The End of the Day

by Carabas

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Other, Adventure, Princess Celestia, Princess Luna
Length: 8299

On a dark and stormy night, two perfectly normal ponies walk into a bar and alter the whole future of Equestria.

On a dark and stormy night, centuries in the past, Celestia and Luna walked into a bar.

They came looking for knowledge. They found a little more than that.

Written for Round 1 of the Four hooves and a pen writing group. Cover art from the gallery of Lopoddity.

Published 2015-09-13 23:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2015-09-13 23:30:01 UTC

The End of the Day

Night had already fallen for a few minutes by the time Celestia and Luna made their way to the inn, and it would likely remain fallen for a few minutes more. Bitter-tasting rain pelted down from a tumultuous iron-grey sky, lit dimly from behind by pale moonlight. Red-green lightning churned faintly amidst the clouds on the far horizon, hurrying after the thunder that had sounded a moment prior.

A relatively quiet night, then. Inasmuch as day and night still had any meaning under the reign of chaos.

Celestia looked up at the inn. Thatched, irregular gables sprawled across moldy timbers. Dim firelight guttered past narrow windows, along with the faint murmur of voices and the clanks of tankards. It sat at a crossroads of dirt paths, with wet, growing fields gently rising and falling all around. A rusty bronze sign hung from the front, the words The End of the Day stamped beneath a setting sun.

“Hardly much to look at, for all the journey,” Luna muttered into Celestia’s ear. The young pegasus fidgeted her wings under the heavy weatherproof cloak she wore, and sniffed. “Hardly much to smell either, even from outside.”

“Tact, Luna. And beggars can’t be choosers. At least it’s got a roof.” Celestia peered closer at the timbers, and saw the odd faint glint nestled in their texture — a sign of magical warding and embedded enchantments. “Better yet, it’s almost certainly got our unicorn.”

Luna grunted. “He’s fled far into the middle of nowhere, then. We at least are here on account of looking for him. What’s his excuse?”

“In these parts, remember this wonderful thing called tact, sister dearest. Ponies tend to resent descriptions like ‘middle of nowhere’.”

“But it’s evident!”

Celestia shook her head and turned her attention back to the door. It was a bizarre sort of fate that had led them here; the latest of so many glints that might - just might - help them in their quest to overthrow a god. But considering how bizarre all else was in this age, perhaps it was only fair fate got in on the act as well.

“Let me do the talking,” Celestia said. “Remain ready to wallop anything unfriendly.”

“We were born ready.”

“Gosh. Really? I was just born squalling and maneless.” Celestia stuck her tongue out at Luna, feeling her nerves settle somewhat. She took a breath, and then rapped on the door with her hoof, once, twice, thrice. “Ahoy the inn! Two weary travellers seeking respite!”

The hushed conversations coming from inside The End of the Day ceased altogether, and Celestia felt she could hear the building’s timbers creak expectantly. Hooves scuffed across a wooden floor inside, and an eye-level door shutter slid open. Suspicious brown eyes peered out. “Ahoy the weary travellers,” a mare replied. “What business have you out here?”

Celestia stooped slightly to meet the gaze. “Simply seeking rest and shelter. Any brew you might have in a cask. And interesting ponies, if you have them in there.”

“Might be we’ve got all of the above.” The eyes regarded them for a moment longer, and then turned away as the mare shrugged. “You look mostly harmless. In you both come. No sense in catching your death out there.” There came the sound of bolts sliding and bars being lifted on the door’s other side, and the door creaked open, spilling out light and muggy warmth.

The sky growled in that moment, and the thunder heralded a sudden flash of pink-hued lightning that came slashing down from a low-hanging stormcloud. Before Celestia could blink, before Luna could so much as raise her hooves in alarm, it fell and scattered across the inn’s roof with the sound of a muffled thunderclap. Pink motes fell across the roof and walls, and the enchantments shimmered.

“Get in!” hissed the voice. “Before the next! And wipe your hooves, for form’s sake if nothing else.”

They needed no extra telling. Celestia gratefully trotted inside, scuffing her hooves on the rag of a welcoming mat as she did so, Luna close at her back.

A muggy haze of smoke greeted Celestia the moment she entered, and she coughed and blinked as she tried to peer through it. Fire guttered and sparked from damp wood in a fireplace at one end of the main room, past several low tables and benches. She glimpsed about a dozen ponies already in residence, clustered together with their tankards in several small groups.

Local farmers paying homage at their local watering hole after a day’s work, if Celestia was any judge, which she was. A mix of old and young, stallions and mares, mostly earth ponies with a peppering of unicorns. A pegasus mare nursed a foal at one end of a table. The stares they all directed at Celestia and Luna were wary and guarded in equal measure.

Small wonder. Celestia knew they made for an odd sight. A earth pony farmer mare, whose white coat and pink mane were marred with years of dirt and decidedly un-fancy living and whose plain travelling cloak was even more marred. A pegasus noblemare, whose fine dark coat and cloak and barding suggested the very heights of pegasi martial aristocracy. Both young, both apparently well-travelled, and both very much outsiders.

“Seat yourselves,” said the mare who’d let them in as she made her way back around a long wooden counter at one side of the room. Small and hard-edged and dun-coated, she regarded Celestia with light brown eyes as bright as the burning candle that was her cutie mark. “And make yourselves known, why not.”

