This is space, dark blue, dotted with far-away stars and suns. Some are dying, some just get born. Myriads of tiny creatures, whether they live in trees, over the clouds, on the plains, or in a deep sea of mercury, are looking up to this magical panorama. This sun we are looking at is of a distinct red, with some purple spread over it. It seems to grow. Or is it coming closer?
Now it turns, slowly, full of grace and it turns out to be a star turtle, larger than the largest planet ever seen. On its enormous, meteorite-crusted back, it carries four elephants with bones of stone. Those carry a disc, and just when one thinks one can make out several continents and oceans, Great A´Tuin, the star turtle, suddenly speaks, in a booming voice, as deep as space, as loud as erupting suns, filling the galaxy with its magnificent words: “You seem to be in the wrong universe, my dear narrator.”
Ooops, that was embarrassing.Now let’s see where our Universe is…
Ah, here!
An aurochs is running, running, running, running through the starless space, its mountain-high fur interrupted by meteor craters and big rivers and lakes of salty water. On its back, protected by its massive head and horns, lies an ocean and a spread of continents, free of the space ox´s fur, and above it a small sun, a moon just as large, and thousands of tiny stars are circling like a swarm of pesky flies. Now, the sun shines bright over one of the continents, a land called "Equestria" by those who live there, and as we come closer, we see a lush, green land in the east, a valley, filled with fields and orchards and plantages bearing fruit and vegetables a-plenty, birds singing in the trees, small animals rustling in the bushes, a river flowing through the land. And as the river flows down the valley, it reaches a city, brimming with activity:
The sounds of wagons and hooves on streets, the cries of merchants on the markets, the smell of baking bread and the odor rising from the canals, houses built from wood and stone, rising their slate-covered roofes proudly over the streets. And on one of these streets, among the ponies busy with whatever they are doing, we see a young stallion, an earth-pony with a blue coat and white mane, bearing a feather and an horseshoe on his flank, running to the steady rythm of his hooves on the cobbles, galloping towards the inner walls of the city with an aim in his mind and an important message in his bag. Galopp, galopp, galopp, breath in , galopp, galopp, galopp, breath out...
He runs past marketstands with the most delectable of goods, jumps over canals overflowing with foul muck, avoids to topple the cabbage waggons inexplicably crossing his path, crosses through private gardens and parks completely unapologetically, and rushes through the gates of the inner city with not even a glance to the guards trying to block his path. Galopp, galopp, galopp, breath in , galopp, galopp, galopp, breath out...
And as he runs along the large, great, but sometimes quite derelict homes of the city´s old families, high-rising fences protecting small places of rest, and nicely decorated temples vibrating with the sound of song and music, he starts to feel the soreness in his muscles, the stress in his strings, and the aching in his bones coming from the steady hammering on the hard, rocken pavement. Galopp, galopp, galopp, breath in , galopp, galopp, galopp, breath out...
The guards watching in front of the palace gate cross their scythes as they see the messenger approaching, but as he comes running nearer, they recognize him, lift their sharp, curved blades and hurry to open the little door on the left wing of the gate, and with nothing but the deliverance of the letter on his mind, the messenger rushes through without noticing the guards at all. Galopp, galopp, galopp, breath in , galopp, galopp, galopp, breath out...
Below the window of the most important room in the city, left open to let in the warm summer air, he comes to an halt and falls, exhausted, to the ground. After taking a few deep breaths of precious air, he gasped:
"Message.... Mass´ge for... M´lady! ´s from Canterlot... for the H´... Baroness, from Canterlot, directly!"
And as he cried this, a mare appeared in the window above, with a green mane curled and piled in a most luxurious way, topped with a small diadem. She calls out:
"Butler! Bring poor Ground Lightning a bucket of water! A big one! He´s steaming! And get this darned message up here while you´re at it! And do it right now! And fast!"
Soon thereafter, the mare sits down at her rather throne-like oaken office desk and carefully opens the wax sigil protecting the scroll - it bears the spiral tower and an eight-pointed star, symbols of Canterlot - with a small, delicate knife. As she brushes the letter even on her desk and weights it down with small, bronzen figurines of mythical heroes and legendary creatures, she gives a nod to the quality of the writing material. These unicorns at least knew how to make good, smooth, crispy paper, white as snow and with edges as sharp as a blade.
Before she starts reading, she stands up, and walks over to the window to close it. The sounds her fastest messenger made while gulping down large amounts of water amuses her, and this amusement proves to be distracting even from matters of great political importance.
As she sits down again to read the message, she raises a single eyebrow as she sees the header, and the next few lines make her other brow rise as well, readying her brows to be furrowed upon reading the text in the middle, and as she reached the end of the letter, a deep frown filled her face.
Her Grace, the High Baroness Jaquéline Malleron of Pomméford, was not amused. She considered opening the window again, but decided it would be futile.
Instead she stood up with her front hooves on the desk, and roared: "Butler! Here! Now!", and as her loyal servant entered, she ordered her to summon an emergency meeting of the City Council, immediately, with no excuses, and if the councillors were ill, they shall bring their beds! Pronto!
Butler nodded, and as she was about to leave the study, the Baroness said, a lot quieter now: "And tell dear Inkareen to come, too."
Butler froze: "Are you sure about this, Mylady? You know how much she hates it to be promptly summoned."
"Yes, I know. But she still needs to know who rules this city, and it is not her and her guards."
"If you say so. I will be on my way. Anything else you wish?"
"That is it, I think. Just go, and let the servants prepare the big meeting hall in the south-west wing."
"Of course, your Grace."
