Prologue

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Juniper,

I've gone searching for the colts, they've been out playing at Peak's Grove for a while now and forgot to come in for supper. We'll be back in time for the Celebration; your dinner is in the stove waiting for you. Much love.

Star

MISSING FOALS

WISPER WIND
Pegasus Filly with Pearl White Mane, Royal Purple Coat, and Grey Eyes; In addition to Full Name, Answers to Wisper, Wisp, or Windy

TRIPLE SPARKS
Earth Colt with Dark Brown Mane, Beige Coat, and Green Eyes; In addition to Full Name, Answers to Trip, Spark, and Sparky

LAST SEEN ON THE DAY OF THE SUMMER SUN CELEBRATION
Era VI, Year 1, Day 30 of Solarflare

CONTACT THE ROYAL GUARD STATION IN TROTTERDAM IMMEDIATELY IF FOUND OR IF INFORMATION TO THEIR WHEREABOUTS MAY BE PROVIDED

Posted Era VI, Year 1, Day 3 of Sun's Fire

Interview Transcript
Location: RG Station 11, Detrot, Ungula Province, Equestria
Interviewer: Cpl. Sunrise Storm
Interviewee: Adeben, Suspected Zebra in Disappearance of Twin Fillies, Lunar Flower and Amethyst Rose
Date: Era VI, Year 1, Day 25 of Sun's Fire

[Cpl. Storm walks into room, shuts door behind him and walks to stand across the table from Adeben; suspect is sitting in a metal chair, cuffed to a metal table]

Cpl. Storm: I've had it with your stoic bullshit, Adeben. We know you had something to do with all this- there's plenty of evidence to convict you and hall your ass off to the Shadow Lands and leave you to rot in your own feces and piss. But nothing we found helps us find where you took them. We've searched every conceivable nook, every cranny- all of your usual spots and the unusual we uncovered in your home. But, despite finding how . . . depraved you are, there still hasn't been and sign of the fillies. And yet-

Adeben: You seem to still think that 'am the one responsible for all the heartbreak and trouble caused by those fillies vanishing. But a've already told you: 'am not the one needing to be questioned, your subordinate Blitz is one the one needed in this chair. He framed me and you know it- you simply refuse to accept that fact!

[Cpl. Storm stomps over to the suspect and grabs his head]

Cpl. Storm: My partner has been the epitome of honor and valor since the first day I met him, you two bit son-of-a-bitch, and you poor excuse for a diversionary ploy is laughable at best. So, let me ask you one more time . . .

[Cpl. Storm slams the suspect's head against the table; picks it back up]

Cpl. Storm: What!

[Cpl. Storm repeats his previous action]

Cpl. Storm: Have!

[Cpl. Storm repeats his previous action once more]

Cpl. Storm: You!

[Cpl. Storm moves to repeat his previous actions; the door to the interrogation room is kicked open and others of the Royal Guard swarm in and take hold of Cpl. Storm. Cpl. Storm attempts resistance, but is overpowered and hauled from the room; the suspect's muzzle is slightly bloodied and bruised, but does not show any other signs of injury; suspect is treated by Royal Guard.]

Journal Entry 383

Era VI, 1st Century, Year 1, Day 27 of Sun's Fire
PFC. Shimmering Dance
Station 7, City of Hoofington, N. Province, Equestria

Three weeks. Three weeks we've been at this and there hasn't been any signs of the missing foals. No belongings, no prints of any kind, no bodies, not even a trace of their life essence. At least, that's what the unicorns say. I think that's what's driving them all up a wall and down into the nearby river. No matter how many times they comb the endless amounts of magical strings or lines or whatever the irritating mages call "the veins of the Realm" (I can't ever remember) they come back with the same depressing conclusion.

A few are obsessed with tapping into the magics around the city to try and find the little ones, especially Wild Strikes. The doc hasn't slept in four days, never budging from his spot on the roof most of that time, and none of us can get him to crack on telling us why. Sarg' had to threaten court-marshal for insubordination this morning after Strikes refused orders to get off the damn place. He's still awake though, doing the same thing in his tent; apparently the threat of putting himself into a coma isn't enough to stop him.

Personally, while I feel like I partially understand his need, I'm utterly dead and drained from all of this running around. I know its an atrocity that they're missing and I feel for the families, I really do, but when a thousand pony Guard battalion and the civilian population can't find hide or hair of them? It doesn't exactly do wonders to my moral or anybody else's. Besides, all this emphasis on magic is giving me the jitters, and father always taught me to listen to that feeling. Religiously. Saved him a time or two and I don't see why I should break that streak of survival.

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The archivist sighed as she rubbed her fatigued eyes, blinking furiously in an attempt to get some moisture back to them. The mare had been sifting through file after file for an absurd amount of hours now, doing her part in trying to gather together and record the necessary documents going into deep storage. Needless to say, it was quite the tedious, energy sucking assignment and was beginning to grate on her brain's capacity for both words and coffee.

Looking up from her desk, she saw most of her fellows beginning to pack up for the day and head home for some much needed sleep; the clock on the wall already read 6:35 a.m. and damn if they couldn't get out of here fast enough. The mare laughed quietly to herself, resolving to finishing logging away the papers in-front of her exhausted eyes before dragging herself home. Stretching her sore neck, the mare bent back over her work, recording every needed detail from the journal entry.

It was almost odd, to be looking at an entry so relatively new compared to what she normally logged for deep storage. Transcripts from two hundred year old meetings, original copies of laws dating a few centuries before the meetings, and other relatively mundane records were her normal crop to file. Sometimes she could just sit down and cry, wondering why she had kept this job for so long.

