Chapter Three: Memories
Chapter Three
Memories
“Aideen’s Audiolog. February 5, 1247. Craft left me, leaving a pistol, a substantial amount of ammunition and a note saying ‘practice’. Most of all she gave me lots to think about.”
I’m free now, and I have no idea what I should do with my freedom. I stayed the day and night in the shack where Craft has left me. I know, of course, why I hadn’t left the shack; nopony has told me to do otherwise.
I had to make a choice. Take my freedom, or return to my old life as a slave. Hufstein is a day away; Colt’s Well probably four or five. In Hufstein I will, have to make another decision, what to do there? Getting my life back... Do I really want to have it back?
One of the first things she had said to me: I could have used the feeling of success, having control. It was meant to be only the situation, but maybe I really carve control of my life. Who wouldn’t? I wouldn’t! Until now my life had some sort of order. It was easy, I didn’t have to worry about anything. In the Wasteland, I had no plan on how to survive the next week, but then again I had to survive at least four days to get to Colt’s Well.
I feel like I owe it to Craft to take my freedom. She saved my life, with the intention of selling me, sure. I had the feeling she was saving up money for something, but she had spent healing potions on me, and then even presented me with a small gun and a lot of ammo.
I had spend the entire rest of the day with the last command somepony gave me: practise. I have never used S.A.T.S. before, but I discovered the targetifng spell does not apply to empty cans. I made up my own targeting spell, where I engulfed my target in magic and aligned the gun to it. A three step spell: detect, direct, deploy. It drained me like crazy, but I hit every time. Of course, the cans were not defending themselves with tooth and nails.
Sure, I was glad I hit them, but it wasn’t fun in any way. And then I felt angry. How do they dare not defending themselves? This is supposed to be fun. Shooting things; letting off steam; releasing anger against something weaker than oneself.
That afternoon I cried myself to sleep. Why did I never defend myself? Stupid cans...
*** *** ***
I slept like a baby that night. Literally speaking, of course. I woke up every few hours crying for no apparent reason. Who came up with that metaphor anyway? How babies actually sleep like and what the metaphor indicates couldn’t be further appart.
At 4 am I decided not to go back to sleep again. I have no schedule I have to go by anymore. I can go to sleep and wake up whenever I want to. Does freedom mean I am able to make even the smallest decisions? It felt weird to me. I have to stop using that word. Unfamiliar. It felt ‘unfamiliar’ to me. Yes, that was the far better word.
There will be a lot of unfamiliar things coming at me, and some of these unfamiliar things will certainly want to kill me, but for now I need to get familiar with the feeling of feeling unfamiliar towards something. Huh... let me rephrase that: I have to get used to learning new things.
I will change my manestyle. Not because Craft had said she wanted to do it, but because I want to leave my old life behind me. I lifted the largest piece of a broken mirror from the bathroom and looked at myself. My mane was pinned up in a knot. She had been right; I really have done things to myself to make myself less attractive.
Searching my saddlebags for everything I could use to give myself a new hairstyle, I found an item I didn’t remember ever putting in there. Ironically my PipBuck has labeled the item ‘Memorhedron’. I floated it out to inspect the object I could best describe as a tetrahedron-shaped memory-orb. I had been under the impression memory-orbs were... orbs. Unfamiliar, right? It hadn’t activated itself by my magic, but it possessed an exit like a magical hard drive. There is no punishment for curiosity anymore so I decided to plug my PipBuck in.
> Unknown Add-on detected.
> Preparing uplink to StableTec.
> Searching server...
> Searching server...
> Searching server...
> Connection to StableTec-server could not be established. Uplink to StableTec failed.
> Add-on cannot be verified at the moment, try again later.
> Recommended: Eject Add-on, it might not be compatible with your PipBuck and could damage it.
> Eject / Access
Please don’t break my PipBuck, please don’t break my PipBuck, please don’t break my PipBuck.
> Access
> Retrieving data.
> Memorhedron is fully charged and ready to use.
> Next memory in queue: Untitled - January 8, 977
> Length: 0 hours 4 minutes 28 seconds.
> Load memory?
My jaw fell for various reasons. First: 977? That is half a century before the war. Second: This object was far superior to any memory orb. I could only guess but there has to be a lot of memories on that thing. And third: There is no way I could have had it in my saddlebags. I’m certain Craft didn’t give it to me, so the only other... entity to have slipped it to me, since I last checked my saddlebags was... Nightmare Moon.
