> In The City That Never Sleeps
>  by Moonatik
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> 1 - Song and Dance
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


03:40 - 15/06/1008 - Lunar Castle, Everfree Forest


“Did she say what for?”

“Nope.”

“Any other details?”

“Not really, no.”

As soon as Sol had returned to the Lunar Castle, Selenite told him that The Empress, Nightmare Moon herself, wanted to see him in her chambers. Alone. ‘Requested’ was Selenite’s word, implying some degree of choice in the matter, but Nightmare Moon never makes mere ‘requests’. Regardless, he was still reeling from the summons. As far as he was concerned, the only thing all that special about him was that he was married to Warmaster Selenite. He couldn’t imagine Nightmare Moon having any interest in him.

Whilst she was travelling through the halls Selenite her head up straight and her stride formal. Her long silver mane was kept up in a tidy bun, as was expected for any Lunar military mare in uniform. Conversely, Sol strode casually yet confidently behind Selenite, wearing nothing more than a black tank-top bearing the insignia of his former Army unit.

“Okay, but what did she say specifically?” Sol trotted up besides Selenite. “Like, what were her exact words?”

“Earlier tonight she approached me and said ‘When your husband returns to the castle, bring him to my personal chambers. I require his presence’. I asked why, and she said ‘You will understand afterwards’.”

“That’s it?” Sol cocked an eyebrow. Selenite nodded. “Huh, kinda cryptic, don’t you think?” he said.

“That’s just her. For what it’s worth, you’re probably not in any trouble,” Selenite assured him.

“Didn’t think I was,” said Sol. “I’d be being dragged down into the dungeons if I was.”

From what little Selenite had told him, Nightmare Moon rarely requested for ponies to meet her in her personal chambers. Most commonly, if she demanded a pony’s presence, she’d await them flanked by guards and high up on her throne. If a meeting had to be more one-to-one, it was usually in one of the castle’s many lounges or meeting rooms. But she wouldn’t meet with someone in her personal chambers unless the subject was, well, personal.

“Well, what do you think it’s about?” Sol asked.

“If I had to guess, she might just want a feeling for what you’re like,” said Selenite. “Her Highness takes a great interest in the lives of her servants.”

“So she’s nosy.” Sol smirked.

Selenite cleared her throat, her jaw tensing a little. “...not the word I’d use, dear, but you get the jist.”

After a long walk through the castle, down many ornate hallways and up numerous stories of stairs, they had scaled the final flight and reached the highest publicly accessible floor of the castle. Across from them was an open doorway leading to a small lounge, on the other end of which was an imposing set of tall ebony doors, shimmering with protective enchantments that stood between them and Nightmare Moon’s chambers. Two bulky and heavily armoured guards stood at the lounge’s entrance, two more at the doors at the black gate.

The two guards at the longue’s entrance snapped to salute as Selenite approached, their metal armour clinking and rustling as they did. She swiftly saluted back, as did Sol. Though Sol had been out of the Army for years and wasn’t under any obligation to salute anyone, he still wanted to be respectful.

“Sergeant Nightshade. Her Highness is expecting you,” one of the guards reported, their voice taking on a slightly hollow tone as it echoed through the helmet. “You may wait in the lounge, Warmaster Selenite. Please proceed through the field one at a time.”

Now up close to the doorway, Sol recognised the translucent shimmering field inside the doorway, a magical barrier to diffuse certain enchantments, detect contraband, and undisguise changelings whilst allowing ponies through untouched. Yet the intense glowing and shifting of the field signified it to be remarkably more potent than any civilian grade field and even most of the military grade fields he’d seen.

Selenite nonchalantly marched through the field, like she had done it hundreds of times before without a problem. She turned around to face him. “Come on, dear.”

Sol followed after her, but he pulled back upon contact with the field. It felt like he’d dipped his hoof into cold cooking oil, and a light tingling lingered on his leg not dissimilar to the feeling that popping candy would leave in his mouth. He shook it off and powered through the field as the curious sensation flowed over his whole body. The tingling dissipated shortly after he was through.

“Just a few words on etiquette, before you go in,” Selenite said, straightening a stray lock of Sol’s hair. “First, you bow and you don’t rise until she says so. Address her as ‘Your Highness’ or ‘Your Majesty’. Don’t speak unless spoken to. Don’t say anything that might offend her. Don’t try to be smart. If she tells you to jump, just jump.”

Sol rolled his eyes. “Selenite, you know I know this.”

“Couldn’t hurt to be sure, right?” she said.

Sol shook his head with a smile. “I swear, you’re more worried than I am.”

“Of course I’m worried, it’s the Empress herself for-” She stopped herself. She blew out a heavy breath and lightly laughed. “You’re right, it’ll be fine.”

The doors that led to the Empress’s private quarters stretched to the ceiling, easily the height of three or four ponies. Without a word, the guards moved to open the doors in a practised, synchronised manner, revealing on the other side pure light-eating blackness with no end in sight.

Sol titled his head, too baffled to feel intimidated. “What’s with the dark?”

“It’s an illusion,” Selenite answered. “Hides the room from view while the doors are open. Not the issue. Sorry, not an issue.”

Heeding her input, Sol walked through. Despite being surrounded by infinite darkness on every side but the doorway, both Sol was lit as if he was standing under stage lights. Sol took a last look back at Selenite, noticing that her breaths were getting louder and heavier. “I’m gonna be fine, love,” he said.

“Yeah, I know,” Selenite said, sweating a little. “I know.” 

Sol threw her a smirk, and the doors clunked shut. Immediately the darkness vanished, the sudden appearance of a fully lit room made Sol automatically squint his eyes shut. When he opened his eyes he gasped.

He felt like he’d entered a temple dedicated to Nightmare Moon’s excellence. There were wings on either side of the room. The vaulted roof stood high above them. Double staircases curving around either side of them led up to a mezzanine above, which sat beneath great stained glass windows that allowed the silver light of the Moon into the chamber which glistened off of the assortment of armours, weapons, and other ornaments that decorated the walls. Statues of creatures in terrified poses stood in various places around the room, their expressions so vivid and lifelike that they felt real. After getting over the shock, Sol shook his head. Who the heck needs all this? he thought.

Directly across from him, where Sol half expected an altar to be, intricate tapestries depicting the elegant beauty of the room’s sole occupant hung from the wall behind the Empress-sized bed. And atop the bed was the supreme ruler of the mightiest Empire the world had ever known.

She didn’t look the part. 

Silent and motionless, she sat still on the side of her bed, her body slumped over with her neck craned forward. Her ears and her gaze were cast down, listless and staring at nothing in particular, lips shut and neutral. She was naked, not wearing the iconic silver armour so often associated with her image, with only her gargoylian wings to shield her exposed body.

Tentatively walking forward, Sol recalled every other time he had seen her before, and how starkly different she was now. Absent was her boundless pride and confidence, any hint of that cackling megalomania so intrinsic to her, often frightening yet undeniably formidable public image. Had it not been for her ghostly mane of aurora and stars slowly swirling and shifting behind her, she may have simply faded into the background. Was this even the same mare?

Her catlike turquoise eyes looked at him for a second, demonstrating that she had noticed their entrance, only to snap back forwards in their indistinct stare.

Numerous public appearances had burned the image of how Selenite bowed into Sol’s head. Elegantly lowering herself with one leg forward, wings spread a little, and head bowed to the point where she could practically kiss the carpet. 

Sol quickly crouched his front legs and lowered his head without any effort to match that style or grace.

A few silent seconds passed before Nightmare Moon laboriously slumped off of the bed and landed on her hooves. Nightmare quietly pulled in a breath, then spoke at last. “You may rise.”

Sol stood up stiff, unsure of how to introduce himself. He settled on “Your Highness, it’s a pleasure to be in your presence.” Respectful enough for his purposes, and it sounded like something Selenite would’ve said.

As she slowly prowled closer to Sol, Nightmare’s eyes locked on him like lasers. Even in a deflated state, she easily dwarfed him. He remained stoic, the novelty of the experience eclipsing any feelings of fear. Fortunately for him, Nightmare got straight to business. “It has been made apparent that my subjects lack a personal affinity with me.”

Sol glanced around the lavishly decorated room. I wonder why, he thought.

“A thousand years of exile has meant that the world has progressed much without me. Certain fundamental principles remain, yet so much has changed that I…” She paused, momentarily glancing up before looking back down at Sol. “…that is difficult to become accustomed with. Even as I enter the dreams of my subjects and see their hopes and fears laid out before me, the cultural context to interpret them is absent.”

Sol felt a shiver run down his back at the mention of Nightmare’s dream walking. He knew how extensive Imperial surveillance was, but it was always a pain to be reminded of it. Nopony could ever shake the feeling that they were being watched, because they probably were.

She continued. “I find the measure of my connection contrasted with that of Warmaster Selenite. Frequently I must lean upon her word to gleam the sentiments of the populace, and she holds a commendable record of staying abreast with public perception. I know she is well read, but one can only learn so much from intelligence reports and newspapers. Direct experience with the public is required to understand them. But we both know she has no time to mingle with the masses.”

“Mmh,” Sol shrugged. “She manages her time pretty well, all things considered.” A moment passed before he realised the offence that Nightmare may receive from being countered like that. “Though, yea, no town hall meetings or anything like that.”

She quietly glared at him for a few seconds and continued speaking like he hadn’t said anything at all. “Thus, I have deduced that somepony in her life connects her to the common pony. A pony of a labourer’s background, who earned what they have through humble means. I believe that pony is you.”

Sol eyebrow’s shot up at that last comment, too taken aback by it to respond on the spot.

“If my assessment is accurate,” she said, “then you may help me resolve my dilemma.”

Sol felt his body untense a bit. “Ohh, right, right. Well, if you’re looking for a, um…” He cleared his throat. “Pony of a labourer’s background to talk to, I’d be glad-”

“No,” Nightmare cut him off. “Simply relaying your perspective would be far too narrow. I wish to experience contemporary Equestrian life in the city of Manehattan through the eyes of a commoner.” She raised her hoof to point at him. “You will accompany me.”

He shuffled back half a step. “O-oh.”

“Is something the matter?” Nightmare raised an eyebrow, seeming to immediately pick up on his reaction.

“No, no, not at all.” Sol said. “Does Selenite know-”

“I did not inform her of my intentions prior,” Nightmare said. “Though feel free to speak with her about this. I’m sure she will have no objections.”

