The Darkness of Equestria

Chapters

Introduction
Further...
Ever Onwards

Introduction

I always found it calming to walk through the darkened corridors of Canterlot Castle after hours. There are no ponies. No chatter. It's perfectly peaceful. The artwork so deliberately and meticulously placed throughout the winding halls of the castle look so much different by the moonlight, and, in my eyes, better. Yet, even at night the castle is busy. Servants and guards are always present. But, the castle is very large and many areas no longer see much foot, or rather, hoof, traffic. With the lack of ponies, there is no need for any irritating torches; the light comes directly from the moon and the distant lights of the city proper. I prefer these areas.

I could cross from my office to my dormitory, taking the most direct route, in only a few minutes. But by taking these longer walks I can use up an hour or more. Some ponies drink tea, some read a book, others get drunk. I wind down after a long day with longer walks through the museum-like halls of Canterlot Castle. And it truly was like a museum; it's very cold. Very white. Very sterile. Very quiet. My hooves (how I miss my feet) make no noise as I walk down the hall. I am above making unnecessary noise. It preserves the quiet, thankfully, though the skill itself is long-ingrained in me over 5, or maybe 6 decades of service. There's a vague sense in the air that you should not touch a single thing on the walls. After hours, and far from the populace, this castle is very unforgiving.

Another benefit to this route is that I pass through the Canterlot Archives, a back entrance to the Archives but an entrance nonetheless. I can browse at my leisure through the grand place of learning by the moonlight, if I so choose. This is where the old mare, the late Head Librarian of these Archives, brought me after my first arrival. She managed to find for me a necklace laden with a translation spell to make my natural speech understandable to the local ponies. They had thought I was 'Neighponese'. I hate that. I have since learned the most commonly spoken language quite well, but I retain the necklace. Let others think I have no knowledge of the language when the necklace is off, it will be their undoing.

Lately however, there has been another in the Archives at this late, late hour. There is only very rarely another in these Archives with me at this time of night, yet this trend seems to be changing.

Near the circular desk in the center of the room that by daylight would be charged with activity, quiet, library-esque activity, is a small filly of no more than 9 or 10 years. She is small, purple, and most certainly a unicorn. Somehow, she seems to have built walls around her out of books, and is using the one she had been reading as a pillow. Her quiet snores disturb the air in this place, the air currents moving just barely to the tune of her sighs. A heartbeat so distinctly audible in this soundless environment gently pounded. A small, contented smile adorning her features in her dreamless sleep. I move closer to the filly to better examine her. I know this one. This one is strange; few friends, a love of learning. Nothing like her schoolmates at all, save another I've noticed hiding his true intelligence only a few years this one's senior.

This would be the third time this week she has been here so late, and it's only Wednesday. A perfectly foolish child reading until exhausted. This is both commendable and disappointing. Her dedication to improving her knowledge is good, her lack of awareness of her own limitations is much less so.

I quietly take the stacks of books down from around the filly, re-stacking them on the nearby desk. Let someone else deal with it later. The wings I have been gifted with are excellent for this sort of work, strangely. When used properly, the tips can be as nimble as a hand, though far less versatile. I cannot, however, use my hooves for this kind of activity, and this is a mixed blessing. It is good because they feel like feet to me, and using a foot to lift and place objects is degrading; monkey-like, and any limitation on my part that prevents me from using them in an uncivilized manner is welcome to me. Yet it is bad because I couldn't use them even if I felt the urge to. The three that I have are needed on the floor to maintain my balance.

Well, technically I do have four. But my front right leg is crippled, as my right arm was before my unwilling transformation. It is there, yet immobile. I have to keep it tucked into my robes to keep it from dangling uselessly and to keep it hidden, it really is a ghastly sight, off-putting to even the most polite and tolerant ponies. To date, I have three legs, two wings, and one eye. A carefully wrapped eye, I've grown used to the bandages and the wound has long healed. However, I do not care for eye-patches, hence the bandages. An empty eye socket is unseemly. Some called me cripple years ago, and these quickly found themselves trapped in a transfer to a dead-end job at an arctic research base that only recently had most of its funding stripped without prior warning. And as there simply hadn't been enough money in the newly-limited budget to even heat the base, the project was abandoned. Sadly, the message only reached the capital long after the ship delivering the latest employee was on its way, and there was no way to contact the ship at sea until it had returned to its port, after which the ship had to go back for its wayward passenger. I believe the fool had taken a rather severe case of hypothermia and had to have his ears amputated as well as assorted areas over his body where he could no longer grow hair. Terrible misfortune, that. Ironic misfortune.

The insult quickly died off; the new, brash fools learning from their wiser, senior fools.

There is but one book left now, and it is the one substituted for a pillow. The book is safe from watery torture; she seems to be the sort that didn't drool. The sort to enjoy learning... the sort to be organized... the sort to be extraordinarily obedient, if my reports on her are accurate, and they are always accurate.

