Night Watch

by Crossed Quills

Epilogue: In Which the Nature of Causality is Discussed, and Some Things End

Six months had passed. Things were bewilderingly different, and yet frustratingly the same. It was very much like any other span of six months, which was to say, uniquely different from any other span of six months.

Time had wrought changes upon the Night Watch. The next budget had passed, and yet Luna’s personal guard had not been excised from it. Indeed, it had grown, been given something resembling proper facilities (although not much better than the boiler room), and while it still bore the burden of being acknowledged as the dumping grounds for ‘the best of the worst’, there were now ponies applying to join the Night Watch straightaway, rather than washing out of other, better applications first. The Night Watch was where you could make your name, if you weren’t quite right for EIS or the Royal Guard. You still had to produce results of course – Princess Luna would accept nothing less – but if you were a little off-beat, then you were at least dancing with a bunch of other, equally off-beat ponies.

The metaphor worked especially well when one took into consideration how often ponies working for the Night Watch ended up in traction.

Sharp Salute was out, and glad of it. He still held a supervisory role, but the Night of Dark Rain had shown him that however strong or tough you were, time would eventually win. Thus far, tensions with the management of the old ponies home hadn’t renewed, but this was generally considered to be a mere passing breeze, a calm between storms, or possibly the eye of a hurricane. The former weather team ponies now residing within the home had an unending number of metaphors for the temporary armistice, as well they might.

Sharp’s legacy was not forgotten however. In place of a single retired earth pony, the new Night Wash had two; in their early sixties, Sergeant Ampersand and Sergeant Honeycrisp had both served under Sharp Salute, and both had his tacit approval. If their records were less than spotless – and they were rather less accomplished than Sharp Salute – then at least the squad knew that they had done more with less.

Gawain was out too. His work in the Night Watch had earned him a place working with the crown prosecutors, and they had been impressed enough with his legal acumen that, when the business of mounting the prosecution was finished, he would be invited to become a prosecutor himself, one who specialized in immigration law, and the distinctions between gryphon and Equestrian legal practices.

Still, he was never far from hoof if the Night Watch needed some extra muscle. While he was excited to perform the work in which he specialized – using his head as something other than a blunt object – prosecutors in Equestria were expected to work hoof in hoof (or claw in hoof) with those sworn to enforce the laws of the land. In times to come, that relationship, forged in adversity and terror, would come to be very important indeed.

Zorada’s mission as a representative of EIS ended shortly after the Clearing House bust. Her infiltration, never particularly successful, had technically been a failure, as she had been identified as EIS within short order of joining the Night Watch. Nevertheless, respect for zebra alchemies had increased immensely, and she was shifted into a quartermaster position with the intelligence service, while serving as a liaison to the increasingly respected, if still much beleaguered Watch.

When a chain of contraband magical soaps started to make their way into the Canterlot underground, she relied heavily on the Night Watch as backup in her official capacities. When they were dealing with problems that ordinary magic had no real handle on, they called for her. This might have been considered a triumph for interdepartmental unity, but then, that might have just been what the EIS wanted everypony to think.

Ice Pick, Sticky Wings, and Hot Streak, all ended up in leadership capacities to greater and lesser extents in the Night Watch. The fact of the matter was that there was nowhere else that they quite fit. Ice Pick in particular rose to the occasion, his conversational style of lecturing translating very well to morning briefings. Hot Streak moved to part time work near the end of the six month interlude, resolving to go back to school to get a formal nursing degree, improving the Night Watch’s capacity as emergency responders.

Sticky Wings was promoted to Captain for a full week before being busted down to Lieutenant for petty theft. She continues to work on her kleptomania.

As the Night Watch continued to grow and develop, none were more pleased by the development than Princess Luna, whose confidence in the ponies – and gryphons, zebras, and eventually gryphons, breezies, camels and yaks – under her command remained eternally unshaken. If there was one thing that she knew, it was that sometimes, a second chance and the right opportunity to fit in could spin gold from straw.

