Author's Note

Another chapter quite a few hours earlier than planned. For most of you it's probably not even Monday when I post this, but it definitely is Monday for me.

Chapter 21: Day One - A New Face

The next day, Wild was already regretting promising Princess Luna he would give her an answer in two days. He could've, maybe should've, just refused outright. The time was counting down, the clock was ticking, and he couldn't stop it now. He knew he didn't need to wait for the countdown to finish to give her an answer, but he dreaded approaching her before the deadline. These two days would give him time to come to a proper decision... or so he thought.

He was twitchy by midday. Hours were counting down, and he could barely do anything without losing focus. Worst of all, the Martial Arts Club wouldn't assemble today or tomorrow because they were rest days, so he had very little to do in the first place. He went for a jog, but that didn't help. He even sprinted, but his thoughts were invaded by his indecisiveness.

Minutes ticked by and, little by little, the next day - and then the day after that, which would be the day where he would have to tell Princess Luna his decision - came closer and closer. Time marched on, unstoppable, and the moment he would have to finally give his answer was an inevitability.

Wild cursed himself for being so stupid. What was he even thinking, not rejecting her approach at once? However, deep inside, he knew something needed to be done, and that was why he didn't push her away immediately. But even then, he didn't know if it was the right choice to make. He was handling himself fine, wasn't he? Nightmares he could deal with, crying alone sometimes wasn't difficult, and he wasn't as touch-avoidant as before. It was entirely possible that he, in time, would be alright without ever telling anyone anything.

The more he thought of it, the more he realized that he was doing nothing but trying to convince himself to avoid doing anything about himself. He wasn't alright and he wouldn't be alright unless and until he got help. Humans are not meant to be by themselves, they are not meant to be loners. Wild was no psychologist or psychiatrist, he barely knew what little was taught to him in school.

Wild was frustrated and tired at the same time - he awoke early this day, his dreams plagued by shapes and noises that made him feel strained, and he couldn't go back to sleep no matter how much he tried.

He wandered around the orphanage, watching as a group of younger foals was led outside on a trip to one place or the other. He had yet to participate in one, and he didn't know where he would go. He knew plenty of foals attended a local school while some were completing their studies without leaving the orphanage. He knew there were places to visit and sights to see but, even then, he was indecisive. The Royal Orphanage was more or less safe and familiar, Ponyville maybe was acceptable, but he didn't yet want to venture anywhere farther than that.

Wild knew that a lot of people in his place would've done all they could to explore this new world, but he wasn't them. He was all by himself now, and he knew this world was more wild than where he came from, and it wouldn't take much to make him disappear. Afterwards, it wouldn't be long until he was entirely forgotten. The Royal Orphanage was safe, and there had been no kidnappings in its history - as trustworthy as history books were, at the very least. Wild had grown distrustful of official sources on history since before he was a teenager. He could only hope that the claims were true.

Perhaps Equestria had places worth visiting, but he was convinced they weren't for him. He told himself it had little to do with his fear of being made to disappear, never to be seen again. However, he knew he was just trying to convince himself of it when the truth was simpler. This time, at least, he wasn't homeless, struggling out on the streets to survive. He was behind sturdy walls with strong magical protections. He was as safe as he could be.

And yet, he couldn't help but wonder... how easy would it be for him to disappear? He didn't have a passport, medical records, a birth certificate, a school diploma, nothing but a bunch of papers filled with things he had written as he learned the language. He had never signed those papers, he hadn't even written in English on them. If he were to disappear, those papers would be the only things left that ever hinted at his existence.

From there, he wondered who would remember him. The princesses may remember him as an interesting case or something along those lines, maybe others would remember him because of his swordsmanship skills... and that would be it, wouldn't it? He had no friends, no family, nothing and no one. Even his dorm barely showed his presence. Tidying it up would erase all hints of his ever having lived there.

Wild didn't like it when he was left alone with his own thoughts. There was too much to think of, too many corners of his mind to wander to. When he had a goal, he could focus, he could sweep everything else aside and keep it there. However, now only the future meeting with Princess Luna was on his mind, and he could do little about it.

He knew he needed to man up and simply approach her before the deadline and tell her his decision. It would stop him from feeling anxious, at least, knowing that everything else would be out of his hands.

However, he found a way to avoid it - he was in the cafeteria after lunch, offering to help do the dishes and clean things up. He had seen others helping around the orphanage, and he thought it would help him pass some time. It was better than being bored, at least.

"Wild, right?" a cook asked, and he nodded, "Yeah, we'll appreciate some help, come on in."

