you have any other comments to make, unrelated to our current tasks, do it now or not at all.”

Brass Plaque nodded, accepting this order… and deciding to follow it. “Sir, is something troubling Her Lunar Majesty as well?”

Moonwarden found himself stopping in place, hearing that inquiry. The connection between his own issues and those of his lady, strange and disturbing as an eclipse in the sky above, was powerful enough to lock all of his knees immediately. The shock of the inquiry, and of the pony making it, only added to the effect, for it was very unlike for the pegasus to speak so straightforwardly about the Princess, especially about her. Despite the direct contact that the Second Chance had with Her Lunar Majesty, Brass Plaque was perhaps the one to most seriously understand the nuances of their relation with the Princess. After all, one could be treated amicably by the Royal Sisters, but one had to always remember their place in such circumstances.

Moonwarden knew that better than anypony else, for reasons nopony else could ever be allowed to know…

“Why would you ask, Brass Plaque?” he inquired, turning to the other stallion and lowering his voice prudently.

“Well, sir... I happened to see Her Lunar Majesty on my way to the Royal Office in the evening,” the pegasus revealed, clearly recalling the moment, and finding the right words to describe it. “I welcomed Her Majesty properly, and she replied, but it was like she didn’t really seem to notice me. Her expression was rather... sullen. And, before you ask, sir, no, this wasn’t just a case of a royal resting face. Conduct and a regal bearing is one matter, but Her Lunar Majesty, to my unpleasant surprise, appeared much more morose than majestic.”

Moonwarden felt his upper lip quivering just a bit. “Are you questioning our lady’s splendour?” he asked, his tone turning much more confrontational than he had planned.

Brass Plaque would surely have been pushed on the back hoof by it, were it not for the military training and natural fierceness he brandished. “Never, sir. But a fact is a fact, regardless of our stance on it.”

How dare he?!

Silence.

What Brass Plaque spoke of... wasn’t an improper assessment. Despite Moonwarden’s feelings on the matter, or his bubbling emotions trying to prompt him into teaching the pegasus in front of him a lesson in deference when speaking of the Princess!

Luckily for the officer, Moonwarden had just enough self-control to restrain himself, even in his imbalanced state, not that he didn’t know that he would feel a most addicting rush of adrenaline and satisfaction from giving Brass Plaque a piece of his mind, almost literally.

“I... I do know what you mean,” Moonwarden managed to reply instead, gesturing for the two of them to continue. “As it happens, Her Lunar Majesty also has something on her mind. However, I would advise you, and the rest of our group, actually, to allow her the time to find her centre, without bothering her,” Moonwarden suggested. Strongly.

Brass Plaque nodded. “Naturally, sir. I will make sure everypony is aware of that. I hope it is but a passing matter. Just like yours, sir.”

Just like his...

Was it Moonwarden, or was the pegasus actually considering whether there was a connection to be found?

He wouldn’t be wrong, but the last thing that the Princess needed was to be associated with Moonwarden’s own difficulties.

Why hadn’t he been more careful?

... why hadn’t he been less?

He berated himself, once again, trying to shift his focus back to where it was needed, on his tasks for the night. Nothing good could come out of replaying the scenario in his head again and again. Yet, despite knowing that, Moonwarden simply couldn’t stop. Feeling both terrible for missing his chance to confess what he felt through the medium of the pocket portrait, still in his vest, close to his heart, and satisfied that he had kept himself and his misbegotten, ill-conceived love hidden from his lady...

She deserved better. She deserved literally anypony other than him.

Or was he desperately lying to himself, if only not to go mad with regret?

---

Twilight’s night, right until the morning, passed uneventfully, aside from her almost obsessively going over what Midnight had told her, naturally.

She had been so wrapped up in her thoughts, so oblivious to the world around her, that she had almost completely forgotten that she had a secret meeting to attend to, in the Mountain’s shrine. Thankfully, a quick panic attack and breathing exercise later, she had restored her composure, realizing that it couldn’t have been too late, as both her hunger and her tiredness weren’t affecting her that strongly.

Part of the reason for her lack of awareness of the time of night also lay with her allowing her beloved to spend time on his own throughout it, to the point of asking him whether he wanted to share dinner with her, something that was almost routine for them. Not feeling quite comfortable enough to do that, Midnight had organized a meal for her instead, which had just been brought in by the local servants under his supervision.

“Iae grate tuyi,” Twilight thanked the attendants as they were leaving, and used the opportunity to turn to Midnight, standing right outside her chamber door. “Would you... at least feel like heading to the shrine with me after I eat, perhaps?”

The stallion looked a bit better at that point, the solemnity on his muzzle lightening just a bit, but his voice remained downhearted and lacked any of its usual vigor. “Apologies... my love,” he whispered, shaking his head just a little. “But I feel that I wouldn’t be able to focus properly on praising Neskaza Lunee... tonight,” he admitted, shame filling his sentences. “I could escort you there, if you wish. It’s not far from here, as I understand, but I... I just do not feel worthy of the Goddess’ attention...”

Twilight bit her lower lip, finding that most troubling, especially considering Midnight’s spirituality. She would have to think on that a bit more later. For now, however, she had to brave the uneasy feeling. “Will... that be alright with you, if I go and you wait for me a while? If you don’t feel like it, I could—”

“Please, iau lumn,” Midnight whispered again, though this time at least a shadow of a smirk crossed his lips. “Leaving your side entirely wouldn’t be proper of me. For a good, ‘lovely’ reason, I dare say.”

Twilight could accept such reasoning, naturally. So, after a quick but satisfying meal, she put on one of her elegant attires, sporting her amethyst earrings with a smart braid of her mane, followed her beloved’s lead to the herame of the Mountain of Dusk.

It was positioned not too far from the palace, set off to the side in what must have been a natural crevasse, carving away from the main line of the cavern at a diagonal. The entrance to the shrine benefited from a true marvel of natural and crafted columns, creating a colonnade which reminded Twilight of both the lush Valleys below and the stone forest in the middle of the Sanctuary. Clearly, such a connection was very much on the architects’ minds as well, and the decision to add the traditional Family motifs to the entrance made her think of a glade, a sacred copse that she was to enter and within give thanks to the Goddess who provided aplenty for her children, if only they were willing to work for their meal.

Speaking of which, despite it surely being the key structure in every Mountain, Twilight didn’t really spot a great many ponies entering the holy place, a hoofful at most, almost making the shrine look somewhat avoided, if that was the right expression to use. She imagined that, due to the tight schedules of the Dusk Family castes, not many denizens had the spare time to frequent the herame. Or, she thought gloomily, both the time of night and the fact that she was to have a secret meeting might have had something to do with the low attendance, though she couldn’t spot anypony actively forbidding any supplicants to enter, so maybe it was just her being paranoid. It just seemed... eerily empty around the herame to her.