“Thank you,” replied Celestia, hooking a nearby stool with her hoof and sighing as she rested her weary haunch upon it. Around her, the room broke back into murmured conversation, and to her relief none of it seemed especially hostile. “Celestia, at your service. This is Luna, my sister.”

The mare arched a brow as she looked from Celestia to Luna, but deigned not to comment before she extended a hoof. “Tallow, at your own service. You both from out east?”

Celestia accepted the hoof and shook it briefly. “Originally, yes. We’ve been wandering westwards recently, though.”

“Hmm. What’s it like out there?”

“Fairly bad. More chaotic influence than it looks like you’ve been getting here.”

“Hah. We’ve been getting a sour time of it. If you think we look unscathed by comparison …” Tallow shook her head and broke off with a bitter laugh. “What’s your need? Drink? Food? A bed?”

“All of the above sounds more than appealing,” muttered Luna, whose gaze kept flitting to the room’s sides. Little alcoves were glimpsed here and there, only a few of which were occupied, the figures in them shrouded past the smoky haze of the room.

“Not much on tap. Small beer and cider for the most part. The whole reign of chaos has been murder on anything much more involved or needing distillation. I can get you some oatcakes and hard cheese if you’re hungry. As for a bed, we’ve got rooms for a cost. No charge if you just want to kip down on the floor somewhere.”

Celestia’s brows rose. “That’s … surprisingly generous of you.”

“Nopony’s getting left out in that night and weather on my watch.” Tallow rummaged around below the counter. “And if I had to wrap that reason up in a cynical shell, visitors are rare enough that leaving whoever we do get to the elements would be bad for business. What’ll it be?”

Luna mouthed, Cider, cider, cider, and Celestia shared the sentiment. “Two ciders and the oatcakes and cheese, if you would. As for a bed ...” Celestia dipped a hoof into one of the saddlebags at her side, and sadly little jangled as she swept her hoof about. “... We may have to take you up on the floor.”

“Oh, stars, not again,” muttered Luna. “There’s still an ache in our back and dirt in our mane from the last time. Our family name for a clean mattress one of these days.”

“Not a problem,” said Tallow, ignoring Luna as she produced two tankards and began to neatly fill them from a nearby keg. Celestia slid a few copper bits across the counter, and Tallow just as neatly vanished them with a flick of her tail. “Used to be that we’d have more at hoof, and have a lot more travellers to board. They’d come and buy wheat and apples for the nearest cities - Canterlot, Coltsburgh, Duncirrus, all that.”

“Used to be,” Celestia repeated.

“Yep. Now the growing seasons are shot to Tartarus, and we’re mostly only able to grow enough to keep ourselves fed. Hardly anypony left buying what little we can make in excess, anyway.” Tallow pushed the full tankards of cider over, and dipped back below the counter for another rummage. “Same story all over, I bet. No stable roads, little left apart from scared ponies, grey ponies, and all the storms and confusion you can stomach. Not sure if anypony’s even still ruling, not since the Council stopped sending messengers out here. Apart from … well, you know. Him.”

“Him, indeed.” Celestia’s voice lowered. “Funny you should mention Discord.”

Tallow’s ears lowered as she rose with a platter of oatcakes and cheese held in her teeth, and her eyes narrowed.

“We heard there was a powerful unicorn nearby here, me and Luna both,” said Celestia. “A unicorn who’d helped fight Discord, back when he first came. Who might still know a few tricks. Tricks that might be able to hurt Discord. Take him down a peg or two.”

Past the clatter of the storm outside and the murmur of the inn’s patrons, the universe still managed a moment of hush.

Tallow carefully laid the platter down and spoke softly, her voice terse. “Few enough travellers these days. And some of those who are … well. The bad sort of grey. Fancy themselves informers. Idiot gets, but still. The fact of them remains. Hard to tell these days exactly who’s on the level and who isn’t.”

“We both know about the bad sort,” interrupted Luna. “We’ve had run-ins with them. Nothing we couldn’t handle.”

Tallow glared at her, and then looked back to Celestia.

“We’re on the level,” said Celestia gently. “We’re both in this to challenge Discord. Please believe us. And we need to find the one pony who could plausibly help us there. Starswirl. Starswirl the Bearded.”

Tallow’s eyes remained narrowed. But after a long and heavy moment, her head nodded towards one alcove. Celestia glanced that way, and saw a lone figure sitting there, all but hidden under smoke and shadows. Her breath caught in her mouth.

“Not saying you’ll get what you came for,” muttered Tallow. “But the stars love a gallant fool. Ask around. See what you can find. And don’t start any trouble as you value your hides.” She pushed the platter across the counter, and then turned her attention towards furiously polishing a tankard. “Really, no trouble. This is a haven, where ponies come to be safe. Families come here when their houses have gone to pot. Farmers keep their harvests protected in the basement here. All under spell and ward. You bring any chaos or disharmony here, you take it and yourselves outside.”

Celestia and Luna looked at her, and then looked towards the figure in the alcove. Then they looked at one another, releasing breath at the same time.

“Stay here. Save some for me,” said Celestia, motioning at the platter. “I’ll go have a word with him. See if he’s really Starswirl and what he might know.”

“What? No. You’ve had a good chat already. Let us handle something. Or at least be present.”

“Luna, remember the last time you spoke to a lead? Remember the mob?”