In any other job, the boss asking the partner of one of their subordinates to spend a night out with them would raise more eyebrows than somepony suddenly declaring ‘I am not a changeling’. It was somehow more benign when that boss was the time displaced Empress of the Lunar Empire, Sol figured. “I’m sure she wouldn’t, Your Highness,” he said. “But why me?”

“If I understand correctly, you hold a common perspective, you are trustworthy, you are a native Manehattanite, and crucially…” She raised her head. “You won’t draw attention.”

Sol held back a grunt. “No offence, but I think you doing anything anywhere would draw a lot of attention… In the best possible way, Your Highness.”

“I am aware of this. Therefore…” Nightmare Moon closed her eyes. Her horn glowed white. Suddenly, that glow encompassed her whole body, forming an inverted silhouette like an alicorn-shaped hole had been cut out of the world. Her wings receded into the figure as the form gradually started to shrink until it was just about eye level with the top of Sol’s head. A flash and the white glow vanished, revealing a whole new pony where Nightmare Moon once stood.

Significantly shorter and lacking wings, her coat took on a soft blue hue with black freckles across her cheeks. Silky smooth ice-blue hair curled down her neck, framing her noticeably softer facial features. Her cutie mark changed colours too, now a white crescent moon in a field of inky black splotches. She opened her eyes, revealing that only they remained the same, retaining the turquoise sheen and catlike qualities.

All the while Sol’s mouth was hanging open, eyes wide. He pulled his lips shut. “I think I get the idea.”
> 2 - Show and Tell
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


16:11 - 16/06/1008 - Manehattan City Centre


Raising her sword to the sky, Nightmare Moon stood as a colossus of triumph on the mountaintop. Bedecked in polished silver armour, a cloak on her back billowed in the wind. Above, the galactic night sky unfurled with the luminescence of countless stars. Behind, a vast army composed of ponies from all tribes marched in unison up the steps of the summit with the banners of the Lunar Empress held aloft. Carved into the stones stepping up to the summit were the names of every foe she had triumphed over up to this point. Discord, Tirek, Opaline, Sombra, Celestia. The final stone, under Nightmare Moon’s hooves, was marked ‘EQUESTRIA’.

“My, how gorgeous,” Nightmare breathed, admiring the painting. “Such bold colours, such dynamic posing. All this as a display of awe and gratitude to me and my soldiers. Wouldn’t you agree, Nightshade?”

“It’s alright.” Sol shrugged. 

Given that it was her trip, Nightmare Moon had first choice over where to go, and she chose an art gallery. It seemed like the perfect synthesis between something she would understand whilst reflecting modern society and culture. What was art but an expression of emotions and sentiments? And what was an art gallery but a collection of those emotions and sentiments, laid out to be presented to outsiders?

They took no bags with them, as Nightmare Moon could carry everything she needed in a pocket dimension. Money, ID, train tickets, and a large weighty canvas bag Sol wanted to bring but refused to explain, saying he wanted it to be a surprise. They went by train, journeying across the vast Equestrian landscape in a public coach amongst common ponies. She knew what trains were, and had often travelled by train herself for ceremonial purposes, but never in the public coaches. She kept her eyes wide and her ears out, picking up little pieces of conversation between the other ponies, but understanding little of it.

As they stepped onto the platform at Manehattan’s Grand Central Terminal, another passenger behind them rushing off the train narrowly avoided bumping into the pair. “Is this darn thing ever on time?” the passenger grumbled to themselves. What a bizarre sentiment, Nightmare thought. The train was three minutes behind schedule. ‘Minutes’ didn’t even exist a millennia ago, back then it didn’t make sense to divide a night into such a small slice. She wondered how a pony could be so ungrateful over such a trivially small stretch of time.

The pair soon made their way to their intended destination, the gallery in the city centre, which was only a short walk from the station. Art galleries and exhibitions had existed in Nightmare’s time, but they were all private collections, cordoned off from the masses, remaining the exclusive domain of their wealthy owners. But this gallery in the middle of Manehattan was open to all who could spare the time. There wasn’t even an entrance fee. Any one of her subjects could travel here and appreciate the finest art Equestria’s past and present had to offer.

“Not really going for accuracy though, were they?” Sol chuckled at the painting. “Else it’d show half the soldiers with dysentery.”

Suppressing a disdainful scoff, Nightmare turned her gaze toward the rest of the opulent exhibition hall. Massive canvases adorned the walls, their frames intricate and golden, each depicting a different aspect of her majestic reign. One showed her draped in resplendent robes and regalia seated atop the throne of Equestria. Another depicted her showering her grateful subjects in wealth and prosperity. Another of her commanding the surrender of Chrysalis’s lackeys in the changeling queen’s own throne room. Even the stained glass ceiling presented a stylised image of her carrying a sword to battle. Appropriately, it was named the Hall of the Empire, and in that moment the hall was solely hers and Sol’s to enjoy.

Yet, the Hall of the Empire was meant to be open to the public.

“Nightshade,” said Nightmare.

“Hm?” Sol whirled his attention to Nightmare.

“Neither you nor your wife alerted the gallery of my intention to visit, did you?” She cast him a downward glance.

“No, why?”

Nightmare turned again to gesture to the wider hall. “Then where is everyone?”

Sol looked around the quiet hall. “I dunno.”

“This museum is a popular destination for locals and visitors alike, it would not be this vacant unless the hall was emptied for my convenience. That is not what I wished for.”

“They’re probably off somewhere else. It’s a pretty big gallery.” Sol walked up by Nightmare’s side. 

“And this is the grandest exhibition,” Nightmare asserted.

“Sure, but nopony needs to make a special trip to a museum to see pictures of you looking cool,” Sol said. “I must have seen five, ten big posters of you on the way here. Think one or two were prints of some of the paintings here.”

“What else could be here then, to outshine my triumphs?”

Sol winced. “Ehh, I dunno about… outshining your triumphs. But I read about the place on the way here, and there’s plenty of interesting pieces on show. I think they’ve got a few Jackson Fetlock’s on loan.”

“Oh?” Nightmare raised an eyebrow. “Then take me to them,” she ordered.

With a barely noticeable eye roll, Sol trotted ahead. With Nightmare in tow, he guided her away from the confines of the Hall of the Empire. The corridors that unfolded before them buzzed with a lively hum of life, contrasting the stately solitude of the hall. A brief journey led them to a room bustling with activity and an eclectic array of modestly presented paintings adorning the walls.

Sol threw up a hoof towards the room. “See? Many more ponies here-”

“Stars above, this painting has been vandalised!” Nightmare gasped.

“Huh?” Sol spun around to follow Nightmare’s eyes. A painted landscape of a cozy village nestled amid tranquil rolling hills, obscured beneath a collage of harsh clippings of industry and military hardware across the canvas. Hastily cut monochrome photos of tanks, warplanes, smokestacks and factories had been plastered over a scene dotted with wildflowers and cottages. Upon a closer viewing, the collaged images formed the shape of an upward-facing crescent moon flanked by draconic wings: The symbol displayed on the Lunar Imperial flag. “Oh, no no, it’s meant to look like that! This is the art!” Sol said.

Nightmare scoffed. “Art? It's an affront to the eyes! They’ve taken this picturesque landscape and buried it under all this other junk?”

“Spot on!” A unicorn mare with her mane styled into neat curls trotted up to Nightmare and Sol. She wore a dapper bow tie around her neck, a vest around her chest, and a warm smile on her face. From the way she carried herself, prim and proper, Nightmare and Sol guessed she was part of the gallery’s staff. “The disorientation from the clashing elements is precisely what the artist had in mind.”

Nightmare blinked repeatedly, quiet breaths and stammers leaving her lips. “Why?”

“The artist is from Hope Vale. An idyllic, traditional Equestrian village, if it weren’t for the massive cement factory and the big apartment blocks recently built in the middle of the valley,” the mare explained, holding a hoof towards the piece. “Words can only convey the sentiment so well, so they turned to art. Clearly a reflection of the artist's desire to return to nature, mixed in with nostalgia as well as a condemnation of the imperial military industrial complex. While blunt, its bluntness is also its raw emotional core.”

Her mouth hanging open, Nightmare looked at the art piece, blinked, then looked back at the mare. “What stroke of fate brought this here?”

The mare smiled. “It was donated to us by a local businesspony who had bought it off of the artist-”

“No,” Nightmare interrupted the mare. “Why is something so disdainful of Lunar progress permitted to be displayed?”

The mare furrowed her brow, she then giggled. “Oh, that’s what you mean! We aim to show a diverse array of perspectives in this gallery, including more controversial perspectives. Our gallery is allowed a lot of curatorial independence from the local government, just as long as we reserve the largest space in the building for a big chintzy hall to show off-” She cleared her throat and rolled her eyes. “The splendor and beauty of our great Imperial overlord. Have to say, I barely ever see anypony in there. If you’ll excuse me.”

The mare trotted away to help another patron, leaving Nightmare Moon dumbstruck.

“Wow.” Sol was clearly struggling not to laugh. “Hey, look on the bright side, it means your disguise is working!”

Seconds passed without Nightmare saying a thing. After getting over the shock, she shook her head and scowled. “Unbelievable,” she growled. She spun around and marched towards the nearest exit. “Come with me, Nightshade. We are leaving. Now.”

“Hm?” The smile dropped from Sol’s face. He sighed heavily and followed after Nightmare. “Damn. And we only just got here.”

While Sol managed to spot little glimpses of particularly eye-catching art pieces on the way out, Nightmare kept her eyes forward and her stride hasty. At the first exit in sight, she forced the doors open and stormed out into the adjacent park, muttering grievances to herself. “The nerve of those ponies, the utter nerve.” She said, making sure to put as much distance between herself and the museum as possible. “I deliver them progress, I sweep away the old decrepit order. And this is how they think of me!” 

Sol ran up by her side. “Hey, hey, don’t take it personally. It’s all just politics.”

“You saw the way that mare spoke, like the Hall of the Empire was an obligation they’d rather not bother with!” she shouted, stopping in her tracks.

“Well…” Sol shrugged. “Now you know, right?”

“Know that many of my subjects are infantile and ungrateful, yes,” she groaned, turning away from Sol and staring at the sky.