* * *

Some ponies had been hurt, and a hoofful had died. That had been the fallout, but every expert that was consulted, even the ones most critical of the Crown, agreed that it would have been much, much worse. The papers had been filled with stories of ordinary ponies that had done what they could to help one another, and that had been good. Ponies were helping one another to rebuild, setting aside differences that seemed petty now. That was even better. Eventually they would return to their usual patterns, because the nature of the pony is obsession, but for now it was possible to believe that ponies would keep to it, this time.

Most of the Breakfaster cultists had weaseled their way out of prosecution. Although they were very junior members of old houses, they were still associated with the names and titles of some very influential ponies, and between the exertion of political influence and a little bit of not-entirely-above-board angling, this had been enough to stave off prosecution.

Not so with Clearing House. His family had disavowed him, and while he retained some political support in Opposition, it was generally agreed that there was no place for unsuccessful treason within the House of Lords. Whether or not successful treason would have been winked at was not discussed in detail, forcing rampant speculation to take the place of surety.

Nothing new there, then.

Bookmakers were making odds on whether or not the case against him would succeed, but Luna wasn’t vastly concerned. Certainly, Clearing House had been a thorn in her side for some time, but that was part of being in charge; the inevitability of opposition. Even among those of Equestria’s lawmakers who agreed upon priorities, how to implement them was disputed using terms of vehement vernacular that she would have hesitated before using before her troops, once upon a time. For now, they had found the bits, and Equestria could turn toward another turning of the seasons, well assured that the bits that it needed to function would continue to appear as required.

Her own pet experiment had paid considerable dividends in political goodwill as well. Not really her main priority, but a pleasant bonus, certainly.

“Equestria to Luna? Are you there?” She was taking tea with Celestia this afternoon, and apparently had missed something significant in the conversation. Ah, well. That was part of being a sociable pony as well, she was told.

Luna took a moment to sip her coffee, composing her thoughts. “Hrm? Oh, yes. Sorry. In my own little world for a moment, I suppose.” She had no great love for tea, not the way that Celestia did. Stewed leaf water. Then again, she supposed that ‘stewed bean water’ would be an apt description for her drink of choice, so perhaps it was best to eschew the throwing of stones.

Celestia looked at her sister through the steam rising from her cup. “I was asking if you were alright. You’ve been... moody, the last few months. Melancholic. I was concerned for you, and I know that Twilight and her friends have been asking after you.”

Luna forced a smile. “Nothing to complain about really. Just... an old warhorse that only feels her age when she’s between battles.” There was only a little bit of coffee at the bottom of her cup, and the question of whether or not to slurp was the burning issue of the moment. Which, really, was the problem. “I know that I shouldn’t wish conflict on our subjects, but it’s easier to forget the bad times when you’re barrel deep in alligators of one stripe or another.”

Celestia’s exquisitely sculpted eyebrow arched a fraction of an inch. “’Old warhorse’? Luna, you do recall that I’m your older sister, yes?” A telekinetic aura snatched a scone from a nearby tray.

“And you don’t look a day over five thousand.” The scone, most of the way to Celestia’s mouth, changed directory to a collision course with Luna’s face, as her older sister stuck out her tongue. “Acting like you’re six...” Luna tilted her head slightly to the left, and the scone paffed against the wall behind her. “... and throwing like a foal doesn’t change it.”

“I’m sure I won’t dignify that with an answer.”

Luna’s smile was more genuine now. “And I’m sure that you won’t be able to resist, as soon as you’ve come up with a bon mot sufficiently clever to share.” Society might shift and change, and the nature of their duties with it, but Luna knew her sister. The pillars of the world shook, but did not fall. “Face it, Celly. I knew all of your moves twelve hundred years ago.”

Celestia’s response involved her own telekinetic aura seizing every piece of loose pastry in the room. “Perhaps. But while I haven’t gotten a lot more powerful since then, I’ve grown much, much trickier.”

The palace staff would have to budget some overtime to clean up the room, and Luna was going to have to grab a bath before her briefing with Lieutenant Sticky Wings, but for now the world was flowing as it should. The halls rang with laughter and the echoes of mock battle; the sounds of family.

