1: The Crossroads (draft 1)
"Long, luminous beams of sunlight streamed from the heavens to gild the tall towers and spacious...spacious piazzas with a warm glow....the castle's ramparts gleamed like silver bars and reflected their glory onto the clear, green grass. The sound of water flowing through massive, extravagant fountains mixed with the quiet hubbub of city life a distance off...But here, in the twisted corridors of vines and growth, far removed from life and placed in an oasis of peace and near silence, having retreated through long turns and conjoined paths...one can truly hear oneself think."
A greyish blue pegasus sat there, staring up at the sky as he focused, deep in thought.
"Hmmm..." he thought to himself for a second. "Too purple? Maybe I should try cutting it down a bit, adding some rhymes..."
Looking at his surroundings, he started. "My...is it really that time already?" He squinted upwards. "It must be eight-o-clock by now, huh?"
He shook his head and stretched, seeming to clear out some lingering thought or feeling.
"Well, better get to work...Luna always expects punctuality, and no reverie of mine is gonna get in the way of my duty."
But before he left, he took a last glimpse around the center of Canterlot's hedge maze. There was the small fountain, there was the little diamond shaped monument to royalty long past, there were the flower beds with near-extinct flowers flourishing in the care the gardener gave them...
"A place where anypony can be at peace," he said to himself.
"Although," he chuckled. "I'd like it a bit more if you couldn't just drop in from the top."
And with that, he was satisfied. He took off, and in the evening air, directed his sights towards the barracks for the Night Guard.
Of course, this greyish blue pegasus, also known as Steady Force, is not the main character.
That exalted position goes to his brother---this time, a tan, coffee colored pegasus, who at that very moment had just finished dinner and was walking home to play some videogames.
"So here we are.
"The busy streets of Canterlot. What more a world of mystery could you imagine? Each pony, each individual that walks by has their own story. Some good, some sad, some riddled with hidden crimes, and better still, many with secret, unrealized goals left unfinished. Will they finish those goals or no? Should we root for them or just stand back? No soul can truly tell."
The main character of this story--albeit completely unaware of his status--strolled down one of the many nearly indistinguishable roads of Canterlot.
"As for the road itself, why, it has a story as well! How many chariots carrying royalty have passed over these flagstones? What goods, what spices, what amounts of weapons were carried over it centuries and centuries ago? Even the most unused, dilapidated alley could have witnessed a forbidden love, a masterful criminal act, a warm, unforeseen reunion of friends. Endless possibilities...and nopony will ever be able to tell us."
"What in Celestia's name are you even talking about, Hearsay?"
Hearsay looked over to his companion. "Oh, sorry, I just get really philosophic this time of day, sorry Wellwisher." He gestured towards the sky. "You know, the transition from day to night, the beautiful colors, the relaxation after a good day of work? It just speaks to me somehow."
"Ah, don't be sorry," replied Wellwisher. "I just missed the first half of your prose. I get you, don't worry." He gazed up at the sky as well. After a moment, he added, "Another thing to think about is how each night and day is blessed into being by the Princesses...and I bet if anyone could tell you the story of the streets, it's them."
"You're right," said Hearsay. "But that's a far off dream." He waved dismissively. "Right now, in the present, I'm going to put on some jazz, play some games, and relax."
"What is it with you and your jazz?" Wellwisher chuckled. "I didn't even bring it up that time."
Hearsay stopped and said in all mock seriousness, "Because jazz is a blessing to the pony race and needs to be shared with the world, OK? I could go on for hours about this--"
"But you already have, several times," said Wellwisher as he covered his ears. "Go bother somebody else. Leave me to my heavy metal."
"What were we saying about not bringing things up?"
"Oh shut up."
"Well," Hearsay turned a corner. "Here's my street again. See you tomorrow, eh?"
"Depends on whether I see you first," replied Wellwisher with a well-meaning smile.
"You too, Wellwisher, you too."
The two friends parted ways, Hearsay heading towards the apartment complexes and Wellwisher toward the school districts.
As he walked along, Hearsay hummed a little riff from one of his favorite jazz tunes. Hmmm...I bet I could probably recreate that with the right synth mods on the keyboard... he lost himself in thought.
