Wherein Our Heroine Tells a Tale
They left the freehold at a slow pace, with Dad encumbered by the weight of Lord Fallow’s notetome and his injured leg. Leaving the study and getting to the library was more of an adventure than Daring had anticipated — there were seemingly dozens of corridors, storerooms, arboretums, and other indoor botanical gardens that Fallow must have used to grow alchemical ingredients for his trade. On their way back through the library itself, where they cut a straight line through the central laboratory, Daring saw a fallen ten-foot pole lying on the ground near the way to the library, and sets of wary purple and green eyes watched them all the way from shadowed tunnels. It wasn’t until they neared the exit on the other side that she heard a distant, “Yeah, you’d better run!” from those tunnels.
The stairs back up to the front of the freehold were a slog, but it was relatively straight walking after that. They passed under the big painting of Fallow, Aurum, and Flora, and Daring stuck her tongue out at the latter by way of a parting salute. They’d meet again in her dreams. There was also a muffled cursing from the door leading to the cavernium, and while Daring couldn’t help a certain smugness at the noise, she knew Cervile would be kind enough to let Old Chestnut out eventually. After that, when they were in the entry corridor and just about to leave, there was a soft prickling from the binding Cervile had applied to her wing, and she looked down to see words scrawled there.
I’ll keep a fresh cup in readiness for your next visit, Miss Daring.
Daring nuzzled the words briefly, glanced back behind her just as they made to leave, and could sworn she saw a glimmer of blue vanish back into the freehold.
Then they were out, and Daring half-expected to be greeted by fire. Dad did keep her close and under his coat, but no flames greeted them. There was a moment where he pointedly glanced around at Padhoof the sentry and tapped the crowbar under his coat. The sentry glowered but let them go in peace.
Up the winding stairs, out from the tower, and back through the cavern. Daring glanced behind herself one more time, at the white tower where she’d had her first adventure. She would be back, she told herself. To see all the rooms she’d missed, to read some or all of the books in the great library, to see Cervile again.
But for now, she had places to be, and other places to explore, and so she kept pace with Dad all the way up the walkway made by the Apples and out into the open sunlight and fresh air after what seemed like an age. It hadn’t even been that long. It was only mid-day at the latest, judging by the position of the sun, which beat down steadily and brilliantly in a cloudless sky.
Dad stepped out into the open field and shrugged off the notetome from where it was strapped to his back with a relieved sigh. He rooted around in his saddlebag and drew out a little compact camera, meant for taking and printing out little magical photographs on the go. He took a careful shot of the notetome where it lay upon the grass and then drew out a piece of paper and pencil from his saddlebags.
The next few moments passed by in silence as Dad scrawled out a note affirming his first claim to the ruin, with enclosed evidence of a trophy-piece taken from said ruin. Daring watched the trees bustle to themselves in the light summer breeze, birds flitting to and fro in their branches. There was the odd prickle from her wing as Cervile’s enchantments began to fade.
Finally, Dad finished his note and bound it and the printed photo together with a clip. He then drew out a little slip of alchemically-coloured paper from the brim of his hat and slipped it in under the clip as well.
“Messenger-paper,” he said softly when he realised Daring was watching, making her start. They were the first words he’d spoken since they’d left the study. “They make it in Asinia, with a spot of draconic magic mingled with alchemy and other things. Expensive stuff, but wonderful when you want a message to get somewhere in a hurry.”
He made a little tear in the paper with his hoof, and a tongue of green flame grew from the tear to quickly engulf the note and photo. They all spiraled off into the air as a cloud of green sparks, flying back towards Canterlot. Daring watched them fly off until they were lost against the blue of the sky.
Dad sat by her side to watch them leave as well. There was relief in his eyes, and a certain amount of quiet pride, and other things, stirring under the surface of the still lake that was his expression.
“Let’s get your wing looked at,” he said gently after a while in which the sun seemed to dip a little closer to the horizon. “I assume this place has a doctor’s clinic somewhere.”
Ponyville had a full-blown hospital as it turned out, after returning quickly to the Apple farm to enquire about the matter. Granny Smith greeted them at the gate with, “Howdy there, Mister Gallivant. How did your ... what in the consarned —” and lost little time in grabbing a nearby burly-looking son-in-law and instructing him to speed the injured archaeologist and his daughter to the hospital with all the haste his legs could muster lest she teach him why the Apple clan twitched in the presence of birches, and the son-in-law seemed only too eager to comply.
As they trundled onwards in the wagon pulled by Granny’s son-in-law, Daring wondered whether ‘consarn’ was actually a curse or just something ponies in the country made up as a joke to confuse outsiders, and felt that if she was a country pony that was exactly the sort of thing she’d do. ‘Consarn’ was placed into a new probationary curses category until she could learn more on the matter, and after some consideration, was reluctantly joined by ‘tabula rasa’.
Once they made it to the hospital, which was a nice, airy building at its reception, Dad lost no time in bundling her over to the front desk and insisting that somepony look at her wing as soon as possible. This backfired for him, as the receptionist seemed more concerned about his bleeding leg and the bruise he had where half his face should be, and soon Daring found herself fighting off boredom in the waiting room after Dad was all but shoved into the nearest room for the attention of a stern-looking doctor.
After about ten minutes, a slightly more kindly-looking doctor, an old unicorn mare, came out to take Daring into her office. She inspected the busted wing critically and ran her eyes over the rest of Daring’s injuries, her brow furrowing more and more.
“That appears to be a burn on your snout,” she said at one point. “How did you get that, chookie?”
“I, um.” Daring’s mind came to a complete standstill and then lurched into motion as she realised she needed a story for that which wouldn’t suggest she’d been down an ancient ruin and which couldn’t get Dad in trouble. She drew upon her cunning. “I, um, I sniffed a candle too hard.”
Consarn her cunning.
The doctor didn’t look convinced, but she rubbed a salve on the burn and several other parts, applied plasters to any bruises which had split open, and settled the wing in a snug brace which was nearly as good as Cervile’s. “How did you hurt your wing, chookie?” the doctor asked.
Not candles, Daring told herself. “I … I tripped over a log.”
“Tripped over a log.”