She would be a good candidate for induction into the Foundation under any other circumstance. However, highly placed as she is her absence would be noticed. She also has parents. I prefer my Agents to be orphans, typically unwanted orphans and the younger the better. They try so hard once they realize that you're the only one that cares about them. She also has friends and other family that would report the disappearance. Scratch friends, she's a loner. The type to hide in books. I believe that, subconsciously, she realized that the other unicorns of the Magic Academy, nobles all, just wanted to get closer to her for the sole reason of using her status as Celestia's personal student to their advantage. She dove into books, subconsciously disgusted with the actions of the other students.

Twilight Sparkle.

The day of her induction into the Academy, or whatever they call it around here, was interesting. As I understand it, she caused quite a large amount of damage and worry, enough to the point that Celestia herself had to intervene. I certainly noticed the large dragon sticking its head out through the roof across the castle grounds. I couldn't help but make the connection between the dragon, its coloring, and the coloring of the egg that Celestia had bade me acquire some time before that. There had also been a strange phenomenon in the air that was distinctly rainbow-colored...

So she's powerful, to the point that she can accelerate the physical development of a dragon straight from its egg and force Celestia to intervene.

Powerful, smart, organized, not given to friends... Hmm... the potential is there, to be certain.

I am old. I won't be carrying on like this for much longer; old age tends to bring death. Perhaps this Twilight Sparkle wouldn't mind a small... nudge in the proper direction.

Age brings about a worry for one's legacy. My legacy in my previous, humanoid home was lasting, if a tad difficult to see and fully appreciate (bringing peace and maintaining it through any means makes enemies, despite how many of those I killed off on a daily basis), but I have no legacy here. I don't feel like wasting away for little-to-no purpose, being a governmental official is just a day job, to be honest. Equestria, and Celestia, have done little that would earn my loyalty. They've done enough that they have earned an able administrator out of me, but I wouldn't die for Equestria like I would my homeland. Overall, Equestria has been a neutral experience thus far, but I would prefer to return home.

With that option closed, I'll just have to remake my legacy here. I have practice at it, it shouldn't be too hard.

So... not another Agent in the Foundation. But perhaps a leader?

Interesting...

I do need a leader...

Someone would need to guide my Agents once I pass, and that day can't be too far off, no more than a decade or two. The Agents are extraordinarily dedicated, but only to me. If I were to die... there's really no telling what they might do. I, for one, refuse to invest time and effort into a product only for it to implode after some small thing like my death. There has to be someone to maintain what I've done after I die. The membership is relatively small, and due to the lack of subjects my training methods had to be altered, but they are still important. They are fanatically loyal, but if I were to introduce to them a secondary leader they would know what to do with their lives after I pass. I am not overestimating their loyalty. They will literally kill themselves before I come to a shred of harm.

Unfortunately, the Foundation is still very, very small. I've been here for seven years, the first I spent getting accustomed to this place, the next four were spent becoming a political powerhouse (the nobles were irritable until I informed them of my own noble status), and the years after that were spent enjoying the fruits of my labor.

In that time, I recruited only twelve members to the Foundation.

In seven years, in a large city like Canterlot with a populace of over 127,835 ponies living in it, there have only been twelve acceptable orphans. It almost boggles my mind. Ponies love their children, apparently, and the families in Canterlot are so large that there's always a spare family member to take over for the orphaned children, but I managed to find twelve. My methods had to change too, I didn't have the numbers for the high-cost, high-reward style training they were doing before. All twelve of my Agents are either training or fully functioning in society, no losses or major injuries yet reported. The hardest part in altering the training methods was that I had to cut out the emotion-killing section of it. I teach them to control their emotions instead. This allows them to feign emotion if necessary and experience actual emotion where proper, instead of being dull, obvious statues. Ponies are ruled by emotion, a pony with a lack of emotion would stand out enough to draw significant attention and my Agents can not draw attention. I've had to actually become a father figure to the orphans, instead of the leader/follower relationship I had previously.

Of course, legally they are my children. I adopted them, after all. Being seen as a generous, kind old 'stallion' certainly has its perks but having twelve children is a handful. Some of my 'children' (Agents) are old enough to have taken actual 'jobs' (Civilian Work) to help support the 'family' (Foundation), and Equestria has been kind enough to give me considerable financial assistance. I'm paid fairly well, and stealing more if necessary would be easier than breathing, but it's the thought that counts.

So, a leader for the Agents. Easily done, under better circumstances. Unfortunately, Celestia has the eyes of a hawk watching its eggs and hatchlings. So, non-optimal conditions, but I've not operated under optimal conditions for at least twenty years, and that's before counting the seven I've spent as a pony.

But how to appeal to Twilight Sparkle?

After no more than a moment, the answer came to me.

She loves knowledge. But she also wants someone to guide her through it. She has Celestia, in name if not spirit. She is her 'precious student' but there's only so much time the leader of a large and prosperous nation can spare for a pupil. If there was someone else who appears to be similarly knowledgeable and with similar interests, but with far more time on his hands for direct teacher/student activity... Yes.

I look up from examining my new apprentice. The book to start with is in here somewhere, this place has everything.