“They were being impertinent, and that wasn’t our fault, and why does no pony value honesty these days? We mean, really,” muttered Luna.

“Regardless. Please stay here for now. Keep a look-out. If I need you, I’ll give you a signal.”

“We don’t have to obey you all the time, you know!” called Luna, as Celestia got up from her stool with a sigh and trotted towards the figure in the alcove.

“I know.”

“Really, we don’t!”

“I know,” said Celestia absently, circling a table with a farmer couple sitting at it. They looked up at her, their expressions still guarded, and saw where she was headed. Their expressions turned towards suspicion.

The figure in the alcove came into focus past the haze as she neared them, obscured somewhat by the outline of what seemed like a large rumpled cloak and a equally large weatherbeaten pointed hat. A tankard sat on the table before him, smelling strongly of something more potent than the cider Celestia and Luna had been poured. He looked up at Celestia, disconcertingly golden eyes flashing against a dark green coat, framed by a darker green mane and trimmed beard, both spotted with silver.

And though the hat was a definite impediment for gauging these things, she could swear a long horn pressed up against its interior. Celestia almost released another breath. She and Luna had their unicorn.

His eyes narrowed as Celestia approached his table, and angled into an outright scowl as she tapped an empty chair facing him. She couldn’t begrudge the suspicion, though she could at least hope friendliness could overcome it. “May I sit here?” she said.

The unicorn studied her for a moment before he spoke, his voice a dry rasp. “Oh, a rhetorical question. Lovely. I so rarely get one of those nowadays.”

“Let me know if you’d like another. My rates are very reasonable.” Perhaps this one appreciated a challenge more, to sink his teeth into a newcomer and relish the same treatment. Celestia could play this by ear. She perched herself upon the chair, all but one hoof upon it, which she extended. “Celestia, at your service. What do they ca -?”

“You’re not a local, you’re not grey, and you made a point of coming here. I got a scent of your magical aura as you approached, and you’re probably not Discord himself. Who are you, what do you want, and how do I make you wander off?”

Celestia stiffened, unsure of how to make headway against hostility she hadn’t anticipated. She ventured a gentle jibe while she thought. “Do you usually scent a mare’s aura before you even make an introduction?”

“Usually, I have to be paid to do that. My rates are also very reasonable.” The smile the unicorn flashed her was crooked, stained, and void of anything resembling friendliness, and quickly fell back into a scowl. “I’m counting on my winning personality driving you off sooner rather than later. If you could expedite that by answering my questions, that would be grand.”

“I’m Celestia, as I said. And I’m here because I’m looking for a great and powerful unicorn.”

“Look,” said the unicorn, a note of weary sympathy entering his gaze, “if you’re looking for somepony to help ward your home against the chaos, then I can’t make any promises, I don’t move around as much these days. If it’s not too far and you don’t mind waiting -”

“I don’t want a ward. I want knowledge. I’ve walked many, many miles to find it.”

The unicorn’s weary sympathy fell away, to be replaced by flat suspicion. Celestia pressed on. “And they do say,” she said coyly, “that Starswirl’s more knowledgeable than any unicorn that’s ever lived.”

The unicorn stared at her, and broke into a brief and bitter laugh. “Oh. Oh, Starswirl. Well, let me know if you ever meet him. Maybe I can pepper him with a few questions once you’ve had your turn.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not Starswirl, pup,” said the unicorn wearily. “But once upon a time, I was his apprentice.” He reached for his tankard, the fumes of which made Celestia’s eyes water, and took a swig. “I’m Meadowbrook, for my sins. I’m the littler unicorn who basks in the reflected glory and makes the odd trinket on the side. Not the unicorn you’re after.”

“But -” Celestia’s head spun. “But - we heard a rumour ...”

“Then the rumour was garbled. Starswirl was last seen in these general parts, true. But he withdrew into his tower six years ago, and nopony’s seen hide nor hair of him since in all that time.” Meadowbrook’s voice fell. “Nopony.”

“His tower? He withdrew?” Celestia’s mind was in full-blown turmoil, and she turned to glance around at Luna near the bar. Luna’s eyes were on the conversation, though she was probably out of earshot. Past the haze, she seemed to mouth, What’s happening?

Celestia threw off the quick hoof gesture that meant, Stay the course, and she turned back to Meadowbrook. “You say he just …. withdrew? Sealed himself away? Why? To what end?”

“Research would be my guess.” Meadowbrook studied the inside of his tankard, his gaze dark and distant. “You try being the pony who went to fight Discord all those years ago, back when he first made his incursion, and lost. Who couldn’t even figure out how to leave a scratch on the creature. Chances are, as the years passed, you’d be doing a whole lot of nothing but trying to figure things out. And eventually … well, you’d probably get sick of staring at the consequences of your failure all the while. Isolation is good for the soul, so I’ve heard.”

“I’d heard that he’d fought Discord ...” Celestia clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, mulling this scrap of information over and trying not to grin at the implications. “But if he’s spent years since specifically researching ways to bring the tyrant low, then that’s perfect!”

“Perhaps,” growled Meadowbrook. “But now’s the part when you tell me why you’re interested in Starswirl. Why’s his research into Discord so interesting to you and your … who is the pegasus you’ve come in here with?” Meadowbrook looked over Celestia’s wither towards Luna.

“Her?” Celestia glanced the same way, and gave Luna a reassuring grin before turning back to Meadowbrook. “Luna. My sister.”