Nightmare Moon... She had let me into that facility, killed the others and let me out again. I should have thought about this way sooner but every time my mind wandered into that direction I got scared. What does she want? Eternal night? I figuratively looked up to the cloudcover, but saw of course only the ceiling of the shack. I imagine the cloudcover would piss her off. Could she even have known about the cloudcover in that facility? Maybe I just have imagined... no all that definitively happened.
She had slipped it into my saddlebags, I’m sure of it. The question is now: do I want to know what Nightmare Moon wants me to know? Decisions... freedom is certainly not easy. How do free ponies deal with it all the time? Being sent on a mission by evil spirits was hopefully not on a free ponies usual menu.
Princess Luna was still been imprisoned in the moon in 977. (Or on the moon. The lore hadn’t been specific about that.) She would have been Nightmare Moon at that time, but what is there to do on the moon? Had she recorded a monologue? Does this even make sense? Wait. How would she have planned all this? There is no way any pony in its right mind would help Nightmare Moon if she brought forward a 4 minutes 28 second sob story about how she is misunderstood or something. This has to be the memory of somepony else.
A memory only shows what happened, not the truth. Everypony could be an actor, saying exactly what they agreed to say. It could show only a fragment of a scene, the creator only presenting what is supposed to be seen. Hiding certain truths and presenting others in a different light is worse than lying.
Here goes nothing.
> Load memory?
> Load
<-=======ʌʌɅ Ʌʌʌ=======->
My host felt wei- unfamiliar, but I was sure it was a male unicorn. He was sitting at a desk, reading some heavy duty magical research papers. I couldn’t make sense out of half of it, but I wasn’t able to read it from the beginning. Would I have the time to read all of it thoroughly I believe I would be able to pull that spell off in accuracy, but my magical stamina might yield halfway through.
Two soft knocks at the door made my host turn around and opened the door immediately. Outside stood a tall white unicorn mare with a light pink mane. She was taken aback, obviously she didn’t expect the door instantly opening, but she regained her cool soon again. “Mr. Spellfield, I take it you were expecting me.”
“Miss Bright Skies. Yes, I did,” I could feel Spellfields facial muscles forming a smile. “eagerly so in fact. Your spell is ready.” He arranged the papers he had just been going over neatly, floated out a case of twelve memory-orbs and put the papers inside. “But, I’m afraid we have to make a change in the price.”
“We agreed on 45 thousand bits, that is more than enough for a single spell.” Bright Skies was angry, I couldn’t blame her; although I had no idea how much 45 thousand bits was, but it sounded like much.
“Yes I agree, I spent about 14 hours on that little project. That’s not a bad hourly rate if you ask me, and to be honest it was thrilling working on it, in comparison to spellchecking and rephrasing my dissertations over and over again.” He sighed. “You see, I’m capable, top of my class, and I’m charismatic. Don’t forget my modesty.” Great, I’m inside a douchebag who think he’s a comedian.
“I have a bright future ahead of me and you are asking me I should take the risk of losing it. While I worked on the spell I could think of thousand different reasons to use it. This is a spell to mess around with ponies brains, which is illegal. You know you can extract memories from unwilling victims too, right?” Extracting memories? Did this pony create the memory-orbs? This memory was saved on a superior form of memory orbs. So... it’s possible. “This cannot backfire at me, it would ruin my life.”
Brights expression contradicted her name. I couldn’t judge her, I had no sense of money but I imagine the price has just multiplied. But then I couldn’t judge him either, if it could ruin his life he somehow has a right for more money. “How much?”
Spellfield stood up from his chair and walked towards Bright Skies and gestured her into the room, then magically closed the door and locked it. He had to stretch his neck to reach her ear and whispered: “I have money, why would I need even more of it?” He traced her cheekbone, with his hoof. I know where this is going.
“What do you propose, then?” He walked around her, taking in the view. Why does she have to pull my stunt, simply letting him do what he was doing? Then again, maybe she was naive.
“Well, you didn’t deny immediately that you have something illegal planned. At a certain amount I believe it is easier to simply kill me and go through the trouble of finding somepony else. I want to get out of this deal alive, so I propose no money. No money means no paper trail. If I happen to receive any money, I’ll be an accomplice. Everything you have on me already will make me look like a source. If something might happen to you, I can talk myself out of it. ‘You talked to me about collecting memories as a hypothetical concept.’ You understand.”