She had to brave that feeling, however.

“I will try not to take long,” Twilight told her beloved, as they stopped by the colonnade.

“Don’t worry, iau lumn, I won’t go anywhere,” he responded, posting himself among the natural columns. His stance was proper, even if his expression was sad and solemn. “Offer your prayers in peace.”

“Of course,” she assured him, then prepared to enter.

Before she could, though, he sent a few last words her way. “And, if you could… spare a thought for me, please.”

Twilight smiled at the stallion, wordlessly promising to do just that.

Still, praying without interruption might not be how she fulfilled that promise, she thought. Leaving Midnight at the entrance, she trotted into the shrine, feeling her focus immediately sharpen alongside her senses. She needed to be ready for anything suspicious about the place, as that strange, cold feeling was still surrounding her like a deep mist, sapping her confidence and chilling her coat.

However, even that uneasy sensation couldn’t quite rob her of the desire to marvel at the architecture of the structure around her.

The Dusk Family was once again proving their mastery at harmoniously using the natural space, preserving the wonders of cavernous beauty while still utilizing it, as the foundation for constructing a place of worship. Actually, the balance of stonework and preexisting features was striking. Were it not for the fact that Twilight knew what details to look for, the entire space would appear to have miraculously formed itself, ready and willing to be used as a shrine. Even the altar slab, right at the end of the long nave, seemed at first glance to have risen from the cold floor below, prepared to serve its purpose for the sake of the Immaculate Moon. In truth, it was proper stonework which made it the way it was, but its shape and form were purposefully designed to look as organic as possible, a task it performed with aplomb.

Twilight was no less in awe over the columns alongside which she trotted, staring at the delicate designs which were masterfully woven into the raw stone. Her previous bet was also proved right, as the intricate chandeliers, looking like meticulous weaves of crystal and stone, were indeed positioned underneath many stalactites. The candles on them cast long, sharp shadows in between the rocky formations, dancing to inaudible songs of praise and worship.

Looking around, Twilight managed to spot only two ponies. One, a caretaker who had seemingly just finished their prayers and was now trotting in the opposite direction as Twilight, spared her but a passing glance, before continuing their march, leaving either to return to his tasks or to his home. There was also an antase, not far from the altar, who stepped away from it to check whether the nearest prayer cushions had been properly laid out with the expression of a concerned matron.

Upon spotting Twilight, the middle-aged mare’s eyes widened considerably, but even from this distance it could be told that a welcoming smile quickly followed this expression of surprise. Without saying a word, the priest pointed towards one of the cushions around, in a polite gesture of hospitality.

It was very nice to be welcomed in this holy place so naturally.

Twilight found a reasonable place for herself, indeed, one a little ways off from the center passage through the herame, but still allowing her to see the altar, and the silver sign of the Goddess above it. Like a wondrous, argent jewel protruding from the raw, porous rock around it, it drew one’s eye like a moth to a flame, allowing for yet greater focus in times of prayer and supplication.

Twilight felt like she could let it guide her tonight. Enjoying the comfortable seating, she decided to close her eyes ever so briefly, then, once she felt properly focused, spread her wings and lifted her forelegs. She was hoping to offer a prayer, however short, to the Immaculate Moon… as she was asked so by her beloved.

However, even with that request in mind, she couldn’t risk not paying attention to her surroundings. Despite the moment of wonder at the sights around her, she still couldn’t quite shake away the unpleasant feeling prickling her coat. It was as if somepony was looking straight at her, focusing intently, their gaze as keen as a blade. She wasn’t used to this sort of sensation, but it definitely resonated with her, in ways that she couldn’t quite grasp. Maybe it was some instinct that ponies still possessed from ancient times, when dangers were even more abundant than they were nowadays.

It was wise to listen to those gut reactions.

“Immaculate Moon...” Twilight whispered, eyes peeled, ears ready for every murmur, “the one faithful to you needs help, come and aid him in his hour of need. For me, grant me sharpness of senses and mind...”

That would definitely count as a small but honest prayer, she thought, as her gaze ventured from the silver disc far before her to the many stalactites above. She briefly found herself imagining the moonlit night which must have still reigned outside, despite the day’s upcoming arrival, bringing with it...

... she just saw something.

There was movement among the columns, above her.

Movement that, apparently, spotted her staring in its direction.

“Psst.”

The sharp sound, brief enough to be misheard, yet distinct enough to be recognized by somepony anticipating it, reached Twilight’s cautious ears. It was quickly followed by, as far as she could tell, a small gesture of the “movement’s” foreleg, barely visible in the faint candlelight, but one that definitely encouraged her to come.

But where to? Towards the ceiling?

Twilight looked about, trying not to be terribly overt while doing so, but the antase, the only pony remaining about the shrine, was now nowhere to be seen, perhaps having just left to occupy herself with something else or to head for her due rest. So Twilight, not wasting any more time, got up from the cushion, flapped her wings, and took flight. Doing so felt a little out of place, as she remembered that flying indoors was considered inappropriate by the local standards, but she mused that clandestine meetings were probably an exception.

Mindful of the space between the chandeliers, Twilight had to get herself a good way off the ground before she could finally see that the shadowy shape from before was indeed a pony, pointing her in the direction she needed to follow them. Surprisingly, the column that was their destination turned out to be imperfect in a useful way, having an incline right at its capital, a carved or perhaps naturally eroded area that could easily fit a couple of ponies. It was an almost perfect meeting place for her and her mysterious contact.

Still on guard, Twilight landed in the niche, supporting herself against one of its sides by the edge, while her “host” occupied the other part. Once more sporting the robes of an arcemandr, he looked down to see if anypony else was following, though the remoteness of the place, so far up and a good ways away from the nearest source of light, would definitely hinder any unwanted witnesses.

Still, Twilight whispered as gently as she could. “A most unusual place to organize a meeting, Count.”

Mistlock, for it was indeed him, nodded after removing his hood, allowing his celeste mane to fall freely down. His golden eyes locked on Twilight immediately afterwards, with the same sort of intent that had been causing her unease. “A warranted place, I would say,” the stallion claimed, leaning against the wall opposite her, though it was clearly more of an attempt to stay hidden than to relax. “Officially, I am heading directly back to Iug u Opar, so being seen, especially with you, Honored Princess, would be most troublesome.”

