Chronicles of Equestria II: The Magician, the Toy Maker and the Past

‘Come on now Ditzy, I promise, it’ll be fun!’ said the gray pegasus mare’s brother, as they were sitting on a bench under the first snow clouds of the year with two weeks worth of baggages for a family, waiting for the train which would take her brother - Written Script - to Canterlot for the Hearth’s Warming Eve pageant. Scrip - as almost everybody called the unicorn - was trying to convince her younger sister to attend the aforementioned event, but she wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about the idea.

In all honesty, Derpy would have loved to go, but only to see her brother perform on stage in the show, however small the role was. The crowd of the city, all the busy and important ponies walking around, the sheer class of Canterlot frightened her. She wasn’t afraid to admit it to herself that she was just too small and clumsy and overall less to go to a place like that. Maybe she’d make a mess of things, or get her brother into trouble or something. And even if not, she was still just Derpy. She wasn’t meant to be with big town folk. She wasn’t afraid to any of this to herself, but her brother? If she’d tell him she feels like this, he’d think that it’s his fault somehow. That she’s not good enough because of him. He always was so nice, trying to tell her that she’s fine, that there’s nothing wrong with her, but Derpy knew there was something wrong. No, her brother was too nice and caring for her to push that sort of feeling onto.

‘I really shouldn’t skip out on work.’ Derpy tried.

‘Ah, but I told you Ditzy! I talked with Mr. Zippy and he said he won’t mind you taking a bit of time off!’

‘But-’

‘He also said that he’s glad that you’re finally taking a bit of time off! You’re working too much! He said you’re the only one on the team who didn’t take a single day off in the past two years Dinky! It’s time for you to relax a little.’ Scrip smiled at his sister and hugged her with one hoof.

‘I am relaxed.’ Derpy huffed under her breath, though it wasn’t exactly true. ‘Mr. Zippy might say he’s okay with me going away bu-but... It’s the holiday season! We’re going to have a lot of packages. I can’t let them do all the work.’

‘Hmph.’ Scrip chuckled lightly. ‘You know, this is what mom always meant when she told you that “It’s always the best of us who never are quite good enough.”’ after that, they both went quiet for a little while.

Derpy remembered when her mom used to say that after she got home sad and hanging her head from school if she caused her team to lose a game or another. Her mom would always smile down on her, hold her close and tell her that it’s nothing to feel bad about. That the game isn’t about being the best, but about trying to be. Her dad was always a bit more ‘to the point’, harsh and misspoken though he meant well. He’d say that it’s not her fault that she can’t focus on the ball or the target or whatever she needed to focus on. “Your eyes just aren’t made for that.’ he’d say, to which her mom would always give him a scornful look and say that there is nothing wrong with her eyes, that they’re beautiful the way they are, even if they’re different. Even then - though Derpy was grateful for them - those words didn’t serve much to convince her, possibly because right at the moment she was told her eyes were fine, they were usually pointing in two different directions.

Her mom didn’t lie of course, according to the doctors, the problem really wasn’t with her eyes - she never did lose sight in either of them after all. Instead, they said that her eyes just seem to be different, like they were meant to be the eyes of a pigeon or another big beaked bird which can move its eyes separately; only, she can’t control them properly. But those were basically the same things, and all that made the difference was that this way, she was called bird names. Even her cutie mark seemed like the universe just took a pity on her. One day, in school, she was just sitting around alone during recess, watching the other foals play wondering about what each of them will be like in the future and what they were like now, and how she could be more like them. The next thing she knew, somepony pointed at her and called out to everypony else that “Polly just got her cutie mark!” - “Polly” being one of her many nicknames before most her classmates settled on “Derpy” and it stuck. They’d all gather around, some making jokes about how her special talent is just sitting around, but nopony really knew what those bubbles meant. To this day, she wasn’t sure why she got her mark, but she knew it couldn’t have been anything special if she got it while sitting around. Of course, her mom never would stop trying to feel better about it and her other shortcomings, trying to make her feel like she was perfect the way she was, neither would her dad, though he wasn’t as good at it.

Derpy still remembered when seven years ago her mom passed away from sickness. Before dying, she’d still just go on and on about how Derpy shouldn’t think so little of herself, that she’s more wonderful than she could believe. She knew though. She knew that her mom - as insistent and as kind and caring she was -... Her mom was wrong. Crying for hours in the bathroom after her passing, she realized that though maybe her mom was right in saying that being clumsy- or her eyes being different isn’t her fault, but it was Derpy’s fault that her mom felt so bad for her, that her mom paid more mind to making her think she’s good the way she is, than anything else, even fighting her sickness. Derpy knew her mom would have died then even if she wasn’t worried about her, but maybe she would have died happier if Derpy wasn’t so sad all the time, if she didn’t come home after every time she was made fun of with a frown on her face. Maybe her mom would have been off better if she doesn’t have to worry about her. And it wasn’t just her mom, her teacher, her dad, the few foals who were something close to a friend to her, none of them deserved to have to feel bad for her because she’s the way she is. From that day on, she stopped crying and she stopped frowning. When she was with others, she’d always smile at them and make sure they think she’s happy. She laughed along with everypony who made fun of her, though every such laugh felt like slapping herself in the face. If she did something wrong, she’d excuse herself, maybe put on a little clumsy smile and let everypony think she doesn’t mind being made fun of for it. After a while, it became part of her nature. It was after this that she tipped over a box of supplies in school. She’d just say “whoops” and give an apologetic smile to the teacher while the class laughed. Somepony would bump up after her little “whoops” and shout “derp”. Before long after that, she finally had her name, and was stuck with it ever since.

