From the Personal Memoirs of Special Agent Peace Keeper, FBI.

(Highly classified, do not read unless you have explicit permission. That means you, Steel Gaze!)

Okay, suppose I really should make a personal apology to both Twilight and Night Glider. I lied, no two ways about it. I lied, right to their faces about Target Quartermane’s status. Okay, some may view it as omitting certain truths but I view it as lying. Sooner or later, the truth will out. What’s that old saying?

Oh yes. Half a truth is often a great lie. Made by Benjamin Franklin. Great pony, never quite sure if he actually did the famous kite experiment but the point still stands. Here’s another, made by one Charles Spurgeon. A lie can travel halfway around the world while the truth is putting on its shoes.

Starting to get the point yet? I write these memoirs, for later dates reading so just in case everything is ever to go sour, and theFührer is ever to get his hands on great riches and wage war upon the world and place his iron hoof upon us everyone shall know where I stood. What I did, and how badly I, and if you pardon my language, fucked up at times.

Yeah, I lied, and at the time I thought it best to omit certain truths to spare feelings, but right now… I’m not so sure. I’m not so stupid as the public, I actually know a certain speculative fictional novel billed as a ‘What if?” actually being the truth. The irony isn’t lost on me, I confess. Me just talking about lies, and now here I am mentioning a book that’s one great big lie to the public in some ways.

Steel Gaze would probably want me to keep my mouth shut, I’m not sure, but I feel as if a great weight’s been put on my shoulders, just keeping my mouth shut as I am. Personally, I feel right now as if I should say something. After all, Target was their friend. A great friend, and a sister to some of them I’m willing to bet.

Yeah, I should say something. It’s the right thing to do after all. And this is in no way related to my marefriend staring me down the neck. I was raised in a Faustian family after all, and lying, in my family even if it’s for a good cause is viewed as a sin. Maybe I’m not as devout as some of my parents, considering I’m a special agent now which means I do have to lie a lot but on this particular case I do feel as if I’m committing an act of sin against the Lady Faust herself that may damn me.

Yeah, I may walk through the valley of death, and I may fear no evil 'cause I'm blind to it all plus my mind, along with my gun they may comfort me but the fact that I’m saying a member of someone’s family is alive when in reality they aren’t… Well, I’m not walking on the path of the righteous because I know I’m so very wrong indeed. So very wrong.

I’ve given this a lot of thought, really. I have to tell. I must. Night Glider, she’s far from a stupid mare from what I can tell, chances are she’s probably onto me. Hell, I wouldn’t bet against her going off to run and tell her old crewmembers about me and Steel. Still can’t believe, or maybe I can that Spent tried to shoot at us with his shotgun. Suppose we deserve that much, I guess. We did wind up getting the eventual love of his life killed. They say you only love once in your life, and in a way we’re partial to Greta’s murder so that’s more damnation for us, I suppose.

Okay, that was just my Marefriend slapping me upside the head for being, and I quote: “An idiot.” Suppose I should devote a little of this entry to her. Or maybe quite a bit, considering by Faust I love her and I have a tendency to ramble as if you couldn’t already tell by this and previous entries.

Her name’s Maud Pie. She’s from an Amish family, we originally met up when she was about sixteen or so -So yes, one of those teenage romance type things- when she was off on her Rumshpringa as it’s called. As I best understand it, and you’ll have to forgive me for any errors made as I’m hardly any expert, the Rumshpringa or Rumspringa, if you prefer, is a rite of passage for the Amish. Whenever a member of the family reaches the age of fourteen, they go out on a journey and leave the community. Now, the Amish, you must understand sorta live off the grid and as part of their religion don’t use modern day technology. No cars, no radio, none of that sort. However, during the Rumshpringa when one leaves the community that can change as they enter the modern age for good or for ill. From what my dear Maud tells me, Amish elders generally view it as a time for courtship and finding a spouse. Now, obviously that’s what happened here, but more on that later I think.

Usual behavioral restrictions are relaxed, and this is simply because this way the Amish youth can acquire a better view of the outside world. Knowledge, experience, and all that. Like I said, for good or for ill. I couldn’t blame Maud if she decided to stay Amish, given how crappy our world is right now. Banks have gone bust, and the Führer’s gearing up for war as we speak. A side note, if I may. Judging by practical results, rumspringa can probably be deemed largely successful for the most part. 80%, sometimes even 90% of Amish return to their communities instead of living their lives in the modern world. Not that I could blame them, really. Maud’s just one of those rare exceptions.

She’s from Indiana, I should say. Comes from a small town called, aptly enough from what I hear, Rockville. Apparently, quite famous for its gem mines and the sturdy housing materials it produces. Now Maud, growing up in this town, can tell you anything and everything about a specific mineral or gem or rock or whatever you need. Sorta like a metallurgist, but for rocks. Believe me, when the time came for our wedding, she did sorta nag me about what type of gem was the best cut and was best suited for our rings. Now that… that was something to be seen. I still get a few jokes from Steel Gaze about me marrying a mare who’s greatest passion is rocks, but he can kindly shut his trap for all I care.