“Hey, I wouldn’t go that far,” Sol said firmly. “But obviously, some ponies aren’t as satisfied as you’d like them to be, right? Now you know that, and have an idea or two as to why.”

While he was talking, Nightmare remained quietly staring up. After a moment she spun around to face him. “Nightshade.” She marched up to him. “You’re a loyal subject of mine, aren’t you?”

Brow furrowing, Sol frowned. “Of course I am, Your Highness.”

“Tell me. If you had a free night to spend with a friend or your wife in this city, where would you take them?”

Sol's eyes lit up, his mouth slightly agape in immediate astonishment. A moment later his face morphed into a giddy grin. “Why, Empress. I’d love nothing more than to show you that.”
> 3 - Trial and Error
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


16:56 - 16/06/1008 - Hoofboken, Manehattan


Nightmare and Sol hopped off the bus that took them into the suburbs around Manehattan. A few strangers got off at their stop as well, one of them grumbling at the fact it was two minutes late. Nightmare quietly scoffed at their ungratefulness.

Their destination was a short walk across the street, which, at a glance, was nothing spectacular. A cubic brick building on a slightly isolated part of the street with blacked out windows and a large sign on top that read ‘HOOFBROKEN GUN RANGE’ in plain, bold text. Two flagpoles on the roof hoisted the Imperial Lunar flag and the modern Lunar Equestrian flag, fluttering in the wind.

“This cannot be the most distinguished business of this type in the city,” Nightmare noted.

“Eh, I just come here cuz I know the owner. Guy called Blown Fuse, we met while we were in the Army,” Sol answered. “Also, I’m gonna need that bag back, the one we dropped in that pocket dimension of yours.”

Nightmare quickly retrieved the bag from her pocket dimension, completing the necessary magic like it was nothing. Sol took the bag into his own magic.

“Another reason for coming here, Blown’s a bit of a Griffaboo and stocks Griffonian bullets.” Sol slung the bag onto his back. “You’ll see why that’s important in a moment.”

Disregarding his cryptic behaviour, Nightmare Moon followed Sol as he pushed through the door to the little building. They were presented with a small lobby area that felt like an exhibition of gun-nuttery. A gun wall behind the counter held weapons of every caliber, military and civilian grade alike, with the wall opposite featuring posters depicting an assortment of weapons captioned with vaguely threatening jingoistic slogans, many of them prominently featuring Nightmare Moon herself. Nightmare wondered for a moment how a nation like Equestria which prided itself on peaceful harmony for over a thousand years could be home to something like this, only for her to swell with pride as she acknowledged her hoof in the emergence of a national culture celebrating aggressive weaponry.

A door behind the counter swung open and a thestral stallion in a black sleeveless jacket trotted through. “Hehey! If it ain’t Sergeant Nightsoil! What can I do for you?” A grin flashed on their face and their ears flicked up as they dashed behind the counter. He must have been the Blown Fuse character that Sol was referring to.

“Hey Blowhard.” Unzipping the bag, Sol trotted up to the counter. “Just need a lane to give this a whirl.”

With a deliberate grace, Sol removed the item from the bag like he was unsheathing a sword from its scabbard, revealing a machine gun. Its sleek, elongated barrel extended out of the robust cubic receiver. Intricate technical detail up and down the device signalled the meticulous craftsgriffship. A small handle and trigger, clearly designed for griffon’s talons, stuck out the bottom whilst a thick wooden stock protruded out of the back. Sol was eyeing the weapon up like it were a succulent portobello steak, or a seductive mare calling him to bed.

“Holy-” Blown stammered. “Is this a MG05?”

Sol laughed. “Damn right!”

“Where the hell did you even get this beauty?” Blown had stars twinkling in his eyes.

“Perks of being married to the Warmaster,” Sol answered with a broad grin.

Blown Fuse reached for the gun, only for him to pull his hooves back inches away as he turned to look at Sol pleadingly. “Can I?”

“Hrmm…” Sol rubbed his chin, his eyes gliding over the room. He took his hoof away and cast Blown Fuse a smirk. “Be my guest.”

Immediately Blown Fuse scooped up the gun, giggling through his grinning teeth, cradling it like a newborn child.

Nightmare cast a raised eyebrow at Sol. “You had me carry a gun?”

“Not just any gun!” Sol leaned back on the counter. “That is the Reichswaffen Maschinengewehr 1005, built for the Griffonian Reichsarmee. Fires nine hundred 7.92×57mm Blautal rifle rounds per minute up to an effective range of two kilometres, all while being light enough to be carried by a single griffon. Or in our case, a single pony. If you believe the press releases, the most advanced machine gun in the world.”

Blown was practically drooling over the gun. “I believe ‘em, alright. Nightmare forgive me, for I covet that which belongs to my neighbour,” he whispered, licking his lips as his eyes scanned every intricate detail of the lethal machine. A few moments later he carefully set the gun back on the counter, clearing his throat whilst regaining some of his composure. “Say, Sol, who’s your friend?”

Sol put up towards Nightmare. “This is-”

Nightmare pushed past Sol. “I am Dream Scaper,” she announced.

Blown’s smile disappeared, and he blinked. “You a vet, Dream Scaper?” he asked, his smile reappearing albeit with a raised eyebrow. “Sol shoulda told you we have a 50% discount for veterans if you wanna rent a lane.”

“Yes. I have dedicated much of my life to fighting for Equestria,” Nightmare answered, having chosen her words carefully.

“Oh, sweet!” Blown’s wings fluttered. “Which branch? Where were you stationed? Ever deployed overseas?”

“It would be more efficient to ask where I have not fought.”

“Alright, wow,” he chuckled, giving a sardonic look in his eyes as they widened in disbelief and admiration. “Well, I’m a North Zebrica vet. Sol and I met at, um… Ain Trotgourait, right?

“No, we met at Douaouda Mareine!” Sol said with a smirk. “You sobered up in Ain Trotgourait.”

“Were you engaged against the Storm King’s occupation or against the Hippogriff-instigated terror campaign?” Nightmare followed up.

Blown narrowed his eyes, quietly staring at Nightmare for a few moments. “...the Storm King? Equestrian troops weren’t used against the revolt.”

“Some were,” Nightmare countered.

“Anyway!” Sol butt in, before the Empress herself may have mistakenly revealed any state secrets. “Shooty shooty! You got the right rounds for this?”

“Oh yes! Of course.” Blown Fuse smiled. “And you’re in luck, the place is empty right now so you can have whichever lane you like.”

After Sol’s money and Blown Fuse’s bullets switched hooves, he and Nightmare proceeded into the range itself. The range itself was bland and empty, with white concrete walls on each side of the area with metal barriers dividing the lanes and keeping ponies out of the range. Sol cast an ear protection spell on himself. Promptly Nightmare cast a much stronger ear protection spell on both of them. Sol chose a lane near the middle, setting up a paper target on the target rails and sending it some fifty meters down. On the far end of the range, a massive heap of thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands, of spent rounds formed a wall of lead and copper.

“I have to ask,” Nightmare craned her neck towards Sol, whilst he was loading bullets into the gun’s drum magazine. “Are you permitted to possess this sort of weaponry?”

Sol glanced over his shoulder. He cast Nightmare a smug smirk. “You tell me, Empress. I believe the charter enshrining our right to bear arms carries your seal. But yes, I’ve filled out all the right forms and got permission from all the right ponies.” Sol clicked the magazine on, slammed the feed cover shut, stood up on his back legs whilst heaving the weapon up with both his front hooves. A cheesy grin spread across his face as he cocked back the handle. “And I thank you for it.”

“You would be more proficient if you used your magic to carry the weapon.” Nightmare asked.

“Probably,” he admitted. He firmed up his stance, bringing the gun up and aiming down range. His horn twinkled with magic, an aura enveloping the weapon’s trigger. “But this is way more fun.”

The gun roared to life. Nightmare jumped back as Sol burst out into screaming laughter. Head-splitting bangs, more than anyone could count, filled the range sounding like a chainsaw held up to their ears. Though he held on tight the forceful recoil kicked him back. The torrent of lead nearly tore the target in half within moments. The drumming continued seemingly without end, with Sol’s faint hollering barely audible beneath the cacophony until it all coalesced into indistinct noise. Barely half a minute later, as suddenly as it started up, the gun stopped exploding, only clicking, having expended all its ammunition, leaving only a fading echo and the lingering scent of smoke.

Sol nearly fell forwards once the barrage had ended. “Haha, woo!” he howled, dropping the gun on the surface in front of them and removing the magazine. “Okay, you gotta try this!”

Owing to Sol’s quick magical work, the magazine was refilled in no time, and the gun was ready to roar. He retrieved the ruined target and replaced it with a fresh one. With everything ready, Sol stood aside allowing Nightmare to take the lead. Remembering how Sol held the gun, she picked it up with her hooves and hoisted herself up onto her hind legs. It felt light as a twig to her, and just as fragile.

“So what you want to do is-”

A single bang cut him off as she tapped the trigger. It rocked her ears and there was some recoil, but Nightmare’s tight grip held it exactly in place. At the centre of the target was a single, clean bullet hole.

“I was gonna say what you want to do is lean into it and aim down the sight,” Sol said. “But it seems you got the hang of it.” 

Taking on his advice and adopting a more appropriate stance, she let off a few more shots. They too were exactly on target, the gun barely moving in her grip. The sound was by far the most intense part of it.

“Try holding it down!” a grinning Sol suggested.

Holding down the trigger, she let loose a barrage of bullets into the target. The target whipped back, but the bullets continued in a straight uninterrupted streak. Before the magazine was empty, she stopped. Nightmare looked over the weapon and looked at Sol. “I’m not sure this is for me.”

“Really?” said Sol, the smile falling from his face. “I thought you loved training with weapons. I know Selenite mentioned it once or twice.”

“Melee weapons, yes. I enjoy the thrill of hoof-to-hoof, sword-to-sword, or mage-to-mage combat. This does nothing for me. This ends the fight in a flash.” Nightmare bowed her head. “And if I ever wanted to end a fight instantly…” A burst of lightning streaked from her horn and struck the target, incinerating it instantly and leaving only ash. It happened so quick Sol had no chance to react before it was done. Nightmare herself didn’t even flinch, during or after the action.

“Really thought it’d be up your alley.” Sol’s eyes drifted to the floor as he lightly kicked around some spent casings. “Nothing makes me feel tougher than having some iron on my hip.”