“Uh-huh.” Consarn everything, was there a maximum cunning quota she had to stay under in a day?
The doctor couldn’t have looked less convinced if Daring had told her the world revolved around the sun, but she finished her work in short order and released Daring from her office at the same time Dad was released from his own prolonged ministration.
His own improvised tourniquet had been replaced with something a lot cleaner and more medical-looking. The bruises on his face lingered, but over the bloodshot slit that had been his right eye, there was now a black eyepatch, glittering with imbued enchantment. Daring looked up at it in admiration of the coolness factor, and as he returned her look, Dad’s face broke into the first cheerful smile she’d seen from him for what seemed like a long while.
“Doctor’s orders are that I have to look like a dashing pirate for the rest of the week while the enchantments heal me up,” he said. “It’s a cruel burden to bear, but who am I to deny the demands of medicine?”
“It looks cool,” said Daring. “It goes with the hat and coat. Like you really are a pirate.”
“Caught by the demands of both medicine and fashion.” Dad shook his head sorrowfully. “I should have asked if it came in indigo.”
As they were leaving, and Dad was going through some paperwork with the receptionist while Daring glanced through all the boringness a newspaper had to offer on a nearby table, there was a clatter from the main door. Daring looked up, and there stood Ivory Scroll. She was out of breath, and she fixed Dad with a look that was pure panic.
“Gallivant, what have you been doing?” she said in a voice that was trying very hard to not be a scream. She glanced down at Daring, briefly offered up a reassuring smile, and that slipped away as she noticed the bandaged wing. Her next words didn’t even try to not be a scream. “What have you been doing?”
“Ivory, what’s wrong?” said Dad. “We’re both alive and … I was about to say ‘unhurt’. We’re both alive. Has something come up?”
“Has something come up? Has something come up?”
Daring sat on a cushion on the floor of Ivory’s livingroom, the very model of politeness and demureness.
Dad sat next to her, his own expression carefully composed.
Across from them, there sat Princess Celestia, Paramount of Equestria and the Dominions Thereof, Sol-Wielder, &c, clad in the shining regalia of state, her horn alight with a deep, golden aura of magic.
She sipped from a cup of tea in her grasp, made by Ivory who had since fled for the safety of her own bedroom, and studied the open notetome held before her. Daring could have dropped a pin and heard it echo.
Daring sat still and tried not to wriggle out of her own skin with sheer explosive excitement. She’d never been this close to the princess before, and had only ever seen her from a distance during Summer Sun Celebrations held in Canterlot. But now here she was, close enough for Daring to reach out and touch, and some darkly impish streak couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if she did.
Princess Celestia glanced briefly over at Daring, and there was a short, paralysing moment where she made eye contact. Daring felt briefly swallowed up for a moment by fathomless magenta, wondered what the princess might be thinking, whether she knew what Daring was thinking, whether she was being apocalyptically rude for even making eye contact this long, and the train of mad thought threatened to spill Daring right off her cushion with fidgeting.
Princess Celestia winked at Daring, and then returned to her reading.
Daring sat back to try and piece her mind back together from the fact that today the Princess of Equestria had winked at her personally and what sort of day even was this, and in that moment, Princess Celestia closed the notetome. “You have my congratulations, Field Researcher Gallivant,” she said. “It’s been several decades since the last new Antlertean ruin was unearthed in Equestria, and few before that were ever delved quite so quickly. Your society’s hardly diminished in diligence and skill in all the centuries I’ve been acquainted with it.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” said Dad, bowing his head briefly. “You do me and the society a great deal of honour.”
Celestia looked over at Daring. “You look set to raise the next generation in your hoofsteps as well. Do you plan on going into archaeology as well, Daring?”
The princess had said her name. There weren’t just stories about Princess Celestia, there were legends. Her name was now known and spoken by that legend, and Daring spent a long moment trying to find suitable words before Dad gently prompted her. “The princess asked you a question, Da—”
“Yes! Archaeology's fun! Or it looks fun! Definitely want to go into it.” Daring gabbled, and only remembered to add, “... Your Majesty,” a few seconds later. Dad gave her an encouraging grin, and Celestia’s smile remained bright.
Daring couldn’t shake the impression that there was something sharp and calculating in Celestia’s gaze as she looked Daring up and down, though, as if she were taking notes. The thought almost made her uneasy, and she told herself that a clever and immortal princess surely did that sort of thing to everypony before Celestia turned back to Dad.
“It has been a while since the last Antlertean outpost was unearthed,” said Celestia. “There are certain protocols and safeguards I have put in place for such unearthings. Antlertean lore can be a uniquely dangerous field for the untrained and unprepared. And there is enough in this book alone to give even me pause. Do you know the safeguards of which I speak, Mister Gallivant?”
Dad suppressed a wince. “I suspect I do, Your Majesty.”
“Let me be plain, then,” said the princess, her tone still gentle, but now undeniably unyielding. “The last time Antlertean arts were found and practised by a pony without proper foresight or balances, ruin was brought to all Equestria. There are reasons why such knowledge is kept guarded under the care of myself and select and trusted scholars from arcane schools. Look north to the eternal winter where an empire once stood, and there you’ll find only one reason amongst many. This ruin and the knowledge it contains must be safely contained in a controlled manner by ponies to whom proper safeguards and checks can be applied. This is a matter of security for the realm as a whole. Do you understand what that entails?”
“That you shall have to confiscate the notebook, that the location and details of the ruin shall have to be kept secret, and that nothing about this can be submitted for publication to any journals, Your Majesty.” Dad seemed resigned, and although Daring was sure Celestia knew what she was talking about, her heart went out to Dad regardless. He’d been so keen on getting something published, even if it was just a boring journal paper.
“Quite so, I’m afraid,” said Celestia. “But that is not to say you’ll be dismissed from proceedings. I confess that the traditions of your society are often a source of mixed parts bewilderment and nervousness, but I shall respect them regardless. Your claim stands, and during the early delving by myself and whatever scholars I assign to the ruin, your guidance will be invaluable and we shall request your close and confidential involvement. Your prestige in delving the outpost single-hoovedly shall stand, and I imagine many ponies will want to shake your hoof and buy you drinks at your conferences. And of course, should we ever lift the confidentiality of the outpost, you will retain first publishing rights to its contents. I hope all that can still satisfy, and that you gain every possible professional benefit from this. The field and some of the surrounding land will be purchased at a good price from the Apples as well. I can't imagine Granny Smith will appreciate me letting said land be engulfed again by the Everfree but ... well, for most ponies, a stretch of Everfree forest is sufficient deterrent.”