There was really just one pony she didn’t fake for, and that was Written Script. Even now, as her eyes started draining tears from the memories, he wiped her eyes carefully with his hooves and held her close. She would have liked to fake to him too, but she learned long ago that her brother sees through her like if she was made of glass. Part of her wished he didn’t, she wished she didn’t have to make him feel like he was somehow responsible for making her feel better, but he did see through her. Another part of her was more than glad though. She was desperate for- but unable of being open and her brother was there to bridge that with supporting hoof, always. He never complained about her being the way she was, he never tried to make her change, he was just always there for her when she needed him. Well, almost always. Deep down, Derpy always believed he did it because he felt that he had to after their mother passing, since though their dad never did grow particularly cold after she died, he did grow very quiet, and Scrip probably thought that somepony needs to look out for his sister and as much as she regretted making his brother live like their mom did, it did make her feel better.

Sitting there, with her head on his brother’s shoulder, she could feel as he looked up at the large, melancholily ticking deep voiced clock which was hung on the nearby train station building.

‘It’s half past eight.’ he noted, petting his sister’s head with his own. ‘Goldy will be here with Amy and Sparky any minute now. The train too will be coming in around ten minutes. Do you think there’s at all a way for me to convince you to come?’ he asked. ‘You know that I already bought the ticket, and Goldy wouldn’t mind to share anything you could need.’

‘I’d like to... But...’

‘Ditzy, if you really want to stay here in Ponyville alone for the next two weeks, then I’ll stand by your decision, but I’d be really happy if you’d come. I could show you a lot of nice places we found with Goldy on our honeymoon.’

Derpy was torn on the whole thing and she knew that her brother didn’t even mention the fact that Dinky - or “Sparky” as the proud father called her since her first attempts at magic - probably would want her there. Derpy appreciated that he wouldn’t try to guilt trip her into coming, but that didn’t stop her from doing it to herself.

Sure enough, after another short bit of silence, the sound of hoof clopping hit their ears and looking up, Derpy recognized the silhouettes of a sleepy Golden Harvest - Scrip’s wife - and their two kids’ - Dinky, who was laying on her mother’s back, tired from a long day, and Amethyst Star their first daughter who was only five years younger than Derpy herself.

Practically as a reflex, Derpy wiped her face of tears and put on a smile.

‘Hello Scrip.’ the tired mother greeted her husband.

‘Hello darling.’ that replied.

‘Hey dad.’ came from Amy.

‘Hmmph phhh.’ came from inside Golden Harvest’s mane, presumably where Dinky’s head was supposed to be.

‘Hey Dinky!’ Derpy greeted the filly in a merry tune, genuinely happy to see her favourite niece.

‘Derpy!’ the filly shouted, her head flying out of her mother’s mane instantly. She tried to get off the back of her mom, but was obviously tired and slipped, right into one of the first piles of snow this season.

‘Careful dear.’ Golden Harvest yawned and with the help of Derpy who quickly galloped to them, put the sleepy filly back on her back. ‘So,’ she started and turned to Derpy with a tired but happy smile. ‘Will you be?’

Derpy took a look at the snoozing filly on the mare’s back and the nodded. She couldn’t bare the thought of two weeks without seeing her.

‘Great.’ Amethyst noted a bit crankily. She never liked Derpy very much. Amy also didn’t hate the pegasus, but she had a strong sense of disliking towards the clumsy mare. Derpy didn’t blame her for it though. As already stated, Amethyst was only five years younger than Derpy, and with Scrip constantly looking out for his little sister, Amy always lived sort of like she actually was a little sister to Derpy. When Amy was six, and her grandmother died, Scrip spent even more time with her aunt and less time with her, and when that changed again, Dinky was born and most of Scrip’s attention refocused once more on the new filly in the family. Amy never did blame Dinky for the lack of attention she had later, though some things were handed down to the small filly, including Amy’s old foal’s room which she traded for what used to be the guest room, and even her nickname, since she used to have the nickname “Sparkler” at home, until Dinky started experimenting with magic. Even knowing this, Derpy didn’t believe Amy held any of it against her, or at least: She hoped she didn’t. But still, the air between the two of them was rather sour.

‘Yes.’ Golden Harvest emphasised, giving her older daughter a slightly stern look. ‘It is great that your aunt is coming with us. Did you tell her about the place we reserved our rooms at?’ she continued turning to her husband.

‘Hm? Oh yes! I can’t believe I forgot to tell you Ditzy!’ Scrip suddenly lit up at the thought. ‘I think you’ll like it there, it’s a very old little rustic tavern. They say it was there even before Nightmare Moon, but I wouldn’t put much belief in that though. I was just talking with Miss Sparkle about the play since she’s also in it - ahem,’ he paused. ‘In a slightly bigger role than me - and she recommended this place. It’s called “The Feed Bag” back in a corner of Old Canterlot. None of the usual high brow Canterlot sublimity, if you can even believe that. A couple of letters later and we’ve got three rooms checked in for the next two weeks.’

‘Do we at least get two beds with Dinky?’ asked Amy, not because she didn’t like her sister - she did - but rather because like many at her age, she liked her privacy more.

‘Yes, but actually, we thought you could get your own room, if your aunt doesn’t mind staying with your little sister that is.’

‘I’d love to!’ Derpy said happily, and even Dinky added some noises of enthusiasm, her head once more gone in the orange jungle which was her mother’s mane.

‘It’s settled then!’ sealed it Scrip.

In a few more minutes, the train pulled into the station and soon the family was on it’s way to Canterlot. Though Derpy still didn’t feel too comfortable about going to Canterlot, she was happy that she’ll get to spend the next two weeks with Dinky, who was now sleeping between her mom and her aunt on the long, wall side bench of the train carriage. Looking up from the filly, Derpy exchanged a smile with Golden Harvest then laid her head down to rest during the scenic one hour train ride up to the mountain city.

