"Keep safe, Under no circumstances read"
It was a terribly windy day, and the blonde maned mailmare was having great difficulty maintaining her own balance and stability. Weaving and bobbing unintentionally in the turbulent weather, she more than once found herself on a collision course with trees, stumps, rocks and other miscellanea. Finally with one great gust, she tumbled through the air like tissue paper, scattering documents, parcels and other postage through the air.
One of these objects, a weighty but diminutive book of aging form, fell heavily onto a lone pony below. As the deceptively hefty volume of small stature struck the blue mare, it rolled over her horn and landed on the grassy floor with a solid thud. Normally Trixie would have made no small spectacle of her grievance at the offending book and pony assailants, but something stopped her as her eye ran over it:
“Keep safe. Under no circumstances read.”
Trixie’s great eyebrow lifted powerfully at this. It was decided; she would keep this book and learn its precious secrets and that would be the punishment for the klutzy mailmare that had wronged her so. Perhaps if it contained any particularly juicy tidbits, she could even taunt the mare about her embarrassing moments. Immediately Trixie scooped up the book and galloped off to her secluded shelter-cave. She took a moment to lament the loss of her travel-home, but quickly pushed the thought away. She was filled with a mischievous glee at finally having something to do other than eke out a living in these mountains. A book, and one obviously precious to one of those Ponyville stooges no less! (She wasn’t positive the mailmare was from there, but neither did she care!)
Cracking open the worn leather volume, she looked at the first few words, “Working journal of Aqua Regia, Royal Court Occamist.” Oh this was just too good. This was not simply somepony’s childhood crushes. This was a documentation of secret research from the Royal Court itself! Looking again, the book was far too old to be something like a diary, in fact, that mailmare was likely delivering it to somepony in Ponyville… it had to be her! The purple unicorn! This was quite fortuitous indeed! Trixie’s revenge was surely at hand—but Trixie didn’t have time to gloat, she had to read every secret bit of research, every piece of clandestine knowledge that was being fed to the lavender filly that had run her out of town. She would read it, and use it against her.
***
As an occamist, it was her duty to serve the Princess of the Night, Luna, in the advancement of science and magic. Namely, her job was to discover new ways of transmuting things into silver. That was the origin of her title at least, in these modern times however, it was a broader spectrum of research that she was tasked with. One of these extra-territorial researches, which was the task of all Luna’s occamists and Celestia’s alchemists, was the rediscovery of the ancient and lost artifact, the Philosopher’s Stone.
The others in the field had long since abandoned the idea that such an item even existed, nonetheless could be found. Despite this, Aqua Regia’s entire focus was on this mythic thing now. It was tasked to her. By the Princes herself. Personally. She would not abandon a direct order, no matter how ridiculous others believed it to be. Her Royal Highness Luna had asked her to find it, and so it must exist, and find it she would. So far, however, her efforts had yet to bare any fruit. She had noted such in her private research journal.
It was common for occamists and alchemists to keep such secret books to record their findings where others would not see them. While they were working toward the same goals for the same employers, they were still rivals at heart. It was a simple thing to keep them guarded, as they were almost never separated from their owners, but even so, most of these journals had charms to keep them shut to any possessor other than the author. Most. Not all. Aqua had never seen a need to do so, as her research was clearly ridiculous, and everypony expected these books to be magically sealed anyway, and thus none would attempt to open it anyway. She knew this because her colleagues rationalized with their logic to the point that common sense was ignored. They wouldn’t even try to open the book, knowing the book was sealed. They would never discover it was unsealed because they would never even attempt to loose its covers.
She was getting distracted now. Her colleagues were hindering her even now when she was alone, just because of their lack of sense. She returned her attention to the musty tome in front of her. It described all manner of minerals and stones, but obviously this was too obvious a place to find what she was after. What she hoped, was to find a clue. Perhaps the mythic stone was not one rock, but a mixture of stones, each with its own special properties intact.