Then her thoughts would go back to those special days, though, the days when she filed the personal writings from ones who could have penned epics. Entries from times and lives gone by, when Civil War between the Royals split the land in two and shattered the once mighty Equestrian Empire's hold on the world. Ah, yes, those were the days she so looked forward to, pouring over the treasure trove of history that any common historian would give their right foreleg to read.

Alas, much to her dismay, those days only ever came once every few decades, and she had just had one last week.

The old mare sighed, the lines one her muzzle deepening just a little more, and the bags under her eyes feeling just a smidgen heavier. What a long life she had lived, unlike the young fellow from the journal entry layed before her. The mare's gaze fixated on the note another archivist had made when first receiving the original journal in whole. Apparently, the poor stallion had met his end up on the mountains of the northern border, in a skirmish with the Crystal Empire some years ago.

The mare sat in her chair for a moment or two, seeming lost in contemplative thought before she shook her head and finished her logging. Sufficiently done for the morning, she moved to gather her belongings when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning about, she found one of younger interns, a pretty little pegasus mare straight out of university named Silver Dust, nervously moving her hooves about and glancing between the old mare's face and everywhere else.

"Why, good morning Ms. Dust, is there something you needed? Maybe the rest of the coffee I left brewing on the pot? It's all yours if you're staying a might longer than the rest of us."

Silver Dust blushed slightly, replying quickly, "N-no, no, thank you very much though ma'am, that's kind of you. I was actually just wondering if you could help me out with . . . ah . . . the . . . filing system."

"I'm sorry dear, repeat that for me?"

The young mare turned redder and stammered over herself for a few seconds before exclaiming, "Oh, I can't remember where the different files go! And we've been up all night and I just want to go to sleep, but I need to make a good impression because I don't have any money and rents due next week and my boyfriend wants me to move in with him, but I don't know if I'm ready for that kind of commitment, and he owns dogs, but I hate dogs and he loves them, but I still love him because not loving him because of animal preference is stupid and and and and ugh!!!"

The old mare couldn't help, but laugh at the frustration of the, only moments ago, timid mare. Young people certainly enjoyed getting to the point. Putting her front leg around Silver's neck, the old mare began leading her back towards the shelves of this underground place.

"Ha! Oh, come now child, no need to be ashamed of such a question- I've been head of the Archives for forty-five years and I spent twenty-five of those remembering where all the literal tons of parchment go in this place. And as for the rest of your spiel, why don't you come back to my home after we put these away and I can make you some hot tea and we can both pass out from exhaustion and just forget about life for a while. That sound good to you?"

Silver Dust took in a long breath, holding it for a moment before letting it out slowly, smiling gratefully as she did.

"Thank you ma'am, I would really appreciate that."

The old mare smiled, and stopped to look where they were; they had made it to the middle shelves of the regular archives. More than a few rows past them was the vault to deep storage. None were around.

"Good because it's high time we both earned some relaxation, eh? Now then, where are you needing the files? I assume you left them over at your desk?"

"Oh! The files. Right. Heh, I'll just be right back and then we can be on our way!"

The old mare smiled as Silver Dust turned away, only to turn back with a puzzled expression.

"Uh, ma'am, I actually just remembered why I came over in the first place- I was going to let you know . . . you have something right . . . here."

The old mare froze as Silver tapped her between the eyes and then, in rapid succession, in the center of her chest and pressure points of the neck, saying, "The Lunar winds call to you, Mother Memory; awaken, that you may fulfill your Oath."

Silver Dust was met with silence as the old mare in front of her swayed for but a moment before she bowed upon her forelegs, the tip of her horn touching the floor, and asked, "What would the Princess have of me, yunkiin?"

Silver bristled slightly at the title, but let it slide over her as she commanded, "Burn the files you and the others were handling this morning and all last night. Not a single document is to be left; her majesty, Vulonro Rel, felt it prudent to dispose of everything pertaining to the event. If more than those files are burned or even the entirety of the archives go as collateral damage to cover your tracks, so be it. Now move."

The old mare rose from her kneeling position and nodded once, turning around to head back through the rows of seemingly endless shelves. Silver Dust watched after for a few seconds before walking after her. By the time she had made it back to her desk, the last pony was heading up the flight of stairs to the pulley-system that'd take him to the ground floor of the administration building above.

Taking one last look, Silver Dust gathered what few belongings she had, as well as a few choice documents, and headed for the pulley-system. Behind her, she heard the old mare shifting different filing binders, boxes, and loose pieces of parchment on and around her desk; as Silver Dust made it to the stairs, she glanced back to find the old mare sparking a flame from her horn.

She thought to call after the old mare, but only stood still and shook her head, walking the rest of the way to the pulley-system and getting in, pulling the lever to take her to the surface.

Below, at her desk, the old mare stood and blankly stared at the fire quickly spreading along the parchment and wood. Letting her gaze wander, she noticed the nearby wall calendar hadn't been changed from last night. Absentmindedly, she moved over to correct that; today was Era VI, 1st Century, Year 17, Day 10 of Rain's End. The old mare looked at the clock on the wall; it was 6:55 a.m.

By 8:15 a.m. on the dot, the entirety of the underground cavern was in roaring flames, except for the deep storage vault.

What a pity the Princess wanted so much history wasted, thought the old mare as she burned.

Author's Note

RG: Royal Guard