Daring Do and the Shroud of the First King

The central metro station beneath the regal and elderly city of Emilial bustled with activity as the delicately-crafted clock which hung from the vaulted ceiling struck nine. A metro train slowed to a halt with a low humming and screeching of wheels as the brakes stopped the vehicle completely. Amid the chaos, a single pony stepped out of the train. Clad in a scruffy old overcoat, shirt and battered bow-tie, Desert Dust had arrived. Trotting unassumingly along, she exited the station and stepped out onto the murky, mist-laden streets above. As she continued through town, she reflected on the events which had set her off on a journey here.

'It was most generous of you to make donations for the Institute’s upkeep, but tell me.. What's the catch?' Scrollwing raised a wrinkled old eyebrow. Sitting across the desk from him was a smartly-dressed mare, with a bewitching smile and eyes that seemed to glimmer like stars.

'As I’ve told you, all I want is to have an expedition funded for the Shroud’s retrieval.' She stated bluntly. Daring Do, who had been sitting with a silent scrutiny about her in the corner, now piped up.

'The Shroud of the First King is an old pony’s tale. It doesn’t exist.' The mare only smiled.

'It exists, trust me.' She handed over a report. On the top, her name was visible alongside the researchers whom had provided the information. Mrs Iris simply sat back, hooves tapping together on the table as she watched Daring’s expression change, with some marked amusement. 'Are you convinced, Miss Do?' Daring looked the document up and down. The report, written as a brief notation, went as follows:

'The Shroud of the First King has been known to many as a myth for years, but we may have found some evidence as to the Shroud’s existence. On a routine archaeological dig in a region East of Trottingham, we uncovered an ancient crypt belonging to a noble family who had lived in a house on that spot many years ago. In the crypt was a coffin, wherein we uncovered not only a well-preserved skeleton, but also a scrawled note on a wax tablet pertaining to some connection between Emilial and the Shroud. Something to do with trade routes and a historic conspiracy for the assassination of King Nanewulf in the Second Era. More information will be sent as it is received.’

Daring looked up from the report with obvious scrutiny. The mare simply looked back with an earnest, cold glare. The adventurer shook her head, sighing.

'I just don’t have time for this sort of thing. I’m in the middle of an excavation at Longtail Creek, and that’ll take months to finish up.' At this, Scrollwing looked over at Daring with disdain.

'Miss Do, the Institute is struggling in its funding at the present time. An expedition like this could secure our financial future for a long time yet. I urge you to reconsider.' He pleaded. Daring sat back in her chair, scratching at her chin for a moment. Then it came to her.

'I know someone who might be interested in your proposal.' Daring smirked. Ten minutes passed, and Dust entered the office, her mane beraggled from work and her bowtie quite lopsided. She sat beside her mother, and looked shyly at Mrs Ira. The mare smiled back.

'So.. What did you bring me in for, mother?' She asked, turning to look at Daring.

'Mrs Iris here has a proposition, and we were wondering if you’d take her up on it.' In the corner of the room, Mr Scrollwing smiled warmly at the turn of events. The report was passed over, and upon Dust’s scanning over it and her verification of the facts of the matter, she made a final decision. She gave a curt nod and a smile.

'I’ll do it.' At once, Scrollwing and Mrs Iris smiled in unison.

'Oh, Celestia bless you, Miss Dust.' He uttered. 'Finally, a new source of income for the Institute will be in place.' As Scrollwing celebrated in his own quiet little dance of sorts, Mrs Iris smirked and held out a hoof, which Dust took tentatively.

'It’s a pleasure to have you on the case, Miss Desert Dust.'

A week followed, in which the necessary data was gathered together and Dust packed her saddlebags, ready to be off to the city of Emilial. Emilial was an ancient city, lived in and built upon for centuries since its construction in the First Era, a period of simplistic living and feudal conquest which was overcome by an age of renaissance and scientific discovery in the Second Era. Since then, the city had become most well-known for its vast amount of libraries and colleges, not to mention its own world-famous Hoofstrike University, a building central to the city which was erected by King Nanewulf (Then the ruler of the city for a number of years). Still a capital city of culture and learning, Dust found herself looking forward to her stay in the city, wherein she would be authorised to utilise a spare study in Hoofstrike University itself as a living space. Taking the train, she settled down on her long ride into the heart of the old city.

Pulling herself back to the present, Dust continued onward down the murky street, trudging along as a light rain began to fall over the city. High, gothic facades loomed over her from either side of the street, ancient libraries intertwining with rustic housing and the occasional relatively-modern shop front. Out of the fog before her, out of the high curling mists, came the dark silouhette of the University at the centre of it all. The huge, round tower at its highest point tapered into a sharp spire, and further down, the building extended out into a mass of smaller buildings, each painstakingly and ornately constructed of ancient marble and granite-like stone, with stained glass windows and ironwork which swirled about the exterior of the facades. Dust, looking upon this crouched, beautiful shambles of a University, could do nothing but smile inwardly as she trotted up to its main entrance and proceeded inside. After signing in at the lobby, she was directed up to the study which would become her home. Located on a lower floor of that high tower she had seen on the way in, she made herself at home in the wide-open study area, placing research materials haphazardly across tables and chairs, and lashing her saddlebags into the corner by the door before throwing off her clothes and retiring to bed after the long journey there. The last thing she saw from her bed before closing her eyes was the moon, shining in through the opaque glass doors which led onto the stone balcony beyond. The moon rose silently over the ancient domes and spires of the city, and Dust fell into the warm embrace of sleep.

The next day, work began. Dust rose from her bed in the morning, pulling on a fresh outfit and tossing her old clothes into a pile to be washed. She pored over the material she’d been provided with, and determined her course of action. The research notes she’d been given specifically referenced Emilial’s history, along with a solid link between the assassination of King Nanewulf. Also enclosed in her notes was a copied print of the wax tablet which had been found in Trottingham. The tablet spoke of the Shroud, and how it had somehow been passed along through many families of wandering mercenaries, warlords, simple bandits and finally, a sheik who had bestowed it on King Nanewulf as a gift to show good faith during a time of war. Upon returning to Emilial to reside in the University once more and to plan his next move in the wartime, he was assassinated suddenly. The killer had been rumoured to be a sellsword who was under the employ of the Seabound – A sea-faring Traveller culture of sorts who sailed across Equestria, reclaiming what was supposedly theirs by right. But other than that, the Seabound lived peacefully out in the open ocean and rarely made contact with the ‘Landkind’, as they called outsiders. But soon after the claiming of the Shroud, the Seabound had disappeared completely from the oceans of Equestria forever. There were no traces of any Seabound ships; their longboats, galleys, rafts, junks and even the Barka (The flagship in which the King of the Seabound commanded the ruling families) had apparently gone off the map. Thus, there was no chance of retrieving the Shroud at that time. But the tablet spoke also of the previously unknown details of the assassin’s methods in the planning-out of the regicide. Although small, there was a footnote of sorts at the bottom of the tablet which pertained to a hidden chamber connected to the sewer system under the University through which the assassin had entered, and then exited with the Shroud via the sewers.