“For both of us, I can imagine?” she quipped, feeling a little ridiculous in her furtive position and wanting to release some of the tension, but the Count looked more than willing to agree with her statement.

“You know my story. You remember what I told you, and now I must add, my mother would not be the only one to be appalled by you meeting with a disgraced hrabiy,” he whispered, but the cold tone of his voice was more than audible. “I have nothing to lose, many would say. That does not mean that I am willing to simply die.”

Twilight felt a shiver run down her spine. Many would claim such a sentence was nothing but an exaggeration, but there was something undeniably serious in the Count’s tone, just like there had been when he had first visited her, back in the Sanctuary.

Mistlock continued, his tone constantly hushed and careful, but also betraying the need for haste. “I have promised that I would share what I managed to gather with you. Truth be told, I have achieved less than I anticipated, but just enough to call this meeting. I’m glad we can have it, as things have taken a most dire turn.”

“Which means?” Twilight inquired, herself keeping to whispers. “You have mentioned your mother planning something decisive.”

“And that proved true, although…” he paused briefly, and it had nothing to do with creating a dramatic pause. “You know at least some rules of our culture and religion at this point, I believe, hwalba knaze. And I am well aware that my story has been told to you.”

“Yes, though I presume to know only the… core of it. I imagine you would tell me much, much more, Honored Count,” she told Mistlock, hoping she was putting enough emotion in her words, however quiet they might have to be.

She could see the stallion’s jaw tighten and his upper lip quiver ever so slightly, even in the shadows of the niche. “I could, but also…” He sighed, not finishing his sentence, then seemingly changing the topic altogether. “I believe that you are being as cautious as you think you need to be, but you have little to no idea how deep you really are.”

“Deep… in what?”

“Intrigue, of course,” Mistlock said, his voice curt, as if he were reminding her of something utterly obvious. “And my mother, for all her shortcomings and her sins, is a pony wrapped in schemes and plans, treating them like her natural habitat. You know what I mean?”

“It... makes me think of a spider, Count,” Twilight admitted, and the stallion nodded eagerly.

“That she is, or aspires to be. And aryadi are dangerous creatures, especially when they feel something has touched their web, perhaps is struggling to get out, make sense of its situation...”

Mistlock was painting an image in Twilight’s mind quite effectively, though she would have preferred something more concrete than a metaphor, however accurate.

“What do you mean by that, then?” she asked, prompting the Count to be more precise, if he could.

“I have known, for some time now, that my mother has been preparing certain orders and contingency plans. I believe that she has not done so alone, that she has made her plans with the help of somepony else, maybe one of the other Lords. I honestly thought that haspadr Crimson Shade was her main accomplice, but I didn't see any proof of that during my stay at Iug u Umber,” he began explaining, once more cautiously glancing down towards the shrine’s floor. “Regardless, and without feeling that I am acting against the interests of my own country, only my soleespala mother, I need to warn you, and firmly. Be on your guard. Constantly.”

There was something so keen in the Count’s words that Twilight could literally feel her mane standing on end. This wasn’t a general warning, this was a piece of advice that would have fatal consequences if she ignored it. “What threatens me?” she pressed. “Who?”

“The ‘who’ you should be able to answer without me pointing hooves at anypony,” Mistlock responded, shaking his head a little. “Don’t you have an entourage? I know one of them very well.”

Twilight suspected as much, yes, but after their recent conversation, was she convinced that Rowan Berry could be such a threat to her? She had promised Twilight not to make things worse through her actions. And surely...

“I understand and accept your caution, Count Mistlock, yet I think I have taken sufficient steps to assure that I can sleep more soundly during the day,” she declared, but that only made the stallion look at her with both disbelief and ridicule in his golden stare.

“Oh, I’m certain of that. Knowing Yazembe Acine you might not wake from such a sweet slumber,” he told her, his whisper filled to the brim with venom.

His acidic words reminded Twilight that she and Midnight and she had discussed the possibility that it was the healer who had been picked by Azure Mist to... deal with Count Mistlock’s beloved, which definitely explained the deep-seated ire from the stallion opposite.

Ire that, apparently, didn’t want to spare the other member of her entourage. “Or do you think that your other ‘chaperone’ will protect you?”

Twilight furrowed her brow at such a spiteful mention of Midnight. Mistlock’s words felt like both an attack on her beloved’s professionalism and at the very role he played by her side. It felt very ironic then that their relationship had squarely pushed Midnight out of his ‘chaperone’ duty.

In truth, one could say he was somepony completely different.

Twilight couldn’t let the Count know that, that much was certain. She looked down below, as if checking for any witnesses herself, then gazed at Mistlock once more, her gaze firm.

“So, I should be careful and keep my wits about me, regardless of anything,” she summed up what he had told her, using that to point out something else. “But you still haven’t told me exactly why. I can read into your tone well enough, I believe, yet I would prefer to just hear you say it. What sort of move is your mother planning, that you find it prudent to risk so much, warn me, and do so both in such clandestine conditions and with such secrecy, even with regards to me?”

“It is not about what she is planning… It is about what she has already set in motion,” the stallion told her, his whispers once more possessing that grim, foreboding quality. “I don’t know who received the order exactly, I just know that it went through occultani bats and was a special type of message.”

“An ocpism,” Twilight guessed, which caused Mistlock’s golden eyes to widen.

“... you know about those?” he immediately asked, clearly genuinely surprised.

“I might not be as perceptive as you might wish, Count,” Twilight commented, allowing herself a small grimace. “Come to think of it, you are the second pony to let me know that tonight. But I am trying to learn what I can, where I can, especially when constantly surrounded by so much… truth be told, tedious intrigue.”

The stallion nodded, his brow furrowing just a little. “You are unused to it, which is a definite drawback in our lands, yet if your inquisitiveness rewarded you with that knowledge, you might have a chance to protect yourself. Though I am now wondering where exactly you have found this information,” he whispered.

She wasn’t going to let him know that, for her sake and Midnight’s, even if she felt no ill intent from the Count, only curiosity. However, even without knowing her source, Mistlock’s gaze softened, indicating he felt at least some relief about her situation, though not enough to make him drop his serious disposition.

“Realizing what an ocpism is, you must also know what it means, hwalba knaze...”

Twilight nodded. “I understand the ‘technical’ side of it, that it contains specific instructions regarding an operative’s mission. I also know that it is used only to give the most, how to say it, ‘serious’ missions, ones that can have significant repercussions,” she said in a calm, stoic manner, one that was repaid with the Count’s eyes glinting in recognition.

“Precisely. And this one is no different, that much I know, though the contents of it would put it among the most rare and the most dreaded,” Mistlock admitted, “which is why I implore you to be so vigilant.”