The glowing wonder of Canterlot was bewildering and intimidating at the same time. Even at the late hour they arrived and with barely any snow, the walls of the townhouses were gleaming with white light from all the magical lamps littering the streets in a fancy and orderly way. The streets weren’t as frightening to get through, though that was probably accountable to most ponies being home at this hour and not out in the streets. In anycase, Derpy didn’t pay all that much attention to the city’s sights, she mostly just concentrated on trying to figure out the general layout of the part of town they were in. Scrip reassured them all that “The Feed Bag” is in walking distance of the train station. “Just down Loco Motion Avenue, across Caelum Square at the very end of Caelum Avenue, then through the gate of Old Canterlot’s wall and down left.”

Evidently, Scrip didn’t remember quite how big Canterlot was, since it took the tired family ten minutes just to make it to Caelum Square. Derpy was fine, she wasn’t particularly tired, but Golden Harvest and Dinky who was peacefully unaware of anything around her while quietly dreaming on her mother’s back. To help in, Derpy took it on herself to carry most of the packages on her back - which was rather easy with her wings keeping everything in place - Amethyst and Written Script levitated the rest.

As they passed through Caelum Square, Derpy could hear some beautiful melodies coming from a very large, very antique looking and very brightly lit building with large glass windows, which illuminated the entire plaza before it

‘That edifice is the Café du Soleil’ noted Scrip.

‘I remember when you took me here on the last day of our honeymoon.’ Golden Harvest noted dreamingly.

‘I can’t believe it!’ Scrip said excitedly. ‘I think that’s Clover Cover!’

Derpy followed his brother’s eye through the window to one of the tables right next to the large glass surface with a beige mare and a pale thistle stallion who seemed lost in each other. The stallion was saying something slowly, but it seemed it’s almost irrelevant to both of them as they wore a gentle smile and were looking into each other’s eyes. Derpy looked back away, feeling like she was intruding in their personal space despite the many feet of distance and the glass between her and them.

‘Do you really want to say hello to your friends dad?’ asked Amethyst Star, lowering the baggage she was carrying to the ground; her voice ringing with tiredness and slight frustration.

‘Hm? Oh no of course not!’ Scrip replied as he realized he was keeping them up. ‘Right this way!’ he continued, leading them off towards the large wall towering over the houses a few blocks down. ‘Miss Clover isn’t really my friend though. I wish!’ he chuckled. ‘She’s writing for the Equestrian! Also has a bunch of successful books out! Well, as successful you can get these days.’

Derpy wasn’t much for reading herself, though not because she didn’t like stories or even the presentation. It was simply difficult for her to read books with her eyes wandering off in different directions unless she concentrated. Post was simple, one or two lines of important information, where the package has to go. Simple. But books needed her to continually focus her uncooperative eyes on the same words for pages upon pages, and she just couldn’t do that while also enjoying the read. Her parents and later her brother sometimes gave her vinyl recordings of various ponies reading up books, but though she always thanked them, listening to those records just reminded her of her inability to read on her own. This of course mean that she rarely understood what anypony was talking about when they were discussing books, but since she didn’t really try to join any conversation unless she was asked to, this didn’t mean much of a problem. She may have been sort of illiterate this way, but she didn’t mind it too much. It was just another thing she had to live with, and she accepted that.

Finally arriving at the old tavern, they all were surprised, for different reasons. Amy and Golden Harvest from the looks of them were surprised because they probably didn’t expect Scrip’s description of the place as “rustic” to be correct right down to the slightly creaking wooden floor, the old, hoofcarved, sturdy tables, chairs and counter, as well as that unplaceable, somewhat relaxing smell that very old houses like this are practically filled with. Scrip himself was surprised by the tavern’s older, brown owner - who from the looks of it was chatting with three royal guards who just got off their shift and were eating dinner at a corner table. He was surprised because even before he could note that they’re there for the rooms, the brown stallion greeted him in a raspy but cheerful voice: “Ah! Mr. Script! Good to see you!” as if he knew him a long time and then even patted Derpy’s brother on the back, a... uniquely personal touch in a town like Canterlot. The just recently awoken Dinky was surprised both for having been dragged out of her dreams and because as she tried to state in her tired state of mind, she found the small tavern amazing.

The reason Derpy was surprised however, was somewhat similar: She was surprised that she actually liked this place very much. She thought her brother would just say that it was a nice place to comfort her, and he probably did only say it because of that, but there really was something about it.

There was a small entrance area with an old looking record player and a couple dozen records laying next to it, free for anypony to use as they feel like and a tall plant composed of virtually nothing but larger and larger leaves hanging down from higher and higher from a spine which was entirely covered up by them. After that small entrance, the tavern opened up to a room which would have been large for a home, but was just a bit on the small side for a tavern. It was riddled with tables in the middle and two rows of built-in benches with their own tables by the side walls. The tables seemed heavy and pale lines in the wood suggested they were sometimes moved around, especially to the benches at the walls, Derpy imagined that perhaps they had dances in the room on these occasions, though she couldn’t be sure. The bar table itself was cozily placed just to the right of the stairs by the left wall and ran to the right wall with the open balcony of the second floor above the bar. In the bar area, there were a couple sets of shelves with various bottles, but just as many old photographs, and even a bag which Derpy presumed to be the name giver of “The Feed Bag.” By the right wall of the tavern and just before the bar, there stood a wooden bust of a old looking stallion with a not-at-all wooden helmet on it that fit it like a glove, or, well in this case: helmet. Around the left wall, there were small windows with old fashioned wooden blinds on the outside, but also newer cloth ones hanging on the inside and across them, on the windowless right wall there were some portraits, pictures and even a large, ship’s wheel. The pegasus suspected that the latter was meant to belong belonged to an airship as opposed to the seafaring kind, given Canterlot’s position.