I misjudged him. There is this rule for dealing with criminals, one is allowed to behave a little bit like an asshole. But he was still a pervert.
“So what do you propose, then?” She repeated herself. Maybe she just doesn’t have my experience with perverts or she was in denial.
“A kiss.”
What?
“What?” Yeah, that’s what I said.
“I enjoyed working on the spell, but I can’t simply take no payment. To be honest you have a stick up yours, you might need to relieve your stress.”
“I do not need to relieve stress.” Right...
“Oh no, of course you don’t, forgive me for even assuming it. But a kiss is what I’m charging you with. It shouldn’t be a problem, right?”
<-=======vvV Vvv=======->
> Save position in queue.
> Memorhedron is charging. 1%
> Not ready for use.
I hate cliffhangers. But it wasn’t really a cliffhanger when I’m probably never going to find out what exactly happened. I’ll just have to wait until the Memorhedron is fully charged. So much for it’s superiority to casual memory-orbs. I guess the next memory wont continue immediately after the first.
I tried accessing its memory, but it showed unhackable. Then I had to think about that particular word. In 977 was when computer science was still an idea. What were the odds this Spellfield had his hooves in its development? I can only guess but I think one of the inventors of computers knows how to properly secure them.
My focus should be on an more pressing issue. Why was this memory shown to me? What would anypony gain from me seeing this? Why would the memory of the birth of memory-orbs be important? It has to be about what the memory-orbs were intended to do. Bright Skies, whoever she (or whoever she’s working for) wants to collect memories, and that fifty years before the war. What for?
I never had to wonder about stuff like that before. Figuratively speaking, I mean. My entire life, forming an opinion could only backfire at me. Why would I form an opinion when grownups have another one? And as a kid, you are always wrong. Then why would I form an opinion when my slavers have one? At least my mom let me live when I disobeyed her.
So what does it have to do with Nightmare Moon? I’m going to wonder about this while I do my mane. It’s amazing what you can do with hot water, a knife, a spoon and a lot of time. I could make curls...
*** *** ***
“Good morning faithful listeners, this is your Rosetta here and as always we’ll have our morning talk. Today’s topic is ‘Money’. This goes out to the entire wasteland and I hope you can take something valuable away from it. Fun thing is: there is actually some universal rule how you can make money, so listen carefully.”
I liked Rosetta; when I got my PipBuck, she was just starting her own show in Stable Eight’s broadcasting system. I became a fan, before she was popular. Sure, she never really got to get popular in the Stable, because it opened up before she got the chance to built a fanbase. Rosetta had been old enough for... serving in the Crimson Company, and I got to meet and befriend her, but she soon managed to get to work in their radio, and was out of my reach. Now she is in charge of the Crimson Companies morning broadcast.
“Ponies like to call money the root of all evil, like the ones who do evil do it for the money. But money really is only a tool for exchange. It’s a tool for producers, who create goods, and not for thieves, who take them with stealth; it’s a tool for traders, who deliver goods, and not for raiders, who take them with force; it’s a tool for consumers who purchase goods, and not for beggars, who take them with tears. Do you want to consider the good ponies who use money for its true purpose evil? Bad ponies don’t need money.”
Throwing beggars in the same pot as thieves can be justified somehow, but raiders? Raiders were a real scourge on ponykind; those guys torture, kill, defile and mutilate for the fun of it. While the Crimson Company are slavers they have a fun view of what is evil and what is not.
“Nowadays we don’t trade goods against goods anymore, because we trade way more things than goods. Services, protection, information, entertainment, all these are things we have assigned value to. And we don’t always have goods with us that is desired by our business partner, so we need a substitute, an intermediary value carrier. In the stone age it started with rare things, stuff that has value to probably all ponies around. Gold, for example, and gold is still around as a carrier of value, but it serves the purpose of money because it has actual value and isn’t a carrier.”
If I am going to be a free pony I’ll have to acquire money and be able to handle it. A broadcast about money was certainly something worth listening to. I never really thought about money. It is money. The most common and mundane thing. I never thought it was worth philosophize about.
“Soooo what is the closure of a bottle? There is no value in those things. Bits, as they were used in Equestria, were made of an alloy of copper, zinc and nickle. Sure, the raw material is worth more than whatever kind of alloy has been used to make bottle caps. The bit, just like our caps, was worth way more than its material. Literally speaking, both are worth almost nothing, so why does it have value? Why do we believe it has value?”