“For you, perhaps. But, for me…” Nightmare turned the gun on herself.

“Woah, what are you-”

A sharp bang and the light sound of metal hitting the floor.

Nightmare was unscathed, even her face unmoved. The spot the bullet had struck bore no sign of such an impact.

Infuriated, Sol snatched the gun out of Nightmare’s hooves. She made no attempt to hold on. “Don’t do that,” he panted. “Ever! A ricocheting bullet is no joke, okay? Always keep it pointed down range or at the floor.”

“Exactly,” she asserted. “This machine empowers and threatens you. The projectiles it expends could end your life in the blink of an eye. To me, it is nothing but a long piece of metal. It poses no threat to me and does not alter my combat capabilities.” She drew in a long sigh, her eyes sliding to the ground. “I suspect this is where my estrangement originates.”

Sol put the gun down. “I suspect,” he groaned, making no attempt to hide the frustration in his voice, “if you want to understand regular ponies, you can start by dropping that attitude.”

Nightmare felt her breath catch in her throat, her body went stiff. “I beg your pardon?” She glared daggers at Sol.

“The whole ‘I’m so far above you little ponies’ thing,” he said with a dismissive wiggle of one of his hooves. “Like, you literally just said you think you don’t get regular ponies because you’re too good. Heck, I don’t think I’ve heard a single ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ out of you this whole trip. You just demand things from ponies and act like you automatically deserve it.”

“Just who do you think you are?” Nightmare sneered.

Rolling his eyes, Sol used his magic to start reloading the gun. “I’m the pony you chose to show you an ordinary perspective, in case you don’t remember. That’s what I’m doing. And you’re never going to get that ordinary perspective if you see yourself as a god.”

“But I am,” Nightmare stated plainly.

Sol froze, his magic dissipating and dropping the partially loaded magazine. He slowly turned to Nightmare Moon. His mouth hung open. “You’re really gonna go there?”

“Didn’t you hear your friend earlier? Didn’t you hear what he said, ‘Nightmare forgive me’? It is not what I feel I am, it is not what I see myself to be, it is what I am,” she insisted, with certainty behind her voice.

Sol sighed, furrowing his brow at Nightmare. “As far as I can tell, you’re a pony. A strong, important pony, but still a pony. Just as falliable as any of us.”

“I am more than a mere pony,” she spat back. “I am more than any of you ponies. I have brought about the births and deaths of myths and legends. I have walked the surface of the Moon and seen the whole of the Earth. I have spilt the blood of ancient gods once thought invincible. I have banished the bane of the sun’s light from this world. Through blood and toil I forged this very nation, my nation, my Empire, and I am leading it to a prosperous future! Does that sound like any old pony?”

“Oh, boy,” he mumbled, looking away from her.

“Look me dead in the eye, Nightshade.” The power behind her words forced him to meet her glare. “Tell me that I am not exceptional. Tell me that I’m anything like a normal pony. Tell me that I am not deserving of worship!”

“Then what’s the point of us doing any of this?” Sol blurted out.

Nightmare bared her teeth and felt ready to lunge forwards. She stopped, pulling back. She blinked. “The- the point?”

“Like, what do you want to get out of this?” Sol pled. A few moments passed without an answer from Nightmare, so Sol carried on. “You wanted to come out to Manehattan disguised like that to get some perspective, now that I give it to you, you’re upset with me? You had plenty of chances to see a different perspective at the gallery, and as soon as you got one that offended you, you stormed out! So come on, tell me, what do you want out of this?”

Nightmare kept her mouth shut, pulling in a breath through her nose. “I believe my aims were made clear before we left,” she asserted.

Sol rubbed his eyes and groaned. “Well, they weren’t.” He looked up at her. “Look, I’m here to help you, Nightmare. If I don’t know what you’re looking for, I can’t do that. So please, for your own sake, if not mine, tell me what you want out of this.”

A moment of tense silence passed with the pair staring at each other. Nightmare’s eyes soon wandered to the floor. A few moments later she looked up, sighing. “I want to better understand my subjects. I want to see my Empire as they do. I want an understanding of their interests, their attitudes, their values, their concerns. So much has changed in the years I was absent, the Equestria I knew is long gone. I thought that by spending time with a normal subject, I’d see what I needed. Then, I could form a deeper connection with all my subjects.”

Sol was quiet and still as he listened to Nightmare’s answer. “Right.” He nodded his head slowly. “Okay. You’re probably gonna find that a lot harder if you dismiss the perspectives of everyone who doesn’t fall over you.”

“When those perspectives are misguided, ignorant, and ungrateful, they are worthless,” Nightmare insisted.

“What, completely?” Sol shook his head with a sigh. “You couldn’t imagine why they feel that way? You couldn’t think about how you might need to change?”

“I don’t need to change, how dare you insinuate that.” Nightmare’s lips curled like she’d caught the scent of rotten eggs.

“I said ‘might’. There’s no shame in admitting you might have to do things differently.”

“What would I need to do differently?”

“You tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“You know yourself more than I do, so you’d know.”

“I know that whatever you’re telling me is ridiculous.”

“Really?” said Sol. “How about you look me in the eye, and tell me that there’s nothing in the last eight years that you would’ve done differently now that you’ve got hindsight.” He looked at Nightmare patiently. “It’s not a rhetorical question. I’m really asking. Take as much time as you need.”

Nightmare’s eyes wandered around the room. “There are… A few things.” She sighed to herself. “There were a few ponies I’d placed in positions of authority I later learned I couldn’t rely on. Or assigned certain ponies to the wrong task. A few treacherous worms escaped my notice.”

Sol raised his cheeks. “So you are capable of mistakes, you have gaps in your knowledge, and you’ve had to rely on other ponies. Or in other words, you’re not a perfect god, you’re a pony.”

Rolling her head back, Nightmare rubbed her hoof into her forehead. “Ugh.”

“Hey, you wanted my perspective,” Sol said, shrugging. “This is it.”

“And you’re so much better, aren’t you,” Nightmare groaned.

“Oh, hell no,” Sol snorted. “I've made all kinds of mistakes. Ask Sel any time and I’m sure she’ll give you a list longer than Starwhirl’s collected works. Difference is, because I know they can happen, I can do more to make sure less of them do.”

“Coming here and having this conversation was a mistake,” Nightmare grunted.

Sol raised his hoof and opened his mouth, then stopped. He looked at the ground, and brought his head up with a nod. “You know what, you might be right about that.”

Nightmare’s eyebrows shot up. “So you admit that you spoke in error?”

“No, no!” Sol laughed. “Specifically coming here. To the range. You wanted to get to know regular ponies and, well, this is definitely more of a ‘get to know me’ thing than a ‘get to know regular ponies’ thing. I’m glad we got to have this conversation, though.”

Nightmare rolled her eyes and scoffed.

“Come on, someone had to tell you that,” said Sol.

“Just get to the point,” she groaned. “Tell me where I should go to mingle with commoners.”

Sol opened his mouth, closed it, and quietly sighed. “Sure thing.”
> 4 - Wine and Dine
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


17:35 - 16/06/1008 - Hayston, Manehattan


Bar 32. 

Named as such because it was a bar at 32 Bucklas Boulevard, nestled in the Manehattan metropolis. A simple name for a simple place, as Sol put it. 

“If you want a taste of the real Hayston, you’ve come to the right place,” he said as he pushed the door open, allowing Nightmare through.

The air in the bar buzzed with lively ambience, punctuated by the rhythmic clinks of glasses, the muffled chatter and laughter of patrons seated at booths and tables. A couple of waiters, clad in unassuming t-shirts branded with the bar's emblem - a bold '32' - navigated the space with seamless efficiency. In the background, a vintage jukebox serenaded the room with melodies of smooth jazz. The lights were low, but not too dim to easily see, providing an overall cozy atmosphere.

“Great drinks, great ponies, they even serve food if you’re hungry.”

“That you Nightshade?” An older looking earth stallion in a blue apron behind the bar was wiping out a glass, whilst giving Sol an unwelcoming scowl. “What’s a’ matter, too comfy in your big palace to stop by anymore?”

“Hey, I’m here right now aren’t I?” Sol trotted up to the bar.

The bartender’s demeanour quickly changed to a sleazy smirk. “Ahh, I’m just screwing around, Nightshade. What can I do for you?” His eyes fell on Nightmare. “And who’s this lovely mare?”

Sol gestured to Nightmare. “Sugar Wash, meet Dream Scaper.” Sol gestured to the bartender. “Dream Scaper, meet Sugar Wash.”

“What’s your poison, Dream Scaper?” Sugar Wash asked. “If you can name it we’ve probably got it.”

Tetrodotoxin. Or any other potent neurotoxins. Except she doubted that they had any of that to serve her with, and if they did it would be highly illegal. Instead, she just said, “Whatever tastes good. Alcohol doesn’t do much for me.” She meant that literally. It had no intoxicating effect on her unless taken in amounts that would kill a normal pony. She would need to drink every bottle of hard liquor behind the bar to even approach drunkenness.

“I think we’ll start with a couple ciders.” Sol shuffled forwards. “Sweet Apple Acres’ if you’ve got it.”

“Sure, you wanna run a tab?” Wash asked. Sol gave an affirming nod. Wash gathered two wooden mugs and placed them under a tap. A delicate yet heavy pull of a lever sent the amber liquid cascading through the tap and flowing into the awaiting mugs. Once both were prepared, Sol and Nightmare took one each into their magic. Already they caught the pleasant autumnal scent of the apples.

“Cheers,” Sol said cheerily, raising his mug to Nightmare.

Nightmare stared quietly into the cup for a moment. “Cheers,” she soon said. Their mugs met in a solid thud and they both took a swig.

The sweet, crisp elixir flowed into Nightmare’s mouth, leaving a tangy aftertaste lingering on her tongue after she swallowed. It was certainly a good drink, even though the alcohol was practically undetectable to her. Nightmare pulled the mug away from her mouth as Sol did the same.

“Ahh, yeah,” Sol sighed, satisfaction displayed across his face.

“Sweet Apple Acres, that name is familiar to me,” Nightmare mused.

“It should be, it’s a stone’s throw from the royal palace,” said Sol. “Ponyville folk are proud of it, can’t go anywhere without somepony asking you to try it.”