Derpy still didn’t feel quite comfortable being in Canterlot, or even this tavern, but there was just something very homey about the place that gave a it nice ‘smaller than life’ atmosphere.

The three bedrooms upstairs that they rented were more or less the same, and as Derpy could quickly see, it was rather obvious that this wasn’t a hotel with a surplus of various room types. There was only a total of four rooms in the tavern for rent to begin with, and all three of their rented rooms had two beds on opposing sides of the rooms, except for Scrip and Golden Harvest’s room where the owner seemed to already have pushed the two beds together. Aside from the beds each room came with a large drawer, a desk with a mirror attached to it, an old style room divider, two lamps on two end tables, a couple decorative objects and that was about it. The bathroom was on the end of the corridor and though the whole picture would have seemed a bit too simplistic for most ponies’ tastes, it still just added to the homely feeling of the place, and the rest of the tavern made up for the lack of other furniture.

Since it was already late, the five ponies didn’t bother much with pleasantries and just went to rest. Derpy helped her sister-in-law put Dinky to bed then after a “good night” bid farewell to Golden Harvest and rested down as well. Laying in bed, ready to sleep it somehow weighted on her heavier that she’s in Canterlot than it did before. Still, looking at her sleeping niece smile in her sleep, Derpy had to admit: Perhaps these two weeks will be good.

The next couple of days before the show, the family mostly just wandered around the city, looking up some of the more well known beauties of Canterlot. It became very clear that most of Canterlot’s citizens and even visitors had spent their time on the bright and shining Caelum Avenue which ran from the main city gates all the way to the doorstep of the Café du Soleil where it became the Caelum Square plaza. The avenue was riddled with countless fancy cafés. restaurants and even more so with theaters that all seemed to be playing their seemingly endless supply of musicals. The only other place that could be said to be remotely as busy as the Avenue, was the Royal Quarter which was now completely open to everypony due to the coming of the Hearth’s Warming Eve performance which - as tradition - would be held in the Royal Opera.

Though his part was small in the play, Scrip was expected to show up for an hour or two during each day before the performance for rehearsals of the scenes and costume fitting. He didn’t seem to mind that, after all, it’s not every year that somepony would win the lottery and get the chance to perform - even if just such a minor role - in the greatest production of the eve.

While he was gone, Derpy and Golden Harvest would usually take care of the fillies and wander around by themselves. Derpy didn’t much like the idea of going into crowded places, so she wasn’t very enthusiastic about the possibility that Golden Harvest would like to visit one of the big cafés or theaters. Luckily however, the earth mare didn’t plan on that, instead she mostly brought up places she and Scrip visited years ago when they were here. These places mostly included smaller art galleries and garden like parks, all of which seemed almost abandoned, most of the city being busy watching musicals and spending time in the popular plazas. Derpy didn’t much have a taste for either, but Dinky seemed to enjoy herself, and that was enough for the pegasus.

Nevertheless, Derpy was a bit out of her place in the city, and especially with Golden Harvest around. She liked her sister-in-law, but often felt unnecessary with her around. Because of this, often if Golden Harvest would go on to talk about some sights to her daughters, Derpy would just stay a bit back, not to disturb the family. In these moments, she usually had a bit of time to think.

Being in a large, fancy city like Canterlot was daunting to her, but it was still nothing compared to Manehatten where she and her brother grew up. The fancy two level apartment buildings and downtown villas of Canterlot had nothing on the highrise wonder that was Manehatten, though they had their similarities. Seeing the capital like this, it was clear that when they started building her hometown, the main idea was to remake Canterlot, except bigger and better; and though the latter’s success may have been up for question, it was definitely bigger. Caelum Avenue in particular was scary for her because it reminded her of its Manehatten recreation: Bard’s Way, the never sleeping, never resting, ever beating heart of the city with its countless entertainment venues and bright, spectacular lights, constantly announcing the newest shows for the floods of ponies filling the streets everyday.

Since she never liked being in crowds, she almost never visited that part of Manehatten, and in fact grew distant from the idea of watching the kind of theater shows Bard’s Way was famous for. Thinking about it, the only show she could remember attending was when her school organized a talent show. She didn’t perform, but she watched it. Most of the ponies performing didn’t have their cutie marks yet, and it showed, though others did very well and she recalled a foal or two in the dozens who actually got their cutie mark during the show, but she didn’t really remember much about it all. The only performance she could recall, was one she remembered because of the story being told. The filly performing used a story Derpy’s mom would always tell her, an old foals’ story about a unicorn witch who lifted a dangerous curse from a griffon prince. Most of the performance was blank in her memory, but she still remembered the lightshow that came with it, and the way the small unicorn filly performing used crude, but yet pretty light images she conjured to play the parts of the other characters - herself being the witch in the tale. The show ended in a large ovation from the crowd since it was probably the best performance of the evening, and Derpy wasn’t sure if that wasn’t in fact when the filly got her cutie mark. The pegasus wondered what could have become of that filly, probably she was off in some fancy town like Las Enif in San Palomino. It would be near impossible to find out now, she didn’t even remember what the filly looked like and probably a lot of unicorns had similar shows. The only thing she really remembered was that the filly’s stage name was “The Luminous Lulamoon”. Besides, she didn’t want to go to any crowded showhouse just for a few pretty lights.