He nearly walked past his apartment building door, but caught himself just in time. You absent-minded professor, Hearsay. Get a grip. Unlocking the door, he climbed the flights of stairs up to room number 219.
Home sweet apartment, he thought, and sighed. ...this is why mom said to never become a musician, to stay in Cloudsdale instead. Clouds are a lot cheaper.
He made sure to lock the door when he came in--an incident with some of his more expensive recording equipment taught him that very quickly--and sat down at his desk.
"Alrighty...what should I play today?"
He looked through various large-name puzzle platformers, through lesser-known titles such as 1001 Spines, and finally settled on one of his favorite action games, Terrestria.
Oh yeah...don't I still need to beat the Blistering Sun on Ludicrous Mode still? I haven't played this in a while.
He set one of his favorite records going. It was a nice album, the jazz band even got the Canterlot Philharmonic Orchestra to play with them.
So with his music softly switching keys and his hooves tapping away at the controller, he spent a very relaxing evening...until his character died against the Blistering Sun event's final boss Daybreaker for the thirteenth time and he threw his controller out the window. He got it back, of course, but the start button was jammed.
Nice. I'll just, I dunno, make some music or something.
The maniacal cackling of Daybreaker in the background didn't help.
So he set up his recording studio, and found that synth mod he wanted, and started figuring out the keyboard solo to that one song he was humming earlier that evening. And, in this way, he spent a very relaxing evening...until the neighbors started putting on their music and inviting all their friends over.
Oh yeah, it's Friday, isn't it. Nice, that nopony needs an actual musician to do that for them. He scoffed, and watched the bass from the room over begin to knock his water bottle off the table.
Guess I'll just, I dunno, go for a walk or something.
So he left his music and his games behind and went for a walk. Sometimes it was unavoidable, really. The life of the city goes on whether you want it to or not, I guess.
He wandered past the apartment complexes, past the school district where Wellwisher was busy studying for finals, past the shops and the restaurants, through the row houses.
He continued past the gates to the inner city, through the beginnings of the castle walls, and onto the terrace where the Canterlot Sculpture Garden was located.
Soon he found himself walking through the moonlit corridors of the hedge maze, barely noticing which way he went, following a path etched into his memory.
He stood at the very center. There was the small fountain, there was the little diamond shaped monument to royalty long past, there were the flower beds with near-extinct flowers flourishing in the care the gardener gave them...
"A place where anyone can be at peace."
Sitting down, he put his head in his hooves.
"What am I doing with my life?" he asked the night air around him. "Barely scraping by on a repetitive job...every gig is the same five songs. I wish more ponies would appreciate the subtleties of music the way I do...not just limit themselves to four chords. Maybe then I'd actually make some money."
He mused for a while. "...But I guess the deal is, everyone thinks differently. Everyone's got different likes and dislikes, and most ponies just like different stuff than I do. Some ponies don't like chocolate...do we classify them as strange due to something they can't really control, just because we can't understand why?"
"And in this case, I'm the anomaly...I'll just have to deal with it, most likely."
As he thought, he looked around the enclosure. "I should have stayed in college," he said bitterly. "As of now, I've got no direction and little to no money...maybe I could've got that history degree Mom always wanted me to have..."
He shook his head, flexing his wing. "I can't even get into ROTC now. Dead ends all around."
Silence passed for a few minutes.
Finally, he snapped out of his thoughts, looked at the moon high overhead, and sighed. "Nothing for it, I guess. We'll see what tomorrow brings."
He yawned and took off, leaving the maze's center peacefully still behind him.
"I just wish something would actually happen once in a while."
Steady Force was one of the most widely acclaimed ponies in the Night Guard.
Of course, as the Night Guard, one didn't get a lot of publicity.
But that was completely fine with Steady himself. He'd rather stay in the shadows anyway.
Currently, he stood guard over Princess Luna's personal chambers, a high honor, and one that Steady had been appointed to permanently. An exemplary member of the Night Guard, his devotion and loyalty to the crowns made him a personal favorite of the Night Guard chief, Shadow Streak. However, Luna herself never got directly involved in the Night Guard--a most likely wise decision if she was as bound to pick favorites as was their leader. Shadow Streak treated everyone fairly and with the same amount of discipline, befitting his command, but unintentionally or no, everypony could tell his favor lay with Steady.