Nightmare held a hoof to her chin. “I recall there being an incident there a few years ago, something about a carriage jack. The details elude me.”

“Now that you mention it, I vaguely remember something…” Sol looked at the ceiling. “Think I met someone from the family that used to own it.” He took another sip of his drink. “I know they still live there and make the cider, and damn do they do a good job of it.”

Nightmare swirled the drink around in its mug for a moment, like it were wine. “Does your wife drink often?” She took another sip.

Sol smiled. “Oh, you bet.”

“What is her preference?”

“She loves Johnny Trotters, that’s more a special occasion thing. We’ve always got a bottle of Mountaineer’s in the suite.” He took another swig of his drink, then chuckled as he brought the mug away from his mouth. “Maybe you should have a case of the stuff sent to each of your other generals.”

Nightmare smirked and shook her head. “Perhaps I should.”

An earth pony in a flatcap trotted up behind Sol and put their hooves on the bar. Short brown mane, light red coat. “Yo Wash, gonna need another three beers, please.”

Sol swirled around to face the earth pony. “Hat?”

The earth pony turned to Sol. His jaw dropped. “Sol? Sol Nightshade?”

“Hat Trick, it is you, isn’t it?” Sol laughed and smiled.

“Sol, oh my gosh, let me get a look at you, dude!” Hat Trick put his hoof on Sol’s shoulder and leaned in, eyes scanning Sol’s facial features. “If it weren’t for your coat, I wouldn’t have recognised you. You turned yourself into a stallion or something?”

Sol chuckled. “More or less.”

“Holy crap, I called it! I freaking called it, remember?” Hat laughed. “I don’t think I’ve gotten a chance to see you before you got called up into the army.”

“Dang, you’re right. That was, what, six years ago?”

“Heard down the grapevine that you’ve been busy, got in a relationship with somepony in the top brass.”

“Yeah, Warmaster Selenite herself.”

Hat snorted. “You’re joking.”

“Really, I am!” said Sol.

“How’d you manage that?”

“Oh, that’s a long story.” Sol shook his head. “How’ve you been, Hat? I’m surprised I haven’t been seeing you play pro hoofball.”

“Yeah, well…” Hat held out his left hind leg, revealing a nasty scar running up the inside. “Life has a habit of throwing a wrench into your plans, even if you think everything’s all neatly laid out before you. Haven’t been able to gallop since.”

Sol had his hoof held to his mouth. “Ah, damn, I’m sorry. War wound?”

Hat chuckled. “How’d you know?”

Sol held out his right forehoof. “Got one of my own. Shrapnel, ripped right through my leg.”

“Eesh.” Hat pulled his legs closer. “I say that, but it could’ve been worse. Not like it’s all bad for me either. Moved up to Petershoof couple years back, got hitched to the love of my life. Kids on the way, too.”

Sol grinned. “Aw, nice!”

“I’m only here in Manehattan to see family, and they’re waiting for their next round of drinks.” Right as Hat said that, Wash placed three frosty filled glasses of booze onto the bar. “Wanna tag along?”

“Oh, I’d love to.” Sol smiled. He turned to Nightmare. “Say, N-” Sol faked a cough. “Dream, mind if I catch up with Hat, here?”

“Do as you please,” Nightmare said. “You would not be offended if I followed, would you?”

“Nah, come on,” said Hat.

Hat attempted to load the drinks onto a tray, but Sol carried them all up in his magic. Nightmare followed as they set off to their booth. Once there, two other stallions were already seated. Their appearances in colour and features were remarkably similar to Hat Trick, only one of them had a beard and the other had a mullet.

“Drinks here!” Hat announced, grabbing the attention of his two brothers. “Oh, this is Card-” He pointed to the one with the beard, “-and Party.” He pointed at the one with the mullet.

“You’re Sol aren’t you?” Party leaned in towards Sol. “Aren’t you married to the Captain of the Palace Guard or something?”

“Uhh no, my wife is the Warmaster,” Sol chuckled as he slid into the booth, placing the drinks on the table. Nightmare managed to fit on the end of the booth, sitting next to Sol.

Party shrugged and took a glass. “Same thing.”

Sol shook his head, laughing. “No, not at all really, not even in the slightest.”

“Any room for ponies like us in that big Everfree palace or whatever?” Card asked, clearly sarcastically.

“That is doubtful,” Nightmare answered, completely sincerely.

Card cocked an eyebrow at Nightmare. “And you are?”

“I am Dream Scaper,” Nightmare announced, puffing out her chest.

“Okay,” said Card. “I’m Card Trick.”

Nightmare blinked, her chest deflated. Sol motioned to speak. “Friend of mine from Canterlot, I’m showing her around town.”

“Canterlot?” Party laughed. “Dang, you really bourgied up, didn’t you?”

Nightmare would’ve rolled her eyes but she knew she couldn’t fault anyone for resenting Canterlot’s upper class. They were insufferable and snobbish a thousand years ago and hardly a thing had changed about them since. Aside from perhaps the exact methods they used to make their fortunes, they were one of the few things that had remained stubbornly persistent over the millennium. Instead she smiled at their comment in quiet agreement. Yet it remained to be seen, did that resentment extend to her?

“Well I just heard not two minutes ago that Hat was in the Army,” Sol said. “I wanna know about that.”

Nightmare’s eyes lit up. Two soldiers discussing their respective time of service? Finally, something Nightmare could understand! In fact, there was a good chance everyone sitting at the table had served, as it had been several years since she signed the still-in-effect conscription laws. And Nightmare had fought more than anyone!

Hat sighed. “I’ll be honest, I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Fair enough,” Sol shrugged.

Or not.

“Said you had kids on the way, though?” Sol followed up.

“Oh, yeah!” Hat’s expression flipped. “Been with my marefriend a few years ago, right as we were in the middle of planning our wedding…”

Hat kept talking, the other stallions kept listening and replying where appropriate. The conversation went on and on, bouncing around from topic to topic. Romance, work, sports, more minor interests than that. One of Hat’s brothers went on a wild tangent about tangerines. All the while, Nightmare was there, but she didn’t feel like she was ‘there’. Not a participant, but a spectator, as if she’d walked in on a play halfway through the performance and tried to follow along when she didn’t know any of the characters or anything about the plot. Where everything up to and including the very words they used were alien to her.

“Did you catch the game last night?” Hat asked Sol.

Sol groaned. “No, I missed it. Heard Hayston lost.”

“Lost?” Party laughed. “Worse than lost, they choked. We were leading the whole match and Riverpool got two goals in the last ten minutes.”

“Aw, seriously?” Sol said.

Card shook his head. “Yeah, I wish I missed it.”

“Do excuse me.” Nightmare stood up.

Sol turned to her, leaving the three brothers to continue their conversation uninterrupted. “Oh, you need a hoof with anything?” he asked. “You’re not overwhelmed at all, are you?”

“I can take care of myself,” Nightmare insisted, perhaps with a little too much ire in her voice. Without another word, she rushed away.

Meandering through the bar, she heard a cacophony of voices enveloping her as a multitude of conversations danced in the air. As all the chattering coalesced into indistinct noise, she whipped her head in every which direction in an attempt to catch something she could involve herself in. Or at least someone willing to approach her. Yet every last one of the patrons was wrapped up in their own worlds that shared the single common denominator of excluding her. Nopony paid her any attention. Nopony looked at her. Nopony even glanced at her.

Her ears flicked up at the sound of talking approaching behind her. Two ponies engaged in conversation walked right on by, encircling her, continuing on even as she stood right between them. Like they’d passed nothing more than a misplaced piece of furniture. Not even a simple ‘excuse me’. Her teeth grinded together. Was she nothing to them? Did they have no-

“Yo, yo, excuse me, Ma’am!”

A voice cut through the noise. Her ears twitched.

“Yeah, you, ma’am? The blue unicorn over there?”

Nightmare spun around to the source of the voice. Two pegasi seated in a booth, both looking right at her. One was a yellow stallion with their thinning red mane in a combover, the other was a light blue mare who had their blonde mane tied back in a ponytail. They were both on the same side of the booth, leaving the opposing seats empty.

The stallion sat up a little, gesturing to Nightmare. “You uh, you look like someone who knows a lot of things, and I’m trying to settle a debate with my sister-”

“Oh come on.” The mare shook her head. “It’s not a debate, it’s a matter of historic fact.”

An eyebrow raised, Nightmare walked up to their table and leaned in. “Go on.”

“So like, Commander Hurricane. You know him, right?” the stallion said. Nightmare gave an affirmative nod. “As far as I’ve known, like my whole life he was one of the great founding leaders of Equestria, and she’s here telling me that he was some kind of idiot!”

“Well, yeah!” said the mare. “If you’d actually read a book for once instead of just watching Hearth’s Warming plays, you’d know that, come on!”

Nightmare let out a quick chuckle. “Your sister is absolutely correct. Hurricane was a fool.”

“Aha!” the mare laughed. “Told you!”

“Ah, what?” Forcing out a laugh, the stallion’s glance was quickly switching between Nightmare and the mare. “Nahh, come on! Hey, why’d you think that, eh?”

Nightmare sat in the empty seats opposite the two ponies. “One need only study his disastrous leadership in the campaign against Tirek. Five thousand valiant soldiers were placed under his command and he led them to defeat. Despite the designated responsibility for matters of war resting upon m-mmph” She coughed, stopping herself before the wrong words came out. “...resting upon Princess Luna, Celestia foolishly allowed Hurricane to return from his retirement, because it just had to be him who took back historic Pegasopolis. I tell you, political cronyism in the armed forces always leads to disaster.”

“And, and!” the mare butt in. “If he was so smart, why did Private Pansy do a mutiny against him, hm? And why did it succeed? No way a master strategist would get kicked out of power like that.”

“Praetorian Panser,” Nightmare said. “That is her correct title.”

Both of their eyes went wide as they looked at Nightmare for a moment. “Are you a historian or something?” the mare asked.

Only then did Nightmare realise she hadn’t come up with an appropriate cover story to explain her identity. She assumed she wouldn’t need one. She could answer some questions about some relevant professions, surely, but history? Especially ancient military history? That was something she was more qualified than perhaps anyone in Equestria, possibly in the world, to answer. “Yes. I study military history for the Imperial Lunar Army,” she answered, smiling confidently. “Of course the exact nature of such work is highly confidential.”