He looked down one more time, then their gazes met again, in a way that told Twilight everything even before the Count revealed the order’s nature.

“My mother issued a death mark.”

---

“I believe that was the last location we had planned for tonight. Make sure you take all of those parcels to our headquarters tonight, I want them studied and sorted,” Moonwarden ordered in a stern whisper as he and Brass Plaque left the blind alleyway with their final bundle. “Get Elegy and Double on those, and remind the latter that a rebus is not a valid method of marking catalogues.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” the pegasus responded properly, even with his voice at a lower volume.

Moonwarden stopped by the street’s corner, wary of onlookers but not finding any thanks to the very late hour of the night… or, more accurately, to the very early hour of the morning.

“And thank you for your assistance, Lieutenant, you have been most diligent.” he added to his instructions, observing the other stallion keenly.

“Of course, sir.”

That was the only response, lacking the proper salute only for the sake of subtlety. But as Brass Plaque didn’t say anything else at all, Moonwarden felt prompted to ask one more question.

“Are you not going to comment on anything about tonight, Lieutenant?”

The pegasus just kept looking back at him, keeping his lips sealed and his composure about him.

Good colt.

“Smart,” Moonwarden praised him ever so briefly, before allowing his voice to lose some of its stoic quality, as a job remarkably done deserved the praise. “I am genuinely grateful to you for assisting me. I spotted you being extra vigilant tonight, and I appreciate it. Although, I do hope to be through this phase of mine quickly, so that I shall not force any of you to work for two ponies simultaneously. I think it would be most discourteous of me, as a supervisor.”

“Think nothing of it, sir,” Brass Plaque assured him, checking the straps on his bags with their precious cargo of information and supplies. “And think nothing of it were I to escort you home, sir. You ordered me to help you for the night, sir, so there’s still time for me to guard you on your way home.”

Moonwarden stopped his lips from forming an unpleasant, thin line. It was a genuine gesture of commitment and responsibility, he knew Brass Plaque well enough to tell that, but it still sat wrong with him.

“I commend your work ethic, Lieutenant, but if anything would help me restore my composure, it would definitely be a moment to me, myself, and I,” Moonwarden admitted, shrugging just a little. “I need to work through the many thoughts in my head. My predicament was a lamentable distraction through the night, yes, but now, I think, would be the best moment to centre myself. Nothing helps with that more than prowling through the darkest shadows of Canterlot.”

“If you say so, sir,” Brass Plaque replied, though there was that one, particular note in his voice which made Moonwarden glower, especially as the stallion glanced to the side.

“I am not developing dementia,” he hissed, checking to make sure his grimace hadn't displaced his monocle, a gesture which could also have been seen as a firm warning. “I know this city by heart, down to the creepiest alley. I can make it home.”

“That was not why—yes, sir,” the pegasus interrupted himself, relenting whatever point he was trying to make. “I will make sure the packages reach our office before sunrise. Have a pleasant day, sir.”

“You as well, Lieutenant.”

After that brief and rather frigid farewell, the pegasus rapidly took flight, clearly wishing to make good on his promise before Her Solar Majesty’s sign would shine its rays over the divergent rooftops and snaking streets of the maze known as Canterlot. There was some time before then, however, so Moonwarden, like the startling denizen of this urban tangle that he was, hoped to make it back home before the garish sunlight would burn him.

Metaphorically, at least, though the crowd of ponies swarming the streets alongside it would definitely be a pain. He needed no voices ringing in his head other than his own. The one which had been annoying him the entire night and still didn’t want to relent and let him focus.

“Because I speak the truth?”

“Give it a rest.”

Exactly the problem…

Moonwarden trotted down the narrow backstreets of the city, taking the shortest route he knew back to his residence, quite relieved that it would take him a little ways away from the main streets and thoroughfares of the city. In the same way, his thoughts were skulking around his head, bringing forth the shadows of the furthest corners of his mind.

Despite the annoyance over his own, inner voice chastising him, facts remained facts, as tautological as that sounded. If there had been a clearer chance at confessing his feelings to his lady… Well, that had been the moment. After all, her image, channeled through ivory and watercolor, would have served as a perfect explanation for the emotions locked inside of him.

“Too late…”

Moonwarden reached up, feeling the trinket resting right against his heart, though its presence was not as comforting as it usually was. No, now it was dragging him down, as if he had a weighty ball and chain about his hoof, forcing him to crawl through the dirt.

He had stayed silent. And now his lady was… sad. Sullen and morose, Brass Plaque had claimed, and there was no reason to doubt his observations.

Moonwarden… had hurt her. He had to face it, he had been facing it ever since he had seen her leaving with tears in her eyes. There was no point in denying it, for it was burning him up from the inside. By loving her he had brought her hurt.

“You really think so?”

One thing that he never wanted, yet one thing he had always known would happen with this… this confounded, miserable affection of his! Who was he to even feel it? How dare he? And why… Why had he not been more careful? Yes, he wanted to help his lady, he wanted nothing other than that, as she was dealing with a terrible affliction of the soul, one that he could vaingloriously claim to understand! He himself had never been targeted by the Nightmare, but he could count his own demons…

… why were there stares? Those smiles, so sweet and dangerous? Those moments of wonderful, purposeful silence?! None of it had any right to be! From him, yes, but also from his lady! To even think that—!

Moonwarden shook his head, dispelling those thoughts. They meant nothing. Besides, what had any of those small things brought?

“It is your own fault.”

He felt himself gritting his teeth. An overwhelming feeling of ire came upon him. Anger at himself, at the world, at Fate, the damnable trickster. He turned the corner, finding himself pretty much stomping down yet another side street, feeling utterly warranted at venting some of his frustration through, at the very least, more aggressive body language.

“Look there.”

That is, until, guided by himself, he realized that the alley wasn’t empty. Aside from some crates, likely left there after their contents had been safely stored in a store’s back room last evening, there was a wayward beggar, sitting forlornly on dirty rags. Yes, even Canterlot had their most unfortunate citizens, and they were actually surprisingly helpful in his line of work, as they were often overlooked and yet could see things which were below the notice of more affluent ponies.

Moonwarden slowed down and straightened up, restoring his composure. Even before such a rootless scrounger, a noble from Trottingham should have acted as one. Surely there was enough patience and self-control left in Moonwarden to achieve such a small, natural goal.

Until the borrower spoke, as it happened.

“H-hey, there, f… fella. Alms?”

‘Fella’ and ‘alms’? What an eloquent beggar.