And, to be honest, nopony really minded. Steady lived up to his name. He did his job extremely well, and was one of the few lucky guards that had received the Silent Vigil honors: an elected award voted on by the rest of the guard once every four years.
So there he stood, the peak of Equestrian honor, the final defense against the forces of evil--besides the Elements of Harmony, of course.
They always seem to get the spotlight, don't they? he smirked internally to himself. But who can complain? We're here for the smaller problems, the ones that don't get in the papers...arguably, we're just as important as they are in the long run...maybe. Probably not.
Of course, as a Night Guard, his job consisted of standing completely still for eight hours at a time, staying in shadow, assuming the stance of a statue...only moving his eyes to scan his surroundings. This put him in position to surprise any ill-wishers unknowing of his hidden presence. So, all he had were his thoughts.
He'd been training himself to have enlightening internal monologues and discussions while he scanned for threats, always keeping his mind trained on the outside, but his thoughts on the inside. In the end, he'd gotten rather good at it--he always visualized it as his left brain was always working on scanning his environment and processing threats, and his right brain talked to itself for hours on end, coming to conclusions and connecting pieces of logic.
One of his favorite things to do was, on his rare moments off, grab a book and read as much as he could, and then analyze it during his shift. It wasn't the way most would have chosen of passing the time, but...
Hey, I mean, it's not the worst.
At the present moment, he had finished a delightful fiction novel involving dragons, and was going over his thoughts as to why he enjoyed it so much.
Hmmmm....I'll bet one reason is because of the...the personal nature of the conversations, each conversation feels impromptu and not like a scripted play, I guess it really adds to the realism of the characters...
The moon was high above them, and although halfway covered in clouds, its light still shone and gave contrast to the terrace in front of him.
Is it bad that I want something to happen? I know it'd be dangerous and most likely a large threat to Equestria, but just once, I wish something would happen.
He sighed. Don't say that, Steady...be careful what you wish for.
The night continued, just as still and peaceful as ever.
Luna, as princess of the night, watched over the dreams of every pony in Equestria. She smiled to herself as she saw yet another happy dream go by.
It's always nice to see someone having a good night, she mused, watching it fall softly downward. If only everypony could enjoy the same.
Just then, a faster moving dream whizzed past her leg.
Speak of Discord, she groaned, giving chase.
This dream, although it was sometimes hard to tell, was a nightmare, as the increased amount of detail and wonderfully placed theatrical lighting usually indicated.
A small room, windows shaded by blinds. The moon shone through the slits, illuminating the back wall with muted lines of light. Paintings hung haphazardly on the walls and at the corners of the floor. Lit by a single uncovered light bulb, a simple, sturdy chair held a struggling filly.
My, I should start a production studio, this setting is perfect for a...a film noir...I could get an amazing amount of inspiration just from ponies' dreams...
Looking closer, she identified the captive--it was Sweetie Bell.
Despite the occasion, Luna found the humor to chuckle silently. Ah, I see. Reading too many of Spike's comic books late at night, are you? ...What's this?
A mare had just entered the room. Luna didn't recognize her...most likely because she only existed as a character in a comic book. The mare was dark grey with streaks of red and yellow in her carefully tied back hair, and everything about her seemed somehow to bring to mind a loaded weapon, or a ticking time bomb...
"Hairpin Trigger!" Sweetie yelled. "You think you'll get away with this, don't you?"
"Of course I do..." Hairpin responded, her voice smooth as a laser beam. "There's nobody left to save you now."
"What? You couldn't have," protested Sweetie. "The Befrienders are on their way right now! Nothing you can do could stop them."
"Well, think what you want, but personally? I...beg to differ."
Hairpin walked over to the windows and pulled the blinds up.
Sweetie squinted from the increase in light, but when her eyes adjusted, she saw what lay outside.
There, suspended from a skyscraper, a group of five ponies were frozen into solid blocks of ice. Wicked looking flamethrowers pointed directly at each, pilot lights flickering at the ready.
"And I've got the remote..." Hairpin said as smooth as a stick of dynamite and cold as metal. "No changing the channel on me now, eh Sweetie?" She clicked her tongue, recalling the sound of handgun when you cock it. "I'd say it's time your friends to release their last issue in a blaze of glory...and for me? A Pass Go--collect two hundred million dollars."