Dad settled, and when he blinked and opened his eyes, he looked happier. “That all satisfies entirely, Your Majesty,” he said. “Let me know when you require my assistance for a delve, and I’ll provide it.”
“Not immediately, I suspect,” Celestia replied. “A suitable team of scholars will have to be assembled and preparations made. To that end, I was going to request that you make a report on the ruin as you would for any journal, but only for my eyes and whoever I choose to share it with.”
“Easily doable, Your Majesty.”
“Very good. Write and deliver it in your own time.” Celestia smiled. “Would it unduly trouble you if I could walk away today with something for distribution, Mister Gallivant? A page-long account of the broad details, just to give a preliminary idea about what we can expect from the place. Nothing grander than that.”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” said Dad. He frowned. “It would be vague, you understand? Today’s delve wasn’t as … involved as it could have been, and I shall need future trips to build up a clearer picture.”
“Perfectly understood. Just give me the broad details today, so I won’t be too horribly surprised when the full report winds my way.”
“I can work on it right away, Your Majesty,” said Dad, rooting around for paper and a pen. “Allow me about ten or fifteen minutes, and I can dash off an outline of the place.”
“Please, take your time. I wouldn’t mind a little while to enjoy the day from this place’s veranda.” Celestia glanced around to Daring, who sat bolt-upright when she realised the princess was looking at her again. “Would you like to join me, Daring?”
“Gllck,” replied Daring, briefly tongue-tied. Dad looked her way, smiled reassuringly, and mouthed something like It’s the princess, Daring, it’ll be quite alright. Daring didn’t doubt it would be alright. But it was like if Commander Hurricane or Baron Munchorsen had suddenly clambered out from the pages of a book and offered to hang out with her for real. This wasn’t the sort of thing that happened during sensible days.
Her cutie mark trilled, Consarn sensible, and Daring had to agree with it. She swallowed, smiled, and said, “Sure, that’d be cool. Er, Your Majesty.”
As if in a daze, she found herself stumbling next to the Princess of Equestria as they swept out from the living room and out onto Ivory’s veranda, just above the streets of Ponyville. Celestia’s chariot and guards waited by one side of the house, and as Daring looked round at them, one of the golden-armoured guards guiltily hid what looked like a comic book.
She just about suppressed her laugh then, releasing it as a snort, and Celestia briefly glanced her way with a smile before looking out over Ponyville.
The little town was in full bustle, which was still quiet by the standards of Canterlot. Ponies crossed the streets and manned colourful stalls, chatting with their neighbours and watering flower gardens. Some glanced admiringly up at Celestia as they passed and bobbed brief bows. Off in the distance, a group of foals played around the brook that ran through the town, and further off still, laughs came from high-up specks that were the town’s weather patrol, tossing a small cloud to one another.
It all sat under the summer sun, and Daring had to admit it was all nice enough, even if it had been a little (or a lot) boring at first sight. It was probably an ideal sort of place to rest between adventures, where a pony could feel at home.
“What a charming place,” Celestia said to herself, a note of genuine delight in her voice. “I might have to keep it in mind.”
“Keep it in mind for what?” Daring asked, and realised too late that she’d forgotten to add ‘Your Majesty’.
“A personal project of mine. Just a pipe-dream as yet,” said Celestia, who didn’t seem to notice or mind the lack of her title. She looked down at Daring. “You and your dad came here from Canterlot?”
Daring nodded. “Yeah. It’s a lot more … bustling than this place. More things going on. But here’s kind of nice too.” She met Celestia’s gaze, and it occurred to her just how huge the princess really was. She was the sort of pony who could have looked Steelhart right in the eye, and if even a quarter of the stories about her were true, she wouldn’t have even blinked when doing so.
“I grew up in a place like this,” Celestia said casually, and as Daring tried to so much as process the image of Celestia as a foal, a slightly sad look entered the princess’s eyes. “Quite a while ago now.”
“Oh,” replied Daring, for want of something more eloquent, and groped around blindly for that eloquent something. “At … at least you’ve always had plenty of stuff to do with your time since, right?”
Celestia chuckled, and the sound of it startled Daring with its simple genuineness. “Something of an understatement, but you’re quite right. I’ve never lacked for things to keep me busy.” Her gaze returned to Daring and away from Ponyville, and Daring was aware of that sharp concentration returning to Celestia’s gaze. The princess looked her up and down, and Daring was unsure what it might mean.
“Daring,” started Celestia, “would you mind if I asked you a question? Whatever the answer, you can tell me in total confidence.”
“I, er, can I? Can you? I mean, yes! Go ahead.”
Celestia looked her right in the eyes. “Your wing’s hurt. There’s a burn on your nose. There are bruises all over you. Could you tell me how those happened?”
Daring’s stomach seemed to jump up into her brain and do loop-the-loops around the rest of her body, and as her mouth opened and closed, an inner debate raged.
Don’t fib to the princess’s face!, wailed a responsible part of her.
Don’t get Dad and you in trouble by telling the truth!, wailed a differently-responsible part.
The second part was able to butt into Daring’s vocal cords first, and she found herself stammering, “I, um, I sniffed a candle too hard—”
“Daring,” interrupted Princess Celestia, “I should remind you that I’m fairly old as ponies go. Whenever I get a birthday cake these days, there’s often more candle than actual cake. And once you’ve lived that long … well, you do become fib-proof.”
Daring swallowed, and the part of her mind that had retired in disgust at her using the candle thing again was joined in its exit by the part that had advocated fibbing. Nothing else for it, then. “Total confidence? Do you promise?” she said.
“By every pony I’ve lost and hope to regain, one better day.” Celestia’s voice was soft. “Nopony can hear us here, Daring. You don’t have to worry about anypony else knowing that you’ve told me. How did you get hurt?”