“Or better yet, maybe it’s not a mixture of stones at all!” She stood immediately at her own revolutionary idea. Upon realizing she had exclaimed her theory aloud she shifted her gaze through the library, cautiously. Resting her journal on the table, she removed her feather quill from its place among her mane and, as casually as possible, documented her revelation, “February 11: The stone may in fact be a fixation of other materials, only taking solid form after combining.”
Placing her quill behind her ear once more and gingerly closing the book, she did her utmost to remain unobtrusive. It wouldn’t do for her colleagues to find out she actually had a lead to follow. Letting out a fake sigh, she replaced the book of magical stones and began searching for another, something pertaining to fluids. It wasn’t uncommon for the interaction of two fluids to create a solid, like a powder or a crystal formation. Not, at least, in alchemy and occamy. Later in the night she would document this, all of it, the entire thought process. She would be able to pick back up from there if she were to forget some time in her sleep.
Trixie was now more interested than ever. After the first few sentences, she had skipped ahead. After a few pages she had become acutely aware that this ‘Aqua Regia’ pony was obviously on to something important. Trixie had no idea what the Philosopher’s Stone was supposed to do, but if the Princesses wanted it, it must be something amazing. She had to know. She had to see whether this pony had really found a clue about the Stone. Even if she didn’t know what it did, she had heard of it before. It was mythic. Just myth, she had thought, but Luna herself had ordered the Aqua pony to find it. It must be real, and that meant Trixie would have to finish this lengthy book.
The next several entries were mundane and uneventful, some things about chemicals and experiments—pure drivel. Rolling her eyes, she decided to skip ahead a few pages. This proved fruitless and she flipped a few more. Again there was no satisfaction, and she skipped several more pages, probably more than an entire chapter’s worth, if the book had had such divisions; which it didn’t. Her silvery blue curl of mane finally fell over something interesting once more.
“April 26: I was right, but I was wrong. It isn’t simply a stone, but it isn’t anything like I reasoned either”
Had she found it already?! Trixie flipped back a page and scanned the scrawl… No. No indication of success there, just more experimental nonsense. Returning to the entry she began to read, even more intensely now.
***
The days and weeks and months passed by irritatingly slowly for Aqua Regia as she tried experiment after experiment to find some result even resembling the Stone of legend. Mixtures and suspensions and powders and sometimes explosions, all things she created, but nothing with the properties she needed; nothing that bent the laws of science and nature as she knew them. She had come very close to a breakthrough on several occasions, but each time she found a promising lead, it ended in failure, or worse, something that was already commonly in use.
She was getting quite perturbed that her last 47 pages of journal entries were inconclusive, ineffectual, or otherwise inept experimental data. She scowled at her hide-covered mockery of her own life; that small-but-thick atlas of failure. The pages were filled with charts and graphs and hastily scratched notes and a few attempts to create new, better, more comprehensive circles. None of it produced the Stone.
“It’s no wonder they all gave up…” she sighed to herself in a moment of dejection, resting her tired and burning sulfur-hued eyes. Massaging her temples and the bridge of her snout weakly with her hooves, she simply tried to relax, to shut out the world for a moment. Breathing deep, she opened her eyes once more, brows furrowed in determination. “If my Lady asked me for it, I will find it. The goddess herself entrusted this task to me, so it exists—or can be created.” Ruffling her mane and stamping her fore-hoof firmly against the cobbles she affirmed, “I will begin again. The mark on my flank signifies my duty to complete this work after all.”
And so it was back to the library. ‘To know the Stone, one must know the philosopher,’ she mused silently as she wandered the musty halls filled with pages. She would start with an obvious choice, ‘A History of Alchemy and Occamy’ by the author after whom she herself was named, Aqua Fortis. It was an old book, but good for reference.
Flipping through the pages she gazed at the chronicles of her craft, beginning from the recent past and progressing slowly backward through time, finding the final pony of note. It was a name she recognized well: Wolken Von-Himmel. He was often cited as the father of modern transmutation. That was fine, but the Stone wasn’t likely something from modern times at all, but it was a start. In fact, Aqua knew she should continue tracing her craft back to its beginnings; back to its philosophy. It was such an obvious tactic that she wondered why she had bothered with all of her previous veins of thought at all.
