Author's Note

The audio reading for this installment can be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C0MYr84j-FM

Entry 5

Entry 5 – October 5th, 1122, 00:00

Starfall has just departed for the train back to Manehattan, and she’ll be back within a day or so. A bag of potatoes is a pretty mean thing to send her troubling over, but I don’t wish to give the impression that I don’t appreciate the assistance she affords me by never asking much of her. Truly, this is nothing for her.

Except for a few of the instructors back the Academy, I don’t believe I’ve ever met such a capable hunter. She’s already improved some of the fighting techniques I’ve practiced outside. One does not become defensive when faults are pointed out by such an expert, and our relationship is probably the most tutorial I’ve had since I met Master Mortar.

Oh, no! I’ve brought up the R-word. I’ll state it plain: we do not have a thing. It’s certainly wiser not to; we don’t want any issues from downstairs or elsewhere.

Even though Starfall maintains a protective barrier around the place, Changelings would still detect our delicious emotions. Plus, we don’t want to have so great an emotional investment to be lost, should either of us perish in our combating the Changeling menace.

Besides, she already has somepony lined up for herself. I will tell of him in time.

So, Her Majesty Princess Luna and I were surfing the same brainwave. I decided that it was my turn to ask a question.

“Are you sure you don’t know me?” I had assumed through my entire recount that she had no idea who I was, but it dawned on me that I was the only pony expelled from the Academy in decades.

We simultaneously looked to the floor, grinned, looked back at each other, and burst into laughter.

“In all due candor, I have, of course.” Her expression at first was deadpan, but I presume, since she and I were thinking on the same level, she realized I really didn’t need to ask the question, and her expression softened.

“How can I help my situation?” I asked this after a long pause. A subject can’t brazenly ask a favor of royalty. I realized I was speaking to the highest Inquisitor authority, so I had to formulate a deferential question.

“Beside the matter of your resolution, I guess there really isn’t much encouraging you. Perhaps you need a little perspective from the inside?”

I could only bring myself to nod. She laughed.

“Very well. I have it on good authority that there are more than just a few groups encouraged by your actions on the train a few days ago. As a matter of fact, there is talk of possibly readmitting you, but I’m not necessarily sure they understand what you’re going for. It would certainly be a help to be recognized by the community you’re trying to help, surely, but you simply vie to help it, no?”

I put my head down sheepishly. “You put it awfully kind, Your Majesty.”

Her expression had turned to businesslike severity, only this time it was honest. She looked away. “Mhm. There are, too, though, many in the circle you would rejoin who might have said that you’re a broken machine, citing your initial reaction to your visitors.” She looked at me and began pacing around me in a slow circle, but I kept my head down. “Countless others doubt even the thing you pursue, your precious formula, is a shadow’s shadow of a hope. Certainly, you’d appreciate an intervention –from a sympathetic princess, no less– and all things would run their course, but we’d be just as well off polishing you and making you stand as a statue in the middle of Canterlot as a paragon of diligence. Perhaps a few would suspect short-sightedness on his part, but a princess sanctioned his placement there, so all should be well and good.”

“Small wonder what they’d think of her for pulling such strings for him.”

“Indeed.”

I was shaking from what I had to say, but I didn’t think I could speak it. My eyes floated up and beheld a look of dissatisfaction from her that opened the flood gates.

“You must be as frustrated as we all are. We’ve waited centuries for a breakthrough in fighting these things and now we can’t accept a possibility when it comes along? Because we’re all too set to bear the storm that we can’t bear to face the invention of a weather machine?” She shook her head at me, but I continued, "Our situation has stagnated, so we must all figure that the age of innovation has passed. If you allow me to get a design, they can test me. We have a shot! We can-“

Her outstretched hoof silenced me. “Of course we do.”

I breathed deeply and settled. She said, “With the right announcements for the proper provisions for you, all we’ll need to see the game changer is your diligence.” She saw my astonishment. “And your confidence, of course.”

“You led me on!” I laughed uncontrollably.

“And an immortal princess can’t jerk a few mortals’ chains from time to time? The look on your face! And you nonetheless laugh at my joke now.” Smiling, she paused a moment to let my laughing fit terminate. “The bottom line is still the same.”

There was mystery to that. “So, how will Your Majesty assist me?”

“’Assist us all,’ you mean, by means of yourself.”

Thus she proceeded to explain to me that it would be put out that I had to further substantiate my value to the Inquisition before I’d be admitted. She’d already sent one of the best Inquisitor operatives to my station.

“Starfall Escarleta is a rising name in your midst. Her accompanying you will appear to most of the community to be a reforming force. In actuality, she, as a unicorn, will assist you in ways your alchemy cannot fill in for.”

“Some ponies will have to know what’s really going on.”

“They will be the ones to view the results of your final concoction. We have ways of silencing those who shouldn’t know.”