Stoicism.

I was surprised when I discovered that ponies had thought up such a philosophy, ponies seem to lack the mental acuity and moral dilemmas that would make such a philosophy necessary, but perhaps there was a bright star in the pack of uninteresting snobs in the past.

Stoicism, at its very most basic, is essentially the idea that one must control one's behavior, actions, and emotions. Negative emotions lead to negative results, anger and the like will result in problems, dilemmas. Stoics seek inner calm, clear judgement. They do not seek to eliminate emotions, they seek to control them.

(Admittedly, controlling emotions is better for the Agents' long term effectiveness and their ability to blend in with society, but totally breaking their psyche and removing their emotions was so much more efficient and quickly done.)

There it is! With a simple articulation of the wings, the book is pried out from the multitude. I carry the book in the sling for my foreleg, so convenient. As I walk back to the young Sparkle, I can't help but think of all the things I dislike about pony custom. Specifically, the item at the forefront of my mind was their naming system. No family name at all. No deeper meaning, no sense of belonging to a greater clan. One could only tell whom one has blood relations with by comparing family trees. It wasn't as simple as taking a glance at a family name on a piece of paper. I might offend a large group of ponies without intending to, as despite the lack of clan names they rise to defend their own regardless. Irritating.

I am glad the youngling is so small. My wings have difficulty lifting most heavy objects. In only a few moments of manipulation, the heavily sleeping filly is safely ensconced between my wings on my back.

As I glance down, I notice the pillow book and what its subject matter is. Algebra. I'm not exactly sure on the exact math class per each year, but I do know that Algebra is advanced for her. The class either immediately before or immediately after entering high school, I believe. Their system here is so different but I've had a few 'foals' enter high school. But algebra is very advanced for one so young. Yet not a workbook assigned by the school, I notice. This is her studying numerous years ahead? Just how deep does her dedication, her lust for learning go? Very strange. I pick it up with a spare wing while the other holds Twilight in place, and onto a nearby stack the book goes.

As student to Princess Celestia and attendee of the Academy on castle grounds,Twilight Sparkle has her own dormitory in the castle. The castle is exceeding large, but all of the actually important rooms and areas are in the same general section of the castle, save the high-security locations. For instance, the student dormitories are one story below the faculty dormitories and two below the castle staff dormitories. We are heading in the same direction, then. I decide against a longer walk, and take the most direct route. No more than 5 minutes goes by before I reach my destination, a long corridor with artwork and a few torches scattered hither and thither. Thankfully, each dormitory is helpfully labeled with the student names on each door. Opening the door requires much less dexterity than picking up and manipulating numerous books. The room is fairly spartan; a bed, a nightstand, a desk, and a small closet for whatever clothes they deem necessary to wear.

Dropping Twilight Sparkle onto her bed gently is just about the most hazardous thing I've had to do recently. I'm sorry to say, but my life has been void of any danger since I've gotten to Equestria. But being caught in a female student's dormitory long after hours would be terrible for my reputation, especially since she was a minor.

I am not a pedophile. I have known and consorted with a possible pedophile, but it's just an unconfirmed rumor if the man truly was a sexual deviant in that manner. He certainly was a deviant, and no mistake. He was also a human. And Twilight's perfectly asleep, so there will be no rash accusations here if I can leave fast enough.

Thankfully, Twilight has one of the dormitories on the outer perimeter of the castle instead of inside the castle proper: she has a window. A small, highly placed window streams in moon light, enough to see and write by, but not much else. With my dark cloak, I would be surprised if Twilight could even see me were she awake.

I place the book on her nightstand and leave her a note.

The note reads:

If you are so insistent on learning until you collapse out of exhaustion, I will have to guide you down the proper path. Learning is far more efficient when guided. Read the accompanying book and write a five paragraph essay with no less than 6 sentences per paragraph on the history of stoicism and possible present-day uses of it. You have two weeks.

Learn the limits of your body, you should be aware when you are close to sleep.

Signed,

The Writer of this Note.

An easy assignment, to be sure. One of my more obvious attempts, and eventual successes, at manipulation. But it's not like this nine year old filly will know.

My dormitory is a very short stairwell away. Sleep comes easily: a rarity. A combination of my career choices and being a pony leaves me with very little comfort in my sleep. I have no doubts that the things I have done were right, but they were very stressful. And, more than anything else; relieving myself, sitting, and sleep are more than just a little uncomfortable in this quadrupedal body. With the future of the Foundation no longer in overly much doubt, I feel a small but noticeable weight lift off my back.

Morning comes swiftly. I go to sleep late and I wake up early. Thankfully, old people need less sleep the older they get. The four or five hours I get per night might be unbearable otherwise. Which puts the question into my mind, 'How long does Princess Celestia sleep?' Judging by the trend, she might not have to sleep at all. She might be energized just by being awake. Though, it is likely based on how old the body is, not the mind. Celestia isn't that old in appearance, and presumably the same is true for her body's inner workings.