Daring breathed in, and out. She steadied her nerves. Princess Celestia was infinitely less likely to hurt her than some of the things she’d encountered today. This shouldn’t be as scary as it was. She could do this.
And so it all came out, in one great sudden rush. “I went down into the ruins as well, without letting Dad know. There was a sentry who shot fire, and that’s where I got the burn, and then there was a library where I fell down a pit, and that’s where I got the bruises and hurt wing, and that’s how I got hurt. All of these things. And it was me who did it! Dad told me not to go down into the ruin, but I deliberately snuck out before he got there, I tricked him! It’s my fault! Don’t blame him for, for foal endangerment or anything like that, because he did the sensible thing and nothing wrong and you can’t be cross at him and punish him, you can’t! It’s my fault!”
Daring stopped to draw breath.
Celestia blinked.
“I, I.” Daring tried to pull more words out in case those weren’t enough. “I know that was wrong of me, and it nearly got Dad killed, it got him hurt. So if … you have to be cross or punish me, that’s fine. But nopony else did anything wrong.”
“Goodness,” said Celestia after a few moments in which Daring looked for any reaction in her eyes at all. “There wasn’t a single trace of fib in there at all.”
Daring wondered if she should dare to breathe out. “You … you mean—”
“Thank you for being brave and honest, Daring,” said Celestia, a genuine smile breaking out across her features once more. “Those are good virtues to have. And what you’ve told me isn’t as bad as what I feared it could be. Don’t worry that I’ll punish you or your dad or anypony else. I promised you total confidence, remember?”
Daring all but collapsed with sheer relief. “How did you know I wasn’t fibbing then? Can you read minds?”
“I can read ponies. That’s good enough. And I know honesty when I see it.”
Daring sagged further in relief. “And … you’re really not mad that I did that? That I went off to have an adventure all by myself?”
Celestia’s gaze seemed distant for a short while. “Do you know,” she started, “I used to be an adventurer as well? When I was very young — not quite as young as you — but definitely younger than a sensible pony should be?”
Daring looked up at the princess with rapt attention, and Celestia continued. “I adventured, with help of course, and when I got what I wanted at the end of it all … well, I had to settle down and become a princess, and leave the adventuring to other ponies who came after. I can’t ever be really cross at a pony who wants to be brave and leave their own mark on the world. And besides, I don’t think even if I was cross, it would make much difference.” She gestured at the burnt bit on Daring’s snout. “I doubt this was much fun to receive.”
Daring winced at the recollection of getting it. “No.”
“And I imagine your dad was worried out of his mind when he knew you’d been down there. I doubt you want to worry him like that again.”
“Not ever.”
“Well, then.” Celestia stood upright once more. “With those wise teachers already in your mind, I don’t see how I could add much. Just listen to your dad if he says things are dangerous. Dangerous things are his job, after all. And if you have to do it again, practise. Start slow and know what you’re getting into before you do it, and then do it with all your heart and skill. Can you do that?”
Daring mutely nodded.
“Good. That’s my sage-like princessly wisdom dispensed for the day, then.” A mischievous twinkle entered Celestia’s eye, and Daring couldn’t help a giggle. Celestia tilted her head with some curiosity. “Do you really want to get into archaeology like your dad?”
“Well … total confidence?”
“By the sun and moon and stars in my charge.”
“Dad has to write journal articles,” said Daring, lacing the two words with as much tedium as they deserved. “They’re boring, and I think you have to write them all the time if you adventure for the sake of archaeology. I read books instead. And if I had to write anything, I’d want to write a few books of my own. That’d be way more fun.”
“I can’t say I disapprove of that ambition in the slightest, though I should throw in a token few words defending the honour of the few interesting articles out there.” Celestia grinned. “But it’s as noble a course as any. Have adventures, and then write about them?”
“Yeah!” said Daring, as the idea took up a very happy solidity in her mind, now that somepony else had said it aloud. “Yeah, that sounds perfect.”
“Then as and when you get published, in whatever medium or format you see fit, Daring,” and here Princess Celestia doffed a short bow, taking Daring entirely off guard, “Rest assured, you’ll have at least one loyal fan waiting eagerly.”
Daring tried to think of how she could even respond to that, whether she should say thank you or hug the princess’s foreleg or whatever, and thankfully, Celestia didn’t seem put out at all by her silent indecision.
“Come,” said Celestia, motioning back inside. “Let’s see what your dad’s written so far. I don’t doubt it’ll be interesting.”
And it was mid-day, and it was afternoon, and after Celestia finally cut a golden blur through the sky back towards Canterlot in her flying chariot, it was evening of the coolest day of Daring’s life. She was in bed, and the helmet sat on the bedside table by her head.
She’d been restless in bed when she’d been sent there, and the full meal she’d eaten beforehand, the first proper one of the day, hadn’t helped matters much. It had been a meal fit for heroes, though the size of the portion Daring had thrown herself upon kept her digestion roiling for ages afterwards.
So she tossed and turned, and when she heard something clink from down below in Ivory’s living room, past the hush of Ponyville settling down for the night, she decided to head downstairs and see who was still up.
She crept down the stairs and peered around the corner, and there lay Dad amidst cushions on the floor beside a gently-flickering fireplace. He had an open album of photos on the floor beside him next to a stack of paper and a few pencils, as well a bottle and a tumbler half-full of amber-coloured liquid. As she watched, he turned a page of the album and looked at the contents, his gaze and thoughts seemingly far away.
Daring shifted her hooves, making the floor creak, and Dad looked in her direction with his one good eye. His distant look became a tired smile. “It’s past your bedtime, Daring,” he said gently.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said. “Can I stay up for a bit?”
Dad shifted, making a space on the cushions next to him, and Daring trotted over to nestle herself in that space, pressing herself against the warmth of his form and against his reassuring heartbeat. For a silent moment, she lay there, and Dad hugged her close with a foreleg.
He raised the tumbler to his mouth for a sip, and Daring’s eyes watered at the fumes. She glanced around at the bottle and saw a parchment label wrapped around it sporting a stylised raven playing the bagpipes mid-flight. Blackstrath Reserve, the lettering ran beneath the raven, 25 Years Aged.