Glancing at the various paintings in one of the galleries, Derpy saw many new pictures of big city streets, some of which depicted them with everypony smiling and merry. Derpy wished she could be one of those faces, only to realize that she was, even if only as a mask. What if she’s not alone like this? If others too just pretend like they’re happy, so to not disturb others? When this thought first crossed her mind, she instinctively turned to look at Dinky, who was laying on a bench in one of the small parks of Canterlot, staring at that puzzle egg she got from the new toymaker in Ponyville a few weeks ago, her horn glowing lightly. “No.” Derpy declared in herself, if it is up to her at all, Dinky’s going to grow up happy.

‘What did you see today?’ asked Scrip when the family reunited back at The Feed Bag on the afternoon of their third day in the city. They sat around one of the corner tables having a snack.

Dinky and Amethyst Star started to recount the historic statue garden they visited, Balcon Parc - which sat on the cliff side of Canterlot Mountain -, while their mother got a cup of tea from Umber Mug, the tavern’s owner. Golden Harvest was a fan of history and her throat was sore after the amount of it that she unleashed on her foals these past days.

‘A statue garden eh?’ Scrip replied in a mysterious tone. ‘Could this mean that you saw... Discord?’

‘Not the statue garden.’ noted Golden Harvest between sips of her tea, giving her husband a scornful look for implying that she’d show Discord to their foals after everything that’s happened just a few months ago.

‘Oh, I don’t think anypony’s going to see Discord for a long time.’ chipped in Umber Mug. ‘I hope I’m not intruding.’ he added a few moments later. The tavern was empty at the moment aside from them. Derpy noticed the past two days that it usually fills up at the same time each day, and it was early for that.

‘Um, not at all.’ Scrip said after a quick glance around their table. ‘What happened with Discord?’

‘Ah, well.’ Umber Mug started and sat down in an empty spot next to the table. They never really talked with the tavernkeep before, nor thought they would to begin with, but he seemed to take this sort of thing naturally, especially since he was always chatting with the other, returning guests. ‘It wasn’t much advertised, but after what happened, Discord was taken away to someplace deep under the palace. Me and one of the servants there are something along the lines of “old friends”. She’s a bit paranoid, and kept saying that when she and the staff were asked by the Princess to take “the new statue” down to a room they didn’t even know existed before, Celestia didn’t even seem stirred up, like she was almost expecting things to go the way they did.’ Dinky looked at the old stallion enthralled, but Amethyst Star and Golden Harvest were giving him doubtful looks and Scrip followed with an intrigued smile. ‘Personally, I think she’s just imagining things. And it was rather smart of the Princess to finally lock that thing away.’

‘I think she should have done it a long time ago.’ Golden Harvest nodded. ‘In fact, if she would have expected that Discord could get loose, she must’ve already done it.’

‘Yes, I told my friend that she was just a bit shaken up at the time, but she wouldn’t stop with it. She’d even tell that the whole time Celestia was instructed them, the Princess wouldn’t take her eyes off of a letter. “What could possibly be more important that Discord?” she’d ask. “It had this strange seal in the shape of the number eight! But it was swirling.” Poor mare was always like that, seeing things that weren’t there.’

‘So nopony can ever see Discord again?’ asked Dinky.

‘Well, not in the fle- Uh, stone? Not directly, I guess.’ Umber Mug replied. ‘But I’m sure there are a lot of copies of him in the work after all of this, and some of those big, beautiful mosaic windows of the palace show him. And actually, come to think of it, my cousin too had a slightly smaller scale clay copy of him in her historical clay museum right here in Canterlot. Though she made that herself, it wasn’t an actual... You know, um... Exhibit.’

‘But, if there are other statues of him, can’t he come back?’ asked Dinky.

‘Hahaha. No, that’s-’ started Umber Mug grinning at the thought but then his face went serious for a moment. ‘That’s not how it works. Is it? It is Discord, but even he- Ah no, can’t be. The Princess would already have collected those statues up if Discord could come back just like that.’

‘Still, just in case, where could we go to visit this museum of your cousin’s, so that we may possibly witness the awesome return of the king of chaos?’ Scrip asked in a playful tone, sneaking a glance at his wife who at first gave him another scornful, look but followed it with a lighter smile.

‘Yes, it could be nice to see something like that.’

‘I’m afraid it’s no longer here.’ Umber Mug noted in an apathetic tone. ‘Times have changed and most ponies around here don’t care that much about history anymore. Though, if you ever feel like traveling, she moved to Dodge City and sat the museum up there. Should be easy if you’re there, probably only museum of its kind there.’

‘Mmm. Sorry to hear that.’ Golden Harvest noted.

‘I guess that means...’ started Scrip, but stopped and just took a look around the tavern.

‘Oh, no.’ the tavern keeper shook his head. ‘This old place never was too popular. Except with the right kind of ponies. And as long as they’re here, so will the tavern. And when they’re gone... Well, there won’t be anything here either worth feeling bad about. The tavern is where its guests are.’ Umber Mug clopped on the old wooden floor, his eyes in another world entirely. ‘Ah, but the guards’ shift is almost over. If you excuse me, I have some meals to prepare!’

Scrip counted down the bits for their snacks and they headed out the door. They made down around the corner before their silence was broken, even Dinky was walking quietly in her thoughts, since her mother gave her back the strange little egg she’s been puzzling with whenever a ‘boring’ topic came around.

‘He was very friendly.’ Golden Harvest said, making the world “friendly” sound a tad uncomfortable.

‘Yes.’ Scrip nodded. ‘But for somepony from Canterlot, he was very interesting.’

‘A bit too much maybe.’ added Amethyst Star.

Derpy saw why the others would see the tavernkeep odd, but she didn’t feel that way. He was out of his place and out of his age here in Canterlot, but he didn’t make much of it and just did what he thought he should. She had to admire that.

‘I thought he was really nice.’ Derpy said. The others discounting Dinky looked at her a bit surprised, since she didn’t even take anypart in the conversation, and Scrip especially knew that she had a tendency of being uncomfortable with strangers. Instead of saying anything about it though, Scrip just agreed.