“Oh, where are my manners?” the stallion laughed. He held out his hoof. “Crème Brûlée.”

The mare held out her hoof too. “Crème Fraîche.”

“Dream Scaper.” Nightmare smiled and bumped both ponies’ hooves. “Are your names Aquileian by any chance?”

“Yeah, our dad’s side of the family is from there,” Crème Fraîche said. “We’ve never actually been, but with the way things are improving between our two countries we might get a chance soon.”

Nightmare smiled. “I hear their wine is excellent.”

“So have I,” Brûlée said. “But honestly? All the best drinks I’ve ever had were made right here in Equestria.”

“Have you ever tried Johnny Trotter’s?” Fraîche asked Nightmare.

Nightmare’s ears perked up. “I don’t believe I have,” she answered.

“Well we gotta fix that!” Brûlée waved to a waiter. The waiter rushed over. “Three shots of Johnny Trotter’s, on the double!” he said.

Nightmare looked over her shoulder, spotting Sol on the other side of the bar. There was a wall between them in such a way that she could only see Sol in the booth, leaving the other three ponies he was with out of view. He caught sight of her and turned to face her, manifesting a thumbs-up hand with his magic. At least she thought it was called a ‘thumbs-up hand’, another one of those weird modern things that was only recently making sense. For the first time in the whole night, Nightmare gave him a sincere smile and nodded her head, manifesting a ‘thumbs-up hand’ of her own. Sol grinned cheerily, then took a swig of his drink as he turned back to his friends.

Curiously, with the wall there it was also unlikely that Sol could see who Nightmare was with.

Their drinks then arrived. Both Brûlée and Fraîche downed their shots. Each squinted and grit their teeth as they swallowed. Brûlée coughed a little, slapping the table. Fraîche giggled. Nightmare then drank hers. It went down easily as the alcohol had no effect, but the taste was excellent. Robust smoky notes combined with the warmth of caramel, followed with an indescribable aftertaste that forced her eyes wide.

“So wait, you said Hurricane fought against Tirek and lost,” Brûlée coughed. “How’d they actually bring Tirek down, in the end?”

Nightmare chuckled. “Oh, that’s an incredible story! You see…”

Questions kept coming from the pegasi, answers kept coming from Nightmare, drinks kept coming from the bar. Brûlée repeated ignorant misconceptions that Nightmare was quick to correct. Fraîche had far more relevant knowledge, but even a mouse would look gigantic compared to an ant. At some point they even bought a platter of pretzels and cheese to share, which the two pegasi gobbled up the lion’s share of as Nightmare was too busy detailing the weapons and tactics of ancient Equestria to even pay the plate any attention. Before she knew it, hours had passed like a blur. She wasn’t the least bit intoxicated, but she sure felt a buzz like nothing else.

“That was the key to it all! Coordination!” If Nightmare still showed her wings, they’d be fluttering. “Not peculiar contrivances or gimmick weapons, just ensuring broad clarity in the role of each commander and soldier! But the Suzerains? All of them were fighting their own fight, they deemed themselves exempt from a straightforward chain of command!”

“Ahaw, that’s incredible!” Brûlée laughed. “That’s the sign of a true genius!”

A waiter placed three shot glasses of whiskey on the table, and an empty bottle of Johnny Trotter’s Original. “Feel free to keep this as a souvenir,” the waiter said. “Compliments of the bar.”

Fraîche clutched the bottle and inspected it. “Oh stars, did we drink this whole thing?” she hiccuped.

Nightmare giggled, popping a potato chip into her mouth. “Goodness, how did that happen?” She washed it down with her shot, savouring the flavour.

“Oh yeah, we’re ready for the bill,” Brûlée said to the waiter. Both pegasi took their shots.

“Tell you what, on the way home, we’re stopping at that book store we passed on the way here,” Fraîche said. “They’ve gotta have a copy of Jade Lustre’s book, right?”

“I would hope so!” said Nightmare. “Equestria is finally relearning the truth of its obscured history.”

“Would they even open this late?” Brûlée moved his hooves like he was summoning an answer.

“Duh, everything’s open all the time, we’re in the city that never sleeps!” laughed Fraîche. “Manehattan’s been like that even before the eternal night!”

“I suggest you sober up a fair amount before you read it!” Nightmare said, half in jest and half in earnest. A waiter passed by and delivered the bill. Nightmare quickly snatched it away. “Oh, do not fret! I shall cover the cost.”

“Ah-” Brûlée reached forwards but snapped his hoof away. “Aww, Dream! Thank you so much! But there’s no way we could-”

“You have no need to concern yourself with this.” Nightmare grinned, interrupting Brulee.

“Well, I think we've got some reading to do, don’t we?” Brûlée laughed and got out of his seat. “See you Dream!”

“Yeah, you have a good night, Dream!” Fraîche hopped out of her seat and closely followed Brûlée.

“Yes! I hope to meet you again!” Nightmare waved as the pair ran off. With them gone, Nightmare looked up at the ceiling and released a breath with a smile. Even after all that, there was so much more she hadn’t had the chance to talk about. Oh well, she’d have more chances if there were any more ponies out in the world as interested in history as they were. Sighing to herself, she read the bill.

The total came to twelve-hundred and eighty bits. Nearly eighty bits a shot for the whiskey alone. Plus the snacks. “Hm,” she grunted. In truth, the value of money in the modern era was unfamiliar to her. Not just because she effectively had infinite wealth, but the units of payment themselves were unusual. Everything was either copper coins or paper notes marked with numbers that gave them value because ‘they just did’. On top of that, the actual cost of everything she used over the night was escaping her. The bus fare was what, four bits per pony? The cost of anything at the gun range wasn’t in her memory, and she wasn’t even present when the train tickets were bought.

Whatever, she could certainly pay. She retrieved a bag of coins she had stored in her pocket dimension, the total value of which had yet to be counted. It felt sufficiently heavy for a night in Manehattan when she gathered it. Using her magic, she quickly sorted them by denomination and counted them all out, reaching a total of one-thousand and thirty-five. Curses. Over two-hundred short.

Fantastic. 

She’d have to humiliate herself asking Sol to cover the remaining cost. Clutching the bill in her magic, she rose from her seat and walked directly over to Sol’s booth, seeing him and the Trick brothers still laughing away over their drinks.

Nightmare gently tapped Sol’s shoulder. “Excuse me… Nightshade.”

Sol greeted her with a smile. “Ay, there you are! How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been well. But…” She brought him in closer to her, quickly taking a glance at the others to ensure they weren’t listening. “I will need to use some of your money to pay my tab as I am short on coinage,” she said quietly. “You know I cannot write a cheque in my actual name, I will reimburse you at the earliest possible moment.”

“Yeah, of course, how much?”

Nightmare presented the bill to Sol. “If you are so curious.”

Sol looked like he’d choked. “Thirteen thousand bits?” he snorted, hoof covering his mouth. “Oh my- ahaha, no way!”

That caught the attention of the others at the table. “I can afford the expense. And you misspoke, it is merely one thousand two hundred and eighty bits, unless you refer to this tipping custom bit I’ve heard of,” Nightmare said.

“H-how?” Sol looked at Nightmare, dumbstruck. “You said you didn’t drink!”

“I shared the company of two other ponies who proposed that I try a particular brand of whisky. I offered to pay the bill,” Nightmare explained.

“Two random ponies order thirteen-hundred bits worth of drinks and dump you with the bill?” said Sol.

“Wait wait wait, I don’t wanna sound like I was eavesdropping but-” Card had butt in. “Ahh, who were the two ponies you drank with? Like, what were their names?”

“Crème Brûlée and Crème Fraîche. They were siblings.” Nightmare answered plainly. “Why?”

The stallions stared quietly at Nightmare. They looked at each other, and then exploded into laughter. Nightmare flinched at the suddenness as each chuckle and guffaw burst forth between hiccups and coughs. One of the brothers was even slamming their hoof on the table. Yet Nightmare couldn’t share their amusement, blinking in befuddlement instead. What was it? Foreign names can’t have been that funny.

“Wait wait, lemme guess!” Party hopped up in his seat. “Brûlée was a pegasus dude with a combover, yellow coat. Fraîche was a pegasus mare, blonde mane in a ponytail, light blue coat. Yeah? Yeah!”

“Yes,” Nightmare answered.

“Ohh princess, I’m so sorry.” Sol was rubbing his hoof into his forehead, a grin on his face. “So like, what were you talking about?”

Nightmare sighed. “I fail to see the relevance of this, but… I was relaying to them my knowledge of ancient history.”

“Over expensive drinks, right?” Another bout of laughter from the four stallions.

“Yes. Over drinks.” She felt herself growing more irritated by the second. “What is so humorous?”

“No, no! Oh, boy!” Sol was shaking his head and speaking between short bursts of laughter. He calmed himself before he continued. “Look, those two? That you just described? That’s Sly Boots and Grass Snake. ‘Crème Brûlée and Crème Fraîche’ aren’t their real names, they’re not even siblings! They’re these two hustlers  who make a killing off of out-of-towners who don’t know better!”

One of Sol’s friends let out another hiccup-laden laugh. “Pretty sure some of the bars in this town would go out of business without them!”

“Like that’s their standard playbook, make up a whole story to get your attention, rub your ego to get you comfortable, order the most expensive drinks on offer, and leave you-” Sol tapped Nightmare on the chest. “-with the bill!”

Nightmare’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean to say?” she seethed through clenched teeth.

“I’m saying you got swindled!”
> 5 - Crime and Punishment
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


21:03 - 16/06/1008 - Hayston, Manehattan


Galloping away and giggling like schoolchildren, Sly Boots and Grass Snake were riding the electric high of their con and their clean getaway. Ducking into an alleyway just out of sight from the street, they boasted amongst themselves.

“Good grief I haseth been laden with thee bill for thine liquor!” Sly Boots mocked. He slowed down to a stop. “You hear the way she was talking? Is that what ponies from Canterlot are like?”

“No, no, I’ve been to Canterlot,” Grass Snake stopped by Sly’s side, her wings fluttering. “Her? I think she fell out of a time portal! No wonder she knew so much about history!”

“And you didn’t think Crème Brûlée and Fraîche would work again!” Sly pointed at Grass. “But it gets ‘em every time, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, cuz we got lucky with someone totally clueless,” Grass chuckled, shaking her head.