* * *

A small shop down a dark alleyway, that absolutely hadn’t been there two hours prior switched its shingle to ‘closed’ around time for the midday meal. Questionable Purchase made his way to the back room where his tenant lived and worked.

She looked right at him as he moved through the beads. It shouldn’t have been an issue – he knew that was why the beads were there, and besides, she had acute hearing, and the entire setup was to put marks off of their game. The ‘strange and mystical consultant’ gig was a good one, if he said so himself; it more than paid for the room.

But then again, she was blind, and yet she was looking right at him. He composed himself, although he was still ill at ease. “Lunch time, Lady Swarm.”

The changeling tilted her head. “And what is on the menu today, Questionable?”

“Memories of the enjoyment of a bowl of tomato soup and a hayburger.”

She laughed, lightly. “All of this junk food. You simply wish for us to grow too large to fly, and then we shall be your consultant forever.” Again, he knew that she was blind. She no more had to look at what she was doing than she had to look at him. But it seemed unnerving, how her many-holed hooves continued their work even as her white eyes failed to watch him. “You are ill at ease?”

“I... admit, I had wondered, Lady...” Questionable Purchase was more accustomed to being the unnerving one in a conversation. Anything else went against nature and supernature both. “You said that the gryphon that came in... the article that he brought for you to look at. It had served its purpose, and been countermanded.”

“We seem to recall you telling us about it being in all of the papers, yes.”

Questionable gestured about him. Streamers of red silk, stitched with arcane runes and wards bannered the entire chamber, and even as they spoke, the changeling continued to stitch a new one. They practically thrummed with power, and although he was by nature something of a charlatan, he was a skilled enough practitioner to know that every one of them was a defensive charm by nature. “What’s all this? You’ve been at it for months, even after the matter was all resolved. If the monster is gone, isn’t it a little late to hang wards?”

The changeling’s sightless eyes did not move, as her needle continued to slip through the fine fabric. “Oh, my dear pony. A monster was slain, yes. But first it was called. There will be beings that take note. There was a challenge to the rule of this pony capitol. There will be beings that have already taken note.” She shook her head.

“So... it’s not over?”

“All causes have effects. It is implied in the name. All effects are causes. This is how all things that are or will be have come to pass.” The needle continued its precise course. “Nothing is ever truly over, Mister Purchase. And some things have merely begun.”

Author's Note:

And that's Night Watch.

Thanks to everyone who shared this adventure with me. I can safely say that if a sequel is coming, I don't have it fleshed out yet, but if anyone has questions about the setting or world as I envision it, don't hesitate to ask. Maybe I'll do up a blog post or similar.

Since it came up: The Night Princess and the Day Job, The Night Princess and the Graveyard Shift, and The Night Princess and the Day Off are, in that order, prequels to this story. Another Night Princess story is being formulated, and will be by way of a sequel to Night Watch.

Comments

[Demose]

Another Night Princess story is being formulated, and will be by way of a sequel to Night Watch.

Yay!

[Alondro]

time would eventually win.

Unless you realize time is merely a perceptual illusion resulting from the steady entropic progression of the unverse's available free energy gradient, hence why time 'slows down' with increasing velocity since that reduces the relative entropy of the object travelling at high speeds... and this also explains why a photon can carry information without degradation indefinitely in a vacuum. Disorder cannot occur in a system moving at light speed unless something interacts with it. The object becomes, essentially, frozen in time until it slows down and entropy resumes. This has many possible negative repercussions for anyone planning to build a light-speed ship. Life notwithstanding, normal matter itself might be impossible to maintain with such intense quantum distortion.

Therefore, a being outside of our universe or composed of matter or energy not from our universe would not be bound to our particular cosmological constants and energy kinetics. Thus, what we consider 'time' would be irrelevant to it.

(Alondro watches people's brains melt out their ears.)