Unfortunately for the poor unfortunate, so to speak, Moonwarden quickly realized that he had little patience or charity in him that particular night. So he simply continued trotting, only keeping a cautionary eye on the pony as he passed him on his left.

That eye was joined by the other when the beggar tried to get up, swaying on wobbly legs.

“C-come on, s-sir! Alms?”

Moonwarden took a deep breath. Of all the nights and all the alleys, this was truly the worst one for the beggar to be pushy with him. He could tell that all his frustration and sorrow wanted nothing other than to be let out. He would normally be nothing but keen on restraining it. But, as he also had little enthusiasm for engaging the indigent in a conversation, he decided to give him a piece of his mind in another way, then continue on his merry way, perhaps giving the ruffian an opportunity to rethink a few, crucial matters.

So Moonwarden inhaled, stopped mid trot, then rapidly filled his eyes with his argent enchantment, magnified by his trusty monocle, and reached for the beggar’s mind.

“Relent and leave me—”

There was nothing.

… what?

That sudden realization made Moonwarden take a step back, as his power found no purchase before him. His mind reeled, trying to grasp why that was.

The next thing that he knew for sure was a piercing sensation, digging itself into his chest, seeking his heart.

Time stood still for a breath, but that was enough for Moonwarden to realize that he had just heard the swoosh of flapped wings, hidden under the beggar’s cloak, as the winged pony had leapt right at him. Something had, with a sickening hiss, struck his torso, shrilling viciously, then sunk into him, grinding against his ribs.

Moonwarden’s breath escaped from his lips even before his mind could register the piercing pain, potent enough to lock his throat up. In the split second before he could act, his eyes locked with the spark of a gaze underneath the beggar’s hood, one of murderous intent, piercing from behind a forelock of dark grey mane.

A flash of silver lit up the whole street. An arcane flare pushed the assailant into the crates nearby, while Moonwarden felt the rush of adrenaline hit his entire system. His instinct had cast the spell in his stead, and now sent him into a sprint down the alleyway.

He had to lose his attacker in the maze of alleys somehow, either that or reach a major thoroughfare to dissuade him from pursuing in plain sight. One way or another, he had to escape. He could maybe slow his assailant down with a spell or two, but such combat magic had never been his forte. If it came to a straight fight, he was done for.

He heard flapping above and behind him. The aggressor had recovered quickly from being tossed by a spell, almost too quickly.

And Moonwarden could also feel something making his vest damp, at an alarming rate…

He had to call for aid.

“H—!”

His chest ached even as he tried to inhale, and he found himself short of breath, his left lung throbbing. His words failed him immediately, and nearly choked him as well, so much so that he stumbled over his own hooves. He found himself almost slamming into a wall, desperately trying not to fall over entirely, but the trip still proved disastrous. A shape landed right where he had just been, and the whistling sound of metal cutting through air was fleetingly interrupted by the flesh on the side of his neck.

Moonwarden bucked blindly in the direction of the assailant with whatever strength he had left, his desperate strike being easily blocked by a powerful foreleg and a steady stance. But it still gave him just enough momentum to turn around, focus, and strike his assailant with another wave of force.

Eyes of deep amber answered it with fury and determination, trying to overcome the sudden obstacle.

The attacker was fast, very fast. Hiding was unlikely. Moonwarden acted on impulse and training, but he needed a plan, any plan.

There was a wider street nearby, though it still wouldn’t have anypony on it at this hour still, unless a Guard patrol was heading down it. Again, at this hour, it might not have helped, considering—

Another inhale and another asphyxiating pang of pain.

Moonwarden considered his options almost in a panic, and realized he had but one. Immediately, he tried to gather enough strength and focus to use it, desperately fighting the strange sensations from his chest and neck, feelings which were beginning to cause the very tips of his hooves to feel cold, much too cold...

Nopony would be happy about him reaching for a spell like the one he was about to use… but that was a problem for tomorrow, if he were to see it.

Moonwarden gathered every sliver of power he could, hoping it would be enough. It had to be. He took a breath to concentrate, but that just made his insides feel compressed further.

His horn flared, covered in argent magic, shifting, dancing, writhing, as Moonwarden held the arcane power until he could gather no more.

Come to my aid!

He felt the explosion right in his head. A web, a swarm, a flood of silver, slithering strands erupted from him, like a seething pit of snakes which had just been released from captivity. Ravenous and determined, the arcane threads flew through the air all around Moonwarden, through wood, stone, flesh. An outburst of pure mentalism, carrying one indisputable command, ready to be injected into each and every mind around like burning venom.

They would help him, or suffer.

Suffer as he had begun to. The detonation of his spell had also triggered a terrible stroke of migraine, almost splitting his skull in two. Making Moonwarden wonder whether it hadn’t been his assailant who had just impaled his brain with a thrown dagger.

Stumbling over his hooves again, seeing the end of the street but a short gallop away, Moonwarden pushed on, even as his breathing grew still worse and his vision began to blur. He carried on, against the pain, the fear, against cruel destiny itself, with determination greater than ever!

Then he felt somepony grabbing at his croup and tail.

Moonwarden lost his balance, his body slamming against the rough stones of the alley, the impact pushing the very last gasps of breath from his lungs. He wanted to shout out in pain, but even that was too much for his aching chest, too much for his throat, filling with something. His hind legs struggled to kick back against the vice-like hold of his assailant, trying to free themselves from underneath the crushing weight. Briefly Moonwarden's muzzle contorted in a soundless wail and his vision turned white, as a blow and the following, terrible crunch rendered one of his back legs useless. Still, despite the migraine draining his senses and the pain draining his strength, he could hear, he could feel the presence of a blade over his back, ready to fatally strike down.

Was this it?

… no! No! Not yet!

With his last ounces of strength and resolve, Moonwarden shifted to the side, contorting in an almost impossible way that made his scars strain, wail, and burn. Yet no new pain joined them, as the stab ripped through his cloak and the side of his vest instead of his flesh. Through the throbbing agony in his head, Moonwarden reached for the last strands of magic he could snatch, turned his head as much as he could, then sent a final, concentrated strike against his attacker.

To spite him, even if it did nothing else...

A hiss erupted from the disguised assassin, his muzzle snapped to the side by the spell, and Moonwarden knew this was his chance, his last chance.

Even if he could hear it, hear the clamor of hooves pounding, windows bursting open, doors being rapidly unlocked. Like a blind, frenzied swarm, ponies who had heard his arcane call were rapidly getting out of their beds, pulled by an invisible, impossible to understand force, commanded to obey, to help whomever was calling them with haste.

And the “beggar” must have heard it all as well, for he shuddered. His window of opportunity was closing.