“You’ll pardon me if the family resemblance doesn’t really shine through,” Meadowbrook said dryly. He frowned as he inspected Luna. “I’m sure I once enchanted some barding like the set she’s wearing. A long time ago, though. Maybe for some other pegasus noble with a night motif -”

“Perhaps it was that very barding. Luna got it from her father. Our father. He met my mother in a farming village, fell in love, and fell out of love nearly as quickly.” No bitterness in Celestia’s tone; she was well past all that. “Luna heard about me a few years ago, sought me out on my farm … and, well, things went badly. Circumstance obliged us to fall into each other’s company. Since then, we’ve been on the road.”

“Just hunting for Starswirl?”

“Hunting for anything and anypony that could help us topple Discord.”

Meadowbrook stared. And then he laughed, the tone of it starting genuinely mirthful and collapsing quickly into bitterness. “Topple Discord.”

“Yes,” said Celestia frostily. “As you mentioned Starswirl had been trying himself all these years.”

“Topple Discord. Stars above. How old are you?”

“Nineteen summers this past -”

“Figures. And your half-sister?”

“Just past sixteen, but -”

“You’re puppies. You’re not even old enough to remember the world before Discord turned it to wrack and ruin, you don’t even have that bright memory to fight for or reclaim, and you’re appointing yourselves the world’s saviours where Starswirl and so many others failed? You’re both some special breed of arrogant.”

“What are you saying?” hissed Celestia. “We both grew up around ponies who remembered the world before and told us what had been lost. We can both see when a good thing ought to be done, or at least tried!”

“Puppies chasing glory,” sneered Meadowbrook.

“Puppies chasing a way to make the world better! To help ponies! Hang the glory.”

Meadowbrook glared at her, his eyes embers under the wide brim of his hat. “I was there when Starswirl went to fight Discord, before you were so much as a puerile thought in the minds of your parents. I helped arm and armour him to the teeth with everything I had or could make. He went forth in his prime, practised and powerful and ready, fire at his horn and lightning at his back. And there wasn’t a single instant where Starswirl was anything close to winning, so much as close to landing an actual blow. Discord danced around him like it was some game, and wandered off partway through because he apparently got bored.” He knocked back a mouthful from his tankard. “Pray tell, what are you going to do that Starswirl didn’t?”

“If Starswirl’s been working on something new these past years, then even if it isn’t finished yet, we can seek him out. We can help him -”

“Starswirl is gone.” The last word came out acid-flecked and bitter beyond measure. Meadowbrook stared into his tankard’s depths, as if hunting for answers there. “My master slunk into his tower, still gnawing over his defeat decades after the fact, and sealed himself away past wards and traps even I don’t know. He’s a mouldering corpse in there, or he’s still knocking his head off that same brick wall. Maybe Discord just can’t be solved, you ever consider that? And - and if Starswirl had something, anything, he’d be out there using it. And he’s not. Write him off. Wash your hooves of this.”

Celestia, in her quietest, softest, most keeping-her-temper-in-check voice, said, “I am not just going to accept defeat before I even properly start.”

“Open your eyes. Listen to somepony who was there. The world’s gone barren of wit and brawn, and even the ponies who had these things couldn’t do anything to Discord. No amount of magical lore gave us a single clue. All Equestria’s armies and the unicorn with the biggest magical muscle around couldn’t do a thing. None of us left can do anything.”

Celestia breathed in, breathed out, steady as a metronome. A hollow core of helplessness twisted inside her, congealing and growing.

The light shifted outside as the night abruptly ended and the sun rose, sending the shadows skittering. Past Meadowbrook, the walls of The End of the Day faintly shimmered with enchantment, and a realisation came to Celestia.

“This place, the wards on it,” she started, keeping her tone gentle. “It’s your work, isn’t it.”

Meadowbrook regarded her sullenly. “Chaos was spreading up here. The locals needed a safe haven. I’d been left wandering and alone. I could help shore it up, at least. Still do so.”

“You wouldn’t have done that if you weren’t still fighting Discord. Your coat isn’t grey. You’re still making things to protect ponies against him, acting for kindness’s sake. You’ve not given up. Not really.”

The sullen look turned back into a frosty glare. “Well, you divine whatever grand intentions into my deeds you like. Perhaps I just wanted a safe drinking hole. And this isn’t something I crafted. Not properly. Nothing crafted persists now, anyway. The magic unravels and chaos seeps into the item and it … well. It’s worthless now. I’m not a craftspony anymore.”

“But you are. You still made -”

“I slapped up some wards against rogue magic to keep off the chaotic equivalent of a light breeze. That’s my extent, puppy. That, and another cherished long-term crafting project I’m currently in the middle of.” Meadowbrook picked up his tankard, gestured towards his mouth with it, and tapped his head with a hoof. “This is my hammer. This is my anvil. And this, I shall one day transform into a mess of happy, alcohol-soaked pap. And with any luck, before then, a new unicorn will wander by to keep this place standing another little while yet. Who can say?”

The storm howled outside, heedless of the bright day. Meadowbrook took one last swig from his tankard before meeting Celestia’s gaze once more, his glare now merely tired.