‘Yes, he was very nice.’ he said. ‘It’s probably just all this official and strict Canterlot air that makes him seem strange. Which reminds me!’ he trotted a few feets ahead of them then turned around and kept walking down the road backwards before them. ‘Something he said reminded me of something! Amy, Dinky! Did they ever told you in school what most of these illustrious buildings are built of? It’s pretty amazing, but nothing more and nothing less than clay! Well, enchanted clay, but still! Finest city in all of Equestria and every house is made of nothing finer than flowerpots, down to the very Palace!!’

Derpy’s mind dozed off a bit as her brother kept on talking about a very old poem about the construction of Canterlot. She herself wasn’t much into all that trivia, nor was good at remembering it, so instead she just proceeded to admire the architecture and street gardening while following their lead, as usual.

‘Are you excited?’ Golden Harvest asked of her daughters in the filled entrance hall of the Royal Opera. The first few days of their visit to Canterlot were over and the four of them discounting Scrip were waiting to get in. Derpy got a peek into the room where the grand stage was set up when one of the ponies working went through the gate, as she saw it to be nothing more than a large hall, she was wondering what the point of an entrance hall was to begin with, since said entrance hall was barely different, only having a bit of extra decor and an arrow pointing at a third hall across an arcway which read “checkroom”. The pegasus had a feeling that said third hall wasn’t the actual checkroom, since piling clothes in a big empty room would be just silly, instead probably there was just some desk nearby from where clerks took clothes to a fourth room and catalogued them. As she experienced, there was an awful lot of rooms in most of Canterlot’s buildings, and most of them didn’t serve to do more than provide a place for ponies to stand around in and wait for things that were their own business. In complete honesty, this sort of thing would have, or at least should have relaxed Derpy, after all, ponies just waiting and wondering on their business didn’t leave much of a chance for her to disturb anypony unless she walked up to them and talked, but she never planned on such things. Still, even though this should have made her feel more comfortable, even in all its fanciness - or perhaps because of it - the whole things had a rigid coldness to it.

Perhaps it was just too long since they’ve lived in Manehatten, but she got used to the way things worked in Ponyville. There, everypony did everything together, if somepony walked into a shop they were practically invited to join the current conversation that was more likely than not going on at the moment between everypony inside - at least in the more densely frequented shops. She’d stay out of these conversations if she could of course, but compared to the way things were here, that sort of spirit almost felt attractive to her. Here, it seemed like everypony existed in a bubble containing him or herself and perhaps a hoofful of others, and these bubbles stood apart from eachother making no note of the others, like they were actually alone in the hall and everypony else was just lively furniture.

‘Ditzy?’ came from Golden Harvest, taking the gray pegasus out of her thoughts. Derpy turned back towards her family.

‘Yes?’

‘If you don’t mind, me and the girls would like to send our good luck to Scrip, but I think they’re going to let us in any minute so I don’t want us to lose a good spot. Could you go backstage and just give him our best wishes?’

‘Um... I’m not sure that they’d let me back there.’ Derpy protested awkwardly.

‘That’s okay, if they don’t want to let you in, then we’ll just be here.’ After this, Golden Harvest and her daughters returned to whatever conversation they were having while Derpy was thinking earlier. All of a sudden, Derpy had a gripping feeling that she wasn’t sure she was part of their “bubble”, but she did her best to shoo the feeling away.

The pegasus really didn’t want to be the one pony in the crowd to walk up to the door on the other side of the hall that read “staff only” and just get sent away, but she wanted to say no to them even less, so she awkwardly made her way to the door. At the door a gray unicorn stallion stood in golden armour with some light blue velvet, as was customary. His eyes, the way looked and the sheer determination in every bit of his being was just as perfectly aligned with the traditions of the royal guard as his attire. As she approached, the guard gave her a quick, evaluating glance then proceeded to slowly scan the room, watching over the many guests riddling the hall, his expression not wavering for a moment, as if it his face was carved of stone.

Standing there a few steps from him, Derpy felt intimidated, though it didn’t manage to take her always present - if forced - smile away. She was always uneasy around ponies who beamed professionalism like this stallion, they reminded her of every good quality she didn’t have.

‘Excuse me.’ she started. ‘My brother is going to perform and I’d like to ta-’

‘I can’t allow any non-staff and non-performers beyond this point without supervision, ma’am.’ the guard said quickly and clearly, his eyes alone returning to Derpy for but a moment while saying this, then continuing their ongoing scan of the hall.

She wasn’t surprised that the stallion didn’t let him in, she was almost even glad that she didn’t have to go backstage where everypony was busy, but perhaps she gave up too easy. The others would be disappointed if she just gave up after a no, wouldn’t they? She hesitated for a bit to go back, wondering on what she could do.

Very soon, she heard the grand gate of the performance hall open and somepony announce that everypony can enter, but before she could return, a silver pushcart-table rolled out of the crowd with a light tan coated, black maned earth stallion behind it. The cart itself was packed with food and bottles of drinks. Derpy got out of the cart’s way while the stallion simply remarked to the unicorn guard “Catering.” to which that stood aside and opened the door. The tan coated pony pushed the cart through the door, however paused then and looked back at Derpy who was still standing two steps distance from the door, alone as such, since everypony else stayed far from the door, the caterer and the guard.

‘You want to get backstage?’ he asked.

‘Uh, my brother’s going to perform.’ she replied. ‘But-’

‘That’s pretty common.’ he nodded then turned to the guard and said: ‘I’ll take her.’