“But! I don’t wanna take all the credit!” Sly raised his hoof. “You knew she’d be a dyed in the wool Lunarist and knew exactly what’d get her talking. The history stuff? I’d never have known that!”

Grass smirked. “Come on. She’s got a moon for a cutie mark. That part was obvious.”

“Lots of ponies have moons for cutie marks.” Sly dismissively flicked a wing. “Remember Zinc, your old boss? And that jerk who runs the pawn shop a few blocks away, what was his name? Oh yeah, and can’t forget-”

A sudden bright flash enveloped the alley. Neither of them managed to reactively shut their eyes before it vanished. They heard a muffled buzz of music and talking before they could parse their surroundings. Once their eyes had fully adjusted, they found themselves standing in front of Bar 32. Both shared a look, wondering what brought them back there and why.

Suddenly a blast struck them from behind with the force of a speeding train. It sent them crashing through the bar’s doors and tumbling across the floor. They groaned and gasped as they got up. Sly felt a crack in his wings. Grass’s breath felt like it’d been stolen as she rubbed her barrel. The bar’s music scratched to a stop as the eyes of the surrounding patrons fell on the two pegasi. A hushed rattle of confused voices followed. The two pegasi tried to push themselves to their hooves, powering through their aches the best they could. Yet once they both looked to the doorway and realised who stood over them, their hearts almost stopped.

Nightmare Moon.

Adorned with no armour or regalia, her domineering figure reached nearly as high as the ceiling itself. Her coat and broad gargoylian wings were dark as the night sky itself. Draconic eyes pierced through the dark like blowtorches, with a fiery glare to match. Her bared teeth were sharp like those of a feral dog, and bright as the full moon on a clear night. The smoky miasma of her mane whirled like a hurricane. When she finally spoke, her voice dripped with acid. “Grass Snake and Sly Boots. How dare you.”

Both Sly and Grass gulped. They inched back. “Y-y-your Highness,” Grass stammered, shakily lowering her head as if to bow. “We, um, don’t know what we did to-”

“Your plague of fraud over this city ends tonight!” Nightmare marched a step forward.

Grass staggered back. “Wait, th-that was you?” Grass’s wings stood on their ends.

“Ponies of Hayston!” Nightmare projected her voice with such intensity that everyone in the bar flinched. “The time has come for retribution upon these scoundrels for their deceitful machinations!”

Stepping in front of Grass and spreading his wings out, Sly put on a brave face. “Look, whoever you are, could you just stop? This is either a prank in terrible taste or the world’s dumbest mugging.” It was impossible to ignore the shaky quiver in his voice.

At his comment, Nightmare’s face contorted into the fiercest scowl either of them had ever seen. Electricity sparked in Nightmare Moon’s horn. Both pegasi flinched back only to come to a sudden rigid stop. They looked around themselves enveloped in a magical turquoise aura. Nightmare Moon’s aura. They were hoisted into the air so quick they felt their feathers come loose from their wings.

Loose feathers became the least of their worries as the aura flashed red.

Pain seared across their bodies threatening to send them into shock. They screamed. Oh how they screamed. Like white hot iron chains were wrestling every joint in their bodies. Screams were forced out until they had no breath left. It barely lasted a few seconds but it felt like an eternity. It left them stirred to their cores.

The blazing red tint in Nightmare’s aura dissipated, the pain going with it. She threw the pair of pegasi to the ground and they collapsed like ragdolls.

“Consider yourself fortunate that I have started with a spell that induces no physical injuries,” Nightmare hissed. “Now perhaps I can teach you both some manners before I trap you in stone for eternity!”

Coughing and wincing Grass and Sly tried to crawl away. Yet with no strength in their legs or wings they could barely move at all. Sly rolled onto his back while Grass lay on her belly, unable to claw even a bit away. They pushed themselves back only for their weakened legs to trip and stumble. The monstrous Nightmare crept ever closer. Lightning in her horn and hate in her eyes.

Sol leapt out of his seat. “Alright, that’s enough!” he called. Nightmare’s head whipped in his direction. The lightning in her horn fizzled and sparked. Sol marched up to her. “Nightmare, what-”

“You too!” Nightmare barked, spit flying out of her mouth as her mane whirled again. “You’ve been nothing but insolent all night! Why, I should-”

“What the hell are you doing!?” Sol yelled. He took a step closer to her.

Nightmare scoffed. “Who do you think you are to speak to me that way-”

“No, what the hell are you doing!?” he repeated, slower and clearer.

Nightmare opened her mouth to retort but the words caught in her throat. “What, do I…?” She blinked. The tornado in her mane slowed. She pulled her wings closer to her body. Exasperated breaths rushed in and out of Sol’s mouth. Seconds passed. Nightmare’s jaw closed yet her lips remained parted. Sol held his breath. Neither said another word.

Only true silence wouldn’t come. Nightmare’s ears twitched at the sound of crying. Her eyes were brought up, falling on the two pegasi. Huddled against each other both were shivering as they pushed out shuddering breaths. Their reddened faces were drenched in sweat. Sly wheezed, gasping for breath. Tears dyed with ruined makeup streamed down Grass’s cheeks.

Pulling her eyes away from the pegasi, her gaze darted around the room. Every last one of the staff and customers had their eyes locked on her. No matter where she looked she was met with the same sight. All frozen wide-eyed and mouths agape. Some were cowering behind their seats. Some were hyperventilating. Some had tears. Not a single one of them smiled.

“You wanted to feel closer to regular ponies?” Sol took a step closer to her. Nightmare’s gaze fell on Sol again. “How is this supposed to help?”

Nightmare didn’t take another step forward, like an impenetrable fence stood between her and Sol. Holding his breath, Sol felt his heart racing like a fighter-plane. The pained cries of the two pegasi lowered to hushed sniffs and gasps. Nightmare’s wings dropped by her sides and pointed to the floor. There was the subtlest quiver in her lips as her neck tilted down and her gaze drifted to the floor. Seconds passed. Nightmare brought her head and wings up, mouth clenched shut. Her mane stirred again. Sol readied himself for the worst. Sly and Grass pulled each other closer. Patrons ducked for cover.

Yet without another word, Nightmare Moon spun around, beat her wings, and launched herself outside, glass from the window shattering to the ground

Sol released his breath and nearly fell forwards, having held it for what felt like far too long. He stumbled back to lean on a table to catch his breath. After gathering himself, he ran to the door, watching a cloudy blue streak fade into the infinite black above. A few other patrons ran to the doors and windows too, just barely missing said glimpse. He moved to the two pegasi, still lying on the floor, crouching by them. “Can you two hear me?”

“Yep,” Sly croaked out. “I’m alive. Currently.”

“How-” Grass sputtered out through her tears. “How’d you get her to-”

“Anything feel broken?” Sol lifted and inspected one of Sly’s front legs, finding no signs of injury. “Wounds, cuts, bleeding or anything?”

“She slammed me against the damn ground,” Sly grunted. “I think my wings are broken.”

“And you, Grass?” said Sol.

“I-I don’t think… I-I think that… I’m not… there’s no more pain.” Grass shuddered, wiping the tears from her face. She fluttered her wings, likely to make sure they still worked.

Carefully, Sol pulled Sly away from the bar and rolled him into his front. All up Sly’s back and wings were stark bruises, with trace amounts of blood trickling through the feathers of his wings. It wasn’t anything life threatening at first glance, but he’d definitely need proper attention. Sol sucked in a breath, sending the magic of a healing spell flowing from his horn to Sly’s bruises. It was a low risk spell, just soothed the pain and encouraged natural healing. Impossible to mess up, even whilst intoxicated. He’d performed the spell in much more stressful environments than this. Under much more inhibiting mental states than light drunkenness, at that.

“Is-is he gonna be okay?” Grass shakily rose to her hooves.

“It doesn’t look that bad, but he needs an ambulance. You might too, stay here. Wash!” Sol turned to try and find Sugar Wash whilst trying to keep his magic focused on Sly. Wash was staring blankly behind the bar before his attention fell on Sol. “Wash, call an ambulance. Now!”

“Yeah.” Wash nodded, still a blank look on his face. “Yeah, on it.”

He turned back to Sly, but then raised his hoof to regain Wash’s attention. “Wash, don’t mention Nightmare Moon. Hard as it is to say, they’ll probably think it's a prank if you do.”

“Uh, sure. Got it.” Wash dialled the emergency service number into the phone behind the bar.

Ponies around the bar were already rushing for the exit, leaving their drinks and their meals unfinished. Sol overheard a few passing comments from the exiting patrons, some sympathetic to the pegasi, others expressing minor disdain for them, but most were just worried for their own sakes. Some stayed behind to finish what they started, or just to see what happened next.

“Ngah!” Sly winced and writhed. Sol turned back to Sly, his spell had weakened a little in the moment of distraction. “Was that really her?” gasped Sly. Sol said nothing. “What’s this about, huh? So she can go around making ponies think she’s someone else and that’s all fine, but when we do it we’re the jerks?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Sol groaned, focusing on his magic the best he could. “I know.”
> 6 - Sick and Tired
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


21:19 - 16/06/1008 - Lunar Castle, Everfree Forest


Trotting to her office after wrapping up a meeting, Selenite let her mind briefly wander in the moment of downtime. Earlier that night she saw Sol and Empress Nightmare Moon off as they left to catch their train and hadn’t heard anything about them since. Not that she was worried or anything, just curious as to what they were doing. Okay, maybe a little worried. But she trusted Sol had it all under control. Keeping the Empress’s less-than-productive instincts in check was a decent chunk of Selenite’s job, and there was no way he hadn’t picked up a thing or two from her.

A pair of doors banged open and ripped Selenite’s attention towards them. Nightmare Moon rushed through, naked and alone.

“Ah, Your Highness!” Selenite trotted towards her. “How did it go with-”

Nightmare stormed past Selenite without a word, not even looking at Selenite, hastily making her way to the stairs.

Surprised, Selenite followed. Nightmare outran her easily, but Selenite recognised Nightmare was on the path to her personal chambers, hearing doors crash open and slam shut ahead signifying her route. Before long, Selenite followed all the way up those chambers. She didn’t see the doors to her chambers slam shut, but halfway up the stairs she sure heard them. Half the castle probably heard them too. Determined to get an explanation, she continued on up to the lobby.

“Warmaster,” said one of the guards.

Selenite stopped. She turned to the guard.