But Moonwarden didn’t care, scrambling to get up, pushing himself to reach the corner, to get to the street, with every fiber of his being. He felt cold, his whole body was clammy, and his vision began to swim, but he had to. He had to.

Even with one of his hind legs crippled, he miraculously managed to lift himself up, though the effort made his chest explode with pain which almost drove him back down again. He took a few more steps, wobbly though rapid, forward, encouraged by the voices he could hear.

“What is happening?!”

“Let’s go, there!”

“Quickly! We need to come!”

Moonwarden glanced back into the shadows of the alley, just barely catching the “beggar’s” cloak disappearing in the dark around the next corner. He would take solace in the fact, were it not for the adrenaline pumping in his veins and its associated state of enhanced focus abruptly leaving him.

The street he stumbled onto would be empty were it not for the throng of ponies that began emerging from various buildings and stores. They looked confused, compelled, in various states of clothing, some having little to no idea why their sleep had ended so quickly, or why their minds were on fire with the blind desire to come to somepony’s aid. Moonwarden could have sworn that he recognized some individuals in the crowd, but… he couldn’t care.

He just couldn’t.

Realization finally hit him, emerging from behind pure survival instinct. He looked down at himself, suddenly tired and confused, unable to really worry that twisting his neck that had way caused something to further leak out of it, slowly and gently.

His vest was… it was ruined. There was a hole in it and… it changed colour, as well… And it felt cold.

Moonwarden felt cold… So cold all over…

He had no idea when he'd dropped onto the chiseled stones of the street. All he knew was that, beneath the thunder of nervous, clattering hooves, the voices that reached him sounded much closer than he remembered their speakers being.

“Harmony! What happened?!”

“Is… is that the Royal Advisor?!”

“He’s hurt! Quickly, aid him! We need to aid him!”

Moonwarden felt his breaths growing shallower by the second, his chest feeling both unbearably tight and terribly loose, as if his muscles were failing entirely. His vision was blurring, and the clammy, numb feeling was spreading through his entire body. He felt granite against his lips, but… the taste in his mouth was metallic, instead.

A thud nearby brought him back to his senses for a moment longer. It might have been the assailant again, foolish as it would be to strike right into the center of a crowd of ponies, but… Moonwarden could not quite focus on fearing another attack. Overwhelming tiredness was suffocating his mind.

“Get back, everypony! Sir! Sir, can you hear me?”

Moonwarden could have sworn that he recognized the voice, but the ringing in his ears was getting worse, turning everything into a muffled buzz. He tried to move his head, tried to get up, as it would be rude to respond from the ground, but his strength had vanished somewhere, like it was seeping into the ground below. Pump after pump. Second by second. He still decided to reply, but his words felt like they leaked out of him, melting away into crimson in the passage between lungs and mouth.

“Sir, it’s Brass Plaque! Stay with me, sir! It’s going to be alright, but stay with me!”

Brass Plaque… the pegasus, the Lieutenant, yes. Moonwarden tried to focus again, fight the sluggishness of his thoughts. He squinted as much as he could, trying use he hooves around him to determine if it really was the stallion talking to him… He wanted to look up at the muzzles above him, but it felt almost impossible to do so, his eyes even more unfocused and blurry then before.

And yet he… he saw somepony. Somepony he knew.

“We need to cover the wounds, now! You, apply pressure here, stop the bleeding as best as you can! Is there a medical practitioner? Get over here, now! You, notify the hospital! Move, move!”

Moonwarden numbly felt hooves on him, on the areas where the pain was coming from, trying to stop it, and… it was beginning to dull, lightening into wispy nothingness. Perhaps it was simply that his focus had been drawn elsewhere, or maybe it was precisely when his eyes locked on that familiar pony, one that he could see even among the many legs of the gathered crowd. A pony standing casually by the street’s edge, without anypony else paying any attention to her.

“Sir? Sir, stay with me! Keep your eyes open!”

Somepony was calling to him, but he could not concentrate on that, witnessing the familiar sight.

She was a small filly. Petite and young, of a pale white coat. Sweet thing. Her mane of many curls had the hue of fragrant jonquils, and those eyes, those beautiful, sapphire eyes, were staring straight into Moonwarden’s own. A faint but wondrous smile adorned her muzzle as she stood there, innocent, exuberant… and final.

She opened her lips, a heart-warming whisper beginning to reach him.

Well d—

“Shut it, y… you harridan…” Moonwarden uttered, as a surge of anger moved his lips against all odds, fighting back the metallic sensation flooding his mouth and that strange, dark tiredness which was taking away his vision. Yet he could still see the filly perfectly, and he would have words with her. “N… nothing is d… done. I… I am not done… I am not… done. I am… am not done…”

He felt himself deliriously repeating that protest, pouring everything into those words, all of his remaining strength and consciousness.

“Sir?! Sir, what are you saying? Sir, can you hear me?!”

Somepony was trying to distract him, but he wouldn’t give up. He couldn’t just… give up. Yet the filly kept smiling at him, that inviting, jolly smile, unfazed by his objection, by his insult, understanding his challenge and protest, but paying it no heed, like it was something she had encountered before.

She had, so Moonwarden kept muttering, even as he couldn’t feel much more of himself than his muzzle. The pain was almost entirely gone, having taken with it his body. His consciousness was flitting away, leaving little behind, but unable to pilfer his persistence. His obstinacy. His spite.

“Y… you tried o… once already… I… I will not…”

“Advisor?!”

His hearing was failing, his sight was extinguishing. But he kept staring at that small, smiling filly. He kept whispering, even as what felt like the very last wisps of air were leaving his chest.

“N… not yet… Y… you hear me…? Not yet…”

“Moonwarden?!”

He couldn’t reply, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t feel. But he knew, he knew he couldn’t just... that this couldn’t be…

He had promised Her. He had promised Her that he would be there. For Her.

No, it couldn’t… This couldn’t… be…

“Not… y…”

And then there was darkness.

Comments

[6-D Pegasus]

who made that wonderful cover art?

[Gulheru]

11523230

That would be the marvelous DoeKitty. Do check her out, her works are really beautiful.

[Gastredner]

How strange, that Moonwarden would suffer an assassination attempt right after a death mark being issued. I'd assumed it to be on Twilight, of course, but now I wonder...though, is Azure Mist even aware of Moonwarden?

[Gulheru]

11523325

Unfortunately, I would need to say "apparently". Besides, it is only an "attempt" if it fails.

[Midknight Defender]

Well, we know who the death mark named, I guess. Sloppy execution, though, pun not intended but savagely accepted.