“Can I try some?” she said.
“This is the stuff which whenever you taste it, you always say ‘yuck’ afterwards. Pattern-recognition, poppet.” He moved it closer to her regardless. “Dip the tip of your hoof in.”
She did so, and she tasted the droplet, and it showed absolutely no signs of growing on her at all, demonstrating the ongoing insanity of all grown-ups who actually liked the stuff. “Blerrk.”
“Not a yuck this time,” said Dad. “I’ll call that progress.”
Daring tried to subtly spit the taste out, and as she did, her gaze drifted down to the photos. There seemed to be lots of ponies there, all celebrating something. Fancy clothes and buffet tables and discarded streamers abounded, in somewhere that might have been Manehattan. “What are you looking at?”
“Some old photo albums of Ivory’s,” he said. “This was all of us at a mutual friend’s wedding about ten years ago, nopony you know. Heck, I don’t remember them much now. I do remember it being a fun day and a fun night, though.” He paused then, and said, “Here.”
He flicked back a page, and Daring leaned closer to see. There, in a photo that had been taken by a waterfront, there stood a ten-years-younger Dad. His mane was slightly darker than its current charcoal-grey hue, there was a gregarious smile on his face, and the tricorn on his head had been decorated with several pounds of streamers.
And next to him, there stood a pegasus mare wearing a pith helmet, one of her forehooves wrapped around Dad’s withers. Her coat was a light gold, her mane was banded in a grey spectrum, and Daring drew her breath in as she realised who she was looking at. Ivory had been right, she was nearly identical, save for her eyes. Next to Dad’s rose colouring, Mom’s eyes were a sharp sky-blue. Her expression was set in a cocky smile, and her gaze seemed to pass right through the photo to meet Daring’s own.
“Her name was Storm Chaser,” came Dad’s voice, as if from a great distance. “And for the life of me, I’m still not entirely sure what she saw in me. But I’m glad she saw it, and she … she made every day a bit more alive. A bit wilder. She made everything more alive. She could light up a room just by being in it. And we cut a path across every ruin we could find. We delved into old ones and found new things, and we raced to find new ones to find whatever old things they had. And so long as she was doing it and I was with her, it was never tiring. Never.”
“We took a break, when we decided to have you. And you came, every bit the squalling and spitting image, and that was an extra bit of life right there.” Dad laughed. “Said coming was a little fraught, mind you. Storm Chaser wanted to keep working right up to the moment, no matter my common sense advice, and — well, suffice to say if the ornithopter lent us by that donkey ship crew hadn’t been as fast as it was, you could have been born in Saddle Arabia or right over the Cheval Sea rather than Canterlot. I’ll tell you that whole story some other time. But there you were regardless, and we slowed down. Only for a little while.”
“She —” Dad’s voice stumbled. “She wanted to get back in the action. So a few months after, we ran a few delves. Small stuff. But … there was one uncovered temple up towards Utmost North she wanted to have a crack at, said there were a few unsounded levels there. And I … I should have … ”
Daring nestled closer to Dad, and after a moment, he kept speaking. “Just one mistake, one I could have prevented with just a moment’s warning. She thought the corridor was safe, and I didn’t think to doubt her, and by the time the ceiling trap proved us both wrong … there wasn’t much left to save. I tried. Tried till the rest of the team came by and pulled me away. But there wasn’t much. And if I hadn’t had you waiting back home —”
Dad stopped and drew in a deep steadying breath, and though Daring could only see his eyepatched side from where she lay, she could imagine the emotions filling the one she couldn’t see. He leaned down and kissed the top of Daring’s head. “I’d never have burned your books,” he said. “I’d never have wanted you to not be what she was, if that was what you wanted to be. Hah, as if I could have ever suppressed anypony with a bit of Storm Chaser in them. I just … I just didn’t want to see the same mistake happening before my eyes again. A bit more caution than what she had, than what I had, so you didn’t go the same way. I just wanted that.”
“It’s okay,” murmured Daring. “I promise I’ll be more careful. If you don’t want to take me anywhere again, then I —”
“Ach,” said Dad. “You’re the spitting image. You’ll get in trouble whether or not I approve or let you. So I may as well take you places and show you the ropes, just so you’ll be able to handle the trouble when it comes. And I doubt she’d want me to do anything less.”
The words filled Daring’s heart with a fierce and steady joy, like the fire that burned at the core of a star, filling it till it felt too full for her to speak. She nestled in even closer.
“I once thought,” Dad said, “that if you grew up even half as brave and brilliant as Storm Chaser, there’d be no prouder father in Equestria than myself. And wherever she’s watching from, and I’m sure I couldn’t possibly speculate where, I was sure she couldn’t be prouder either.”
“And am I?” Daring dared ask.
“You’re growing up every bit her equal. Maybe even better.”
And for a long time, there was nothing left but the rustle of the fire and the sound of Ponyville drifting off to sleep from outside. Dad took another sip from the tumbler and gently closed the album.
“Anyway,” he said with emphasis. “If you’re going to stay awake, poppet, then maybe you could lend me a hoof.”
“With what?”
He slid over the pile of paper and pencils. “The princess asked me for a full report on the outpost, and that’s what I intend to give her. I’ll have to wait until I heal up before I can go back down, but there’s no reason I can’t start drafting things and writing down observations. Articles are hard things to write, and you need to prepare for them as much as any delve. I’ll ask you about what you found as well in more detail. You mentioned that she knew you’d been down there?”
“Yep. In total confidence. She promised.”
“Then since she won’t be suspicious, why don’t you write down a bit of what you found down there as well? Tell her anything you think she’ll need to know and pass onto the other scholars.” Dad slid over a few sheets of paper and a pencil. “Even if I have to boringify it later for the article, she might like something in your own words to start with. And it’s good practise in any case. What do you think?”
Daring looked wide-eyed at the paper and pencils before her. Where would she start? There was so much she felt she could tell Celestia and her scholars, and telling it all seemed like it would take forever.
But if it was a challenge, then all the more reason to accept it. “I’ll do it,” she said, with purest determination clear in her voice.
“That’s my girl,” said Dad gently, and set his own pencil in his mouth and leaned over his own papers.