She chuckled softly and evilly, disregarding the desperate, crying Sweetie, and pressed the largest red button on the remote.
Oh, um, Luna snapped back into focus as the light from the fires outside grew brighter. I'd better intervene now before things get any worse.
Luna concentrated.
"Just what do you think you're doing, Hairpin Trigger?"
The door burst off its hinges and fell onto the floor, knocking a handful of paintings off the walls. Perfectly framed in the doorway was none other than...
"Rarity?" Sweetie asked, incredulous. "How did you get up here--how did you know what was going on?"
"Well," she replied, glaring at Hairpin. "When someone as concerned with styling as this deceiving debutante comes into your shop too many times to count, you'll naturally recognize her when she announces her city-wide power grab--on local television."
Hairpin grimaced. "I admit, not one of my better thought-out plans."
"Aaaaand," Rarity continued, "When the power to the entire city has been cut but one light still shines in a skyscraper window? One, I might add, with a very cinematic view of a tacky death device? Connections are bound to be made."
Sweetie gaped. "You...but you're not one of the Befrienders! What are you thinking getting yourself into so much danger?"
"I could ask you the same question," Rarity raised an eyebrow. "But I know exactly what I'm doing...I'm saving my little sister!"
She leapt at Hairpin, knocking the firearm out of her hand and beginning a very carefully choreographed fight sequence.
During the fighting, Rarity managed to grab a glass shard from one of the broken painting frames with her telekinesis and pass it to Sweetie, who freed herself and grab the remote.
"Hey, no! Don't do that!" Hairpin said sadly.
With a decisive push, the flamethrowers were shut off and the half-melted blocks of ice lowered down to the ground.
"Oh...well, in that case..." Hairpin looked around for a second, dodged a flying painting courtesy of Rarity's magic, and edged closer to the window.
"It's no use!" Sweetie yelled. "Surrender and maybe you'll spend a good life in the slammer!"
"I agree...I might show some mercy as well..." Rarity paused. "Although you certainly don't deserve it."
"Uh-huh," Hairpin took a step towards them and narrowed her eyes. "I appreciate the offer, but..."
"You've missed the point!" She backflipped out the window and quickly disappeared far below in the dark of the powerless city.
Rarity tried reaching out with her magic, but all she latched onto was thin air and a bobby pin.
"Well," she sighed. "She'll no doubt be back...but I'd like to think of this as a victory for now, what do you say, Sweetie?"
Sweetie smiled. "Of course! ...although I'm still surprised you came to my rescue."
Rarity scoffed. "I may be a bit of a diva, but I know when to get my hooves dirty."
They turned to the window, where one of the pegasus Befrienders was addressing them and thanking them for their help.
Luna turned as well, satisfied with her handiwork.
Well, there's one good night's sleep for somepony.
She smiled, and moved on to the next nightmare.
I wonder what will happen next?
Far, far away, even past the domain of the Princess of Dreams, a scraped, battered pony trudged through the occasional obsidian outcrops and scattered basalt boulders of the Dragonlands. Looking up, she smirked to herself.
Isn't it funny how the same moon shines down on everyone? Nobody out here knows the moon is raised by an earthly power. Magic is few and far between...some dragons wouldn't believe even if you showed them.
She came to the top of a dizzyingly sheer cliff. Some seemingly small acts can affect the whole world, whether the world knows it or not. Some very large acts may only affect small areas. Who can really tell?
Standing there, completely unaffected, where the ground was obscured by a cloud of smoke half a thousand feet below, she nodded sagely.
But large or small, any act can change the world forever.
And she started the long, weary climb down.
When the rules are bent...who knows what'll happen?
------
Author's Note
First draft, will most likely edit in the future.
Well...hopefully I've got something to bring to the table this time. A little too philosophical, perhaps?
We'll see.
Oh yeah, I listened to music for this chapter...surprisingly, not jazz, but blues rock by Christopher Russell--specifically his album Leaving Pretoria. He recorded that whole album in his basement, and it still sounds amazing.
Anyway, if anybody has any questions (or notices any plot holes, we don't want those) please tell me.
Cheers on a new beginning,
Betless.