The guard didn’t say anything to accept the brief proposition, but neither did he oppose it. The caterer went on to push his cart further and the guard kept the door open. It didn’t seem like either of them was about to ask if she still wanted to go backstage, or that they’d even assume that she never did, but she felt like it wasn’t her place to argue so just hurried after the caterer, her wings clenched to her sides in awkwardness. She felt like the middle pony in a rigid protocol.

The caterer didn’t say a word just pushed his cart with hasty steps down the featureless, wooden corridor which first leaned downwards, then went on straight and upwards once more without any stairs. Factoring in the slight curves, Derpy’s spatial senses told her they went under the performance hall and back up again. There wasn’t all that much on this corridor, but a couple of large rolled up canvases that almost seemed discarded just laying to the sides, unorganized and chaotic in the underbelly of the elegant and proud royal opera. A side corridor they passed by seemed to have a lot more of them as well as other props in a larger room at its end, but Derpy didn’t take time to examine it all.

Reaching the end of their corridor once back on ground level, the caterer just pushed in a door with his cart, revealing the backstage, decorated for Hearth’s Warming Eve and filled with busy ponies, boxes of props and costumes as well as fancy dressers and mirrors. Derpy instantly recognized the six star guests of the evening in the middle of the room, but they weren’t who she was looking for. Her eyes quickly ran across the room looking for Scrip, but he was faster.

‘Ditzy!’ he greeted her merrily from the side of a room where he stood among other ponies dressed for the performance. Derpy almost didn’t recognize his brother which his mane dyed dark and dirty, as well as wearing an old burgundy shroud. he hurried to her, dodging a few stagehooves who were hurrying around with the aforementioned boxes of props and costumes and getting ready for act one. ‘I didn’t expect to see you back here.’ he said and gave her little sister a hug with one hoof.

‘The others wanted to wish you good luck.’ Derpy said.

‘Thank you for bringing that.’ Scrip smiled. ‘I’d lie if I said I don’t have a bit of stage fright right now.’ Scrip then gestured back to the group of ponies he just came from. ‘Those are the other “winners” of the performance lottery by the way. Wonderful folks! If we only had a bit more time, I’d love to show you the production but...’ Scrip paused and looked at Derpy with his piercing, brotherly eyes, right through her smile and at the part of her who’d just like to get out of the way of everypony who were all busy with the production.

Written Script looked a bit saddened about this, but smiled at Derpy.

‘I guess we’ll just talk after the show.’ he said, letting her off. ‘You do know where Goldy and the fillies are, right?’ The realization that she infact did not, hit her too quick to react, instead she just froze for a moment. ‘No worries, just take a glance out from the stage, you should see them. Give them my best!’ he said and after one last hug trotted back to the group of actors.

The pegasus didn’t really see any other way to quickly find Dinky and the others than what his brother proposed, and just wandering about in the crowd of the performance hall seemed like an even worse alternative, so since she was there anyway, she walked over to the curtained stage, carefully getting out of the way of everypony on the way.

Pushing the curtain aside slightly, she started looking for her family and in a few moments the waving image of Dinky caught her eye from the back of one of the rows. Almost as a reflex, she held out a hoof and waved back sending a big smile to her favourite niece before feeling somepony tap on her back. Looking back with the stupid smile still plastered on her face, she saw that it was the caterer and he didn’t look too happy about her abusing her situation to wave off the stage.

Derpy didn’t argue just hung her head, bit her lips and walked off the stage, followed by the disgruntled stallion. No doubt everypony in the audience now thought she was an idiot.

‘We saw you at the curtain, could you talk with him?’ asked Golden Harvest once Derpy got to them in the back of the performance hall.

‘Mhm.’ Derpy nodded simply, standing in next to her sister-in-law, Dinky and Amethyst. She still felt stupid about what happened, though a part of her knew it wasn’t that big a deal. She made the decision that she’ll just keep quiet for the rest of the night.

The show was still a few minutes away and the hall echoed with the voice of over a hundred ponies talking about things that together just formed a thick undecipherable chatter filling the room. No pony was particularly loud, but the way the room was built, anypony could hear a whisper from the other side, it had to be that way, so that the performers do not need to shout all the time. Derpy knew this because Golden Harvest was just explaining it all to Dinky, about the only conversation she could make heads or tails of; at least until a familiar, old voice hit her ears.

‘No, as much as I regret it, I didn’t get a chance to catch a single play since we last met.’ came from behind Derpy. A few moments later, three ponies walked past on her right in the empty middle row of the hall, only to find a place two lines ahead of Derpy’s family.

The one speaking, Derpy quickly recognized as the new toymaker of Ponyville, he had an old style looking hat floating next to him and the pegasus was rather surprised to see the unicorn here. The other two - a beige mare and a thistle stallion - didn’t seem as familiar to her. Derpy didn’t mean to pry, but with the acoustics and curiosity dwindling in the back of her head, she could hardly not focus on the conversation.

‘I do hope you won’t take this as the slightest hint of my displeasure by the way, as I’m glad to see you again,’ Oakleaf continued. ‘but I’m developing the uncanny feeling that I’m being intentionally bumped into by anypony who ever held a pen.’

‘How’s that?’ asked the other stallion.

‘For one, we just ran into eachother right now, and there’s also this young novelist in Ponyville. Keeps looking me up with questions about my life, that sort of thing. Colt Smith, if you heard of him.’

‘Ah, him.’ the mare nodded.

‘Nice fellow, but can be slightly unnerving, as if he’s trying to get to something specific.’ noted Oakleaf. Derpy could tell by his tone alone that he was smiling while saying that.

‘What about your shop by the way?’ the unknown stallion asked. ‘It still seems unlikely for somepony of your background would open a shop. Is it a success?’