Which seems to be a hallmark of Azure Mist’s occultani, given their now well-established patterns. In fact, I wonder if this particular assassin happened to be missing a fang...

Moonwarden’s too dedicated and too darned cussed to quit now, though. And as we say in fiction, until you show us a corpse, preferably burning on a pyre, he’s not dead yet.

And even then, it could be someone giving us the old switcheroo to make us think he was dead.

[Gulheru]

11523340

Devious thinking. And I am happy that you distrust me so much, means that I have used cliffhangers well so far.

[RangerOfRhudaur]

But secondly, and perhaps more importantly, she focused on the vitriol of Lord Dusk Harvest which she had heard in his fateful last sentence, the one that had led her to this very moment with Midnight. But… What was the reason for this moment? Where lay the connection with Dusk Tarn? Had the haspadr meant to say that the foundation for his problems was—

Twilight continues her asymptotic approach towards realizing what happened with Midnight and Rowan Berry...

Speaking of, Twilight's interactions with Rowan Berry continue to impress me. The two mares appear to have managed to build, with surprising speed, at least a working relationship, if not something very similar to a friendship. Also, this:

“That sounds like a wonderful idea!” Twilight enthusiastically voiced her genuine support. After all, if life was not about burying oneself in academia, at least from time to time, then what was it for? Not to mention that hearing Rowan Berry actually allowing her primary calling to take precedence [Oops, missed that] was extremely satisfying for Twilight. However…

was just downright adorable.

But then Rowan Berry departs, and we begin our descent:

The stallion did nothing in reply, just sat there, motionless. It took him a good while of simply soaking in her honest, supportive hug to even whisper a response.

Brass Plaque’s voice somehow managed to summon Moonwarden’s attention back from the abyssal confines of his own head. He had been delving those depths so thoroughly due to an [And that too, apparently] extraordinary and particularly devastating recent incident, one which still occupied his every waking moment, as well as his dreams... or nightmares, more like.

“Well, sir... I happened to see Her Lunar Majesty on my way to the Royal Office in the evening,” the pegasus revealed, clearly recalling the moment, and finding the right words to describe it. “I welcomed Her Majesty properly, and she replied, but it was like she didn’t really seem to notice me. Her expression was rather... sullen. And, before you ask, sir, no, this wasn’t just a case of a royal resting face. Conduct and a regal bearing is one matter, but Her Lunar Majesty, to my unpleasant surprise, appeared much more morose than majestic.”

“I have known, for some time now, that my mother has been preparing certain orders and contingency plans. I believe that she has not done so alone, that she has made her plans with the help of somepony else, maybe one of the other Lords. I honestly thought that haspadr Crimson Shade was her main accomplice, but I didn't see any proof of that during my stay at Iug u Umber ,” he began explaining, once more cautiously glancing down towards the shrine’s floor. “Regardless, and without feeling that I am acting against the interests of my own country, only my soleespala mother, I need to warn you, and firmly. Be on your guard. Constantly.”

“My mother issued a death mark.”

“Relent and leave me—”

There was nothing.

… what?

She was a small filly. Petite and young, of a pale white coat. Sweet thing. Her mane of many curls had the hue of fragrant jonquils, and those eyes, those beautiful, sapphire eyes, were staring straight into Moonwarden’s own. A faint but wondrous smile adorned her muzzle as she stood there, innocent, exuberant… and final.

She opened her lips, a heart-warming whisper beginning to reach him.

Well d—

The story feels like it's taken a darker tone this chapter, one draped in shadow, intrigue, and tension. Twilight's meeting with Mistlock almost reads in the greyscale of a noir film, while Moonwarden's assassination (attempt? We shall have to see whether he's told https://www.fimfiction.net/story/242553/well-done) is as vivid as the daggers in the dark that turned on Jon Snow. Even the unique, four-part structure of the chapter helps with this mood, the beginning serving to provide a small bit of tension (Midnight v. Rowan Berry) and release (Twilight and Midnight's talk), part two beginning the build up again, part three taking that build up to its peak, and part four letting it all back out. While I might have wished for part two to have something more to it, to feel less like filler, other than that, this chapter's structure is solid, I'd argue one of your best. Alternating between POVs like this to build up tension was a clever idea, and you managed to pull it off very well.

Now, as for the political ramifications of this chapter... I'm sorry, I just have to...

Azure Mist is hilariously dead, at least in my eyes. She's basically got two, maybe three, allies in her corner, and seems to be making the exact moves needed to push everyone else into the corner opposing her. Her unprovoked assassination attempt on a high-ranking Equestrian official appears to be poised to offend Midnight Eye (threatening Noctraliya by potentially provoking literally divine wrath), Celestia (hurting one of her little ponies), Luna (she feels something for Moonwarden, something she's not going to give up without a fight), Blessed Fang (the most likely reason she tried to kill Moonwarden was him claiming affinity with the Goddess), and Twilight, if she learns of it. Oh, and Mistlock was able to learn about it (assuming Moonwarden was the target of the death mark), and presumably fed the information to Dusk Harvest, meaning that the reputedly brilliant schemer's communications systems are compromised, and have been for a while. Add in the fact that her "allies" seem less like firm friends and more fellow members of a coalition, ones who might not take her attempted assassination well, and Azure Mist just looks absolutely, absurdly, hilariously doomed.

[Gulheru]

11523579

I definitely tried my best to convey the tension, I have been planning this chapter for a long time now. I hope it hit the marks despite some minor issues.

And, worry not, I am aware of all the ramifications of what just happened. I'm looking forward to revealing them all in the future.

[redmar]

This was an interesting chapter witj Twilight learning more about Midnight and the apparent machinations of Azure Mist. I think it's safe to assume that the deatmark mentioned by Mistlock is what caused Midnight Eye to react so furiously in an earlier chapter. I'm sure that the attack on Moonwarden will have serious ramifications and will likely increase tensions. While an increase in tensionmight be what Azure Mist wants it's not certain the other lords will help her when it causes her problems as it certainly will.

[Gulheru]

11523624

This was a decisive move, definitely.

[Fluffy_Wing]

All the wait was worth it! This is now in my top ten chapters that you've released so far, now I'm even more excited for the next one I'm sure moonwarden is too tough to kick the bucket, but ugh I need to wait again for another 2-4 weeks

[Gulheru]

11523627

I was hoping it would be worth the wait. It wasn't an easy piece to weave the right way.

[Bregon]

I'll bet you anything that the killer was Deep Mist! Fortunately his attempt to eliminate Moonwarden failed, but I really fear that Moonwarden will be convalescent for a long time and unfortunately Luna and the Second Chance need his guidance.