Because everypony does?
“For the same reason everything else has value. Why does anything have a value? Because we think it has value. The value of an apple is to appease one’s hunger, so what are we willing to trade for it? The value of a gun is, for most ponies, self defense, so what are we willing to trade for it? But let’s think about it the way we thought about money earlier. If we break the apple down into fructose and dietary fiber and whatnot, or the gun into the different metals, then what value does it have?”
Rosetta paused at her rhetorical question. She knew how to play the audience, and I felt no shame in answering: “None, no value at all.”
“Because it is not the materials worth, but what we can do with it. Money is value, and value is make believe. So how can you make money? It’s easy really. First step: You find something you like, this can be something you can create or something there is enough of to trade with, like bottle caps or stones or whatever. Second step: You call it money. And that’s it. Puff, it is money.”
I had a plan now, go to a merchant and say something like: ‘No really, this rock is worth one rock, it is a legitimate currency.’
“The tricky step is the third: Convince others it is money. Bottle caps have been chosen out of desperation, it wont work like that again. So we should take a look at another currency in the Wastelands: chips. They have value in and around New Pegas. Different than caps you cannot simply find them lying around in the wasteland, which makes them a special kind of rare. The exact amount of chips in existence is ‘knowable’. The casinos know their own value, but of course, they hate each other and don’t talk, but for their common interest of enforcing it as a currency they accept each others chips as payment in their casinos.”
There goes my ‘rocks as currency’-plan. Every Trader could simply go out and gather some himself, It’s probably an easier way to acquire rocks than trade them with me.
“You noticed the keyword there? ‘Enforce’. Chips are valuable because the ponies accepting them have the capability to enforce it as a currency. They got it up, and they can keep it up. If you believe you can do that too than be my guest. Here in the Crimson Company, we have the factories to make our own currency: crowns. All our employees use crowns when they trade with each other.”
Yeah, make the outside world think that the inside the Crimson Company has a real community. I myself have a good amount of crowns in the bank back in Colt’s Well, though they are not of any use to me now, of course. Not like I could do much with them in Colt’s Well either. I had the wits to build a bomb using simple household items, so they always kept a good eye on me.
“So far there is no exchange ratio, because we are an exclusive club. Our employees don’t get out so much, those who do have caps, and you don’t get in to trade with most of our employees. We are working our way up to become a real empire, people. So for now... some music.”
Fast loud music. Not usually the genre I like, but this is one of the songs I like. I let the music play on my journey to Hufstein. Music... couldn’t hurt to sing along.
“Pulled into war to serve a nation, that’s supposed to last a thousand years...
*** *** ***
I had to go a day without food for a few times already, but those times I never had to walk 100 miles. Hufstein came into sight just when night was falling. I’ve had the common sense of taking off my Crimson Company slave-barding before the gate guards could see it.
Maybe I should have discarded it, and even if I could take the risk of exposing it to a merchant I wouldn’t sell it. The barding was of good quality; it might be a reminder of the life I want to leave behind, but it is useful. I had something else that might fetch me a fair price, there was a broken radio in the shack and I repaired it.
The gate guards gave me directions to a merchant and now I was window shopping. I had no idea what to get myself. I really had to watch my money, and I had no idea what was worth what. The merchant was a light blue coated earth pony mare, she was... all over me.
Then I saw an object already in my possession. “How much is that radio worth?”
“65 caps, sweetie.” She smiled.
There was no reason not to return her smile. “Sounds fair.” I pulled out the same radio-model.
She had a bad case of the giggles. As if I had just made an hilarious joke. “Okay, anything else you want? You can have anything you see in here.” Right...
“I could need some dye for fabric.”
“I really like your mane...”
I froze. “That’s err... good to know. The style’s new, so... thanks.”
She adjusted a streak from my mane. I’m taking my what I’m able to get, and then I have got to get out of here...
*** *** ***
The sign in front of the motel signaled they did no room-service had a low price, and can charge daily or hourly. Good enough. The first floor only appeared to be a bar, but I bet the pony at the counter could tell me more. Night had just began to fall, but the bar was already filled with ponies and at the counter I saw one fiery mane I recognized.
“Coño, I’m not drunk enough for you.” Craft voiced when I sat myself next to her. She flailed a hoof into the air, beckoning the barkeeper over, then downed her drink. “Recharge.”