There were other small details of our arrangement not worth disclosing, of course, but she did tell me to start keeping a journal sometime. I would have it to depend on when I didn’t have a confidant.

“I know you’re doing this for all of us. Never allow yourself to focus on anything but the greater good of ponykind, and things will fall into place so long as you do your duty.”

With the finality in her voice, I knew what I had to express, “If latent evils come from what I will achieve, I will submit myself to the lashings due to me. If this leads to a dead end, so will I meet my end, if it be fitting to you.”

The surroundings distorted once again, and she nodded at me. I saluted her, and she promptly vanished without light or sound. The whole world went black again.

I realized my eyes were closed, so I opened them and saw through the window the sun slowly subsisting outside. Somepony was patiently tapping a regular rhythm at my door. Startled by the immediacy of the event, I had the strangest inclination to not address the door at all to see what might happen. As it was, though, I wasn’t about to let my curious ruminations besmirch my reputation as a grand host.

“Good evening, my friends. How may I help you?”

“You know why we’re here.” There stood two formidable Bat Ponies, each flanking Starfall. Her last name described her pigment, and she had magenta eyes. Those eyes were analyzing me as soon as the door opened, and it was the escort on her right who spoke.

Solemnly I responded, “You’re here to cart me off the asylum. I didn’t pack anything; I figured there was no use, anyway.”

The one on the right hadn’t struck me as the same one from before, but his voice rang the same, “You really should drop the sarcasm on official business like this.”

Sad to tell, I was fairly sure that the clairvoyant dream was truly an escapist fantasy, so I looked at him and morosely shook my head and stood with my legs stiff so that they could arrest me.

“Maybe we have the wrong address,” said the Bat Pony from the left, a little disconcerted.

“Good one, but he’s our pony. He matches the description.” Her mezzo voice would have made me shiver if I wasn’t despairing then so coldly.

I bit my lip, and the one on the right sighed, “Princess Luna should’ve let you know by now. Hey, stand at attention to your superiors, citizen; this is royal business, after all. You aren’t doing yourself any-“

Quietly I interrupted him, “Would I that I have the tears to express,” and I broke off, realizing that I did. I tried to approach the trio to embrace them, but they backed away.

“No offense, sir, but you smell like a bog.”

“You must know why, then.” The three of them looked at each other and to me and nodded seriously. “Pretty professional of you to say it tactfully,” I remarked. I extended my hoof to greet them properly.

Starfall extended hers, and the other two backed away. “We’ll see you later,” they uttered in unison.

The one on the left continued before anypony breathed, “When will you-?”

“However long it takes, my dearest.” She turned from me with a cordial smile to him and waved. They flew away, and she turned to me with an earnest smile, but it immediately switched to a determined smile. “We’ve got long tasks before us.”

“Your goals are my goals,” I said with a warm smile and a tilt of my head.

“That’s a good way to think.”

“All things are ready, if our minds be so.”

“True enough. I guess if we’re going to work together for such a span, we should get to know each other.”

“Come inside, although I hope you don’t mind if I take my evening breakfast in front of you.” I held the door open and gestured inside.

She had barely walked in when she turned around. “Just a minute.” She cast a barrier around the mansion.

So I prepared myself something as I let her explore the place. She ignited candles as she inspected it, and when she reached the hearth, she called to me, for I was still in the process of making myself tomato soup. “I guess you wouldn’t have noticed this, but you could have made more efficient use of these logs if you had the magic. This hearth’s enchanted, you see.”

I heard her chuck a couple pieces into the diminished pile left there, and a roaring fire was kindled. Carrying in the pan of soup to place over it, I said, “I guess that’s what Princess Luna meant.”

Starfall seated herself and smugly gazed as I set down the pan, “Do tell.”

Oh, I told her all about the dream. It’s still fresh in my memory, even after all these months. Once she had endured my privileged dream, I took my turn to endure her list of credentials. She wore pragmatic, durable boots. Her mane was naturally spiked in some areas, but I would learn that she often covered it with a sable cap if she was meaning to be casual. She hadn’t taken off her cape, but maybe it was because I had failed to ask her if she wanted me to hang it up for her.

Without a doubt, she impressed me, but I had to stand up in the middle of her recitation to retrieve the soup before it overheated. I nonchalantly returned to the kitchen and came back after I had filled a glass with the soup, as I am accustomed to drinking my soup. Her furious glare and exposure of her teeth almost caught me.

“Pony feathers! I didn’t ask you if you wanted some.”

“Oh, you did.” She sat forward with one eye turned toward me.

“Oh, good. I’m sorry; I didn’t excuse myself, either.”

“Cruel of you.” She seated herself back again.

I took a few steps to return to my seat facing her, and I turned around but didn’t sit down. I recounted the most important achievements she had mentioned and why I was able to remember them as a conciliatory gesture.

She, agape, seemed to me at a loss for words. “Will you accept my apology?” I asked her when I had finished.