For a long while, Daring hesitated over the empty page. What was important? How should she tell it? How might Celestia like to read it?
She’d have to mention Cervile for sure. Celestia should know that there was a kind ghostly buckservant there who’d love to greet and treat guests and who’d cast a spell to help her read anything down there. Padhoof as well. Celestia should be warned in advance about them. The library guards also.
And maybe, as Daring’s thoughts raced, she could even suggest that it’d be kind to these poor trapped souls to indulge them a little, to let them hold onto the treasure within. Pretend to be shooed off by the sentry before teleporting inside every once in a while, have a fake duel with the guards before pretending they’d driven you off, that sort of thing. It wasn’t much, and maybe it’d be impractical, but before Celestia figured out the magic to fix them all, maybe it’d give them something to be happy about.
What else? The routes she’d taken, what she’d done, and what she’d learned about the dreaded Lord Fallow and his hopeless quest to bring his family back. She wondered how she could even begin to write it all down and arrange it to be approximately readable.
And as she thought it over, she knew the answer. As she’d lived it, of course.
By firelight, under Dad’s approving eyes, Daring set her pencil to the paper and with increasing confidence, began to write.
There was a ruin underground and a filly trotted towards it, she wrote, letter by careful letter. Her name was Daring Do and she wore another heroine’s hat, and she was the heroine, and she was going to bravely vanquish the hole in the ground or perish horrificalillyhorrifically in the attempt …
And though Dad ended up carrying Daring back to her bed before she’d even got around to describing the heroine’s saddlebag full of useful gadgets, Daring thought it had been a perfectly good start.
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7359768
You're welcome once again. :)
Ah, excellently done.
A bit surprised that Chestnut being locked in the ruin didn't merit a mention to Celestia, though.
7359864
More of a Chestnut mention might have been sensible, though from Daring's point of view - as mentioned when they were leaving - she assumed Cervile wouldn't leave Chestnut locked up in the ruin for that long after they left.
Glad you approve!
7359878 Chuckle, I'm far less worried about Chestnut being let out than her sneaking off with some secret knowledge or treasure after Celestia mentioned how important it was to lock down the site. Soul forging sounds like a nasty business to be spread around.
And on that note, I don't believe I mentioned it earlier, but I very much enjoyed the little touches, like the picture of his daughter and note on the library to show that regardless of the horrible things Lord Fallow did to his fellows he was a not monster by nature. A thoroughly heartless villain is rarely as interesting as one that have both good and evil qualities.
7359898
A nasty business indeed. Some ancient forbidden knowledge got itself forbidden for good reasons. Old Chestnut's sense of honour as a fairly-beaten adventurer archaeologist (a very violent and rickety sense of honour, granted, but still there) would probably stop her making off with something. That said, she was left alone in a room with texts on the subject ...
Hmm. There could be fun potential there, now I think on it.
Glad Lord Fallow's humanity (cervinity?) got a chance or two to show as well. The best villains are always those who are the heroes of their own story, and who have some good qualities to back them up in that regard.
*Cue the Indiana Jones theme song!*
Good lord, I haven't been hooked on an adventure story in a long time; well done!
7359937
Thank you! Happy to be able to hook.
A great ending to a great story, and an equally great beginning to a larger one. Makes sense to be careful with Antlertean ruins, especially given Sombra's precedent. I do wonder how Daring went from the eager filly we see here to the reclusive, cynical adult who refuses the help of a freaking alicorn and friends, but that's a tale for another time. Thank you for a wonderful experience.
That being said, I do wonder if the Crusaders ever discovered Fallow's tower. I'm sure it was thoroughly cleaned out by then, but if anyone could find something disastrous where there shouldn't be anything at all, it'd be them...
This fic is easily the best thing I've seen to come out of "Daring Don't." Thank you for writing it for us. A delightful mix of adventure, world-building, action, and d'aww.
Have I told you, by the way, that you write a lovely Celestia?
I'm eagerly looking forward to whatever happens next in this continuity.
7360050
Glad you like the whole thing, and glad to have had your comments throughout. There's certainly a lot more to the story of Daring's early adventures and how she became the reclusive, cynical adult we know from the show. I couldn't promise anything, but I'd certainly like to be able to write more on that topic some day.
Fallow's freehold would have (hopefully) been entirely cleaned out by the time of the show. But if any group of ponies could accidentally and gleefully uncover yet more ancient horrors ...
Too many ideas!
7360257
I'm delighted you like it so much, though I'm sure there must be other Daring Do pieces out there more worthy of that praise. Glad to have had your comments throughout as well.
Glad you like Celestia in this as well. She's one of my favourites, and it's good to know I can pull her off semi-well on occasion.
This is just such a fun story, very much in the happy tradition of pre-WWII adventure stories, or even Terry Pratchetts' Tiffany Aching books, right down to the part at the end where our plucky young heroine escapes the stramash and gains the approval of a parent. And then meets a well-respected, awe-inspiring authority figure and is given praise and Valuable Life Advice. (I was very, very fond of those type of books as a child, can you tell?)
I like your fib-proof Celestia too. She plays the long game, but she's a darling with it. And one does wonder if she had Miss Daring Do in mind as a potential backup Element of Harmony, fifteen years down the line. Honesty, or Loyalty, I shouldn't wonder.
Here's hoping poor Cervile and the rest get a happy ending, the Crusaders never encounter the ruins, and that Daring Do, her Dad and their excellent headgear continue to have many happy adventures together...
7360392
I'm very glad you enjoyed the story as much as you did, and the Tiffany Aching comparison especially flatters. I re-read the series partway through writing this, and it's more than likely it was an influence. I suspect we had similar tastes in books growing up.
Glad fib-proof Celestia entertained as well, and while I wouldn't want to lift the veil on her inscrutability too much, she did give vague consideration towards Daring as a future Element Bearer in that final scene.
Okay! And now, the last chapter!
Huh. So that's what happened to the guards. :D
"and could swore she saw"
"could have sworn she"?
"at them, but let them"
"them but"?
"behind her one more time"
"herself"?
"Apples, and out into the open"
"Apples and"?
"upon the grass, and then drew out"
"grass and"?