Waking up is simple, I follow the basic routine that most follow, with a few added steps. Wake up, go to the bathroom, check front right leg and eye, just in case, step into shower, take shower, get out of shower, get dressed, leave dormitory to go eat breakfast in the communal cafeteria for the staff. Breakfast was usually a simple affair, and it is the same today. A few pieces of toast, fresh fruit, healthy eating.

I don't particularly feel the need to socialize with my co-workers, so I sit in a corner to myself while others sit with their own friends. A few have mustered up the courage to sit with me before, presumably in an effort to make me feel included. These rarely try a second time; polite, neutral conversation is rarely as stimulating as speaking with your friends over what they did or did not find in so-and-so's bedroom last night while cleaning it. Perfectly understandable, I hold no ill will towards any of the ponies.

A glance at the clock confirms my own internal clock's suspicions; time for work. I stand and walk off to the Throne Room. The cafeteria is a central nexus of hallways, my own path is very short. The guards helpfully open the heavy oaken door with their magic at my approach. This one is a side door, it opens behind the Throne where Celestia herself sits.

I shuffle up to the side of the Throne, only taking pains to make my hoof-falls clack and clatter when I'm near it, a slight warning of my approach for the uninitiated.

"And how are we today, Celestia?" I inquire once I am just behind the Throne, a whisper more than enough to carry the small distance.

Her face turns, ever slightly, an eye beholding me with a twinkle, her mane flowing to the other side of my position.

"I am doing well, thank you." she offers a small grin, "And how are you, Seneschal Danzo?"

Further...

"I am well, Princess." is my reply. Pleasantries and customary greetings done, I take my place behind and to the side of the throne.

Politics are mostly about appearance, something such as the placement of your advisers is important. Allowing your advisers to stand in front of you makes it seem as though the leader either trusts his advisers to speak on his behalf, or isn't powerful enough to properly control them. Placing the advisers to either side gives the impression of a united front of equals, yet equality is not something that should be seen in a leader and his advisers. Finally, behind; it implies that the leader trusts the advisers to have his back. By placing them in the location best suited for assassination, the leader places the burden of protecting against such attacks on the shoulders of whomever stands there. There are a million subtle nuances on the matter. And as Seneschal, my place is by her side.

Seneschal. The title is strange, I don't particularly like it. But the benefits it brings are welcome. Being Seneschal essentially makes me the head of the household, though the household in this case is an entire castle and one singular pony, along with many servants. I am in charge of security, I am in charge of social events, and I am in charge of the hiring and firing of employees. The various advisers are appointed by Celestia, but the important jobs are filled by ponies that I select. The Captain of the Guard is appointed by me, the Head Chef, the Master Architect, the Archmage of the Mage's Guild, all of these things fall under my purview, with some exceptions. No one gets to Celestia without first seeing me. If there's a problem, I fix it. I set the schedule, I choose the furnishings, I am the boss of this castle, my own personal domain.

Essentially, I am the Clan Elder; I have some nominal authority but the Clan Head comes first. Celestia, in this metaphor, is the Clan Head. This position is strange indeed, in certain areas I can command Celestia and in others she is the master. For instance; I could arrange a marriage for Celestia, if I so wished, and be perfectly within my rights as the Seneschal, as the Clan Elder. But, as the position is not familial, she is in charge of me, so I would likely be fired immediately. I can arrange which social functions she appears at and whom among the nobility she should be friendly towards, but ultimately it is she that chooses. I advise her on all matters that come before her, but she makes the decisions.

She commands the nation, I command the castle. She is a member of the castle, and I am a member of the nation. Yet the nation comes first, therefore she and and her orders come first, yet I still come second and I cannot be brushed off lightly.

This particular social function has been as tradition for ages; ten to noon, everyday, like clockwork. Celestia sits on her throne and her numerous advisers come in and we speak on matters of importance that have come up. Important enough that Celestia has to be informed directly. Contrary to popular belief, there is little to no paperwork involved. If a matter is so important that Celestia herself has to be involved, then there is little need for paperwork, her word is good enough.

But such things happen rarely. These meetings are primarily useless.

Immediately after this traditional advisory council concludes, from noon to two, the doors to the Throne Room are opened and the common ponies, yet mostly nobles, can come in and speak with their Princess. The nobles like to think that this is the highlight of their day; that they are influencing the decision making of the nation. They aren't. They like to believe that this is where most of the magic of Equestria happens, where all the important ponies are, and where everything important happens. They're wrong. Afterwards the 'common' ponies are sent out and Celestia spends the rest of her day however she wishes. She usually is busy governing or keeping an eye on someone she finds interesting. Occasionally she is the judge in a court trial, should it be found necessary. She intermixes some recreational and relaxation time on occasion, sometimes seeks new knowledge to read or fills herself in on current events with magazines. All very average for a leader.

Between two and six, I go home to my adopted children. I supervise their training, their school work, and any business that needs concluded within the family. As children of the ancient and noble Shimura clan, and agents of The Foundation, they are expected to be superior intellectually and physically. Even if they're ponies and the standards have summarily slipped, they still must be better than the rest. Above average, at the very least. My home is fairly nice, in my opinion. Threatening the neighbors with crimes unimaginable took some time, but I managed to recreate a proper household complete with exterior security wall.