Anyways… Now, the curse laid upon Cadence. Do I believe in it or not? Now, I’ve seen a lot of strange shit over the years, stuff that would turn you white but even this I find hard to believe. I mean, bringing down the biblical plagues, including quite possibly the Angel of Death herself? Hell, maybe I’d rather not believe if I want to sleep soundly at night.

But whatever the case, real or not, the fact remains that there was a mare named Cadence in the time of Seti as historical records are beginning to show, and there are quite a few tombs in the area where she was supposedly laid to rest that contain a Hell of a lot of gold. Gold the Führer would very much like to get his grubby little hooves on. Sent one of his best agents of the infamous Gestapo after these tombs, the legendary Dr. Caballeron to go after it with a huge number of soldiers in tow armed to the tooth. Nasty sorts, mercs, and polished soldiers alike. Even heard rumors of a griffon amongst them, though I’m not sure how true that is given how bigoted the Führer is towards anypony not part of the so-called Master Race. By the Lady Faust, I hope that plan I’ve heard the British Secret Service are cooking up to turn the Führer into a mare and make him kinder to the world is all it’s cracked up to be. Yes, I’m not making that up. They’re actually planning such a thing. Hope it might make him call off the war, they say. Just infuse him with chemical doses of estrogen and give him the motherly traits of a mare.

As the Prench like to say… C’est la vie. Guess desperate times call for desperate measures. Apparently really desperate. Even Maud’s laughing at the sheer prospect of this idea, and she’s not one to show emotion normally. As for how I even know about this supposedly highly classified idea, Steel Gaze apparently has friends in the British Secret Service. Who’d have thunk? He was always a pony to make friends easily enough. I repeat, C’est la vie.

Maud Pie’s Personal Diary:

Now, my husband probably is worrying about the happenings in Baladi and Germaney and the like, so I suppose I should give my own thoughts on the matter. Yes, I am worried although I do not show it. Some may call me emotionless, though that is far from the truth. I’m worried about my culture disappearing, vanishing into the mist as the Führer grinds it to dust under his soldiers and their hooves.

I’ve noticed him antsy about certain things as of late, maybe him lying to those ponies about their friend’s unfortunate demise or the Neighamerican military failing to start gearing up for war. Because make no mistake, war is coming. A mind like the Führer’s, it can think of nothing else but war. And that little British Secret Service Plan he mentioned in his memoirs? Stupid to the very last. Now, I’m no chemist nor do I ever have any ideals on being one -Geology is more my speed- but even I can guess dosing the Führer with estrogen would upset the chemical balance of the body. Might make him even angrier if nothing else. Why must us mares be the sensible ones at times?

Now, I suppose I should tell you, I suppose, how someone like me and someone like Peace Keeper met. Yes, it was during my Rumshpringa. I’d decided to take a trip to Manehatten of all places. I’d heard of the bustling city and it’s beautiful lights, so that was my first stop on my tour of the country before I returned home to Rockville and my family farm. I stopped in a local shop for a cup of coffee and some donuts -I distinctly remember there being this showmare and her unicorn assistant with a southern accent there that day- and there he was.

Just sitting quietly in the back of the room sipping a cup of ‘Joe’ as he apparently calls it. Wasn’t disturbing anyone, just reading the daily newspaper -the Manehatten Tribune- and playing a game of chess with himself. I suppose I decided it looked rather sad for a stallion to play a game by himself, so I decided to join in. I’d picked up knowledge of the game on my travels, so I knew a few things. Not as much as he did, apparently, as he checkmated me. We got to talking, Peace Keeper deciding to teach me some of his moves and the like and things sorta progressed from there. It was just one date, then another, and I suppose over that period we fell in love. I admit, it was a tough choice electing not to go back to my home and my family but love’s a curious thing. Peace Keeper himself says it can make one man weep, another man sing. He should be a songwriter really. Maybe he was in another life.

I admit, I’ve shown interest in making it into Princeton or Pranceton or whatever they call it. I’d like to be a licensed geologist, not just one by hobby. I have the knowledge, I just don’t have the money.

It’s a funny thing, I heard this British Lord named Thorax -A changeling- enrolled his daughter Ocellus into the school. Mind you, his brother Pharynx protested quite fervently I hear in enrolling his only niece into the school but Thorax overruled him. Money can get you anywhere these days, it’s just a lot of us don’t have a lot of it to go around really.

Damn shame. But that’s the fate of the world, I suppose. Maybe if there’s one good thing about Neighamerica going to war against the Führer -If anything about war can ever be considered ‘good’- then it would kickstart the economy again. Workers would be offered jobs, factories would start up again in creating destructive engines to wage war.