Wild was led into the kitchen, where various dishes were stacked high near the sinks, yet to be washed.

"Alright, so take a look here - this sink has three basins," the cook gestured, "Start with the third one - put the stopper in the drain. Good, now fill it about halfway with hot water and, once it's filled, add these disinfectant tablets, about six of them. Swirl the water a bit until it's blue and all tablets are dissolved."

Wild did as asked, going through the steps as instructed. Soon enough, the water in the third basin was blue, and the cook was satisfied with it.

"Very good. Now, the first basin is where you wash the dishes with soap first, getting rid of all the smaller chunks of food. Bigger chunks go in this bin here," he gestured at the bin to the left of the sink, "Once you're done cleaning, cart the bin off right there, next to the exit, it'll be taken from there. Now, once you got the dishes clean in the first basin, wash the soap off in the second. Once there are no soap suds that you can see, put the dish in the third basin, swish it around for about five seconds, then put it on the drying rack. Once the rack fills up, grab a towel and dry what's on it and put it all away, then continue until there are no more dishes to clean. Is everything clear?"

Wild nodded and got to work. Instructions were simple, the steps easy to do. Soon he got into the rhythm of things, and he found it easy to drown out the rest, focusing entirely on making sure the dishes were perfectly clean and dry before he put them away. One by one, the pile of dirty dishes grew smaller, and Wild found himself humming a tune as he worked. His head was mercifully empty of thoughts, and for some time, he was as relaxed as he could be.

Unfortunately for him, the supply of dirty dishes wasn't infinite, and so he didn't notice when he came to an end. His work was inspected, found good, and he soon found himself outside the kitchen with nothing more to do.

Wild wondered if- no, he knew there were various activities for people to partake in, but he had never done that, now had he? He was perfectly content with eating, sleeping, learning the language, and being in the Martial Arts club. Until now, he had things to do, and it kept him sane, but now his grasp on the language was good enough he didn't need to spend most of his day learning it, and his swordsmanship continued to be the best all around, even in hoofwork where he used to struggle before.

Wild, however, was a loner. He didn't think he would like any group activities. Sports such as football - or hoofball in this world - didn't appeal to him much because of their team-oriented focus. When he was by himself, he was doing well, and he didn't want to bother with any sort of teamwork. In hoofball and other fast-paced sports, he would be almost entirely useless when it came to communicating, considering his muteness.

In the end, he headed to the library. It was a quiet place, and he could simply read. It was a nice and enjoyable activity, away from the hustle and bustle, and he didn't need to consult the dictionary nearly as often as before, making his reading sessions longer and less frustrating. Poetry and fiction still largely evaded him, but then he was never really a fan of either. Besides, he didn't see the point of reading fiction now - he was in a fantasy world himself, wasn't he?

Soon, he found himself reading about teleportation, a difficult ability a unicorn could acquire. It was tremendously useful, especially once mastered, allowing instantaneous travel measuring in kilometers. It could be stopped by magical protections - wards - but was otherwise unlimited. Within his line of sight, he'd be able to teleport to anywhere, but he would need to properly visualize his destination if he couldn't see it or if it was somehow obscured. There was no danger to end up stuck in the ground or trees or anything or anyone else - a fact that baffled magical researchers to this day - so it was as safe as it could be.

The Royal Orphanage, as it happened, was covered entirely in anti-teleportation wards save for a hall inside, within which ponies could practice their teleportation about once every week. Unfortunately for Wild, today was not the day for it, but tomorrow would be.

For the next while, he mindlessly browsed the library, looking for something that was interesting but not too new for him. He avoided politics and economics, not wishing to delve into that anytime soon. Topics around warfare were also discarded. However, he found an entertaining book in the children section, which he checked last. It was "Mystery History of a Pre-Equestrian Castle", an adventure book, in which the reader learned certain things about the Pre-Equestrian period while following clues to track down an assassin before they could strike down the queen. Wild didn't exactly have anything better to do, so he decided to indulge himself.

Near the end of the book, there was a list of suspects, and the clues throughout the book would apply to one or the other. Wild got to work, reading about what he thought was deemed safe-for-kids: heraldry, structure of society, tourneys, feasts, castle structure, and other things that didn't show any explicit violence - aside from everything relating to the in-story assassin. Despite how simplified it was, Wild was entertained enough, and figuring out clues was fun. It had been quite some time since he had read anything like it, and he realized he wouldn't mind doing it again.

How many more things had he missed out on for one reason or another? How many of them were actually good and fun and entertaining? It didn't help that he considered his life already mostly - if not entirely - wasted, but he managed to put those thoughts away and continue reading, determined to be there in the moment and not brooding about his past.