From six to ten, I return to the castle and do my own work, whatever it is that might need doing. The job is surprisingly easy, considering the size of the castle. Either the bureaucracy below me is startlingly efficient or someone has learned that I get things done, but very rarely in the manner that most might consider appropriate. Complaints are burnt, businesses are blacklisted, ponies are unofficially punished in an ironic fashion fitting the severity of the slight, and if a budget crosses my desk, the programs that I have a stake in are receiving more funding. Administration is the title of the job, but the description is unlimited power within a few limits. For instance, the Royal Guard has seen rather hefty budget increases ever since I've come into power.

The Royal Guard is commanded by me, as head of the household I must see to the security of all within it. The highest rank a pony can reasonably expect to achieve is Sergeant, but the highest they can achieve is Captain. I am above the Captain. The current Captain is a particularly well aged example of a gentle-stallion, well read and well spoken. He will likely retire soon; he's already seven years overdue. When his retirement comes, he will put forward a candidate for the next Captain and I will select the one that I want to be Captain. And then what I want will go through. Administration.

The council of advisers' job is done rapidly, as always. Celestia has a knack for seeking ponies that have the particular talent for the particular job she wants them to be in. Her staff of advisers is very professional, very effective, and very efficient. What few shreds of respect I could ever have for a talking pony go to Celestia. She simply knows what she needs, what she wants, and the best way to get both without stepping on any toes. Very diplomatic, very charismatic, and very political. I respect her for that. But what I find far more intriguing is what she does with me. She instinctively knew that behind my mild manners lay a cunning, canny, and stubborn individual, so instead of trying to work around my admittedly forceful personality, she uses it instead. I certainly am not going to change myself for the benefit of another.

To put it simply, she is the good politician and I am the bad one. Princess Celestia's decisions and opinions look mild and far more acceptable when compared with mine. She lets me state my opinion on the matter first, usually overtly negative, and then Celestia has her turn, stating a far more popular, relatively, opinion. This allows Equestria as a whole to achieve better deals. If an ambassador walks into the throne room and wishes for better room and board, I might offer no room or board, thoroughly irritating the ambassador, but Celestia would then countermand my suggestion with a far more agreeable option that is still quite below what the ambassador would have wanted. A net decrease in the losses sustained by the treasury. It works.

As the meeting of the advisers closes, the main doors are opened. A veritable flood of ponies walks in, most with their nose in the air, very haughty and overall irritating. In all the duties that this station demands, this one is the easiest yet most irritating. I believe that both Celestia and myself both merely pretend to pay attention, while staring off into space. I've been led to believe this because over the course of my tenure, I've heard Celestia reply to questions in the strangest of manners that indicate that she had no idea what the question was at all. But the nobles seem to never notice, they probably believe their princess to be above such daydreaming.

One of them starts rambling, an old and wheezy stallion, full of gravel and age, perfectly boring, important but only to himself and some of his sycophants. Something about the latest reports of imported fabric from some backwater. I don't pay attention, my eyes glaze over.

If only they knew the true depth of their leader's insanity. Hyperbolic, of course, but Celestia can be remarkably child like on occasions. Or foal like. Whenever someone seems to be stressing over her, she deliberately causes them additional stress. I've seen her frown and grumble her way through entire meals because a waiter was standing too close, not that she didn't enjoy the food but because the waiter would notice the frowns and grumbles and become exceedingly worried about the quality of the meal. She is also quite the gossip, she is one of my top sources for information. Most of it is useless to me, but on occasion a tidbit slips through that I can capitalize on. I think she does it deliberately.I am certain that she knows, or at least suspects, of my shadowy dealing. But it's been nothing but positive for her nation, so she lets it slide. Or she doesn't have enough evidence to go against me. You have to be practical in politics, Celestia herself is very idealistic but she is not above using the most common tricks of the politicians' trade. Lying, bribery, blackmail, extortion, all very subtle and flowery, of course, but it is still there. And not a single pony suspects, even when she does it to them. This is the primary reason I respect her as a politician, she's good. She is perspective beyond her appearance, and determined despite adversity. She has a dynamic personality, very engaging, but there's a side to her that is truly ruthless. The combination is striking and intriguing.

Had she been a human raised and born in my home, I would have definitely seen her as either a rival or as a love interest. One or the other, but probably both. However, as I aged, rivals died (usually by my hand or order) and there wasn't enough time for love, marriage, or children. Sacrifices have to be made to preserve the country, and if I must do it, or if I could do it to spare the country, it will be done. Sacrifice is the way of the soldier. It is the only way. It is my way.

Ruminating on my past like all old men are allowed to do, or at least should be allowed to do, the hours past in what seems like an instant. The nobles and their petty personalities are advised to leave, and my thoughts are broken by the sound of the main doors being secured shut echoing throughout the hall.