While the barpony refilled Crafts drink I took the chance of inquiring about the room. “Good evening, I would like to rent a room for the night.”
He was checking me out. I guess I wasn’t the usual kind of costumer. “Sure, 40 caps the night, if you clean the sheets.” Celan the sheets... right.
“Uhkay.” He can think whatever he wants to think. I was checking into this high prestige establishment, after all.
“Recharge.” Had Craft downed her drink again?
I passed the caps over the counter and was soon handed a key with the number eleven carved into it. “I was not following you.”
“That’s what all the crazy stalkers say. So what then? Demonic intervention?” Crafts tone was pretty drunk.
I’m not sure whether or not I like that crazy mare, somehow I’m glad to see her, but that is all. I have no idea what I’m supposed to say to her. ‘Thank you’?
Crafts drink was empty again, she was now supporting herself on the counter. “Cute one incoming.” What?
“E- excuse me?” A male earth pony was standing just behind me. Dark brown coat and dark green mane. He was looking young, maybe a teenager.
“Yes? Can I help you?” How stupid are you, Aideen? You are asking a... a male how you can help him when sitting in a shabby bar and motel.
“I err... was wondering if I can buy you a drink.” At least he doesn’t ask right out what I charge hourly.
“Say yes.” Craft was now resting her head on the counter.
I’m free, I could play him. One of the advantages of my looks. I changed my manestyle exactly for situations like this. Persuasion. And if it is just a drink I can get out of it, so... “Yes.”
He seemed surprised. “Yer out of his league.” Crafts whispered advice wasn’t helping. “You can choose whoever you want in here.”
“Oh, ahh... great. What do you want?”
Damn, what kind of drink would I want? Thinking too long will make me look insecure... I am insecure, so: “Beer will do, whatever’s on tap.”
“Erm... yeah.” He gestured the barkeeper.
“He’s not your type.” Why is she helping me?
“Sorry, but you are not really my type.”
“Yeah...”
“You’re into mares.”
“I’m-” Stop planting words in my mouth Craft!
She broke out in laughter and fell from her barstool. That seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary in this bar as nopony payed her any attention.
“I’m actually just not looking for anypony tonight.”
“Check his company.” Craft was halfway passed out drunk, but she managed to notice he had come from a group of other teenagers slash young adults.
“You lost a bet and had to come over and talk to me, right?” He forced a smile. “You didn’t expect to come this far, did you?”
“Yeah...”
“Let’s make a deal then. Your reputation in your little group there rises and I already have somepony here, which lowers the chance anyone’s hitting on me, aaaand I’ll have my peace.”
“Uhm... okay.” He stepped over Craft, who appeared to be sleeping now, and set on her barstool.
Somewhere along whatever road I choose to walk along I will have to decide if I’m going to be a good pony or a bad pony. He’ll gain in reputation in his group, sure, and I’m not asking much from him. It felt wrong and I want to be a good pony. How do free ponies deal with moral decisions? This is the wasteland and sometimes one has to do a bad thing to survive.
Wasn’t me using him the exact same thing I did to the merchant? What has changed? I know his name, and he wasn’t as touchy as that merchant, though I recognized a certain carnal desire in his eyes.
I’m not a connoisseur, but... “This beer is awful.” He winced. “Not your fault. My name is Aideen, by the way.”
“Quick Shot.”
I took another sip of my beer. “Hey barkeeper, can you pour that down the sewers and get me a real drink?”
“Whatcha want?”
What do I want? Hmm... What has Craft been drinking? When had the mare, who just passed out drunk on the floor, become my role model? “Scotch.” The barpony didn’t respond, he only raised his eyebrows, while he got the bottle and poured it in a glass for me.
I turned to Quick Shot “And? Are you living up to your name?”
“Ahh... no, actually. I’ll try to hit my targets, shooting quick alone never helps anyone.”
“Totally respectable. What do you do for a living? Something where your shooting skills are required?”
“Sometimes, I take job as they come in. Radigators making problems over by the river for example, or I’ll get hired to protect caravans.”
“So, day laborer, not quite mercenary.”
While he seemed to have no idea how to talk to mares he could talk about things he knows about, and he knows about day laboring, making money, exactly what I need at the moment. We talked for a while about him and his life, and I never needed to fake interest. I don’t know anything about the normal life of a free pony in the wastelands.
