Egress

by Grey Vicar

Chapter Eight - Sundial

Whoever had designed Canterlot Castle had been clinically insane. At least that was what Twilight told herself at least once a month when she happened to find yet another oddity that made her question the sanity of the original architects. There was no shortage of hidden passages ending in dead-ends, of hallways that looped upon themselves as if they had been meant to lead to several different rooms along the wall, yet only held a single door to a random broom closet, nor of random assortments of hidden levers and switches that would make some part of the wall pivot upon itself to give some poor maid a good scare as she was cleaning the armoury only to see herself whisked into the dining hall. Of course, most of those she could chalk up to rooms being added or removed, of the castle's general layout shifting over the millennia it had been inhabited.

What she couldn't excuse was the decision to put a sundial in the basement.

She had checked. It had been underground since the day the castle had been built. In fact, it had allegedly been one of the first pieces of the castle to have been set. What was even stranger was that the room in which it stood seemed to have been built for the express purpose of holding it, and the sundial was far too large to fit through the only door leading out of the room. It was about two ponylengths in diameter, and polished to an almost mirror sheen. It didn't take her more than a few seconds with a ball of light inside that room to note how odd its slick finish was as well. Who would make a sundial that would blind you if you tried to look at it during the day? Perhaps that had been why it had been put underground, so nopony had the misfortune of burning off their retinas by glancing at it at noon where the sun would turn it into a ball of radiant pain. But then why bother putting it underground? If the intent had been to get rid of it, why not throw it in the river just next to Canterlot? Or rough up the surface with sandpaper? Or not make a reflective sundial in the first place?

It was an odd, useless thing, in a small, useless room away from all the hustle and bustle of the castle. Which was why it was one of Twilight's favourite rooms. She had made herself a nice bed of cushions and sometimes sneaked away from her quarters to read in there, and the servants knew better than to disturb her when the door to the room was closed. It was only her, the silence, the smell of history past, and a good book.

Sometimes she could manage to relax for a few minutes. Now she'd managed to sneak out Gallop Hoofworth's "Of Lilies And Wars" and perhaps she would finally manage to read a little bit of it. She caressed the rich cover lovingly, such a masterpiece, inlaid in gold and silver and—

She blinked.

Six gemstones dulled by time.

A faded horseshoe pattern.

The smell of smoke hung in the air.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. DO NOT THINK ABOUT IT—

Somepony knocked at the door and Twilight started with a yelp of surprise. She shot a look to the book she'd brought. “Of Lilies And Wars”. Inlaid gold and silver. She blinked. What had that been all about? Was she so tired she was starting to hallucinate? She shook herself out of her stunned state as best she could and spoke up. “What is it?”

“Princess Twilight, it is getting late.”

Noble Duty. Of course. It was always her who disturbed her when she tried to rest. She had spent the entire week dealing with minor nobles and their squabblings over even more minor plots of land. Her limbs were still heavy with the sleep debt she'd incurred from all her nights hunched over legal documents and land titles trying to decide in whose favour to rule. And it had been such a brilliant idea at first, to reinstate the noble houses, decentralize the power from Canterlot so the land could rule itself better.

How could she have been so stupid? Now she had to not only assuage the worries of the populace, but also deal with little ponies who thought themselves more important than they were.

“It's not late,” she shot back to Noble Duty. “I brought my clock with me to make sure I don't spend too much time here. It's four o'clock, go away.”

“Princess Twilight, that clock is broken.”

She'd seen right through her lies. Thinking quickly, she rolled to her hooves and positioned her ball of light over the sundial. A little to the left… She squinted as the mirrorlike surface tried blinding her. “I also have a sundial as a backup, and it also tells me that it's four o'clock. Go away.”

“Princess Twilight, that sundial is in a stone room underground. I highly doubt the sun reaches it.”

Twilight looked at her book again and shivered. Well that had killed the mood even before her assistant had come to bother her so…

Noble duty stood still behind the door. She didn't even so much as twitch when Twilight opened the door and stepped out of her quiet room, and glared down at her with all the ire a sleep-deprived alicorn princess could muster. Not that the display would serve much of a purpose to intimidate the blind mare. Not that Twilight would actually do such a thing in the first place. The thought briefly touched Twilight's mind: Noble Duty, walking away from her, frightened by the responsibility of keeping her princess on track. The castle's basement suddenly felt much gloomier and she was glad Noble Duty couldn't see the many irate glares she so often levelled at her. “What time is it?”