"And where were you, Seneschal?" Celestia's voice asks, "There were several opportunities for you to rip and tear into the nobles like usual." she chuckles serenely.

I whisper, "An opportunity came up recently. It been making me reflect on my home. On the future as well."

"A good opportunity, I hope?" she inquires.

I consider for a moment, "The very best." I firmly reply, steel in my voice.

Her eyes twinkle, with a nod she says, "Good."

Two Weeks Later

I have been watching young Twilight Sparkle for the last two weeks. I have ample free time. Her class work is unaffected, her after school work has intensified with greater focus. Her grades are as impeccable as always and she now goes to bed at a more proper hour appropriate for young fillies. She takes advice well, it seems. Perhaps giving her such a long time period was a mistake, she seemed to have completed the paper in only a few days, but she spent the rest of the time with further studies and constant revision. I know this because I watched from the rafters and upper bookshelves. No one ever looks up, and I am very, very quiet. Although, to be fair, she is a unicorn and has been constantly surrounded by unicorns all her life. She probably doesn't yet think of possible pegasi viewers. Or, she is not paranoid like I am. I read too much into some things, a product of being old and experienced. It's usually the obvious answer, but it's not been the obvious enough times to make me over-think.

She's brought her paper every night, constantly scribbling notes and furthering her paper. She put far too much effort into it, but I don't mind. It's her loss, not mine.

Tonight seems different however, she is far more frantic than usual. She probably only just now realized that I never did say where to turn it in. Oh well.

When she looks away, I jump down from the top bookshelf, appearing to any unseen observer to be a dark specter, my wings carrying me some distance before I come to a stop on the ground, not a sound made. The light from the magical lamps casts an eerie blue glow, can't use candles and torches near books. The moderate cool air of the mid-spring night is all around. The gentle sigh of the building, the movements of Twilight, and two heartbeats are all I can hear. The air currents that I am so connected to reveal no unaccounted breather, we are alone.

As I approach the oblivious child, I allow my hooves to make some noise. A warning, usually employed by parents to avoid startling their children overly much, at least it was this way back home. However, she remains unaware. A gentle clearing of the throat captures her attention, and she is quite startled. A jump in the air and a mild screech, furious backpedaling, books and papers falling from their magical grasp. But all becomes calm after a moment.

"Child," I begin, "Are you ready to further your education?"

She is quite startled. Her eyes wander over my form, taking in my bandages and unused leg. She takes a moment to reply, as well as to get her breathing under control.

"Hello," she greets, quite timid, "What's your name? I'm Twilight Sparkle."

"I know very well who you are, child, but you didn't answer my question." I reply, quite mild.

"Y-you didn't answer mine either..." she remarks with the bluntness of youth, and the timidity of a newborn fawn.

"Very well," I acquiesce, "I am Shimura Danzo, now, are you ready to learn?"

A determined glint, a small fire, "I am always ready to learn."

I grin warmly, as warm as I can fake. With a more friendly face, she is more confident. She grins in return.

"Then let's get started."

Ever Onwards

I motion towards one of the low tables that these ponies are so fond of and walk over. Twilight Sparkle, still quite nervous, hesitantly follows after me. The chairs look more like small couches and are used for lounging rather than sitting, given the lack of a human's posture the difference is easily understandable. There are several things that doubt I will ever get used to, and one of them is sitting properly. Perspective ponies had pointed that I looked uncomfortable while sitting in the past, but I have long since mastered this body, even walking is no trouble for me.

She takes the seat across from me and fumbles with her hooves and her stack of papers, constantly shuffling. No doubt quite worried. She scans her essay again, even as I sit across from her, ignoring me in favor of her essay. Her eyes bulge and she breaks out in a sweat. She honestly seems to be having a minor mental breakdown. She must be quite stressed, probably because of myself and my actions. I'll be sure to be more gentle with my further handling of her, though I had thought that I was being easy on her before this moment. But, it is easy to break minds and far harder to bend them to your way of thinking, perhaps it's the difference in species? Or perhaps just unique to Twilight. Maybe the assignment was too much for such a young child? Doubtful, though my standards are quite high. I'll just have her checked for mental illnesses, her records show that she was never checked. It is difficult to diagnose children with mental diseases anyway, despite the psychologists making a large amount of money off of prescribing the proper, usually thaumatic treatment, which is quite expensive.

Thankfully, she seems to catch herself in her moderate moment of mania, and glances towards me bashfully.

A raised brow is enough for her to slide the papers over the table to me, where I, very deliberately, push them off to the side, unread, and look her directly in the eyes. A difficult feat, considering I only have one. She is concerned by the action, her eyes flit between mine and the essay, she certainly wasn't expecting this, I can see the gears in her mind turn in thought. I smirk slightly, to show that I notice and am amused by her worry, though I don't particularly care in reality, and also to show some emotion. Ponies react negatively to those who don't show emotion, and I want Twilight to react positively. She's young and malleable, any action or inaction will affect her, even the exceptionally small ones will build up in her subconscious mind. I've done this before, however, it is a paltry task to divert attention.