She composed herself with rapidity I have never seen before. “We’ll see.”

“I’m sorry to start us on the wrong hoof.” I sat into my seat and focused on consuming my soup.

Of course, I had to break the silence; it was our mission to acquaint ourselves, after all.

“Tell me about your friends.”

“They are either my peers or my superiors.”

“You don’t look at everypony that way?”

“Of course not. You, for example, are beneath me.”

“I’m glad to know we’re fast friends.”

“Nopony appreciates your sarcasm.”

“I appreciate your company.”

With each remark, our eyes had become in some way greater pinned on the other's. She shook her head, and I broke into a smile. “I really do. I mean to be a friend to you, my friend.”

“You need assistance, and I’m here, sent to provide you it,” she sneered.

“Are you sure you don’t need something to eat?” I held out my glass to her.

“You’re a cruel one.”

“That’s not what my prisoners tell me,” I remarked, more to myself than to her.

“You think yourself caring?”

“Not for them, no. My caring for ponykind is my incentive, as you must know.”

She conjured a hoof file and said with one eye on me, “If and when you reach your fifteenth slain, you’ll be a little less sensitive.”

“I hope you’ll be there to witness. Anyway, tell me a little about your darling.”

Both eyes on me. “Really, now?”

“I know it’s not polite, but, in asking about your significant other, I can get to understand you a little better.”

“Fair enough.” She frowned in hesitation, but the corners of her mouth didn’t convey any negative emotions as she thought of where to begin.

In short, this Bat Stallion was a pleasant being. She called him Jackson and advised me to call him the same. His fellows considered him good company and good-natured. I hadn’t noticed his expression when he was at my door, but Starfall mentioned that he had two expressions he commonly used: a wide smile with genuine eyes and a straight face with pursed lips and detached eyes. A greater proportion of Bat Ponies are employed as hunters. Being one of them, Jackson led a sort of double life as both as a socialite and a hunter, hence his two faces.

I remember she described his smile as “ravishing,” and I simply had to ask how. Apparently, rumors were true that there were some circles among the Bat Ponies that occasionally engaged in semi-vampiric activities. Jackson was among them and had confided in her a full intention to “sire” her into the pseudo-vampire Bathood.

Bringing normal ponies into Bathood hasn’t disappeared, she affirmed, despite the general conception that this fad was as dead as the real vampire ponies. Ever since the change was found to be possible in 1002, two decades were spent perfecting the process so that ponies changed wouldn’t be governed by instinct as the Vampire Fruit Bats are. Not feral but sane. Indeed, this was a fantastic arrangement for her. So distasteful did I find it that I nearly bit off my tongue in an attempt to withhold my objections.

Her first encounter with Jackson was after the incident in which the Changelings had changed her life. It had profoundly disturbed her, and out of pity the Academy sent Jackson, who was the closest to a psychologist available to send at the time, to counsel her. She wasn’t inclined to elaborate on the event; however, this had made their paths inseparable.

Jackson was a fairly effective hunter with more instrumental value than value as a leader in a group. He was a good flier whose combat skills were more adept on the ground. He was just about as vicious as an average hunter (in other words, more than I). He held, however, more prestige among his personal contacts than among his business contacts.

She said something along the lines of: “Jackson’s a master of the finer points of communication. You could take a lesson or two from him.”

“He’s a rhetorician?” I asked enthusiastically.

“I guess.”

“I think I might stand to meet him again.”

“Might? The reports stated you had shed your provincial dislike for Bat Ponies.”

Her use of the word “provincial” stung, but I wouldn’t let it show, “A shame. They got two things wrong when they investigated me. Huh, Luna forbids that I mislead them, yet Luna didn’t fault me when I confessed.”

“I’d say you ought to count your blessings.”

“If I did so, I suppose I’d keep you a little longer from your special somepony, and that would be inconsiderate of me.”

“Ironic indeed.”

“Besides, you never count your money when you’re still sitting at the table.”

She grinned at me, and I grinned back. “You sing?”

“Definitely.” I sped upstairs to retrieve my guitar. “I take requests,” I shouted as I rummaged for it.

“Whatever strikes you,” she said, knowing I was humored just to share my voice.

I returned to the lounge with my guitar a little slower than I had left it. I couldn’t think of what to play to my fairly new friend. It was one of those instances when the artist has to let the subconscious take over. Starfall looked at me strangely as I disengaged myself, but the song dawned on me on its own accord.

“You ever hear of Johnny Two-Bits?”

She rolled her eyes at the typicality of a country pony singing a country song, but her tone remained interested, “I’m not a big fan of him, but I might like your voice better.”

“Come along and ride this train.”

So I sang. I think I looked up when I reached the verse about the valley. I felt the corners of my mouth twitching to frown, but I didn’t let them. I finished my song and continued looking at her, but I didn’t realize how strange that might have appeared to her, for my thoughts were not on her, yet my eyes were.

At length she said, “Very telling.”