“This isn’t a world for heroics anymore. This isn’t a world for warriors or archmages or craftsponies or anything, and none of that needs fostering, because none of it will ever take. The kindest thing I can do for you is forget how to make words come out my mouth now. So that’s what I’m going to do. Leave an old stallion to his drink and see yourself and your sister to whatever resembling a peaceful life you can scrounge up. Wander off. I’m not going to help something that will only end in your tears.”

“His tower’s location. That’s all I ask,” said Celestia.

Meadowbrook’s mouth remained firmly shut, and he pointedly looked away from Celestia to study the knots in the tabletop. Celestia thought she heard Luna calling, but ignored her. “Where is his tower? You don’t have to tell us anything more, you can forget about us forever. Just tell us where to go. Please.”

No response, and the cold, hard ball of desperation grew in Celestia’s gut. “If not us, then who else? Where’s Starswirl’s tower?”

Meadowbrook met her gaze, and his expression had all the emotion of a stone. He rose his tankard to his muzzle and drank.

Celestia’s hoof blurred out and smacked the tankard out of his grasp, sending it and its contents alternately clattering and sloshing over the table. Anger flared in Meadowbrook’s eyes, before stony neutrality reasserted itself.

“Fine then,” snapped Celestia, a hot wave of anger bringing a flush to her face and a blurriness to her vision. “We’ll leave you to your drink. Enjoy seeing chaos keep reigning while we find somepony else with a spine. You must be so used to that by now.”

Meadowbrook didn’t respond, save for scooping up his tankard and a quantity of the liquid with a deft swipe of his golden magic. Celestia rose, turned her back on him and trotted stiffy away from the alcove. She wove between the occupied tables, ignoring the stares, stopping only when she bumped into the long counter. Luna appeared beside her, eyes full of concern even as she brushed a few crumbs off her muzzle. “What transpired?”

Celestia reached for her full cider, and took a long drink from it and several calming breaths before she answered. “Starswirl’s old apprentice thinks we are idealistic little idiots who regard ourselves too highly,” she said dully, “and we ought to leave Discord to our inactive betters, or it’ll all end in tears.”

“Ah. That carping old chorus.” Luna glared in Meadowbrook’s direction. “Shall we have sterner words with him? Such cynicism deserves a sharp rebuke or a sharp kick to the vulnerables, whichever is handier.”

“Not unless you want to lose your nice comfy floor for the night -” Celestia glanced out the window; the sun and moon appeared to be in flux. “- or whichever.”

“... we don’t necessarily mind sleeping in a hedgerow.”

“Well, I do. And at least let me finish my cider and food before you inevitably get us kicked out.” Celestia pulled the somewhat-decimated platter closer to her as she swallowed more cider. Her appetite didn’t answer when called, however, and she kneaded her forehead with a hoof. “Stars, this was a waste. I should have known there’d be nothing out here.”

“There’s not nothing," Luna cautiously ventured. "There is a knowledgeable unicorn. Albeit not a currently co-operative one.”

“Good as nothing,” muttered Celestia.

“We’ll find something else. Some other lead,” said Luna. Celestia didn't answer, and so the two fell into silence. Celestia started methodically chewing through the oatcakes and cheese in front of her, for want of something better to do.

The routine sounds of The End of the Day moved in to fill the hush, the low murmur of the patrons mixing with the patter of the rain on the exterior walls and the clink and swish of Tallow washing things behind the bar. A couple of the older stallions had brought out pipes and were measuring carefully-rationed portions of pipeleaf into them, and soon the smell of smoking filtered throughout the room.

A discordant screech broke Celestia out of her dark thoughts, and she turned to see that a young unicorn mare amidst the group of farmers had been coaxed into bringing out an old fiddle. She shyly touched the bow to the strings, and scratched out a few opening notes to encouraging cheers. Before long, a reel’s tune trilled out across the room, kept to time by the appreciative audience’s hoofstamps, laughs and occasional cheers.

It was rough music from a young player, but Celestia found her hoof tapping along in time to it. They’d played the same reel back in the village she’d come from, so many leagues behind her.

“They still know how to laugh here, at least,” said Luna. “Some things chaos has to work hard to dislodge.”

Celestia sipped the last of her cider. “Good for them,” she said, not ungently.

A soft knocking came from the door, all but unheard against the noise of the inn. The playing faltered, but continued. Tallow sighed and trudged her way from behind the counter, peering out through the eyehole in the door. “Who comes knocking at this hour?”

“A weary traveller, seeking respite,” came the soft voice of a stallion.

Tallow sent a wry glance Celestia and Luna’s way. “Now there’s a familiar tune.” She peered out through the eyehole for a moment longer, clicked her tongue, shrugged, and started opening the door. “In you come. Wipe your hooves. For form’s sake, if for no actual effect.”

The door swung open, framing the shape of a large, strapping pegasus stallion. His coat and mane were pure white, his eyes were darkest grey, and he politely wiped his hooves on the welcoming rag as he stepped in.

And as he did so, several other figures detached themselves from the shadows at either side of the door and pressed in close at his back.

Tallow cursed and moved to close the door, but the pegasus was too imposing a proposition and blocked her path. The others with him - seven in total, a mix of earth ponies, pegasi, and a single unicorn - filtered in to stand at his side. Their coats, manes, and eyes were all monochrome or greyscale, and their cutie marks were all indistinct smears on their sides.

The greys had found their way here.