I seriously wonder if Ardent Fang knew about Deep Mist's Death Mark, I am sure Luna will want explanations from him…...whether she can contain her anger after she finds out that a batpony made an attempt on the life of her Moonwarden!

Now I just hope that Second Chance can locate Deep Mist and stop him before he has another chance to eliminate Moonwarden.....

[Gulheru]

11523709

So you are saying that somepony wants to have his fang "back"?

[Bregon]

11523713
I bet he'll try again to assassinate him

[Bloody_Tofu]

Ohh oh damn!

[Gulheru]

11524312

A proper reaction.

[Revel Montaro]

Bold. Everyone being bold. Death notes, intrigues, assassination attempts. Whoo boy. Luna is going to be maaaaaad when she finds out.

[Gulheru]

11524461

Somepony might have to step up to their destined role, however great of a challenge that would be.

[Revel Montaro]

11524465
I had a thought in retrospect. Since it was clearly a bat pony that attacked Moonwarden I now have to wonder were they operating under orders from agents in the Lunar Guard because Moonwarden had hinted he was on to them or was it because he visted Hollow Shades? And if it was from his info gathering is Sunfall Ordain now in danger as well.

[Gulheru]

11525234

That's something to consider, naturally. One could even try and make an educated guess as to who it might have been under that beggar's cloak.

[keroko]

11523579
To say this was a fuck up would be an understatement. I can see the logic in assassinating an Equestrian official if she wanted to force a war, but to assassinate the personal aide of the Goddess? What logic is there in that move? I mean, I can't blame her for not knowing the two are falling in love with one another, given how even the two themselves are not fully clued in on that, but Moonwarden is still Luna's personal aide! All killing him does is make an enemy out of the Goddess herself! Is she that lost in her own delusions that she believes Moonwarden was some sort of... ball and chains meant to keep Luna in check? That she believed the Goddess secretly wanted him dead? If so, then she is even more lost than I originally thought.

[Gulheru]

11525442

Lost, desperate, afraid, mad. Take your pick, I suppose it will be accurate.

[RangerOfRhudaur]

11525442
Moonwarden's actions were threatening her plan, which is the Goddess' plan because Azure Mist is the best schemer ever and totally not insecure about her abilities due to her father/grandfather (I can't remember which) being a great haspadr and why did he never tell her he was proud, he should have been, she's perfect...

Honestly, Azure Mist's excessive personalization of her schemes (they aren't her actions, they are her) makes her reputation as a master schemer seem overblown; Midnight Eye was almost able to make her dance like a puppet on strings near the end of Chapter XLVIII, while her extremely short-term thinking here is almost certainly going to end up blowing up in her face.

[GCU Poke It With A Stick]

Maybe this will be the final signal Luna needs to get off her rump and get personally involved in bringing her children to heel. The equestrians have tried more subtle methods and it's left them constantly on the back hoof and trying to guess the Noctraliyan's next move and now Moonwarden's nearly dead. Decisive action that turns the tables on the bat ponies might actually pay more dividends than the current course.

[Gulheru]

11526699

If the connection is made, proven and indisputable, I think one can expect some fireworks.

[Piemaster128]

Well, shiiiiiiiiipyards! This will not end well. Please let Moon Warden live somehow. Luna doesn’t deserve to lose someone who she clearly cares about very much. And if he doesn’t survive and Luna learns that her children killed him…

They might learn that even their goddess’s forgiveness has its limits.

[Gulheru]

11527507

I have to do what the tale demands. That's all I have to say, unfortunately.

[Piemaster128]

11527508
I know. I have the same feeling with my story Spero where I just want to say what will happen but I can’t because spoilers.

[Mister Morden]

The Death Mark wasn't for Twilight... It was for Moonwarden. Or that seems to be the implication.

But that is a bold move... A very bold move indeed. Let's see how it works out for them.

[Gulheru]

11528364

Are you ready to place some bets?

[Backlash91]

Hmmm trying to attack the goddess herself huuuuh?

[Gulheru]

11548735

Through a loyal servant? Sounds very unreasonable.

[Silentwoodfire]

11528405
15 says he shorts it.

[DopplerEffect]

I'm not done with the chapter yet, I just want to say that the transition from Midnight and Twilight's talk that end up just shy of him revealing his infidelity (I hope I didn't misinterpret that) to Moonwarden's internal dialogue berating him (or himself) for missing his chance to "tell her" was just... mwah chef's kiss.

[Gulheru]

11641596

Thank you, I'm trying my best.

[DopplerEffect]

I have just finished and all I can say is... Oh shit

[Gulheru]

11641611

I'll mark it down as a success.

[bkam]

The operative looked like she accepted Twilight’s reasoning, which made her relent to her own idea without more perturbation. “If that is so, then I think I can forgive myself for leaving my post for a moment,” she judged, slowly standing up, trying to keep her happiness over her choice from being too visible. “I think it is for a good reason.”

Seeing Rowan happy is always great.

“This… this one time we had a huge fight. Things were said. Regrettable things,” he revealed, his voice almost cracking.

And then Twilight understood.

That one moment, she grasped even more firmly Midnight’s reluctance and his pain, or at least she believed that she did so with accuracy and clarity. Were it not for the argument, that argument, Dusk Stream would not have ventured to see her Family… and wouldn’t have been where she was when the avalanche came…

And there we go, with this, I believe that one can finally piece together a general idea of what happened that fateful night.

You could have! That was your chance! Could you not see it?!

I'm with Moonwarden.

Yet, despite knowing that, Moonwarden simply couldn’t stop. Feeling both terrible for missing his chance to confess what he felt through the medium of the pocket portrait, still in his vest, close to his heart, and satisfied that he had kept himself and his misbegotten, ill-conceived love hidden from his lady...

She deserved better. She deserved literally anypony other than him.

Or was he desperately lying to himself, if only not to go mad with regret?

I think we all know the answer to that one.

“My mother issued a death mark.”

i.imgflip.com/nty9b.jpg

Metaphorically, at least, though the crowd of ponies swarming the streets alongside it would definitely be a pain. He needed no voices ringing in his head other than his own. The one which had been annoying him the entire night and still didn’t want to relent and let him focus.

“Because I speak the truth?”

Eyes of deep amber answered it with fury and determination, trying to overcome the sudden obstacle.

This one just hit me like a truck, but I think I now know who Azure Mist ordered the Death Mark against.

[Gulheru]

11725726

I hope the chapter was tense enough for your liking.

[bkam]

11725727
As always, you did a fine job.