‘Well, I won’t be going out of business as things are at the moment. For me, that’s success enough. I also managed to employ a very talented young mare as an assistant, but if I remember your words correctly Miss Clover - and I should note that I do have a very good memory - then you wouldn’t like her.’

“Miss Clover?” ran through Derpy’s mind and all of a sudden it hit her: The stallion and the mare were the ones she saw in that café, the evening they arrived in Canterlot, the ones Scrip pointed out. The mare must’ve been Clover Cover, though she still had no idea who the stallion was.

‘What do you mean?’ Clover asked confused.

‘“A loudmouthed unicorn who made a stage act of making a fool out of volunteers”?’ quoted Oakleaf.

‘Who...? Oh you can’t possibly mean that street magician!’ Clover asked almost shocked.

‘Who are we talking about again?’

‘Trixie,’ explained Clover. ‘that horrible mare I mentioned who caused an Ursa to go to Ponyville, whom Twilight Sparkle had to fend off!’

‘Now, “horrible” may be a bit over doing it.’ Oakleaf said, but there was not scorn in his voice. ‘Two colts brought the Ursa and only because they thought she could handle it and wanted a show. Not all the rumors are correct, just ask Miss Sparkle herself. Besides, if those colts were so convinced, that just means she’s that good, doesn’t it?’

‘It’s still Trixie.’ noted Clover, her voice still ringing from disbelief.

‘I wouldn’t be all that sure about that.’ noted Oakleaf mysteriously. ‘But in any case, she is everything I wanted, though she does need her space. She’s been through a lot since what has happened.’

‘So she’s a charity case?’

‘Sweets,’ interrupted the unknown stallion. ‘let’s not put more words on the topic than you have to, okay?’

‘Also,’ Oakleaf added. ’I believe the play’s about to start.’

As if on cue, a light turned on, shining on the middle of the stage and light music filled the room as the chatter in the performance hall died down and the curtains opened for the first scene.

The play came and the play went, much like every other day in Canterlot. At its end, everypony joined together to sing, but only for a little while. Once the song was over, and everypony started to leave, the same small groups of ponies detached themselves from the whole and continued to ignore the rest, despite singing about unity just moments ago. It was like this with big cities, but Derpy could never decide what this could really mean, only that it felt wrong to her. Again though, she should be the last to judge.

Strangely, the only feeling the play got out of her was a sense of homesickness. She missed that common spirit of Ponyville and especially that of the post office. Mr Zippy’s out of place comments he always laughed after and made the others laugh too, the back and fort friendly arguments of the Stamp twins. She usually couldn’t wait to get away from all that, since it meant getting to spend time with Dinky, but being in Canterlot, where there seemed to be an imaginary toll gate between every two ponies made her miss that, even if she didn’t take part of it much. Especially since Dinky here was already busy with her mother.

Scrip, as always picked up on her little sister’s thoughts and since he had much more time without the rehearsals, tried to talk to her. As usual, she didn’t feel much like sharing, but she appreciated it and it felt good as her big brother sat next to her on one of their last, quiet evenings in a cliffside park that yet again it seemed the ponies of the city ignored.

For a moment, she wondered whether or not they would have wanted to do other things if she wasn’t there, visit some of the fancy cafés or theaters aside from the pageant, which all were so unnerving to her. She even started to feel guilty for possibly stopping them from doing that by her mere presence, but it seemed like they all enjoyed themselves in Canterlot, so she just closed her eyes and hoped it isn’t so.

As their train back home finally started to lose speed as it approached Ponyville, an uncommon lightness filled her from the thought of returning home. As the breaks shrieked and the carriages came to a halt by the platform, she noticed something, or rather somepony who seemed more to her than odd at the moment: Post Haste.

She helped get their baggages off the train car, but then walked over to Post Haste who was waiting at the last car for a massive bag of letters and a couple packages to be put on a postal trolley. The only thing wrong with the picture was that Post Haste never made these deliveries. He was a nice enough colt, but nowhere as strong as to handle the train deliveries, let alone the Sunday load and it was a Sunday.

‘Uh, hey.’ Derpy greeted him.

‘Hey Ditzy!’ greeted that back, looking away from the mail which was being levitated into place by the train’s post mare. He seemed awfully cheery considering his task at the moment, then again, Derpy usually saw him like that. ‘I thought I remembered you coming back today. How was Canterlot?’ he asked quickly.

‘Nice.’ Derpy answered, her right eye following the floating mail as it lowered onto the trolley, making it bend down in the middle. ‘Where’s...?’ she started, trying to find out why Post was here, but he interrupted.

‘Oh, he looked a little green today so I- we told him to take the day off.’ he explained swiftly, glancing back at the packed trolley, his eyes widening for a moment. ‘So, didn’t you enjoy your vacation?’

‘It was... alright.’ Derpy said glancing back at her family, then looked at the skinny mail pony again with the massive delivery next to him. It would have been cruel to let him try and handle it all. ‘Do you need any help with that?’

‘With the mail? Oh no, it’s your holiday’ he said. ‘Besides, I can hand-’ Here, he pulled on the trolley, but it just wouldn’t move. ‘Takes a bit to start moving, I guess.’ he said, walking around the cart and trying to push. The trolley moved ahead three feet, then stopped. Usually it would have been Jumbo Delivery, a large unicorn who handled this, but Post already said he was sick.

Derpy couldn’t just let Post do all of this work by himself and he always helped her with her paperwork. The mare stepped next to the panting colt and gave the trolley a push, helping it do to the edge of the platform. Post Haste’s face turned a bit red and just said “Thank you.”.

Derpy waved over to Scrip and the others and he smiled and nodded back, leading off the family towards the town, while the pegasus helped push along the heavy cart with her Post. Maybe being in Ponyville meant more manual labour for her than a vacation in Canterlot, but here, she still felt more comfortable.