Hmm, maybe Peace Keeper’s right at times. Maybe an Amish mare leaving her community isn’t always for the best. I’m starting to think like a regular Neighmarican. Thinking of things like needless bloodshed and the like. Or maybe I’m thinking logically, I don’t know.

But my fate is sealed, I’m part of a wider world now. A much wider, much stranger world. Filled with things I couldn’t possibly have imagined back on my family’s simple rock farm. Like dragons for instance. I never thought they existed but if the rumors from Princeton are true they apparently do. I picked up a book on them, speculative fiction mind you, but if any of it’s true they’re a curious bunch. Personally, I doubt this book I picked up to have any truth to it unlike Peace Keeper seems to for whatever reason but I digress.

Maybe it’s possible this dragon came from elsewhere, like somewhere in the UK or maybe the Norwegian Fjords like the legendary dragon Fáfnir. Maybe this Cynder is a distant relation. Who is to say, really?

A friend of Peace Keeper’s, an immigrant from Prance called Flashfire always said this: “Legends are material to be moulded, and not facts to be recorded.”

Good quote, if I must say so myself.

Nice stallion, enjoys a good intellectual debate from time to time if Peace Keeper is to be believed. Used to captain this trading ship, the Piercing Arrow before it got sunk by this creature.

What creature? Apparently, it’s called the Léviathan if Flashfire is to be believed. He said on it: “I've always been interested in oral traditions and mythological stories and legends from antiquity that have to do with nature, attempts to explain mysterious or puzzling, or very striking phenomena from nature. Things that people observed or heard about in nature. But I’ll be damned if I ever want to see that beast again.”

Seems reasonable enough. Oh, there’s another trait I’ve picked up from my husband. Rambling. Granted, I could have picked that up from cousin Surprise or my little sister Pinkie but I’d place my bets on my husband. Who’s to say, really? Who is to say?

From the Personal Memoirs of Special Agent Peace Keeper, FBI.

Yes, it must be done. The truth must be let slip. I’m calling Fancy Pants again, I still have his number after all. I’m going to call him and ask to meet him at his little house down in New Jersey. Maud’s coming as support, after all this cannot nor should it be easy.

He, along with everyone else I can find that’s still alive from the Neighlantis venture deserves to know the truth. The truth I so easily kept from them. It’s all too easy for a man to become a monster, and perhaps in a way I have.

The Truth will out, that’s the saying. They’ll probably hate me, and they would have every right to but the truth must out. Already feeling phantom pains from the punch that’s sure to come from Spent Thrift. I shall prepare an ice pack.

On other related subjects, I recently got a telegram from Daring over in Baladi. She’s escaped Dr. Caballeron and the Gestapo for now and is in route to Cairo to get back to the states to rejoin us. Thankfully for small victories, she managed to get the box she and Target acquired here to us, but she herself is not out of danger. She’s one of our most trusted agents, and I would not like for her to fall into Nazi clutches.

But I have faith in her, Daring’s got this certain cunning about her. She’s one of the best, and for a woman she’s got balls if you excuse me saying so. Hell, it’d take balls to change your name to something Belgian and enter in the trenches of the Great War and battle neck-deep at Verdun for crying out loud.

She’s crazy, but in that good way. It takes a certain type of crazy to join up with the FBI and travel around the world hunting for treasure and evade the Gestapo to keep them from getting their hooves on it. It takes a certain kind of crazy to go deep into enemy territory and disguise yourself, as I’ve heard she’s done at times, and gain information on enemy tactics. Hell, it takes a certain kind of crazy to dress yourself up as the opposite gender and fool everyone, along with that certain amount of cunning I mentioned before. But that’s Daring ‘Danger’ Do for you. She’s a mare on a mission, one that cannot be stopped unless you shoot her in the head. Wish we had more ponies like her on Faust’s good earth, because the Lady knows we’re probably going to need them in the coming days. War’s on the horizon. It’s only a matter of when.

Daring… Now that is a mare to be admired.

More admirable than myself I believe.

Now, if only I had the balls to stop talking to myself and take one hoofstep out the door and to my car, and drive to New Jersey.

Easier said than done really, but my mind and my body are prepared. I think.

Author's Note

Okay, so yeah... Decided to try something different from my normal style of writing for this chapter. Diary and Journal entries. Inspired by reading a little too much of Dracula I think.

But yeah, some of the things said here, like the plan to make Hitler a kinder softer person by dosing him with Estrogen actually were thought up believe it or not. And like Maud said, the effects thought up would not happen. It would have actually pissed him off even more. Gee, who'd have thunk?

Now Maud, aside from doing a lot of research on the Rumspringa this is actually the first time I've written her character so if she's off in any way I apologize. Same goes for Peace Keeper, Not So New.

As ever, feedback is welcomed.