"his note, and bound it"
"note and"?
"them fly off, until they"
"off until"?
"short order, and released Daring"
"order and"?
...Ah. Yes. Ivory Scroll hadn't yet found out where Daring was. I must confess, I'd quite forgotten about her in all the excitement. :D
...Um.
Um.
Right.
I very much was not expecting this. :D
Hm. Though, on reflection, this could provide a less-doomy reason for the ruin not being a tourist attraction...
"held in her grasp, made by Ivory who had since fled for the safety of her own bedroom, and studied the open notetome in her grasp"
The two "in her grasp"s there to me seem significantly awkwardly repetitive, I'm afraid.
"sat still, and tried not"
"still and"?
"as if she was taking notes"
"she were taking"? Hm. More grammatically correct, that one, I think, but I'm not sure which sounds better...
"confidential involvement"
There appears to be an extra space there.
"There’s bruises"
"There are" or "There're"?
"cushions on the floor, beside a gently-flickering"
"floor beside"?
"for a sip and Daring’s eyes"
"sip, and"?
"at the bottle, and saw"
"bottle and"?
"from the tumbler, and gently"
"tumbler and"?
"them all, then maybe it’d give"
"all, maybe"?
"them all something to be happy about"
"them something"?
Very much aww. That whole bit. And an indeed excellent story overall! :D
...If perhaps a wee bit scattershot where the commas were concerned. :)
Thank you very much for writing anyway, though. :)
7362417
Thank you once again and always for your thoroughness, and I'm glad you were able to enjoy the story in spite of the plethora of comma-related errors. I can't make any promises about my future competence with them, but I can try to stop wielding them with wild abandon at anything that vaguely resembles a sentence.
7362623
You're welcome, and thanks. :)
I would say that you've got the more important part of writing down, though, or at least you're quite good at it. The comma problems and such can be fixed by throwing a sufficient number of editors at them, but the creation of a good story, the writing of the characters, etc. must be good first.
This story hits the high notes and the low notes with perfect timing. I'm still sad for Lord Fallow; what hell he must have gone through during the fall of everything he knew, and then to have that followed with the knowledge that he'd never see his wife and child again.
7365536
Happy the story could hit its notes well. And yeeeaaah, scarcely little to envy about Lord Fallow's final years in the freehold. For what it's worth, he would have perished fairly quickly (and in mysterious circumstances) during the Fall itself.
Quite a story indeed. I hope once the actual spell tomes have been stored in the same giant warehouse as the Arc of the Covenant, the ruin is eventually opened to the public. Cervile would love tourists.
7366584
Properly transferring the contents of the library and ensuring the rest of the place is made safe could take a fair while ... but an eventual opening could well be on the cards, and would undoubtedly delight Cervile.
7367307 I remember that scene at the end of "The Time Machine," where the AI Librarian reads stories to children...
I'm picturing something like that.
Well done. If it weren't for Reese getting to you first, it may have been me spotting those comma errors. As it is, I do not recall spotting any errors as I read.
You did a good job in capturing foal logic through your narration, and I'll be holding out hope for a sequel. If the comments are any indication, there's plenty of material to use.
Liked and faved.
7371592
Glad you liked and faved it! Also glad you were able to read it after Reese went to work on the commas. I've clearly yet to master the things.
No promises about a sequel, but I'd be lying if I said a few ideas hadn't come to mind. I'll see what the future holds there.
7374032
It's certainly a situation that could lend itself to all manner of inconvenient future plot-hooks. Luckily, like you say, Cervile would have been unlikely to extend a translation spell to Old Chestnut, so her capacity to directly strike back using that knowledge would be limited. No telling what could happen if she takes the books out to get translated elsewhere, though.
I wonder what Celestia does with all the dangerous artifacts her adventurer's have collected over the centuries?
Now while she would likely attempt to eliminate anything too evil or dangerous as a threat rather than keep it around the key word is attempt. Traditionally the more dangerous a magical artifact is the harder it is to get rid of. So she probably has a fairly large collection of the things she couldn't make safe/destroy.
So they need to be secured away somewhere. There are two extremes she could have gone for. At one end of the spectrum she could have secured all the items at one location. This would enable her to focus 100% of her available resources making them as inaccessible as possible. The downside being if that location is ever compromised she's potentially dealing with an apocalyptic threat as all of them get loose at once. At the other end each individual artifact could be independently secured. Meaning that if something happens only one becomes a threat at a time. The downside of that being that she has to divide her resources for each one as well meaning that their defenses will only be a fraction as strong as the previous option.
I suppose its a game theory/economics optimization problem. Assign a value to threat level of artifacts contained within and a value to strength of defenses per number of vaults built and try to work out the ideal ratio.
That could be fun for the math department at Canterlot U.
Celestia: "I need you to plot a graph that will determine the fate of Equestria."
7375765
Mathematics is very much world-saving in this case.
There's evidence from the show to suggest Celestia's taken a single-location approach in other cases. Tartarus acts as a prison for other demons and monsters in addition to Tirek, for example. I imagine there's probably individual defenses on each cell or holding space to minimise the chance of an Equestria-ending mass breakout there. She wouldn't likely use the place to store dangerous artifacts as well as dangerous entities (though the distinction can blur depending on the dangerousness of the artifact) - no sense in letting one access the the other, after all, so it could be there's a small number of high-security locations in play, holding different sorts of dangerous thingamajigs.
Some might defy transportation to a central point for whatever reason, so there'd be a few outlying places to which security would have to be extended. Happily, entities such as the Royal Archaelogical Society can provide extra barriers against escaping entities — adventurer-archaeologists tend to swarm like angry hornets wherever especially dangerous and fun stuff looks to be going on, which is never a fun thing for Equestria-ending threats to have pile on top of them.
This was a great story. I liked Daring's adventure and Celestia's appearance and how Celly knew when Daring spoke the truth.
I wonder what will happen with the informaton in the notebook eventually.
7386475
I'm sure there's some plans afoot for that notebook.
Glad you liked it!
7393910
Stories and notifications can be elusive beasties that way. Hope you enjoy the rest of this one!
'Sadorable' has my vote out of the two.
