The Hollow Kingdom of Octavia

Exhibit F

It wasn't near late enough to go home. If Octavia went home now, she would undoubtedly run into Vinyl there. If she ran into Vinyl without the useful excuse of having to go to bed for reason of fatigue, she might have to talk to Vinyl. If she talks to Vinyl, she'll have to be reminded of Shining Armor. Octavia had just spent the day trying to put up some mental distance between herself and what was going on. If she was going to complacent in this system, she was going to be as ignorantly complacent as possible.

She moved about in the nighttime streets of Canterlot, just trotting around like a trickle trying to cut a great river. She is the kind of mare who can recharge on a long, lonely walk. A long walk is the only way she can come home in body and spirit, and home is far away tonight.

Octavia would claim she knows this city better than her own mother, but this just isn't true. This isn't because Octavia's mother is a simple mare, but it is because Octavia knows she doesn't know about that half of the city Vinyl seems to love so much. She is suddenly curious, the dangerous kind of curious. This is the curious that killed the cat.

There is a street called Baker's that runs parallel to the street she lives on. Octavia has only ever crossed it on her way to work, but she has never walked south down it. South is special because it is the direction Vinyl goes to her club. This means that, yes, Octavia has never visited Vinyl's club. She won't deny that, but Vinyl hasn't been to any of her recitals either. It isn't about reciprocity but taste in music really.

Octavia turns south on Baker's. It is a normal enough street by any appearance. There are buildings and trees and trashcans and the whole nine yards. This is no different than the way Octavia goes on her way to the Conservatory. Ponies walk up and down the sidewalks and the occasional carriage rolls by. This isn't out of place.

Further down the road, Octavia notices a rise in the number of armored guards around. Soon, it's pretty much only guards. After that, she can't walk any further because of the caution tape. There are a few other civilians staring over the line into forbidden territory, but the guards on the other side are watching them. The guards are watching Octavia too.

It is clear what happened here: a war.

One door down, Vinyl can see the illuminated signs of Vinyl's club. It can't be a coincidence that after last night the sketchy looking storefront next to it has been invaded with guards. This is where it all went down.

Nausea rises like an evening tide, forcing her to turn back the way she came, but she goes much slower. Octavia realizes she doesn't really know what happened. She could just ask Vinyl, but the thought of doing it causes her heart to plummet. She can neither explain this feeling nor wish it away, so she just decides not to bring it up with her roommate. Once she has done this, she feels much more at ease. Partially to distract herself, she settles on asking somepony else about all the details.

Whoever she asks needs to be a perfect stranger, unaware of her affiliation with Vinyl. That rules out all her friends or Vinyl's friends that she knew of. She couldn't ask anypony close to home either. The two are practically peas in a pod. Octavia needs to find somepony she couldn't have possibly encountered. She stops, realizing South Baker's Street is the ideal location.

Not savoring a conversation with anypony lurking about in the shadows, she looks around for a business where somepony more reputable might be found. Of all the odd shops up and down from her position, one seems to shine like a beacon.

"The Seventh House." Octavia reads the name of the bar aloud, to see if it sounds like an okay place. It's a stretch to interpret the name as welcoming or inviting, but it is certainly tame considering the names of the other bars in the area. Octavia doesn't have the luxury of being picky, so she takes a deep breath and enters in under the fluorescent moon hung from the sign.

Octavia feels she is stepping backwards in time the moment she gets through the door. The bar doesn't look like it has been renovated for years, not that there even is a bar. Low tables surrounded by bean bags and lit by lava lamps are scattered all about the fuzzy carpeting. The dim rainbow of light dances against the wall of alcohol on the far wall, attended by a single cash register. Octavia shuffles slowly in, clearing her throat to grab the attention of the two other ponies in the place.

At a far table in the corner, the huddled form of some dark stallion sits with an outstretched glass. A fair, blue earth pony with a smooth ivory mane pours deep red wine into his glass from a pitcher. She looks up at Octavia with her striking blue eyes, which makes Octavia nervous for some reason. This other pony is awfully attractive for a barmaid, but Octavia banishes those thoughts as fast as she can. The mare speaks a few quiet words to her other client before approaching Octavia.

"Sorry, we're not really open," the mare says, smiling kindly. "Would you like to sit?"

"... Excuse me?"

"The place is shut down while the owner is away, but can I get you something to drink?" The mare continues to contradict herself, which isn't doing Octavia any favors. "It doesn't have to be alcoholic. We've got club soda and some other pretty standard stuff, but the owner only serves them in mixed drinks. That's her policy, but she isn't here. Drinks are on me."

"I'm sorry... but are you saying that in the owner's absence you're just giving away her stock?" That is certainly what it sounded like the mare was saying, and she confirms this by nodding her head. Octavia is wondering if she had walked in on some kind of weird robbery. "Won't the owner be mad?"

"She isn't planning on coming back."

"Ever?"

"If she can help it." The mare extends a hoof and steps aside. "So, can I offer you a seat?"

Octavia had to be honest with herself; she wants to sit on a bean bag. It had been so long since she had done so. There isn't any promise of intel coming out of this offbeat bartender, but a quick drink might not be so bad. The place has a nice ambiance to it, despite the drunkenly nodding pony in the back. Octavia thought if the clientele was a bit more lively that this place could be a fun place to have a drink. It's a shame she doesn't really drink.

Octavia lets the strange mare lead her to an empty table and then sits down on a bean bag. It's not quite as exciting as she hoped it would be. She just orders a soda and waits for the waitress to return. Octavia is hard pressed to continue worrying about the current state of this establishment's ownership. There are more relevant issues to look into.

"One soda, on the house!" A tall fizzing glass lands on the table, throwing flecks of moisture around with its effervescent surface. Octavia fakes a small smile for the drink and then looks up at her server. The mare just smiles back at her, genuinely. Octavia isn't after soda tonight, so it's on to the main event.

"Do you mind if I ask you something?"

"My mind is yours to prod," the waitress says, taking a seat next to her client. "I've got nothing to hide for fear nor shame. Knowledge is something we should share, you know?"

"Know what?"

"Yes what!"

"Pardon?"

"If you'd be so kind," the strange mare says, placing a hoof over her heart. "Forgiveness saves, but don't mind me. What was it you wanted to ask?"

Octavia glances over at the door, wondering if this is a big mistake. She knew this mare was offbeat, but now she was verging on psychotic with this rambling. The clues had been there all along, but it looks too late to leave now. Besides, Octavia might actually run the risk of learning something tonight.

"I was just wondering about all the commotion down the street, at the club."

"Oh, the incident at the club." A serious wave washed over the waitress's face. The lava lamp cast red, pulsating, dour shadows across her face. "Quite the sordid affair."

"I only read a little about what happened in the papers," Octavia says, getting more serious herself. "But... what exactly happened?"

"I can't say I know everything, but I can certainly tell you my experience," the waitress says, leaning deep into her beanbag. She casts her eyes upwards, recalling the events of the previous night. "I'll tell you what I told the guards. I was there when the trouble started, so I might be the only pony outside of this who knows intimate details."

Octavia knew that wasn't true, but she held her tongue and took a sip of her soda. It was a little warm.

"The whole thing started off pretty normal..."