The fiddler stopped, leaving silence echoing in the space of the inn as all wary attention shifted to the newcomers. Celestia slowly moved away from the counter, bracing all her hooves upon the ground, while flashing a series of eye movements and quick hoof gestures to Luna. Context-dependent, these gestures, which could have meant Keep quiet for now or Phwoar, check out that cute stallion or Go to ground. Be ready to spring out. Luna mercifully picked up on the last, and with a rustle of barding, moved quickly away and into the shadows.

The white pegasus looked around the room with a gentle smile. His glance fell briefly towards the shimmering wall, and then back towards the patrons. “Friends,” he sent, and his soft tone held all the friendship of a thrown knife, “Why cloister yourselves away like this? There’s a world of chaos outwith these confining little walls, and you’re missing out. Should we lend a hoof?”

“We don’t want what you’re selling, don’t like your tone, and couldn’t give a horseapple for your hoof,” growled Tallow, her full height tiny next to the pegasus. “Take a wander, friend.”

The pegasus tilted his head and regarded her. “What a odd little place, with such strange and fettering enchantments on its walls. I wonder what His Majesty would make of it? Nothing good, I’m afraid to suspect.”

“His Majesty can take a buck to his mismatched backside for all we care,” spat Tallow.

“Ooh. Unpleasant talk. On top of actively distancing yourselves from all his blessings.” The pegasus shook his head, and his smile sharpened as he regarded the timbers once more. “You’re lucky, really, that we came when we did. No problem that a little bit of fire can’t hide, though. You’ll be fine.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” hissed Tallow, and decidedly hostile growls came in support from the rising patrons at her back. “You’d be spitting teeth before you even tried.”

The pegasus smiled benevolently at the gathering, and the six others at his side - all imposing mares and stallions in their own right - bristled. Spurs glinted at their hooves. “Plenty of farmers here tonight, I’d imagine,” said the pegasus. “Plenty of bad ways to get crippled by fighters without much to lose. How many farriers do you have out here?”

An uncertain note penetrated the hostility of the inn’s patrons, then. Celestia couldn’t blame them. Living out here would be borderline subsistence as it was, without running the risk of maiming.

But that said, she didn’t live out here.

It probably wasn’t the cleverest of moves, but Celestia had never regarded herself as an especially clever pony. She pushed her way out from between the patrons to stand before the pegasus. “They won’t need any farriers,” said Celestia. “Just walk away and nothing needs to go badly for anypony here.”

The pegasus looked down at her - tall as she was, even he had a few inches to spare - and his eyes glinted. “How very bold. But you’ll forgive me if I don’t see the need.”

“Walk away,” Celestia repeated, cold steel lacing her tone even as her nerves jangled. “You think you’ll achieve anything if you burn down this place? You think Discord will care?”

“Of course he won’t,” breathed the stallion. “He’s perfect. Beyond caring. But he must be helped. His blessings need to be shared. Nothing can stop his chaos - and nothing will be allowed to.”

“Last chance,” said Celestia. “No matter what, I’ll see a bit of chaos stopped here and now.”

The pegasus’s smile grew as wide as it could possibly go. “It’d be far easier to just not fight the chaos, you know. I learned that in the end.”

“I don’t doubt it,” sighed Celestia. “But loyalty to doomed causes got its hooks in me, I’m afraid. And at the moment, I seem to outnumber you one-to-seven.”

The pegasus rolled his eyes. “Little pony -” he started, and got no further. Celestia made a quick, cutting gesture with her hoof and summoned the night.

Luna flew out in one swift, brutal plunge from the shadows to the right of the group, barging into and knocking over two of them, an earth pony and the unicorn, in the first second of the fight. They fell screaming and the two next to them upped spurs and whirled upon the rising Luna, daring a melee. But Luna, small though she was, was a melee all by herself, and the air was soon filled with the screech of spurs on barding, the crack of hooves meeting joints, anguished yells, and Luna’s furious war cries.

It was a good distraction as any for Celestia, who lunged at the pegasus and smashed him across the muzzle with a bone-jarring blow from her forehoof. Teeth sprayed out one side of his mouth as he staggered back, a gurgled curse coming from the depths of his throat, and Celestia turned quickly to face the next grey pony coming at her in a headlong rush, snarling and bringing his spurs to bear.

Her forehooves swung up just in time to hook his own hooves behind the edges of his spurs, and Celestia used the momentum of the swing to fall backwards, her back greeting the hard wooden floor to drive the breath from her body. Her back legs rose as well, though, slamming into the grey pony’s stomach as he fell with her and giving him just that little extra push as she released his forehooves. He flew over and past her, and Celestia heard a meaty thunk as he met the counter face-first.

With a rasping sigh, she rolled over onto her back and steadied herself for a moment. Just a moment, before she could dive back in.

A hoof crashed into Celestia’s side, sending her tumbling across the floor and choking out whatever breath she’d just regained, fresh bursts of pain blotting out her vision all the while. Above her, the blurred shape of a grey pony rose and sent a glittering spur down at her face. She snarled and frantically swept out her hoof to knock his blow aside. The blade of the spur wove up, though, just out of reach, and danced through taunting patterns in the air. The grey pony laughed, and Celestia only had a desperate choke to offer by way of retort.

He rose above her, his stance casual, and Celestia saw her chance and seized it. Her back legs swung out and into his own, sending the grey pony crashing to the ground at Celestia’s side. He lunged across at her with a spur, her hoof smacked into the muscle of his foreleg to turn it aside, and for a brief and long and terrible while, all was desperate wrestling and struggling and strike after counter-strike on the hard floor.