A cute adventure story re telling the origins of Daring Do. Short and Simple. Good Job!
7440176
Thank you!
An excellent tale, heartwarming and heart-pounding in its turn. A shame I never read it before now.
Thanks for writing.
7526195
Inducing all manner of heart-based trauma's always a desirable outcome for any story. Glad you made time to read it, and glad you enjoyed it!
7546083
A good bit of emotional turmoil's always great fun to inflict on readers, I find. Delighted to know you've been enjoying it!
And yep, Flora would have been expected to grow up to become another mage-lord, and would have regrettably been expected to learn the art of soulforging. It'd be the equivalent of a young Roman patrician or a child born to plantation owners in the Antebellum American South being taught that slavery was perfectly normal - undeniably horrible from our perspective, but unavoidable in their culture and time.
Just finished the last chapter. This was an AMAZING story. The characters and action scenes were very well done. The glimpses into the lives of Lord Fallow's family were especially interesting. It's too bad that this story hasn't gotten as much attention as your other stories.
Was Sombra incredibly talented like Twilight? It seems like he would have to be to become as powerful as a mage-lord. I'm sure a mage-lord's books would make any unicorn powerful, but I think they would need to be pretty talented to master the book's contents as well as a mage-lord.
The Royal Archaelogical Society sounds like a pretty good back-up for ancient abominations should the Elements of Harmony not be available at the moment. I thought it was funny how easily Gallivant handled the sentry door compared to Daring Do.
7546633
Very glad the whole story was to your liking. Even if it's not gotten as much attention as some of my other pieces, I'm happy with what it's gotten.
Sombra was indeed the hyper-academic unicorn of his day, on a par with Twilight, and he'd have had to be to have a hope of unraveling Antlertean lore, let alone mastering it as well. Not every ruin would have had helpful servants with translator spells at the ready, and Sombra would have had to fathom it all by himself.
7627247
Pronunciation based on text alone can be such a skitter. You have to double-check these things with other folk, when a suitable context arises.
It's always a special moment when I finish a story with a smile and a happy sigh.
And more so when it's not the first time I've read that story.
Bravo.
Which is all well and good until the Society discovers the location of the greatest single collection of Discordian-era history.
Celestia's personal journals.
7710297
Smile-and-happy-sigh-inducement is always a pleasure. Glad it brought those out of you.
7863570
She needs more ponifying. Glad you approve!
A excellent story about young Daring Do and her first adventure. It is good to know that even in her youth, Daring was a bit of a rebel who did things her own way and no one was going to stop her. The early beginnings of Ponyville and the Royal Archaeological Society are very interesting. Would love to read more about them in the future. Did Luna and Celestia create the RAS or was it a unicorn prince/princess from the before Pre-Princess Era? Also, is the Pre-Princess Era before the Royal Sisters or after they took the mantle of princesses?
Finally! Some good old action. Nothing compares to the exhilaration of a struggle. I always loved conflict in writing, it brings out the extremes of a person's emotions. Love, anger, sorrow, all mixed into a one amazing package.
Soul forging sounds like a nasty business. Where do I sign up? If I can have my soul stolen from my body and transferred to Equestria and then given a new body then I can finally explore your world. You know, for science! But all joking aside it seems you have created a form of necromany. So far I have counted 9 forms of magic. Arcane, necromany, love, friendship/harmony, Celestia and Luna's celestial magic, weathercrafting, earth pony magic, cunning, and dreamwalking. 10 if you count the Crown's life draining magic as a separate from arcane magic or 8 if you count love as the same magic as friendship/harmony.
Anyway, that's all that I have right now. It was a very enjoyable read.
Woah
The mistake is in chapter 3, when Daring turns around to see the library for the first time.
7922867
Glad you liked this one as well! Wee Daring was great fun to write about, and it's nice that other folk seemed to have liked her and her varyingly-competent exploits as well. Cheers for the correction as well, and it's been made.
I'd say the Royal Archaeological Society wasn't directly formed by any of the royal sisters, but started life independently of the court. It grew out of the pre-princess-era adventuring tradition into other old Antlertean ruins, and a society of kindred spirits eventually sought and gained royal recognition and support for their efforts. This helped the RAS get more funding and recruit more aspiring adventurer-archaologists, it helped the Equestrian government keep a closer eye on any ancient horrors the society dug up ... and it also generally helped those Equestrians leaning towards the 'fearlessly psychopathic' end of the spectrum assemble in one place, where Celestia could keep a wary on them.
Pfff. Doesn't the doctor know that the Creator is not in a right state of mind? I mean, he writes about ponies. Ponies I tell you. If that is not a clear sign of insanity then I don't know what is.
Then again I am not one to talk. I mean, my avator is a hawk. I would fit right in with the Corvids. Hawks are part of Corva, right? If so, how do they fit in Corvid society?
7924583
Corva, alas, hosts the sapient corvids, while accipitridaes and associates remain mere animals that occasionally take part in competitions to find out who the best pet is. Some corvids have domesticated hawks for hunting and companionship, while others regard them as unevolved relatives akin to how we regard primates, whilst others still make a point of hunting them - "Bugger you, ye upjumped spyug, this is oor airspace."
I hope that there will be a sequel to this wonderful tale one day.
7934956
Vague ideas for a sequel have been tossed about, but nothing concrete at this stage, alas.
Glad you've liked it so much!
This was quite enjoyable.
Any chance of a followup oneshot where Twilight finds out about the ruin, visits, and proceeds to somehow question a ghost to tears?
7945603
Bravo. Excellent all throughout. So many little sentences that made me giggle (I guess big sentences too
), and plenty of other adorable happenings occurred throughout the story.
I was actually genuinely worried for Gallivant during his fight with Steelhart (who by the way, had an amazing, suspenseful introduction), like "Holy, is this story missing a dark tag?"-worried. Happy to see it all come to a joyful conclusion though.
7959522
Glad to be able to incite genuine worry for Gallivant during his fight as well. Maybe a Dark tag would have been warranted if he'd had less luck there - though a full quota of tragically-slain parents could been the best possible backstory for a budding adventurer. 
Glad little and big sentences and adorable happenings alike delighted!
This story is criminally underappreciated.