At one point Craft must have gotten up and left; I didn’t notice her, but when I said my goodbye to Quick she was gone. I can’t help but think she wanted to give us some alone-time, giving me the chance to form a friendship. I liked Quick, and I was sure I liked him normally, not in the twisted way I came to like Craft. Quick Shot was actually sympathetic, though shy at first he was a nice and funny guy.
Quick and I agreed to meet tomorrow at the towns black board, where all the jobs hang out, ready for the taking.
*** *** ***
> Memorhedron is fully charged and ready to use.
> Next memory in queue: August 3, 1003 - January 10, 977
> Length: 0 hours 22 minutes 58 seconds.
> Load memory?
I had just been about to go to sleep, when I decided to check the Memorhedron again. Two dates? I’m not rusty on my math so I know that the time span between the two dates is more than 23 minutes. Additionally they are in the wrong order if it would truly be an time span. ‘August 3, 1003’ was where ‘Untitled’ had been in the former memory.
Once again, I wasn’t sure if I should watch the memory; Nightmare Moon wants me to see them. A memory couldn’t brainwash me, right? I might get told an opinion but it still was upon me when I decide if I give it credibility. Am I playing with my luck here? After all, I think I can outsmart Nightmare Moon.
> Load memory?
> Load
<-=======vvV Vvv=======->
The same room and the same desk again, so I assumed I was the same unicorn again. Spellfield opened a drawer in his desk and took a box of memories. It was the same one as he had given Bright Skies two days ago. He opened the box to see one of them had been filled.
“You have been busy, haven’t you?” He was talking to himself, first sign of insanity. Second sign would be if he was talking back to himself. “Why would you record memories?”
He seemed undecided about whether or not to watch it. Wait... How would he have that memory anyway? It wasn’t like Bright Skies would have given him the orb back after she filled it with a memory. “Hope it wasn’t a bad idea to make duplicates.” Okay, forget it, you talk to yourself all you want.
“Please don’t be something illegal, or no, please be something illegal, then I don’t have to invade someones privacy for nothing.” He entered the memory. Entering a memory-orb while already being inside a memory-orb? Is this even possible?
<-=======ooO Ooo=======->
Yes, seems like having memories inside memories is possible.
I was now sitting on a soft cushion studying the papers about the memoryspell Spellfield had given Bright Skies. I was inside a very regal looking bedroom, but I wasn’t Bright Skies, my host had a way larger horn and... wings.
Hmm...
That would imply...
No...
Right?
...
I’m Princess Celestia.
She closed her eyes and focused her magic on flows I can’t even begin to understand. It made her and my head hurt badly.
<~~ ~ ~~>
When she opened her eyes again she was standing upright in front of a crowd of ponies inside a regal looking hall. What happened? Is this another memory? To her left was Princess Luna... in a ridiculous dress; to her right was another alicorn I never saw before, but could only be Princess Cadence from the Crystal Empire, and the Ministry Mares. But of course, if this is August 1003 the war hasn’t started, and they weren’t the Ministry Mares yet. I noted that Twilight Sparkle was missing from that group.
“We are gathered here today in celebration of a momentous occasion.” The words came out of my mouth. I imagined what kind of voice Princess Celestia may have, but this was not what I expected at all. “My most faithful student, Twilight Sparkle, has done many extraordinary things since she's lived in Ponyville.” Celestia looked around the crowd to make everyone feel like they deserved the attention of their princess. “She even helped reunite me with my sister, Princess Luna.” The last words were spoken softly as she looked right at Princess Luna.
“But today, Twilight Sparkle did something extraordinary.” I know who Twilight Sparkle is, of course. I know her biography, but in Summer of 1003 nothing happened worthy of a speech, I’m quite sure of it. “She created new magic, proving without a doubt that she is ready to be crowned Equestria's newest princess.” What?
Celestia’s attention focused on two unicorns in the front row. The stallion had a slate blue coat and a darker blue mane, the mare had a light grey coat and an alternating white and moderately purple mane. Her eyes were teary, and she was leaning against him. I’m pretty sure I have seen them somewhere before, but I couldn’t place where.
“Fillies and gentlecolts, may I present for the very first time, Princess Twilight Sparkle!” The door to the hall opened and Twilight Sparkle came in with an escort. She... was an alicorn...? What? That’s not... wha? That never happened! Princess Twilight Sparkle walked up to and had a crown placed on her head by Celestia. I was at a lack of words.