Celestia grimaced with the effort, and her opponent returned the gesture as his head wove close to her own. His ear flapped past, within biting distance, and Celestia lunged forward to do exactly that. She champed her teeth shut around the flesh of his ear, drawing out an agonised shriek from him that turned into a pained grunt when she pulled on the ear, yanking his head up off the ground, and then slammed it back down again with an audible crack. His motions slumped, and Celestia rose his head to smash it down again, and then once more for good luck.

He lay stunned, breathing faintly, and Celestia choked and licked blood off her teeth as she started to stagger upright.

But she felt the brush of cold air over her, and then the colder bite of metal across the back of her neck as she frantically let herself fall. Stinging pain came from where the metal had cut her, and she twisted around and looked up to see the pegasus stallion, wings flaring, half of his mouth a broken mess and his eyes blazing with hatred.

“Br’d mare,” he rasped as he rose his crimson-edged spur, half his words coming out as red bubbles. “Bl’dy br’d mare! Y’re dea -”

Light flashed, and a tankard wrapped in a soft golden aura slammed into the back of the pegasus’s head. The pegasus tottered where he stood. His eyes slowly rolled up into his skull. And then he finally collapsed to the floor, his legs sprackling under his inert form.

Celestia rose by slow and painful degrees, and past the excited hubbub of inn patrons, caught sight of Meadowbrook lifting up the dented tankard with his magic and returning it neatly to his table. His expression was somewhere between a scowl and sad resignation, and he looked old beyond his years.

“Tia! Are you alright?”

Celestia turned to see Luna trotting up to her, concern in her gaze and nary a scratch anywhere apart from her barding. You could hardly have told she’d been in a fight with four opponents now experiencing all the joys of bruised unconsciousness on the floor at her back, aside from the artful patina of sweat on her brow.

“Quite alright,” Celestia coughed, out of sheer reflex.

“You’re bleeding. Profusely.”

“Well, apart from that.”

“We require some hot water!” Luna called, turning to the inn’s patrons. “And a needle and suture thread from Celestia’s saddlebags! And a cloth if you have one!”

“You’ll get that,” murmured the awed-looking Tallow as she turned away. “That and more.”

“Your concern is - ow, much appreciated, Luna.” Celestia winced. Adrenaline’s red clouds faded, and her full collection of aches started to make themselves known. Stars above, they hurt.

Luna snorted. “Your technique wants. Being a meagre bruiser won’t suit you forever. We’ll have to get that fixed.”

“We’ll have time for that,” muttered Celestia.

“Also, something, something, remember tact, sister dearest.”

“Yes, well-remembered. Stint your clep, there’s a love,” groaned Celestia as she leaned her neck forward. Somepony was wiping her wound with a warm, damp cloth, and it only seemed fair to let them get on with it.

The cleaning and stitching passed, and ‘that and more’ from Tallow turned out to be use of her own clean needle and thread, bowls of hot water, a few tankards of cider topped up with something special and smelling strongly of apples and alcohol, and an extra platter of oatcakes and cheese. The drinks might have been unnecessary, given the sheer number of patrons who wanted to stride up, shake her and Luna by the hooves, and offer to buy them a drink, most of whom had to be shooed off by a fussing older unicorn mare with some degree of farrier training. Celestia would have objected, but the growing ball of warmth inside her from the special drink made it harder to care about things as much.

An interval of lull came, when the patrons had mostly dispersed to give them peace and help truss up the grey ponies. In that interval, hooves sounded on the floor next to their table, and Celestia and Luna turned to see Meadowbrook. The unicorn wore the same expression Celestia had seen just earlier, though his gaze was somewhere past them. When he stood, Celestia saw, his huge cloak and hat were deceptive, and he was quite small-framed.

“Meadowbrook,” said Celestia, nodding politely. “Your help in that scuffle was appreciated.”

“It was a shade more than a ‘scuffle’,” Luna muttered before Celestia shushed her. Meadowbrook didn’t answer, but eventually turned his gaze directly upon them.

“Good showing, to defy those Discord’s corrupted and to beat them two-on-seven,” he muttered. “Defying Discord himself will require an even better showing, let alone beating him. You understand that?”

“Entirely,” said Celestia. “We’re still set upon it, though.”

“I still say the world’s barren of wit and brawn. Compared to Starswirl in his prime, at least.” Meadowbrook sighed. “But maybe heart can substitute for either, at a pinch. I don’t know. I don’t care to know.”

Celestia and Luna didn’t answer in the moment that followed, and Meadowbrook cleared his throat. “Anyway, it’s a daft pair of ponies that’ll stand against seven. Probably a pair beyond sensible persuasion, bound to get themselves in harm’s way no matter what their wise elders advise. No sense in leaving you totally unprepared. Or leaving you to go without a clue.”

“You mean you’ll -”

“Forty-three miles south of here as a corvid flies, the edge of the Greycairn range runs into the Palomino scrubland. You’ll see them from a distance, three mountains out to one side by themselves, stormclouds perpetually hanging over them. Emergency reservoirs for the Duncirrus pegasi, once upon a time. One of the mountains will be a bit narrower than the others. It’s not just a mountain, and there’s a little door with a stone handle tucked into a crevice on the west-facing side.”