In the end, it didn't take Wild much time or effort to figure out who was the assassin. To his delight, however, that wasn't the end of the book - it included a board game as well. A simple one where one only needed to throw a die to make progress, but it was still fun. Wild read the rules, got the needed pieces - one for himself, one for the assassin - as well as a six-sided die, all of which were included with the book. He set it all up and prepared to play when he was interrupted.

"Hi," a male voice said, and Wild turned his head. A pegasus stallion roughly his own age was standing nearby, looking slightly nervous behind a pair of square glasses, "Uh, you mind if I join? Haven't played it in a while, it's my favorite."

Wild didn't expect company, but then he didn't think he was against it. He shrugged and gestured at an seating pillow nearby in invitation. The young stallion sat down, chose his own piece, and the two started playing. Wild, in the meanwhile, took in the features of the second player. He was slightly smaller than Wild in height and not very muscular, perhaps slightly below average. His fur was almost completely white with just a hint of blue, and his mane was medium-length bright blue. His talent mark was a simple painting brush.

Wild still didn't quite know what to think about talent marks. He had none, and did that mean he would get none, considering that he wasn't born a pony? And if he would get one eventually, what did it mean, how did it even work? From what he knew about them, they simply appeared when 'a pony found their special talent', but he had no idea what it truly meant. Could they not have multiple talents? Did their talent never change? His thoughts were, once again, interrupted.

"So, uh, I was at that tournament where you won, and... you were really impressive," the young stallion said, his cheeks reddening, "Um, how long have you been doing it?"

Wild thought about it. It would be about six years, give or take, but could he safely answer the question honestly? He was supposed to be about thirteen, maybe fourteen, and at best fifteen. He didn't know what his legal papers said if anything, and he would gladly take the higher number just because it would be closer to his actual age.

In the end, Wild settled on giving the answer four. He didn't mind if he was thought of as some sort of a prodigy.

"Oh, Equestrian Sign Language, right?" the stallion said, "I've been learning it a bit, it's fascinating, especially how minotaurs use their fingers to easily convey all sorts of things!"

Wild nodded, having previously considered learning Minotaur Sign Language, which he learned of when he could understand enough to learn about its existence. However, it wasn't very well-known in Equestria, and he did hope to speak again one day. He tried to say a word - just one word, nothing more - but he found his throat close up. He just couldn't and he didn't know why. At the same time, he didn't want to speak, and it was easier to go unnoticed if he just didn't say anything. When he was at school, closing up and not saying anything was safe. He was mocked, he was made fun of, but his words couldn't be used against him. He could avoid all the awkward stutters and false starts if he just never spoke. At least his family never made fun of him for it, so it was easier with them. However, they had been gone for a long time now, and Wild found it easier and simpler to not speak. Not that he had much opportunity to be heard over the past many months in the first place.

"So, uh, four years, right?" the stallion disrupted Wild's thoughts again, for which the latter was silently thankful, "Yeah, four years is a long time to, uh, get good at something," he opened his mouth to continue, but then apparently changed his mind, "I've been painting for eight years, I think. Got my mark and all," he patted his flank somewhat awkwardly, "I think I'm good, but dunno if I'm as good at painting as you are with a sword," he rolled a die, "Oh, nice, a six!"

The assassin was moved forward, and then it was Wild's turn again.

"So, um," the stallion blushed and averted his eyes, "Can you maybe show me some moves? I never got into, you know, swords, but I think it's neat. Looks fun, too. A-and I can, um, make a painting of, well, you. Well, I'm already making a painting of the tournament you won, and I really want to get your details right, so, uh, yeah."

Wild considered it for a moment, then nodded. No one had ever made paintings of him. He, at one point, had some photographs, but they were all gone by now, and even if they weren't, he wouldn't be able to get them back anyway. He thought it would be quite nice to get someone to paint him. It would fulfill his childhood dream of being painted as a knight. He wondered how he would look like in armor now. Besides, having a painting of the tournament with him in it could add some personality to his dorm, and it would show his own achievement.

"Alright, great!" the stallion beamed, "So, uh, it'll be fine if we do that after we finish this?"

Wild nodded again.

"Okay, and, um," he blushed crimson, "I forgot to tell you my name, didn't I? I'm Artful. I know, maybe not the best name, but it's mine, you know?"

Wild didn't know what to think about Artful, but it was clear that the pegasus had enough words for both of them, and entertaining his questions and what could only be described as babble was as good of a time waster as any.

At least it would distract him from his own thoughts for the time-being.