Daring Do and the Order of the Eagle

by Arkansandragon

Prologue: The Visitor

It was dark inside the author's home.

The only light came from a lamp at her desk, and the only sound in the still night air was the steady clicking of her hooves on the typewriter.

If anypony had been watching, the sea-green pegasus would've seemed completely unaware of her surroundings, so focused was she on the story at hand.

But she was far from unwary. A fond smile graced her muzzle at the silent appearance of a figure in the second-story window behind her.

"I was wondering when you'd come visit me," she said softly, not turning, but pausing for a moment to rest her hooves.

"How could I not?" answered the hooded figure, adjusting his balance on the window sill. "You know that I worry about you. We all do."

"So you aren't here just because you want something then?" There was a trace of sarcasm in her voice as she glanced over the newly-typed page.

Silence greeted her, and she turned around in the swivel chair to stare at her guest.

Though he stayed in the shadows, her keen eyes could just pick out the chocolate-brown fur under his beaked hood. He was about the same age as her 35 years, but the white robes and red sash covering the rest of his body hid well-toned muscles and numerous small blades. She wasn't surprised that such a fit earth pony had reached her high window. But then again, she knew he could find her anywhere.

The stallion interrupted her thoughts by rubbing the back of his hood uncomfortably. "I wouldn't necessarily say that..." he muttered, hoping in vain that she wouldn't hear.

"I'm retired," the mare said evenly, turning her back to him. As she did so, the light caught one feathered wing - and the amputation stump were the other should have been.

"You know this," she continued, straightening her typewriting paper to ready a new page.

He looked away, saddened eyes unconsciously trailing to the prosthetic limb discarded on the nearby bed. Yes. He knew all too well what had happened.

"That isn't why I'm here," he eventually said, shaking his thoughts from that dark memory. "The Mentor is concerned about you. About this new story of yours."

"Let her worry about more important things than my foals' tales," said the mare in annoyance, beginning to type again. "The innocents believe us to be nothing more then fantasies anyway. Why not indulge them? Besides - " and here she looked back to flash a sly smile, " - if I remember rightly, some of our Brothers and Sisters also enjoy my work, including the Mentor herself."

The stallion cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to look anywhere but at her teasing face. His gaze came to rest on her flank, and the cutie mark of an open book and feathered quill adorning it.

A quiet chuckle escaped him, and he modestly averted his eyes again, saying softly, "Yes, you do have quite a special talent." Then his voice grew more serious. "Be that as it may for the innocents, our enemies might grow suspicious at your writings. Tread carefully in this."

By now she'd turned back to her paper, and paused again in her typing, as if considering his warning.

"Safety and peace be upon you, Brother," she finally said, indicating that the conversation was over.

"And upon you as well," he replied quietly, worry lacing his voice.

She didn't need to turn her head to know when he was gone. The lost comfort of his presence told her clearly enough.

Author's Note:

Many Thanks to my Beta Readers: MyOwnNameWasTaken (from here and DeviantART), and Zanzibar1 (from FanFiction.net)! :D