Celestia closed her eyes and breathed out with sheer, giddy relief. “Thank you. Thank you, Meadowbrook.”

“I meant what I said about the wards and traps. You’ll have a damned difficult time getting past them if they haven’t deteriorated or become infected with chaos. And in the case of the latter, your time might be even more difficult. And I especially meant what I said about Starswirl probably having nothing useful for you.”

“We understand that. We know,” said Celestia.

“Still daring to do it, though,” said Luna.

Meadowbrook looked at them sadly. “It’s not too late to admit you’re in over your heads,” he said. “To just turn around, wait for greater ponies to try their hooves at it, and do what good you can for a few ponies in a small area. That’s doable. That’s a good thing that needs doing somewhere, anywhere.”

“We understand that too,” said Celestia. “But, begging your pardon, there are ponies hurting everywhere. And we can’t walk away from that.”

Meadowbrook regarded them, and then, with a smooth motion of his magic, unclasped his great cloak and rolled it neatly up. He settled it onto the table, and pushed it closer to them with a hoof. His small frame seemed oddly bare, and two crossed hammers gleamed on his flanks.

“What is -?” started Luna, confused.

“I don’t travel much anymore,” said Meadowbrook. “Don’t craft much anymore either. But that’s got some basic enchantments for warmth and dryness on it, and it should be big enough as a blanket for both of you when you’re sleeping. Toss a coin or have a fight over who gets to wear it during the day; I don’t much care.”

Celestia realised her mouth had fallen open, and closed it. “I can’t accept this,” she said.

“You can and you bloody well will,” said Meadowbrook. “Your chances are slim enough as they are. Don’t turn down a nice, functional tool while you’re at it. Past a point, there’s such a thing as deserving to fail.”

“That was almost encouraging.” Celestia smiled at Meadowbrook, and then gave him a sudden hug. “Thank you. I’ll make sure it’s -”

“Get off! I don’t do affection,” said Meadowbrook, wriggling away. “Now go save the world, and try not to die. And … and give Starswirl my fondest regards. If you find him alive.”

Celestia opened her mouth to speak, but the old unicorn had already turned his back and was trotting away. His frame was small, but in the guttering firelight, his shadow stretched tall across the room. He vanished back into his alcove and the shadows there. Celestia felt she could still see the golden glitter of his eyes.

“You two fine?” The query came from Tallow, climbing down some recessed spiral stairs behind the counter. She briefly scanned the nigh-empty inn, and grunted with satisfaction at the end of another shift.

“Quite fine. But I’m inclined to regretfully decline a place for the night,” said Celestia.

“You are? We are?” said Luna.

“Yes. We don’t know who might have been watching that fight, and we’d rather not bring down more trouble on this inn if we can help in.”

“You sure you don’t want to rest those cuts? Rest at all?” said Tallow, frowning.

“I’ve taken worse blows. And I think Luna and I would rather make headway while we can. If the grey ponies saw our faces … where are the grey ponies, for that matter? You haven’t killed them, have you?”

“Of course we’ve not killed them,” snapped Tallow. “They’ve been turned, they can’t help themselves. Some of us still remember how to be proper Equestrians.”

“Good,” said Celestia, though Luna frowned. “That’s very good.”

Tallow fidgeted, and then said, “Though we did blindfold them before they woke up, bound them just hard enough that they could wiggle loose with a fair while’s sustained effort, hauled them north while lifted up so that they can’t easily find the road back, and dumped them in a quiet bit of wilderness.”

“Oh.”

“We’re practical Equestrians round these parts. Should give us all a bit of breathing space. And next time, we’ll be ready. You sure you’re not staying?”

“To my regret, yes,” said Celestia, while Luna nodded.

Tallow sighed. “Tartarus mend you. Take some food for the road, at least.”

It was night again when they left the warmth and light of The End of the Day behind and set out on the road south. The moon drifted in lazy circles around the sky, the stormclouds long dispersed.

“That was exhilarating,” remarked Luna. “You should start bar fights more often.” She trotted unencumbered, having flatly refused to wear their new cloak when an elderly invalid was in need of it. After skelping Luna across the ear for the elderly part, Celestia had gratefully donned it for now.

“It shan’t become a habit,” said Celestia. She had a couple of hours of walking left in her, at least, despite the bumps and scrapes and lack of rest. She’d been born tough.

They walked on as the path roughened underhoof, and Celestia revised her mental estimate to one-and-a-half hours. On the edge of the dark and cloud-shrouded horizon, she fancied she could see mountains.

“He might be right, though. Meadowbrook,” said Luna suddenly. “Suppose the two of us can’t get into Starswirl’s tower, or he’s dead, or has nothing for us. What do we do then?”

“There’ll be something we can use. Some spell, some trick,” said Celestia. “But if not … we just keep at it. Find a new lead. Dredge through Starswirl’s notes and try to research this ourselves. There’s always hopes, there’s always tricks and things to try. We shan’t give up when it gets hard.”

“Always onwards then,” said Luna as they rounded a bend in the path. A small valley swept out before them, dark water babbling at its base. Sweeping down through it and over a little bridge and onwards, upwards to where the valley rose and rough foothills began, the road ran on.

“There’s always an onwards to be found,” said Celestia, wincing as a misstep made her abused side and neck flare with pain. “Let’s try and keep on finding it. For the next hour.”