[Alondro]

and gryphons, zebras, and eventually gryphons,breezies camels and yaks

Breezies trying to be in the guard would be hilariously pathetic... a deep sigh would blow them away. They'd be completely useless even for reconnaissance on a windy night or in buildings with a strong draft. They'd get stuck in cobwebs constantly (and eaten by spiders... and bats... I would laugh, because I'm evil. Bite me.) It'd be like sending Strawberry Shortcake to the front lines in Vietnam. Which is also something I'd pay to see (Evil, remember?)

“Face it, Celly. I knew all of your moves twelve hundred years ago.”

Celestia smirks, "Exactly. You knew my moves from 1,200 years ago. I've come up with 1,000 years worth of new ones. Which is why NMM isn't ruling right now."

And Luna got all depressed again after being reminded of her wangst and ate Moon Pies while crying and having the Tantabus beat her with a hose.

[Alondro]

Why would Celestia permit the law to be written such that a case of treason resulting in public citizen death would be prosecuted in a public court run by those most likely to be corrupt and involved in the treason itself?

I would expect either the military or she herself would have direct jurisdiction in such cases.

This law system isn't very well thought out, considering Celly has had 1,000 years to fiddle with it until she gets it just right.

[Alondro]

"But first it was called. There will be beings that take note. There was a challenge to the rule of this pony capitol. There will be beings that have already taken note.”

And in his dark castle, Skeletor cackled as he gazed in his scrying crystal upon the puny pony lands. Soon, the power to topple Castle Greyskull would be his!

Off on Cybertron, Starscream schemed at gaining the power to defeat Megatron by draining all the pony magic into Energon Cubes.

Deep in dark cavevrns lit eerily by magma flows from the depths, Skullmaster grins wickedly as he contemplates tortmenting small equines for fun while garnering more magic to steal the Cosmic Cap from Mighty Max.

And even further off, one Glomgold greedily eyed the masses of gems in Equestria which would make him by far the richest duck in the world once he'd enslaved it.

ALL THE CROSSOVERS HAPPEN!!! SIMULTANEOUSLY!! There is no hope...

[Emil]

Awww, no regular consulting gig for Monsieur Beliar?

[Crossed Quills]

8425355
Regrettably, M'sieur Beliar already has a full-time job working for his own company, makers of fine one-use-only comedy props. "Throwaway Jokes" is one of the finest manufacturers of same in Equestria.

[Aotrs Commander]

Nicely done. Thank you for all the tiem and effort in over the years to bring this story to the conclusion.

[Xenon]

a pleasant read, with hints of the humor of Adams or Pratchett at times.

[Bahamuttone]

Right, Sable Jet and Ardent Tempest... What happened to them? Dead?

[Crossed Quills]

8426517
Pretty well, yes. While the Night Watch managed to beard the lion in its lair, so to speak, it was because they were forewarned and prepared. The Dark and Stormy Knights did the best that they could.

[AyanamiRei]

This was a really good ending and I am extremely pleased.

I also can't wait to read more Princess Luna! <3

[Nebulus]

That was absolutely wonderful. It read like a Terry Pratchett or Douglas Adams story, and I must admit, there aren't that many comedy stories on FiMFiction as genuinely and intelligently funny as this was.

I loved its natural wit, its tongue-in-cheek exposition, and the clear thought you put into the world-building and explanations for magic. But most crucially I loved how you didn't use expletives or vulgarities to carry the humour. This was a clean story right the way through (apart from the single "Shit" used in an earlier chapter). It was just good-natured, character-driven banter propelled by an amusing scenario and tied up with well-written prose.

I didn't know what to expect going into this, all I can say is that the blurb caught my eye and I decided to see what it could offer me. I was thoroughly entertained by what it did.

Stellar work, Crossed Quills, you should be proud of yourself for this one.

[TDR]

Nice to see this wrap up this nicely

[Bloody_Tofu]

Ohhh that was a fun adventure. Thank you for this.

[Enza Ren]

That was a great fun little adventure with an excellent balance of intrigue and comedy. Thank you for writing it.

[xoid]

Still an excellent story, still sad that the sequel is DoA.