The train pulled into Canterlot. The city had to be redone, as the huge amount of black, fleshy mass had put incredible weight on the city. It was complicated, but it boiled down to using every pegasus to provide lift for every unicorn, who were disconnect the city and keep it levitated while the earth ponies redid the supports and fastened the city back to the mountain. They had a large celebration, and that was done. Canterlot had created a lot of job, a lot of poor ponies working as 'scrapers' for the richer ponies. Needless to say, there were less 'noble' assholes in the city. Now there were two sectors.

The rich sector, which was basically divided among itself, every family vying for power against everybody else,

and the poor sector, which was surprisingly tight-nit.

At first there was mass crime, but then a gang popped up. The Mare-Do-Wells were a group of vigilantes that stole from thieves and redistributed that wealth to everybody if they couldn't find the ponies whom were stolen from, eventually severely limiting the crime that could happen, as nobody knew the vigilantes could possibly be.

The train station was in the rich side, almost on the border between the two. Twilight and Spike got out as a few scrapers moved to the train and began separating the black layer that had grown over the train using what looked like broader flat shovels. One of them, an eight-legged pony with four arms got her attention. "Welcome to Canterlot yet again!" Its voice sounded surprisingly normal. "I can't believe you're still not infected!" Twilight smiled slightly at her enthusiasm.

"It's quite difficult, but it makes researching a cure easier." The pony looked surprised.

"A cure? How far are you to completing it?!" Twilight sighed and shook her head.

"Barely. Let's say 1% in about 5 years." The pony nodded sadly, but perked up.

"That means you'll eventually cure it!" Twilight chuckled lightly at her optimism. She said goodbye and left for the Castle. How she hated the rich side. They were so rude and whiny about her infection status, or lack thereof. On the way there, they stopped at a tavern so Spike could get a quick drink. At the counter, a slender figure with around twenty arms was holding a mug and rambling. Twilight said hi.

"Hey Twibright!" She rolled her eyes.

"Hey Novice. How are you doing, especially after...the burning?" Novice let his mug fall down to the table.

"I was all *hic* sad n' shit, but then I realized it was probably a...a...a...ZzzzzPOLITICAL metaphor for *hic* race or some dumb shit," Twilight was listening, though completely confused. "...ZZZZzzzEVERYTHING's a fuckin' *hic* political metaphor...." He dropped, his head hitting the hard ~~morning~~ wood of the countertop, and began snoring, clearly asleep.

"...What?" Twilight was able to ask after a few seconds. The bartender sighed.

"I know just as much as you, hon." Spike, not having been paying attention, finished his drink and gave the bartender a few bits.

"I am no longer thirsty, Miss Twilight." They then left, Twilight saying bye and patting Novice a few times, causing a few murmurs to arise from the basically corpse. They made it to their destination at last after nearly an hour of scraping sounds and the clopping of hooves. Two Guards with Magnum-Class Boltguns were waiting outside the door. It was clear they cut some extra limbs off to make designing armor within reason. the Boltguns has a bayonet, and were golden. When she came close enough, one of them spoke.

"Doctor Twilight, Princess Celestia has been awaiting your presence. She is starting to become restless. We highly suggest you hurry to her." Twilight nodded, and walked though the open doors....

"Christ, is there any reprieve from this black, fleshy shit?!" Twilight cries out upon seeing the halls.

Author's Note

The tone of the fic, while still being dark, will be more comedic. This story, and world is supposed to be interesting, not depressing or even that horrible.

Let me know if you dislike this new tone-shift and tell me what I can do about it, please.