So that’s exactly what she did. Looking up Wolken, she read page after page of his life, learning that his entire outlook on alchemy and occamy was heavily influenced by the writings of another, even older pony still. And so she went on to read about Nicolaus Coponycus, who built upon work done by the philosopher Aristrotle. Technically his work had been in contrast to the philosopher’s, but it was through that dichotomy that Wolken revolutionized the manipulation of base elements—more importantly, she had made a connection with a great philosopher now.
Aqua Regia was learning, with each new personage she was led to, that alchemy and occamy were in fact very much more philosophical than magical or scientific in nature. They were the end result of a series of very a-physical lines of thought. Rather than trying to manipulate the four base elements, the original purpose was to manipulate, no, to enrich ideas, and in doing so, to evolve oneself.
“That’s truly interesting… but not entirely helpful after all,” she mused to herself, noting a few scribbles of it on one of her failed experiments—no sense wasting a new page on more failure. She was certain of this, however: The Stone was definitely more than just a stone. It had to have some sort of ideological significance other than being a-thing-that-makes-things-into-other-things. She sort of felt like bucking herself square in the face for even considering the legendary Stone, just a thing at all in the first place.
At the same time…she was beginning to understand things long forgotten in her vocation; beginning to see the world as more than the sum of elements. Maybe, just maybe, that would be the key to finding or re-creating the Stone. If she was what was to be changed, she would have to first be destroyed, that is, her view of the world. That was step one in any occamical procedure: allowing the base materials to be burned away into ashes. She would have to force out her old views by replacing them with the teachings of old, now all but forgotten. That was something noteworthy, and note she did.
***
Trixie’s patience wore thin. She wanted to thrash and roll and scream in her own torture at being repeatedly denied any real progress toward her ultimate goal. She wanted the Stone and she wanted it now! Great and powerful though her impulses were, she refrained. She didn’t necessarily believe all of this foalishness about inner growth being the key to the Stone, and through it the key to her revenge, but she also knew that she wasn’t going to gain anything by wasting her energy.
She was living on in a cave, fed only on what she could find or sneak off others’ plates without being seen. She was getting by alright, but only because she didn’t allow herself any excesses. She couldn’t afford to waste her waking moments and energy on frivolous things like taking her stress out on the walls. She would just have to save it up and unleash it on that pony later, when she could afford to waste energy.
Of course, some of that was just her practiced dramatic flair; the truth is she was doing quite well for a homeless pony. No small credit for this goes to her talents in misdirection as a stage magician. While she did perform actual magic, many of her tricks were built upon classical performance art. Let nopony say her hoof was lacking in sleightability. The real trick was staying out of sight while she snuck away with just enough food off of several plates at a time to make a meal, and not go noticed. She would hide in alleys and carefully disguise herself by changing her color and mane, but a thief was still a thief, so she couldn’t afford to be seen eating any of the food, regardless of how great was her disguise.
“Once I have the Stone… I won’t have to hide anymore,” she grinned to herself. “No more sleeping under stolen towels or building shabby fires to keep warm.” Though she scoffed at the fact, she was pretty good at surviving in this dim hour of her life. In stark contrast to that feeling, she was elated at the prospect of the Stone and how it would allow her to change ordinary garbage into fantastic wealth…according to the journal at least.
But neither her elation nor her impatience could deny a simple fact: Trixie was mortal, and like any mortal, she hungered and tired. The day had worn thinner than her patience, and the sky was dark. She could read by the light of her horn or perhaps build a fire, but both such things were wasteful—either of energy, or of vital firewood. It was not a particularly cold night, and thus she would have to conserve her fire for another day, lest she get sick on a colder night when she had nary a splinter to burn. No. For now, she would have to rest. No doubt the Stone was safely hidden wherever this Aqua-pony had stashed it.
AN: My apologies to the likely only 2 people who actually care about this for the lateness of it... and probably pretentiousness or otherwise generally badness.
I'm afraid I've lost my muse on this one. I still know how this is to end, and many places in between here and there, but I just don't have the will to write that at this time.
I do plan on finishing it however. It just won't be for a while.
I hope somebody enjoys this in any case.
