The Darkness of Equestria

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.