"Ms. Sparkle, describe stoicism." I ask.

Perhaps she anticipated an oral exam, perhaps not. But she faithfully regurgitates what one of these books lining the shelves undoubtedly has written in it. Her eyes lose focus and look above and beyond me as though reading ghostly words written in the air. She goes on, but I don't pay attention. I already know everything of importance on the matter anyway, this is to humor her. I assign a task, it will be carried out, that's a given. I just have to make sure she learns the right lesson, that's all that matters. The lesson, however, isn't contained in the books. Lessons, by and large, are given by those with experience to those without and the transition of such wisdom is ineffectual when delivered in a written format.

She wraps up her book learned answer, and looks to me, her open face clearly desiring approval. I refrain from giving her unnecessary compliments, and instead ask her the one question she fears most, even if she doesn't know it.

"Now give me the meaning in your own words."

She's blank. Her brain stops functioning for an instant, it's clear to see. Books always provide the answer for her type, and when asked to provide a rephrasing, they must think about it. A sad defect in an otherwise valuable personality genre. She rallies, however, they all do eventually.

"Stoicism is a school that teaches that bad emotions and their effects can be controlled, that logical thinking will rule the day?" she asks, entirely unsure of herself and the answer. She probably feels as though she's been tossed to the wolves.

I pause for just a moment as she worries to ramp up the pressure. The perceived pressure, anyway. Pressure makes gems, even false and very light pressure.

Eventually, I tell her, "Good. Do you see how such a philosophy could be used in everyday life?"

This time she doesn't flounder, it is in her essay, after all. "It can be used to prevent conflicts because most are caused by somepony losing their temper."

I don't care for the 'pony' they use in their colloquial speech, but it is an acceptable answer. I drill her with a few more questions for a few minutes, getting a feel for her knowledge and understanding. She's definitely advanced for her age, most of her classmates couldn't use a third of the vocabulary she exhibits. However, she shows the lack of true understanding that comes with being a child. If she had experience with consciously controlling your emotions, then she might be able to have a more thorough understanding of the topic. But, she has a factual understanding of stoicism, if not an experiential understanding.

I ask her some simple questions, mostly. Who were the Stoics? Where were they from? Why has the school largely died out? etc, etc. She knows the answers, she faithfully provides them. I ask her how, in what manner an individual might attempt to control their emotions, and she flounders slightly. Takes a guess. It's clear to see that, though she can see the what and the why, she can't see the how. That's acceptable. Better than most. I'll tell her the how later. Too much knowledge into one mind at a time is like pouring water into a cup without giving it the chance to evaporate; it overflows and the water, the knowledge, is lost.

We wax philosophic on the writings of a few of the more famous Stoics and I have to stop myself and remember that she's a child. She is dreadfully knowledgeable, but she lacks context. Many things are defined by the context, so I will have to correct her understanding. It's all well and good to know that the Social Revolution of 1387 failed, but when placed in the context of the Great Exploratory Era and the colonization of the Spice Islands, one can better understand the reasoning behind the Revolution and brutal economy they suffered under. Twilight has never experienced working conditions of any variety, so she cannot comprehend the minds of the Revolutionaries, and she has not commanded a company worth many billions of today's bits, so she cannot comprehend the minds of the Trading Company Executives.

Eventually, it becomes far too late for a young girl like her to be awake. Actually, it would have been too late hours ago. So I have to wrap this up. So now I have to relay the meaning she should take from this whole meeting.

When I first trained the first generation of Root Agents, I left them with a parting teaching every lesson to ponder until the next session. The first few generations got to keep their emotions, as they would become the trainers of the subsequent generations. I had to indoctrinate them to my way of thinking before they could do the same and, over time, the training became more extreme until it was emotionless tools training more emotionless tools. Brutal, but necessary, and effective. In Equestria, my methods will have to remain similar to these first generations and the special cases, and maybe a little lighter. The special cases being those individuals too highly placed in society to be robots, but far too skillful to be left unused. An un-utilized asset or an underutilized asset is a terrible miscalculation. One doesn't use a scalpel to kill a fly and neither does one allow their scalpels to rust.

She yawned, another reminder of the late hour, I look her in the eye again, but this time I gently massaged her mind to be more susceptible to whatever it is told. An excellent training tool. It couldn't be used to order her to assassinate Celestia, a different technique could, but this one will make sure that it repeats in her heads for a few hours. It works during dreams, and will last until sometime past noon tomorrow. She will not notice, though she will be rather absentminded for the duration.

I gather my chakra, my inner physical and spiritual energy, for the technique. Chakra is what powers the techniques of my people. However, ponies don't use their chakra, but I have successfully unlocked it in all of my children for their use. I will do it for Twilight when the time comes. Such a secret will have to wait a bit, I should wean her off Celestia's teats first. Hmm... that analogy doesn't work very well now that I am a pony. It makes their relationship more like a mother/daughter relationship rather than the teacher/blind student comparison I was going for. I'll have to add that to the rather lengthy list of analogies that sadly don't work anymore. Previously, the listed was rounded off primarily by 'hands' and 'feet' references, as well as several referencing sexuality that ponies could not possibly comprehend. Besides, if Twilight is going to be anyone's blind student, it will be me, and I'll make sure to open her eyes to the truth before I die.