<~~ ~ ~~>
My head... Princess Celestia’s head was almost exploding. She moaned and rolled off her cushion, weeping on the floor in pain. Lying on her back she repeatedly knocked her head against the floor. It didn’t make it much better, but then again it didn’t make it worse either. Actually... As it was real pain, it gave me... us something to focus on and ease the fake one.
Princess Celestia opened her eyes, she was in her bedroom again. I hadn’t had time to think about it but it had to have been obvious that she was in her bedroom again. Headache is not fun... She rolled around another time to be on her belly again and stood up. “I’ll keep that one.” On her desk, that seemed to never be used because all her studymaterial was on the floor, was the box of memory-orbs. She engulfed one of the orbs in her golden magic, and then touched it with her horn. I could feel her magic, and presumably this memory itself, flowing into the orb. The room faded away.
<-=======ooO Ooo=======->
When I came to I almost panicked because I couldn’t move my body before I remembered that it wasn’t my body but Spellfields. And the date he had just viewed this was January 10, 977. Twilight Sparkle was born in 982, Princess Luna came back in 1000, and Princess Cadence rose to power in the Crystal Empire in February 1003. He had no idea what he had just seen.
Then he jumped up from his chair and ran out the door and then along the hallway, ignoring everypony he passed and tried to greet him. What kind of building is this? I had assumed it had been Spellfields home, but now it seems more like a dormitory. He stopped at a door labeled ‘Star Sparkle’ and opened up without knocking.
“Star!” he shouted out, startling the mare inside. She had a light grey coat, and alternatively white and purple mane. I recognized her; the mare with the teary eyes at... Twilight Sparkles coronation. She was Twilights mother... or at least is going to be.
“Ahh... Spellfield, nice of you to-” Star Sparkle paused when she saw how Spellfield looked like. “-visit. Whats going on, dear? You err... you look awful.”
“I’m not sure...”
<-=======ʌʌɅ Ʌʌʌ=======->
> Save position in queue.
> Memorhedron is charging. 0%
> Not ready for use.
What the hell is going on? Princess Celestia secretly ordered a spell to record memories to record herself looking into the future? Twilight Sparkle never became a princess, so only... a possible future? Princess Celestia is recording these memories; let’s call them prophecies. She is recording them. What for? She doesn’t have to overexert herself again when she wanted to view one again, and she could organize them.
But why? Organizing something usually means there is a reason to organize, and she did so secretly too, because if it had been official business she would had to tell others. That meant her reason is these prophecies should under no circumstance be viewed. And that lead me to believe... she knew about the war.
Princess Celestia had known about the war... fifty years before the war. And if this Spellfield-guy has enchanted the memory orbs he gave her to duplicate themselves into his drawer he will find out too, once Princess Celestia records a prophecy about the war.
I know how the story ends, of course. Everypony dies. It could be an interesting story, but it felt ruined already. I have been angry about a war that ruined the land before, but for the first time in my life I felt sad about all those ponies dieing.
*** *** ***
Footnote: You have reached Level 4!
New Perk: Makeover: You have gained confidence in yourself and want to look the best you can. You gain +1 Charisma, and have unique dialogue options and a 20% better price with talking to people interested in pony mares.
Skill Note: Projectile Weapons has reached 25.
Skill Note: Barter has reached 25.
New Spell: Targeting(1)
Description: Unlike the StableTec Assisted Targeting Spell it drains from your own magical power, but you can target inanimate objects.
Magical Drain: high
Quest: Freedom
[X] Follow Craft to Hufstein.
[X] Find a place to stay for the night.
[X] Find another way to make money. (besides selling scavenged items)
[ ] Optional: Take a job from the black board in Hufstein.
[ ] Decide how you want to continue.
New Quest: Memories
[ ] Watch all Memories in the Memorhedron.
[ ] Optional: Find out why the Memorhedron has planned on you.
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2520102
in the prologue she got her PipBuck at her tenth birthday on November 5, 1236, the chapters is Feb 5, 1247; so she turned 20 exactly 3 month ago.
If she would be 16-17 she wouldn't describe them as "teenagers", right? It's still weird for a 20-year old to describe them like that, but considering her old profession, she didn't hasn't interacted with them a lot.
That was a suprisingly deep and very confusing chapter. Bravo!