“Her Highness wishes not to be disturbed for any reason.”

She almost raised a hoof in protest, but quickly she accepted what they had said. “Understood,” she said, turning away to leave.

Her schedule that night was packed anyways. A lot of ponies to meet with and a lot of plans to go over. No time to have a heart to heart with the Empress. Sol would get home eventually. It didn’t have to be soon, there was a thousand kilometers between the castle and Manehattan. She left to return to her office.

Yet at the desk right outside her office, her secretary, Timetable, was frantically scribbling notes down whilst yapping into a phone. “Yes, I’ll inform her as soon as possible, but I’ll have to put you on hold. Do excuse me.” She put the phone down. “Hey, um, Sel?”

“Yes, Time?”

“All the phones have been-” The phone on Timetable’s desk rang again. She picked it up. “Yes? Yes, I have the Warmaster with me now. Yes, I was about to tell her. Hold please.”

Selenite marched up to the desk. “What’s going on? Does this have something to do with the Empress?”

Timetable put her hooves on her forehead and blew out a breath. “Something happened in Manehattan involving the Empress and everypony’s trying to report it to you. Local police, Imperial Commission reps, your husband-”

“Patch Sol through to my office phone immediately,” she ordered without hesitation. Timetable nodded and buzzed Selenite into her office. Selenite dashed through to her office and picked up her phone. The call was promptly connected. “Sol, it’s me. Are you okay?”

The first thing she heard was a sigh. “Yeah, I’m fine,” came Sol’s haggard voice. “Been better, but, you know, been worse. This is up there though.”

Selenite let out a brief sigh of relief as she sat down. Then she got straight to the point. “What happened with the Empress?”

“Well that’s- Should I tell you now over the phone or wait?”

“It’s the most secure line in Equestria,” Selenite assured him. “And it sounds urgent. Last I saw of The Empress was a few minutes ago, storming into the castle and locking herself in her chambers without talking to anyone. There’s a dozen and a half other ponies calling, and I want to hear it from you first.”

“Hm, that tracks. Well in that case…” Sol loudly exhaled. “Nightmare got conned and lashed out when she found out.”

“What?” Selenite almost dropped the hoofset.

“Yeah, it was these two local scoundrels,” Sol explained. “Sly Boots and Grass Snake. Just about everyone in Hayston is onto their tricks-”

“Woah woah woah, conned how? Lashed out how?” She sat up. “Is anyone hurt? Did anything get leaked-”

“Calm down, calm down,” he interrupted. Selenite stopped. “They just tricked her into buying them some shots of expensive whiskey and beer, nothing serious. I mean she owes thirteen-hundred bits to the bar.” A pause and a deep breath. “It’s what happened when she found out that’s the problem. You might wanna write this down.”

Sol explained everything, making note to highlight what he’d gleamed about the Empress from their time together. Her resent for perceived ungratefulness, her sprawling god complex, and her social ignorance. All culminating in her encounter with the scammers at the bar, and her subsequent outburst. Selenite patiently listened and jotted down the most important details.

“Then she shot off into the sky. I went to give first aid, and the bartender called an ambulance,” said Sol. “Both of them are fine, as far as I know. I think I’m gonna stay in Manehattan for a few nights. A friend offered to let me crash at his place.”

Groaning, Selenite put her pen down. This kind of public outburst required immediate action. Selenite wondered if she should leave it to the Imperial Commission or send out orders of her own to the relevant ponies right away. Her approach had to be carefully considered. She thought of outright denial, blaming a changeling prankster, or just sticking to the truth. All had drawbacks. Honesty came with the truth being, well, what it was. Lying came with the risk of the truth coming out anyway and having to deal with that and the stain of being a known liar.

She brought the phone back up to her ear. “So, hold on. You laughed at her when you told her she was conned, and then as you saw her get mad and you went up and stood in her way?”

“I know, not the smartest play from a self preservation perspective, but, I was- I am like three or four mugs of cider deep,” Sol said. “I dunno, instinct plus liquid courage.”

“She once petrified me for beating her at chess. I don’t even want to imagine-” Selenite shook her head, realising she was drifting off focus. “These two, the scammers, the ones that the Empress engaged with. If they were to run to the press or, hell, anyone about this, would they be believed?”

There was a short silence before Sol answered. “There were like forty ponies in the bar, if not more. They saw everything.”

Selenite cursed under her breath. “Any chance of it having already gotten out?”

“A lot of them ran out when Nightmare left. I couldn’t exactly keep them.”

“Do you know the ones who left?”

“No. There were too many for me to keep track of.”

“Where is this bar, exactly?”

“Bar 32,” he said, before adding, “32 Bucklas Boulevard, Hayston.”

“Anything else I should know right away?”

“Nothing that I can think of.”

“Right. Got it.” Selenite wrote down all of Sol’s answers. Some ponies already knew. Ponies that Sol, possibly the only pony she knew and trusted who was on the scene, couldn’t identify. No chance of containing it then.

Sol was quiet for a few seconds. “Y’know, a good number of ponies would say those two had it coming. I overheard a few at the bar saying as much. Like, F-A-F-O, and this was them finally finding out after years of-”

“Maybe, but,” Selenite stopped for a moment. “Ponies wont like the idea of their Empress getting scammed and having big public outbursts.”

“Okay, I see.” Sol said. “Does she have these… episodes often?”

Selenite thought carefully of what to say next. “It’s not exactly a secret that she can be, how do I say this… vengeful. Anyone who’s worked under her knows that, and you have seen her-” She performatively coughed. “-public statue gallery. It’s just- ponies don’t expect any of that to happen right in front of them. It’s meant to be reserved for Equestria’s enemies. Like having a wall between the bad guys and monsters who get what they deserve, and regular ponies.”

A few seconds of silence passed. “Right,” Sol said.

“Well, thanks for calling, dear.” Selenite sighed. “I’m sorry, I feel like I got you dragged into all this.”

“No, it’s fine,” Sol said. He sounded sincere, if exhausted. “It was an eye opening experience, in the end.”

After every incident stemming from Nightmare Moon’s impulsiveness, sadism, arrogance, ignorance… Selenite could list those shortcomings all night, and feel headaches coming on from the stress they induced. Regardless, every time it cropped up she remembered the old adage: ‘Never meet your heroes’. In all fairness, they never said anything about working for your Gods.

Yet never for a moment did she wonder if her loyalty was misplaced. It wasn’t like Nightmare Moon’s sadism was a closely kept secret or a surprise to anypony. It was a trade off. “Yes, the Empress is far from a paragon of harmonic virtue, but in a world of monsters, wouldn’t you want the strongest of them all on your side?” No doubt you would. All the progress achieved over the last eight years would’ve been impossible without Nightmare Moon at the tip of the spear.

But she knew her feelings weren’t anything close to universal. It was hard enough getting the average pony to tolerate Nightmare Moon, let alone revere her. At a certain point, she had to wonder what it would take for all their work to come tumbling down. How much longer could the Empress keep her instincts in check? How long would it be until she did something unforgivable?

“I’ve got to get back to work and sort this out,” Selenite said into the phone. “I’ll let you know when the Empress calms down. Where are you staying?”
> 7 - Give and Take
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


21:23 - 16/06/1008 - Lunar Castle, Everfree Forest


Nightmare slammed the door shut behind her as she rushed into her private chambers. Yet she didn’t rest. She paced up and down her chambers as a tempest of furious thoughts swirled in her mind.

Much like a tempest, those thoughts ripped and tore in every direction. Fury at her ungrateful subjects. Fury at that impudent unicorn. Fury at those who had exploited her for their personal gain. Fury at the failures of the night. What did it all mean? Whether she liked it or not, she was alone. Being a mare of the past living in the present was her sole burden to bear. There wasn't another being anywhere who even remotely shared her experiences.

Turning to the windows looking out into the night sky, she saw the moon hanging high. A beat of her wings sent her up to the mezzanine to get a better look, seeing it marked with the mare in the moon and the colours of her accursed sister’s mane. She thought back to the night of her return. She saw her weak and feeble sister broken by the fury of the Nightmare, and she heard the last thing Celestia had ever said to her.

“I know you can still change, Luna.”

She scoffed, bringing herself back to the present and shaking her head. Ridiculous! Why would she want to change? Why would she need to change? Why should a legendary figure who conquered an Empire twice over have to change? She was feared by her enemies and respected by her loyal subjects, deservedly so!

No, it was all backwards. Why should she have to change to match her subjects? They were her subjects, they should change for her! They already had, as far as she could tell. A decade ago, the average Equestrian was a skittish coward feebly clinging to their pathetic harmony. Now they knew the glory of battle and the triumph in total victory, proudly marching beneath the regal banners of the Lunar Empire.

The parting pleads of that usurper were a non factor. Beyond any doubt, she didn’t have to waste any time considering what Celestia might think. Not a second longer. Absolutely not.

She stared at the moon for another minute. Eventually she tore her eyes away and clenched them shut. Slowly she opened them and allowed her gaze to drift over her chambers. Dotted on pedestals around the room were the petrified forms of rebellious creatures who had fallen to her might. Each of them reduced to literal trophies to her power.

Her gaze turned to the ‘statue’ closest to her, a unicorn mare whose face was sealed in a look of terror. Channel Coast was their name. They tried to prevent the proclamation of the Lunar Empire by bombing the proclamation ceremony, right after Nightmare Moon’s soldiers had taken Canterlot. All they accomplished was killing a few ponies and wrecking the Canterlot throne room. A deserved fate, doubtlessly.

The thought led her back to that insolent little brat, Sol Nightshade. All he’d done was lead her to embarrassment, nevermind he berated her to her face. If he was anyone else, if he wasn’t Selenite’s husband, she could only begin to imagine the appropriate punishment for his behaviour. Gazing on the petrified body of Channel Coast, she saw her face fade away, picturing Sol Nightshade frozen in horror. A grin crept onto her lips, a cackle slipping out. Just what he deserved for being so disrespectful and-

She pulled herself away and tried to push the thought out of her mind. No, Sol Nightshade wasn’t a traitor, or anything close to that. He just had trouble knowing his place, like most of her subjects, really. And he was Warmaster Selenite’s husband, for crying out loud. If there were any questions about his loyalty, Selenite wouldn’t be so close or trusting with him. Selenite always had Nightmare Moon’s best interests at heart.

…Didn’t she?