I lean in closer to her. She instinctively moves her head slightly closer as well, her sleep deprived state unconsciously following the lead of my body language. I open my eye wide, staring directly through her eyes and into her mind.

"Emotions must be controlled." I intone as her eyes lose focus. Unseen, my covered eye glowed.

I lean back as does she, though she stares wistfully into space. She doesn't question the teaching, it's in the technique, the compulsion, the 'spell' if I want to put it in language the ponies would most readily connect with, not to. I dismiss her for the evening, and I escort her to her room. She appears to stumble slightly, not quite in her own mind. A reaction not commonly seen in humans, though ponies are literally a different species entirely. It would be the height of foolishness to believe that all techniques will work the same on both species. It will likely pass soon. Thankfully, she retains enough motor skills so that I don't have to carry her. Absently, I wonder if she realizes that I never did read her essay, nor do I have plans to. Twilight meanders her way down the hall towards her room, and eventually reaches it. Her sudden bout of stumbling resolves itself quite quickly, and she makes good time. She doesn't quite notice my presence, moderately concerning. Perhaps my compulsion did a bit more than I thought... I have not used it on a pony before, I have not had to. Such is life.

I stalk off towards my own room, then pause, and switch direction. I head out the main entrance and through the empty streets of Canterlot instead, towards my home.

Tomorrow is Saturday. How nice. I have one day off a week, though the business of government never really stops, and that day is Saturday. Saturday typically revolves around properly training my Agents, as well as assorted social functions and the occasional mission. A large paycheck for a job that barely involves work and some benefits from the government are no excuse for not working a hard day's labor for a hard day's work. These very occasional missions usually involve someone's death. Someone always wants someone dead, and if you pay enough and I don't have a personal or professional stake in either party, the client's wish is my momentarily monetarily motivated recommendation.

Quite rare, however. I'm old. And well payed. There isn't much incentive for me beyond the occasional monetary reward and keeping my skills sharp. My first few years in this land offered opportunity for self-discovery. For instance, I discovered about myself that I am fully capable of surviving and even thriving in a foreign land, in a foreign body, with zero support. That's good to know, it's been some decades since I've fought and survived in the field, I've retained the skill quite well. Learning how to fight, kill, and sneak as a quadruped was an interesting challenge as well. Oh, the surprise on the clients' various faces when they watched the aged assassin walk into the meeting place. They would have no memory of my face, coloring, disabilities, or mark, of course. I did nothing to alter their memories, I just altered their perception of who I was. The Henge technique creates a temporary change in appearance, and is itself a very, very basic technique. The clients recall, oh what was it I disguised myself as? Old, certainly, I remember that adjective being used on numerous occasions... Hmm... I vaguely recall being a purely black coated stallion with piercing red eyes, bat wings, and a eerie green colored mane, and a coiled viper for a mark. Oh yes, I remember now, I saw the disguise in a comic book that a child was reading on a park bench, yes. I passed him on the way to the meeting and did not feel particularly creative that day. What was the name, Sneaking Shadow the Snake, or some such dribble? I do not care. It matters little, the alias is as dead as the various people the alias allegedly killed. Correction; ponies. 'The various ponies the alias allegedly killed'.

But that was all long ago. Nowadays, I rarely perform such tasks. My concern has shifted to other matters much more near and dear to my future plans and goals. Planning for death. Morbid, to be sure, but back home I never did have the time for it. It's rather amusing. I think I might leave Equestria, when I feel death coming too close for comfort. Go to some backwater nation and conquer it, just as one last hurrah.

My primary concern, as of now, is the future of the Foundation. My children, my Agents are the foundation of the Foundation. Twilight can very well be extremely useful, but she is not the end-all, be-all of my plans. You should never put all of your effort into one possibility. There are many, after all, some might say infinite.

But, I digress. Tomorrow, Twilight doesn't have school. This generally means that she doesn't have free range of the castle, the students aren't just allowed to return to their families over the weekend, they're kicked out. In fact, most go right home after their classes, but not Twilight. She is the special protege of Princess Celestia, she'll be in the library when she wants to be. She usually visits her parents, conveniently located on a major thoroughfare just three streets over from my house, but retires to the library when she can before going back to her home for sleep. I know. I've had her watched.

Logically, a school-aged child would avoid the library at all costs when out of school but Twilight has continually gone there for her weekend breaks. She will be there and so will I, pending her absorption of my compulsion. Proper scheduling is important, it inspires regularity and discipline in the student, as well as a sense of familiarity. And, it's beneficial to test the initiative and thinking skills of students when that schedule is interrupted. Everything can be a lesson. My own teacher taught me that.

Eventually, I decide that the long walk home in the midnight hours is boring. So, I gently unfold my wings and fly home.