“It is almost eight o'clock, Princess Twilight.” Noble Duty lightly bowed her head. “I wanted to ensure you didn't lapse in your duties.”

Princess Twilight closed her eyes and sighed quietly. She hadn't realized it had been so late when she'd sneaked away to her quiet place. Perhaps she did need a new clock. The moon needed to be raised every evening just as the sun needed to be raised every morning. “Thank you, I don't know what I'd do without you. I… might have let myself go today.”

“I am here to serve.”

She left the book behind.

After the pleasant darkness of the basement, the evening sun felt as if it was stabbing Princess Twilight's eyes in retaliation for having been neglected and left to stand too high for too long. She hastened to her platform, almost bumping into some of her attendants who hurried out of her way as she passed them while mumbling apologies. She was out of breath by the time she reached the balcony and paused to catch her breath. The stylized statues of the sun and moon seemed to glare at her as she approached. She centred herself and stepped onto the dais. It was time to raise the moon.

She lifted her head and closed her eyes. The sun slid down behind the horizon. The moon went up.

“What good am I as a princess if I need to be constantly pushed to do my duties?” She whispered under her breath. The moon was round and brilliant tonight. She felt like a dull pebble in comparison. “My ministers do all the important work, the one that helps everypony. I just look pretty in court and deal with problem I created myself because of bad decisions. I'm useless.”

“If I may, Princess Twilight.”

Princess Twilight nearly stumbled off the dais in surprise. Somehow, Noble Duty had managed to sneak up behind her. The mare's eyes were lifted to the moon.

“Surely you must not be useless. Everything has a purpose, everything is meaningful. If you were truly without purpose, you wouldn't be here. Perhaps you need to be reminded to do your duties, but who doesn't?”

Twilight looked at her hooves and nodded solemnly. “I'll think about it. Thank you, Noble Duty.”

She stayed on the dais for a while. The cool night air felt good in her mane, blowing snow about her in small whirlwinds. Her legs felt heavy. So heavy. Perhaps she could just lie down on the ground for a while, just a little while… She shook her head. Bed. She needed her bed.

The walk to her chambers had her feel like somepony had poured molasses inside her limbs. She waved distractedly to the servants, nodded to her ministers as they hurried to her to whisper some about some last-minute changes or news they'd received. Always something more. Always something to do. She should be working, she should be helping, she should be—

She blinked. The ministers were walking away, nodding to each other in satisfaction. Oh, so that was done now. What time was it? She looked at the moon by sheer force of habit and rubbed her forehead. Of course the moon was up, she'd just raised it.

Stars she was tired. She wished Noble Duty let her relax a little sometimes, then maybe she wouldn't have constant lapses in attention and maybe she wouldn't feel so damn tired all the time.

She pulled the covers tightly over herself. Things had been so much easier before, hadn't they? Was she just getting old or… no that couldn't be it. She was as youthful as ever, of course. It seemed that with the blessing of youth and immortality had come a curse. Long ago, long, long ago, she had only been a simple unicorn, hadn't she? She could still vaguely remember long evenings spent reading, researching for knowledge's sake, and time spent with

Tired… So tired… It was so much worse lately…

Her curtains were see-through, and she let the moonlight lull her to sleep.

Comments

[Arceaion]

Living but not living,
moving without going anywhere.
Standing before the chasm of Eternity,
living in eternal boredom.
This is the meaning of immortality.

To watch forever as all you do,
to watch forever as all you know,
to watch forever as all you love,
Turns to dust around you.

You will grow tired of the struggle,
You will grow tired of the monotony
of the pushing ever onward.
But you can not stop the ever march called Time.

Eventually you will be driven to madness,
you will be driven to sanity,
you will be driven to loneliness

There is no happy ending
for there will be no ending to this eternal torment
called Immortality.

Weep for the Immortal,
for we know not what they endure.